Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
Way the Ball Rolls - 2. Wake-up Call
A loud, high pitched scream brings me back to my senses. My first thought being, ‘God, make it stop!’
Looking around the dark, unfamiliar, cold surroundings, I can’t help but feel a forebodingness that something is seriously wrong; that I am in a deep muck that would take a lot of effort, rather a lot of persuasion to get out of.
I try looking around; however the darkness does a good job of covering everything under its shroud.
Hearing muffled voices, I turn towards the source, or where the source should have been according to my too-fuzzy brain; I see a faint outline of a suited man walking out of what looked like the only light source in the room. Wishing I had my glasses on, so that I could make more sense of my surroundings, I hear a soft curse escape my own lips.
“Mark?” Rory’s voice makes me jerk around towards the other side. And too soon I realise that it was a mistake.
The sharp pain on the side of my face, that grazes a sack, or whatever it is lying around at the place we have been dumped on, is the least of my worries right now. My head is hurting and so is my back, as if someone had beaten me with a rubber hose, the type of a dull ache that comes with fatigue from a lot of manual labour that I know I have not done. My arms are tied together; painful... yes, but it isn’t too bad since they were tied with sort of a rope which had a lot of leeway, towards my front. Trying to twist to my side, I realise that my legs are free, but my knee feels as if it’s busted.
So, basically, I’m just a huge bundle of hurting body parts, dumped somewhere in a high-ceilinged warehouse of sorts, with Rory, and without my glasses. I’m pretty sure we’re fucked this time. If they got both of us, they will – wait, what the hell did happen since I’d gone to meet John?
“Rory?” I dare not raise my voice above a loud whisper; wonder if the men are listening to us.
“Yeah?” comes the faint whisper from somewhere to my right.
“Shit, kid, are you alright?” I can’t see him, but I can almost feel him crying; especially remembering the scream that woke me up.
“Beaten up... badly,” a sharp breath, “Mark, what about you?” his voice cracks. “I...I just couldn’t take it anymore. I’m sorry... they just kept beating you, even after you’d passed out and... and... I heard them, Mark. I heard them say that...” his hiccups drown out his already timid whisper.
“Say what, Rory? What did they do to you, or me for that matter? I am having a tough time remembering anything. Well, anything after walking into the garage last night.” I frown at the thought. I can’t seem to remember and it’s throwing my mind into weird loops.
“In the afternoon?”
I nod in answer and realise that he cannot possibly see me, so I ask him to go on.
“Don’t you remember anything at all, Mark?” his voice is cautious.
“No, not right now. My head is hurting, both on the inside and out; I’m pretty sure the bump on the back of my head is the result of being hit. I... well, what I do know is that I’m missing something, so, will you just tell me what happened and maybe it will all come back to me?”
“Uh! Let’s see... so you remember John asking to meet us, right?”
“Yeah!” Zack had almost woken up at that call, thank God for his meds.
“Well, all I remember is when I was walking towards the rear entrance after parking my bike, somebody grabbed me from behind and shoved something in my face. Chloroform, I think! I don’t really know...
“Anyway, I woke up in this huge room. Mark, it was dark, and I was tied to a chair, and... And there was no one around, and... I could hear you screaming.” Rory’s sobs fill the silence that follows. I try to move forward towards him and I slip, almost falling off the rough pile I was dumped on.
The nagging feeling at the back of my mind is taking form. Screaming? Me? My mind begins to clear a bit. There were, what – I think, two men in the room with me, I was sitting on a chair, my feet tied to the legs on the chair and my hands secured behind my back. Pain, I remember being in a lot of pain.
“Mark, you alright?” Rory’s concerned voice stops my musings.
“Yes...Yes actually I think I remember bits and pieces now. I was hit on the back of my head, Rory. Shit! How I wish they’d chloroformed me as well.” The chuckle that escapes my lips seems to have a hysterical edge to it and I take deep breaths trying to calm myself before I lose it completely.
