The Discussion

26 December 2008

"What do you think happened, Harry?" Lisa asks, as they come upon the two vehicles on opposite sides of the highway.  One is up on jacks and has a tire leaning against it.  The other is on the other side of the road a hundred years further along.  There are five men gathered around the second car, talking.  "Do you think we should help?" 

Harry snorts at this.  "Naw," he replies.  "Looks like they got enough to help."  As they pass, Harry can't help but notice that a couple of the men have a military look about them.  After serving in 'Nam, Harry can't help but notice it in people.  He slows down as they get closer.  Harry was going to pass them but something about it seemed odd, so on an impulse he slowed down even further as he approached the group. 

"I thought you said they could do it," Lisa says. 

"I do but it can't help to offer." 

Harry pulls off across from the car and rolls his window down. 

"You boys need any help?"  Harry wonders if he should have used the word 'boys' or not.  Most of them look to be late twenties and a few are in their thirties.  He has them by almost two decades but still wasn't sure if that's what he should do. 

"No we got it," says one of the younger ones.  "Thanks for the offer, though!" 

Harry watches one of the military guys and catches sight of the gun he's trying to hide under his jacket.  He doesn't react but forgets about Lisa, who stiffens as she reads Harry correctly.  The young man that was watching suddenly starts moving across the highway to them. 

"On second thought, there is something that you can do for us," he says, walking up to their car.  "You can forget about seeing us." 

Lisa turns and faces out the front of the car.  Harry can't help but hear that something was wrong with the way the young man said the last sentence.  It came out as an order.  Harry turns and looks at Lisa and she has a glossy look on her face.  The same look she gets when he starts talking about football and he knows she isn't listening to him anymore.  Harry turns back and starts to say something when the young man looks at him. 

"Forget you saw us and drive on." 

The words drill into Harry's brain.  He doesn't know why but he suddenly thinks it would be a good idea to drive on and forget about these men.  NO!  His brain shouts at him and he shakes his head. 

"Forgot about us and drive on." 

The words slam into Harry's brain.  He had almost fought off the first group but this was too much. 

Harry wasn't sure why they stopped.  He put the car into drive and got back onto the highway.  Harry and Lisa looked forward.  For some reason, it was a couple of miles before Harry looked in any of a rear view mirrors.  Not that it was that strange, as he could miles without needing them, especially on highways like this, but he didn't want to look at them.  He still felt nervous even when he finally looks in them. 

*******

Daniel straightened up and watched the car leave.  He didn't like doing things like that to others but felt it was the best.  He crossed back to the car.  "They won't give us any trouble."  Carter nods and they all turn back to Randall. 

"You were saying," Carter says. 

Randall looks at the men and deflates again.  He might know they won't shoot him but he isn't sure they won't beat him.  And he would like to tell it to someone.  He starts slow at first but eventually the words come pouring out of his mouth. 

"I was a small time gambler.  I wasn't bad but not great.  I could play blackjack, roulette or craps for hours and usually win enough to pay for the day's expenses.  It was fun for me.  Ten years ago, I thought I was getting better, as I had won a trip to Haiti.  Never been to the Caribbean so I thought what the heck.  Instead of cashing it in, I went. 

"I stayed at a resort down there that had a casino.  I avoided it.  Well, that was the plan and I did well until the day before I was to leave.  I was tired of sight seeing and boat trips, so I figured what the heck. 

"I couldn't believe my luck!  In two hours, I had won almost five thousand.  I felt unstoppable.  After five hours, I had thirty thousand.  Craps, roulette, even blackjack was all going my way.  Sure, I lost a couple of hundred here and there but overall, I was way up.  I read and saw enough to figure this was my day.  That once in a lifetime chance where things just fall on my side. 

"And then it happened.  I knew what number was going to hit on roulette.  I just knew.  I bet everything and won big.  I mean, huge.  Almost a million dollars.  The crowd that had gathered was huge and the yells of support kept me going.  The energy of the crowd was electric.  I was on a high that I can't describe. 

"I felt it happen again.  I knew what number was going to hit.  I felt it as much as I had the first one.  And then this crazy idea went into my head of asking for credit.  The only good thing I did was reduce it from the million I first thought to a hundred grand.  The pit leader nodded and before I could take it back, I was unhappy I had done it, bets were accepted and they spun the roulette. 

