Heart of Assassin

Chapter 8

He dropped me off in front of the motel and drove away. I went into the office, picked up the key, and gave them some cash, but instead of going to the room, I headed to town, stopping at Henry's Drive In to get something to eat. I got a southwest soft taco, although I think the closest these ever got to the southwest was Cincinnati Ohio, and a vanilla milk shake.

Sitting at one of the picnic tables, I watched Winfield's next crop of twelve and thirteen year old bullies terrorize a scrawny Harry Potter look alike. The bullies were snorting and pawing like young male herd animals. In a few years, they will be butting their heads in testosterone fueled dominance displays while harems of skinny, squeaky girls came flocking to the winner and ignoring the loser just like so many generations before them.

I used to watch Animal Planet with my father before it went to all crab fisherman and animal cops. I would sit there and think how nice it was to be human, and not subject to such illogical behaviors. How young and stupid I was, for despite our two extra pounds of brain matter, we are still blathering slaves to our chemical urges. There is nothing that proves the existence of a divine creator more than the human brain. With all of its higher functions and complexity it makes no evolutionary sense. All of the most successful life forms on the planet in terms of biomass, range, and diversity have no brain at all. A brain only seems to cloud the issue of sensible survival with confusing conflicts of conscience doing battle with our internal chemistry.

It seems that the most successful among us human animals are the ones who ignore the burden of intellect in favor of the ignorance of chemistry. Little Harry was on the ground crying, setting the mental stigmas that will shape the rest of his life. While I finished my taco and concentrated on the milk shake. I couldn't help wondering how many Albert Switzers turned into Adolf Hitlers in parking lots just like this one. The bullies got bored and left poor Harry on the ground; I finished my milk shake and headed towards the library.

I'd promised myself that I would try one more time to find a job and put a "normal" life together. On the way, to the library I dreamed up all sorts of chick flick fantasies about finding the perfect job in Hartford, getting it, moving there, and living happily ever after. That dream ended as I stood, staring at the library doors reading the sign that said "Closed on Mondays".

I turned and leaned against the large oak doors. I didn't want to read too much into this, but maybe someone was trying to tell me something. I grew up in this town and it was supposed to feel like home, but now it was fading into the distance. I'm not home anymore and I needed to find a new one. I turned and headed back towards the motel.

By 5:30, I could not stand waiting any longer, and started heading for the house that was not mine anymore. By the time I got there, the workmen were gone; I lifted the corner of the plastic and went inside. All the sheetrock on the walls had been stripped. I headed upstairs, and found it completely cleared out. At this point, I was done being angry, I felt like they tilted the world to dump me off, I'd missed my appointment with death and was now just a fragmented loose end that had been left behind by the reapers scythe. I slowly walked down the stairs, went outside, and climbed into the dumpster and found my stuff dumped in piles between broken pieces of sheetrock.

I salvaged dust-covered clothes, papers, and all the little treasures that one collects over the course of their lives. Memories personified in trinkets and artifacts. I pulled a dusty duffel bag from the mess and began to stuff things into it. What I still needed to find was a little locked box.

I spent what seemed like an hour searching and finally found it, except it had been pried open, and there was nothing inside. Some special photos, a few old coins, and my birth certificate, and they had to take them? More searching turned up a few pictures, my high school diploma, and my birth certificate; at least I still had proof that I was a real human being. I brushed them off, stuffed them into the bag and climbed out of the dumpster.

I woke up the next morning staring at the ceiling, I had no reason to stay in Winfield anymore, I could find cheap hotels anywhere. The most logical choice was Norwich; I could look for work and be near the recruiting center. The next step was to find the bus schedule. Life without the internet sucked, but perhaps they would know that information at the Motel office. I pulled open the door and stood face to face with Sergeant Bennet, who was just getting ready to knock on the door. Who says Prince Charming no longer exists?

"Hi," I said, "how did you find me?"

"You seem to be well known at the police station." That can't be good, I thought.

"I'm assuming you wouldn't come all the way out here to tell me I failed the test."

"Good test scores and deductive reasoning, good combination. Can we go somewhere to talk?" He said.

"Do you want coffee, breakfast or a dark alley?"

He cracked a wide, strong-jawed smile. "Coffee will be fine."

"There's a Coffee Cat in the center of town on Main Street."

"That works, are you ready?"

I gathered a few items, and walked with him to his government Chevy Impala. We parked along the side of the building and walked around the corner into the shop. I ordered a cool cat, and he got a regular coffee.

"Well," he asked, "how are you feeling about this?"

"I'm feeling very good about this, to be honest, I don't know if all of my motives are as pure as they should be, but I can't think of anything else I'd rather do."

"Well, here's the story, you pretty much aced the test, the highest score I've ever seen. The MI people want you."

"MI?" I asked

"Military Intelligence," he responded.

"What happens next?" I asked.

"Next is MEPS."

"How does that work?"

"I make you an appointment, are you sure about this?"

"I'm sure."