So for anyone interested there's a
weekly writing challenge which I figure might be fun and a decent way to keep active and keep the mind flowing. Thus, I'll try to periodically write something other than Walter's saga... This weeks challenge you can see by clicking the link up there. The challenge was to write about coming home and checking answering machine messages, you freeze when you hear the 3rd one...
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The red glow of the blinking "3" from the answering machine seemed penetrating in the pre-dawn blackness.
The trip home had been frustrating. I had a layover in Atlanta that turned into a two night affair with the weather. Somehow my bags and my gun made it home a day before I did, go figure.
The hit had been fine. Clean. Flawless.
I trailed the mark after the hit for ten minutes, but it was as easy as a rookie call back when I was in training. To be honest I don't even know why I had received all the warnings, all the hype, all the nervous preparation for this single hit. I've had hundreds of hits before and usually I get a photo, a location, and I'm left to my own devices. Why did the agency all of the sudden demand so much prep and work-up for this single hit?
Oh, I know, he had "training" of his own, and he had had multiple attempts before. Well, if that was true, whoever tried before was either not worth their salt or this guy just got lucky. My guys was the latter. Well, actually, he just got unlucky, since he was reassigned to me. He might have avoided three hits before, but I'm yet to have anyone avoid a hit. This was no different. The poor bastard was dead before he could even hear the silenced shot.
I slid my gun case into the closet and threw in my carry on bag as well. I could unpack in the morning.
I pressed the <MSG> button to listen. I left the lights off since I just wanted to check the messages and go to bed. Flying always makes me tired for some reason. Man, that red glow from the machine seems bright.
1. <BEEEEEP>
"Hey Cameron, it's mom. Listen I just wanted to make sure you were still planning to come up on Saturday. Dad's booked a fishing charter and your brother's planning on being there. I know you said you had a big business trip, and sometimes those go late for you. Just let us know, K?"
I sat in the chair next to the machine. The bright, red, blinking one changed to a blinking 2.
Yeah, a good fishing trip would be nice after a job. I'm glad it went as smoothly as it did. Sometimes waiting for the perfect moment to make the hit can take days. I looked down at the bright red 2, willing the machine to just talk so I could to to sleep.
2. <BEEEEEP>"Whussup, Cam." I recognized my brothers voice immediately. He probably was calling because mom told him to leave a message. "Hey, man, just calling 'cause mom wanted me to leave you a message. Give 'em a call either way, 'k. No problemo if you can't make it, you know, just more trout for me. Talk with 'ya later, man."
Typical. Chris wouldn't miss a fishing charter even in a thunderstorm.
3. <BEEEEEEP>"..." A long pause was all that greeted the start of the third message, but I didn't hear the end beep. Actually, I could hear breathing. It was faint, but I could definitely hear the quiet inhale and exhale of someone on the line. For some reason I could feel the hairs on my arms bristling. My haze from the long trip seem to melt away as my body came to full alert.
You didn't make it long in my job if you could not focus on a split second notice. I listened closer to the message, it was still going, just soft breathing, but now I could actually hear a soft chuckle as well. Who would just chuckle into an answering machine? I stayed perfectly still. The bright red "3" seemed to glow in the blackness. Finally, a voice pierced the darkness. "You missed."
I froze. That could not be possible. I know I got-... I looked at the bright red of the "3" and then looked down. I saw another glowing red dot in the center of my chest. Oh no.
<BEEEEEEEEP>
Chatty spot (2)