What starts out as a drug deal quickly spirals into the first steps in the fall of the old society... Follow along as we step back in time and tell the tale of the beginning of the end...
The man moved more fully into the shadows. “You Gabe?” he asked in a near whisper.
The darker shadow nodded. “You...?” He started.
“Now who in fuck else would I be?” He asked.
The darker shadow said nothing. The other man passed him a small paper bag. “Count it,” he told him.
Gabe Kohlson moved out of the shadow, more fully into the light. “It's a lot; I can't stand here, out here counting it.”
The man laughed. “You asked for this place. It's the middle of nowhere. I Googled it, it comes up marked as the middle of nowhere. Who in fuck will see you?” He laughed and then choked it off with a harsh cough. “Count it. No mistakes... You got the shit?”
Kohlson's head popped up fast from counting. “Of course I don't... That wasn't the deal.”
“Easy... Easy... Keep your panties on... I'm saying you got the shit... You got access to the shit?”
“That I got... I can get it out this Thursday at shift end...” He held up the paper bag. “A lot of this goes to greasing the skids... You know, to get it out,” Gabe told him. “This stuff.”
“Whoa right there,” the man told him. “Don't say shit about it. I don't know what it is and I don't want to know, see? I do a job. Take this thing there, that thing here. That's all I know. Keeps my head on my shoulders when all about are losing theirs.”
“Uh... Lost me,” Gabe Kohlson told him.
“Just shut up about the shit, man. I don't want to know anything past what I know, okay?”
“Okay,” Kohlson agreed.
“I do know you got to get it out and I will be here to get it... Hey,” he waited until the kid looked up. “You know who I work for, right? You fuck this up you'll wind up out at the county landfill... Gulls pecking out your fucking eyes let me tell you. I will meet you here next Thursday night... Seven... Don't be late... Don't fuck this up... Don't make me come looking for you...” He faded back into the shadows more fully, turned and walked down the shadowed front of the building. A few minutes later he found his car in the darkness: He waited.
He heard the kid’s shit-box beater when it started. A few moments later he watched as it swept past him, heading out of the small park area toward the river road. He levered the handle on his own car, slipped inside, started it and drove slowly away.
About the Author
I am a published author of three series, The Zombie Plagues, Genesis Earth and Guitar Works. I am a guitarist and a luthier. I have authored Guitar Repair books as well as novels and mainline fiction. And I have built several guitars for myself as well as to illustrate building techniques and custom work on acoustic and electric instruments. I spent most of my life in New York where I currently make my home, but I have traveled through the south and southwest. I draw with graphite and as well as pen. I write fiction, non fiction and music, lyrics, verse. Geo Dell