The thud of the fallen marks and the wry echoes of muffled gunshots filled my crippled mind. It came louder and harder that I carelessly pushed my index fingers in my ears. It felt like a biff in the noggin and I thought letting out a cry of rage would make me free from the anguish I brought on myself, but my dry mouth just didn't produce a sound while my eyes stared blankly. I needed no one to tell me, I knew I was going crazy.
For over fifteen years, I had grown from the restaurant delivery guy I was to a slash-and-burn mechanic. I just could not seem to loose the appetite to wipe out my marks. The fear printed on their faces, their whimperings before planting slugs in them, the feeling of a cold revolver in hand, the smell of thick blood prints on the marks, the atmosphere, and all; I just couldn't resist. But now they came back haunting me. I hadn't felt remorseful in what seemed like years. Why now? I told myself it wasn't time to stop. The fifty fifth and final mark had to go down in Willenia.
The engine of my Cadillac revved to a halt and I wound up the windows. I got out and paced steadily to the trunk of the car. Then the summer zephyr hit my face and I drew in a long breath. It was my first time in Willenia and it seemed a completely different place. With each passing car in the street, there was a slam-bang echo of music. Unlike other job sites, people seemed to mind their businesses and that was by far the most appealing feature. Everywhere was just lively. I guessed I liked it there that the thought of settling there after retirement set it.
I grabbed my rucksack from the trunk, strapped it to my back, and waited for a moment to observe the two storeyed motel and its purlieu. Several of the rooms were lit by floodlights while few were just pitch black. Then my eyes caught the silhouette of two cuddling figures in one of the rooms, obviously a john and a hooker making out. I mouthed curses and pouted my lips. It was a motel anyway, what more could I expect.
The sky got darker and the day's businesses started in earnest. Several other cars pulled over at the lot and the place was soon crowded. Hookers advanced the motel with their beer-gutted johns, drug dealers hung around addicts, pimps swayed around finding potentials, and crackheads smoked their dopes. Everyone was busy.
Some guys came over but I paid them no mind. Just about a moment before, I thought dudes in Willenia mind their businesses. I was wrong. Then there came one that seemed to linger. And the last thing I needed was to chit chat with someone like that or anyone at all.
"Howdy hombre. Yer new in town? I could show ya 'round" a ruffled looking man rattled. His grey hoodie smelled of sweat of unwashed body and his faded jeans was dusty. I couldn't catch his facials, he had a cap on and the lot was dimly lit.
"I'm good. Thanks man," I said curtly.
"Yer sure? How 'bout some dope? Or coke? Yer gon' be glad getting high" He brought out a pack of the green stuff from inside his thigh pocket and showed it to my face.
"I think I'll pass. Thanks again"
"Oh fine. Perhaps yer need to shag. How 'bout I get some birds for yer?"
Faugh, what a transition! From a dealer to a pimp? He made me pissed that the thought of making a hole in his head crossed my mind. But knocking a guy off in the open was a pretty fast way to land one in the gas chamber. So my nerves calmed.
"I think I'm gonna freeze out here. I should leave" I mouthed a silly excuse.
He made a sound like a grin "But bruv, yer can't be cold. It's summer... "
I left him ranting. I was never the type to do drugs or shag. Damn!
A big bulb beaconed the entrance to the motel and I started towards it. I could hear my rugged trainers hitting the dry ground, making a bugle sound in successive rhythms.
"Welcome to the Gordon's. How many hours?," the boy at the reception said with the air of a kid caroling nursery rhymes. He seemed a guy of twenty summers. When he realised I was with a rucksack instead of a hooker, he rephrased his question. "Oh sorry, how many nights?"
I did a little talking and we agreed on thirteen hundred for a night. I knew I was surcharged but I didn't bleat. Definitely I was just one of the many guys who got duped.
Then he regarded me. "Nice moustache"
I managed a smile. "Thank you"
His brown teeth beamed and he bowed his head. Then he shoved a key in my hand. I thanked him and steered my lanky figure down the hallway.
I could hear screaming, soft moans, bangs and creaking of old beds as I walked past. Those were one of the reasons I hated the motel; you hardly find peace. I quickly found my room, slotted the key into the spyhole of the dusty old door and shouldered it open.
The room was filled with the rancid smell of roaches that I couldn't help but pin my nose and rush outside. The room seemed unused for quite awhile. I thought of heading back to the reception to have a change of room but quickly decided against it, I can't afford to draw attentions to myself.
I got my kerchief and tied it round my nose and mouth looking like a ninja before darting in again. Then I fought the odour with a cologne I had brought in the rucksack. When the bad odour lessened, I moved to the wooden bed at the rear end of the room. I pulled a bed sheet from my rucksack and spread it on the bed. My eyes were beginning to close, the two-hour journey might have worn me out. I got on the bed and sunk my face in it.
Then I got lost. My mind got crippled and I got blocked with nothing to write I might really use some help
Close to the foot of the bed was my rucksack which I had tossed carelessly last night. I got it and peered into the darkness it holds then I brought out a small mirror. I pulled out of my disguise- the fake moustache and the wig. I looked in the mirror. I was just staring at a sour-faced man. My hair which was raven and we'll shaped into tightly curled locks were disshelved , my sunken eyes got paler than the moon at night, And my cheekbones were obvious. I managed to get my shaky hands towards my face. I could feel the numbness it held. I got darker and uglier that I needed no one to tell me Ive turned into the world's ugliest being.
Planning a successful hit takes days and lots of brainwork. I already did my assignment; the surveillance.
I slipped into the fast food restaurant some yards from the motel and had burger and fries. I checked my strap watch, it was 7:50am. My mark will be on his way home according to my information. He had altered his daily routine.
Ibrahim Badmus
Pictures gotten from Pixabay