"As it spun, the feeling left me.  I felt empty, hollow.  I had no idea if it was going to be my number or not. 

"It wasn't." 

Randall leans back and throws his head back as well, looking up to the sky but closing his eyes.  He seems to be there, re-living the moment.  After a few seconds it passes, and he brings his head back down. 

"I now found myself a hundred grand in debt to this hotel.  The crowd, which had stood there in stunned silence, was gone.  The pit boss came over and asked me to follow him.  I did.  We went back to some offices.  And there I met the scariest man I have ever met."  Randall licks his lips and looks around as if he thought the man might show up. 

"He wasn't that tall, wore a nice suit and said all the nice words.  His eyes, though, were distant.  Not cold but not human.  I thought, 'hey a brother.  Maybe this won't be so bad.  Maybe I can get away or at least reduce it.' I thought maybe I could say how much they didn't lose was paltry compared to what I might have taken from them.  I didn't get a chance." 

"'You work for me now, Randall,' he said in a flat, almost monotone voice, as if he had done it hundreds of time before.  'I require your services and you will do them.  Mostly bringing packages back to the states.  Most will stay in Chicago.  A few will go around the country.  You will always deliver them in person.  If you do well, you might even be rewarded.' 

"I could only stop and stare.  The man was talking to me as if he owned me.  I mean, yeah, a hundred grand is a lot, but I could probably pay it in installments or get some kind of a loan.  Yet, here he was talking to me like he owned me.  I started to say something but he cut me off.

"'You don't understand,' he said, 'I can see it in your eyes.  Very well, let me explain.  You are going to work off this debt.  I am not interested in your money.  The only way you can pay me back is to work for me.  If not, right now I will declare you a debter and get you thrown in jail down here.  It will be a dark hole but you will have company.  You won't like them, I should think, as they sodomize and brutalize you every day for years.  And once they have broken you, then you will still work for me.  It won't be as good as if you hadn't been broken but I will still get what I want.  So, do you want it that way or the easy way?' 

"I could only stare at him.  I believed him.  I believed every word he said.  I obviously didn't want it the hard way, and I said so.  He nodded at me and then looked at one of his men.  They came and showed me out and to another room.  They gave me a suitcase to take back and instructions on where to leave it here in Chicago.  I nodded numbly, took it and went back to my room." 

Randall stops and catches his breath.  He was still talking a bit fast, as if scared that if he didn't, he would clam up.  Finally, he takes a deep breath and continues. 

"I took the suitcase back to my room.  I couldn't sleep.  I was awake all night, wondering what the fuck I had gotten myself into.  When sleep did come, it was fitful and I had nightmares.  I woke up screaming in the morning.  I throw my things together and went to the airport. 

"To say I was scared didn't cover it.  I was terrified.  I thought that suitcase was going to set off alarms or be a bomb or something.  Of course, nothing happened but I didn't know that and the fear I felt went to my bones.  I made it back to Chicago, delivered the suitcase and expected another job from this guy.  He just nodded, thanked me, and sent me away. 

"I think I was on edge until I got some real sleep.  Then, when I woke up, the fear and anxiety were gone.  I was back in the US of A.  He was in another country.  I didn't have another job from him and I thought that was it.  Obviously not. 

"The plane tickets to Haiti arrived in my name.  My stomach fell.  I could only stare at them and was miserable for a few days.  I almost told Corey then what had happened but stopped for some reason, and I am glad.  Three days before I was supposed to go, I realized there was nothing to make me go.  Nothing compelling me.  I told myself that I was free, as they hadn't made it a real debt.  My bank didn't have to pay them.  What the fuck could they do?

"I can see it in your eyes," Randall says as he looks around at the group, "that all of you know the answer to that one.  The next day, it arrived.  A manilla envelope, stuffed full of photos.  Pictures of me at home and at work.  Pictures of co-workers, friends and families.  Hell, they had a couple of ex girlfriends and a girl I dated in high school in there!  I almost shit myself as I looked through it all.  There was no note.  No point and it gave me evidence.  No, there was nothing I could do. 