“Then when I came to, I was sitting awkwardly, tied to a chair, blindfolded. I couldn’t see initially, till they removed it, eventually as the second person came into the room. They didn’t actually ask me anything, they were just talking amongst themselves, and I panicked. That’s when I started screaming I think. Well, actually I was shouting for John, I didn’t know what was going on, not until...”
“Shut up, you two!” The menacing voice cuts through and I turn to see a tall muscular goon approaching us. He looks familiar, somehow. He was there, last time; in the room... he was there!!!
“Who’re you?” The question slips even before I have a chance to think about it and his face tells me it is a big mistake to be even looking at him.
“None of your business, you twerp!” ‘Twerp’? I’m 22, almost six feet tall, and he calls me a twerp! Okay I might not look like a bad version of Khali, but I was no skinny guy either. Hauling auto parts does wonders for your muscles. Thankfully, I manage to keep my ranting inside my head this time, somehow I have a feeling I’d regret it if I speak out loud.
He comes dangerously close and kneels down right in front of me.
“You can stay here,” he says nodding at me. “But you, little guy,” he turns towards Rory and picks him up like he weighs 7 kilos, instead of the 70 that he probably is; “Rory, right?” he even asks the perplexed Rory.
When Rory nods, he stands back up and starts to walk out of the room with him. The last thing I hear is, “You’re coming with me!”
That’s the last bit of human voice I hear for a long, long time. That is, if you don’t count my unanswered screams:
“Where are you taking him?” well, that one earned me a glare before the man disappeared, shutting the door and drowning me in darkness once more. And,
“What are you going to do to him?” And,
“How long will I have to stay here?” Also,
“What the fuck are you planning to do to us?”
Well, you get the point. Ramblings of an aching, lonely, scared guy with no hopes of getting out of the mess he is currently in.
Zach, Oh MY GOD, Zach! What must he be going through? I’m pretty sure he’s awake by now and knowing him, he’s pretty freaked out. I can always bet good money on that; the thought that I know exactly how flustered he probably is draws a smile even in my present state.
The wistfulness of the situation makes me wonder as to why the hell I didn’t just tell him the truth.
He’s always been my rock, my anchor, my solid ground – or whatever you wish to call it. Sure he is paranoid when it comes to me, but won’t anyone be? I mean, hell, I am. Paranoid. To the point of checking if he took his meds regularly and trying to clock his daily sleep. He isn’t the healthiest of people, physically, and I didn’t really have smooth sailing in my own life. So, all we have is each other to lean on, for a long time. And me being me, I have to protect what is mine. Honestly, I like to think I do a good job, well, I did a good job that is. Before I decided to take unnecessary risks and now I’ve screwed it up, and by the looks of it, beyond repair.
Given the conditions I find myself in now, I shudder to think what he must be going through. Dammit! I need to make sure Zach is alright. But how? My pockets are empty and the realisation that I was just checking my pockets to find my cell phone makes me laugh, a chuckle at first, manifesting in to a full-fledged laughter, albeit hysterical. The tears in my eyes remind me of the day they were there the last time. The day when I’d lost my rights to be called an honest citizen, the day I began my walk on the wrong side of the law, the day I became a criminal. The word still makes me cringe, but that’s the truth and no matter how unpleasant it is, I have to live with my choices.
Growing up, I never had someone to look up to, someone to teach me right from wrong. It’s a miracle I’d managed to live my life on the better side of the prison bars, for as long as I did; not that I have ever been in prison.
When I’d taken up the job in John’s garage, thanks mainly to Oscar, it was like I landed on the moon. All of a sudden, I had enough money to buy myself a hot dinner, not just a packet of chips or a stale muffin that was selling at half price in Bron’s Bakery. I could take Zach to a proper date.
High school was a breeze thanks to Zach, Oscar, and of course our boss, John. They’d treated me like family and stood up for me: I even had a graduation picture, other than the one Zach’s mum had taken of us, courtesy of Oscar. So, there was nothing I would not have said ‘no’ to if it were them asking. And, I didn’t need to think twice about it, ever.