"And so it went.  I went to Haiti a couple of times a year, picked up something, and brought it back.  Customs never looked at me.  Even after nine eleven, I never had problems.  I would sometimes take it to New York, LA, even Denver once.  They even started paying me for it.  A couple hundred here and there, in cash. 

"Honestly, after five years and no problems, I stopped fighting it and started enjoying it. Why not, right?  I go a bit earlier to Haiti, gamble a bit, booze it up, then come back on time.  I figured they knew but didn't care.  I always delivered on time. 

"Three years ago, it happened.  I found out something.  Saw it.  Fuckin' thing scares me to this day. 

"I have a drop and it's in New Orleans.  I have had 'em there before, although never to the same address twice.  It might be the same guy picking it up, but not at the same place and not in the same way.  This time, it was to a seedy motel near the French Quarter.  It's a shit place but I don't have to stay so I don't care.  I go to the room and knock on the door.  Freddie opens it.  I don't know if that's his name or not but that's what we told me.  These guys, or gals, never look big but they have this aura about them.  They ooze strength.  I always felt like they could tear me in half with no problem.  Freddie is no exception.  He nods to me and I go in.  There are two others, Henry and Catherine.  I bring the case in, set it on the bed and turn to leave.  That's when all hell broke loose. 

"The door to the room flies into the room, slamming into Freddie.  He doesn't go down.  He catches the damn door and rips it trying to get it out of his way.  However, two guys come through the door.  One shoulders me out of the way as if I was a child and I slam into the wall.  Then he jams a stake into the Freddie.  After seeing him rip apart the door, I expected him to shrug this off but he drops.  The other guy throws something at Catherine but she dodges it.  She ran forward and, I shit you not, grew claws from her fingernails.  She ripped the guy open from groin to neck.  Blood splattered everywhere.  Henry hit the other attacker so hard, I heard and saw his skull crack and almost collapse.  But Henry, he ain't done.  He hits him again and again.  Catherine also follows up and keeps hitting him. 

"They might have made it but then three more came in behind them and grabbed them.  Oh, they fought and it was just as bad.  A throat got ripped open, although not much blood that time, and some biting happened.  Yeah, they had fangs.  I can see you guys know what they are already.  I suppose I shouldn't be surprised." 

Randall takes a breath and stretches his neck.  He looks out at the countryside for a few moments and then brings his gaze back to us. 

"The intruders took all the bodies away.  They stopped to look at me, and I think one was going to grab me, but another said that 'the doctor isn't ready for humans yet' and they left me.  It took me ten minutes to realize that even with no bodies, the room was covered in blood and I was just sitting in it.  I got the hell out.  I threw away my clothes, I had my bags and put some new ones on, and got out of there.  I caught my flight, came back to Chicago and wondered what the fuck had happened. 

"Thing is, it seemed as if nothing happened.  Within three months, I was back in Haiti, getting another suitcase right on schedule.  I tried to ask them all what had happened but they didn't answer.  Told me to shut up about it and do my job.  That's when I decided I had to get away. 

"Took me two years to plan my 'death.'  I thought I had it all worked out.  I thought I could do it.  I could get away clean.  Yeah, my friends and family would grieve.  I knew that.  But they would be safe.  And alive.  A few months ago, I finally had everything in place and did it. 

"When I got to my first safe house, they were there, waiting for me.  They clapped and said I had done well.  They were going to fix any gaps I had and make it look real.  Then, I could really start helping them.  I was dumbfounded.  I have no idea how they knew.  They did and it seemed that instead of having free will, I had given everything up. 

"Since then, it's been constant trips.  Haiti and back twice.  Several trips around the US.  Now, it's dropping stuff off at the house out here.  And I still don't know shit about what the fuck I have been doing. 

"That's my story.  What's yours?" 

ST Notes

• I am encouragin/asking that if you have any questions, put them inline here and I will answer them.  I know I haven't answered a lot of specific questions, so I am hoping to do that here. 
• The idea was to figure out for Corey what happened to Randall and see if he was still alive.  To that end, you guys will have to decide what you tell Corey after all of this. 
• What am I missing?