But now, sitting here, looking back, thinking of what has happened so far, I wish I did, I wish I had just plucked up the courage, listened to my guts and said ‘No’ for once.
It was a Friday. I still remember, and I remember the day well. I’d just finished my exams earlier that day, before going on a celebratory lunch with Zach. The first semester was finally over. I was young, and naive and just nineteen. I had no idea how much more expensive college was from high school. Both Zach and I are on scholarship. But, a partial scholarship got us only so far. I needed to work for my daily expenses, my lodging, my food, etc.
My work in the garage wasn’t paying me enough. I’m not complaining about them paying me unfairly, but given the number of hours I was able to put into my job, I needed something that paid a little higher, so I had to look around. I was so glad Zach had a job at a pharmacy, they, at least, paid well.
On that day, I’d come into the garage and found that Joe and Eddy, the senior most mechanics in our garage, were quitting.
“Why? It’s all of a sudden though, isn’t it?” I asked Oscar as I was slipping into my overalls, getting ready to work my butt off for the next month to earn as much extra money as I could, so that I could pay for my own goddamn textbooks next semester, and spend some more time at home, and not in the library.
“John’s been in a bad mood since that last debacle those two managed to get into. They can’t seem to stay out of trouble.” Oscar leaned in closer and whispered conspiratorially, “Bar fights, or so it seems this time.” The shushed voice and the way he enunciated ‘Bar fights’ caught my attention.
“Bar fights?” I asked, my eyebrows raised themselves, or so it seemed at least.
Oscar just shrugged nonchalantly and walked out to the garage, leaving me no other option but to follow him. He’d be the head honcho around here, right after John, now. So it was better that I started paying attention to what he wanted.
It was almost half an hour later when John summoned the two of us to his office, the new kid, Rory, was acting as the messenger. Oscar and I looked at one another and he just rolled his eyes, wiping off his greasy fingers.
“Do you have any idea about what he’s about to say?” I asked him, since he looked less tensed than either me or Rory.
“I have a little idea, I think, that is, of what he wants to say to all of us right now. Although, with him there,” he nodded towards Rory, “I don’t think it’s what I think it is.”
“You’re making absolutely no sense.” I chuckled, shaking my head.
“I have a proposition for the three of you.” John said without a preamble as he ushered us in to his tiny office and locked the door behind us. “Take your seats.”
As we were seated he simply continued, “As you must have heard, Joe and Eddy are not employed here anymore. And, I need people to fill their shoes.
“They’ve been with me for a long time, and I really didn’t think I’d have to worry about having this talk, not so soon anyway. But, I do need replacements, and I need them ASAP. Their special skill set had made my running this garage a lot easier. But, their constant need for attention – if you wish to call it that – is bad for business. No one wants their cars fixed by drunkards.
“Anyway, I’ll not delve into that now. So, Rory, your school is out for the summer, right?” John asked, turning to look at him.
“Six weeks,” in a timid voice and a nod from him, and John looked pleased.
“What about you Mark?” John turned towards me.
“Almost five weeks till my next semester begins.” I replied, trying to figure out what it was that required our free time.
“Perfect. The reason I called in the two of you,” John continued, “is that you guys work best in trickier situations, have a fine touch, I should say.” His smile and the subsequent chuckle alerted me to the fact that somehow he was not talking about electroplating.
“Oscar here will tell you what you need to know, show you the ropes. Joe and Eddy will also come in from time to time in the next few weeks, to show you how to get the jobs done.” John finished with a broad smile.
“Errr... but what is it that you want us to do?” Rory voiced the question that I was trying to phrase with a little more grace than, ‘What the heck do you want us to do that we know nothing about and have to learn from Joe and Eddy?’ and ‘Are we going to get paid for the training?’. And it surprised the hell out of me when John actually smiled and reached out to ruffle Rory’s hair.
Unlocking his drawer, John got a few papers out. He handed me some, he gave some to Rory as well, and then his expression turned dead serious.
“Go through them, line by line. Oh, and read the fine print too, hell read in between the lines too, will make my job easier! Any questions, you direct to Oscar.
“And the two of you,” he said again, pointing first at me and then to Rory, “will never ever talk to me about this again!” he finished pointing at the papers in our hands.
As we were unceremoniously led out of the cramped office, John tapped me on my shoulder, asking me to wait.
Oscar led Rory to the locker room, and I watched as John shut the door behind them.
“Do you trust me?” John’s question took me by surprise.
“Of course!” It was an easy enough answer. He didn’t even need to ask to know that I did. And, it wasn’t all of a sudden either, I have trusted him for a long time.
“Then I’d really like to have you on board. This is a one in a lifetime opportunity Marky, and I know you’ll want to think twice or even thrice about this, in fact, I’m sure. But, just keep in mind that your future in this garage is tied to it; I’d really like to have you around here, kid!”
I had no idea what he meant, and all I could do was nod as I was motioned to go join Rory and Oscar.
As I walked in, Oscar pointed to the bench where Rory was already seated and had started leafing through.
“Sit!” he commanded, and, dumbfounded, I obeyed.
“As you both must have figured out by now, this is confidential, and to the highest degree. No one knows about what you’re going to read now. No one, clear?” We nodded mutely and then Rory spoke up, timidly.
“Do we have to do this?” The fourteen year old who was still learning the ropes of the place, still, could not understand; hell, neither was I able to comprehend, the necessity for the cloak and dagger routine.
“That is completely your decision. All I was asked was to tell you is that you should read this and then think about it. Whether you accept or deny the offer is entirely your choice. However, the necessity of the confidentiality remains. You don’t tell a soul. Clear?”
“Offer?” I was definitely interested. This seemed like a more responsible job than just tightening loose screws and bolts, maybe it would pay more too. “Does this improve our earnings, as well?”
“Oh, if you work hard enough, you can even earn ten times of what you are earning now.” Oscar replied with a chuckle.
Figuring that it was worth a shot to look through, Rory and I looked at each other and started going through the documents on our hands.
With each page I read, I could feel my eyes growing larger and my heart beating a little bit faster. The whole business of auto shops became clearer. The twists and turns, the corners that need to be cut, the risks that needed to be taken and the fine lines that needed to be ignored were made excruciatingly clear.
In the end, I could not help but be thrilled by the prospect of such an opportunity being offered to me. However, it was the risks involved that made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle.
“What do you think?” I whispered to Rory.
“I don’t know Mark. Honestly speaking, I'm a little scared about this. I mean, what if we get caught? What if we go to jail? Ma’s going to strangle me while I’m in lock up!” The sweat on his brow told me he wasn’t making it up.
I had to admit that I was scared as well, but then again, John and Oscar had always taken care for me, the question that I needed to ask myself was, ‘Am I willing to trust John enough?’
And what the hell did he mean by my ‘future in the garage’ being tied to it? Was that some kind of a threat? Or was it just a show of trust? I honestly couldn’t understand.
“Just think about the good stuff Rory!” I was trying to enliven the both of our interests I think, since I really didn’t have all that much faith in this turning out to be a good thing. The money was the only thing that was making me consider it.
“Yeah, you’re right. The money would be so much better.” Slowly Rory’s infectious grin took over and transformed his face.
I had absolutely no doubt that my eyes were shining as brightly as Rory’s after a while. When the two of us looked at each other, there was a ‘look’; a silent agreement of sorts was made, even without us saying even a word. I knew he was just a little boy, but I trusted him then and there to have my back as I would, his, from that moment on. We would be true partners in crime.
“I’m in!” I said, walking up to Oscar, my stomach filled with butterflies making weird patterns on the inside.
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- 7
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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