Secrets of the Ghosts-The Sleeper/Read a Chapter

You’ve got to be kidding me. I place my order. Do not ask me if I’m sure—don’t I look sure? It really bugs me when people ask stupid questions. I notice that my vision gets a little blurry for a moment as my temper rises. I better get to the eye doctor: this makes twice today that my sight has wavered. What’s up? Anyways, I will remain a lady and keep my thoughts to myself.

“No thank you, that will be it,” I reply. She need not ask another question, for my patience is short. I really need a break to gain some control. Even my vision is tired.

“I will be right back with your tea, ma'am,” she answers politely.

This lady... do I look like a ma'am? I am only twenty-four. She is older than me. Whatever. Its’ 8:45 now, and in thirty minutes I will be on my way home…hopefully. There is always risk when on a mission; though we are taught to always think we will come out alive.  I sit there and think of how I was to play this out. I always have many plans when I have a mission.  I have to be discreet enough that I am not noticed when I leave. I am going to leave through the back and will set the bomb off then. It’s amazing how fast I can run in high-heels.

The waitress brings me my fruit and tea; I say thank you without looking up. I pull a book out and pretend to read. She tries to strike up a conversation with me by asking me what I’m reading. Being that this is a mission, I am not in the mood for social convo.  Niceness will not happen at this moment, so I rudely tell her I would like to be left alone. I hear her kind of gasp, but I am thick-skinned right now. She is nothing to me: not even human, just something that can be thrown away. This is another rule: when you have to include innocent people in your mission, make sure you treat them like trash, something that you can throw away. They are nothing: something you have no use for, like spoiled milk.

I look out the window and two black SUVs pull up. Peter Smith will be in the second SUV. They all get out. Will I be so lucky that they all come in?! Please all come in, please all come in. I really know I’m going to hell now. I’m almost praying they all come in so I can do my job. If they all come in, my work for this assignment will be much easier.

 Another rule is to always have a number of plans at all times: things could change. What kind of person thinks like this? I do. I really want them all to come in so I can kill them all in one place, rather than working harder than I have to. I know that most people do not think like this, yet it is how I was trained. If you get lucky and get everyone in one room, you are good to go. My foot is tapping lightly as I wait to see the decision. Oh Yeessss! They are all coming in. Should I let them eat their last meal or just start killing? No. I need them to be comfortable, so I will wait until coats come off and food is at the table. They will be relaxed, with their guards down—then I will strike.  They sit two tables from me. Peter faces me and the others’ backs are to me. This is perfect. I sip my tea, thinking I will be home soon, until I hear a voice trying to get my attention.

“Excuse me, pretty lady,” a man says in a foreign accent.

 I know he is not trying to strike up a convo—so stupid and lame. I guess he has no clue who he is talking to…a wild animal. How funny.

“Are you talking to me?” I ask. I pretend to be surprised.

“You are the pretty lady, I see. Would you like to join me for breakfast? I love to eat with pretty ladies.” He speaks softly and gently, yet with superiority, like it is a prize to come sit with him.

 I was always told to not bring lions to the table or someone will get eaten. I am a lion.

 “I’m sorry, but I like to eat alone.” I look him dead in his eyes and I know he is captivated…I have him now. He has fallen in my web. I chuckle to myself.

He looks at me and says, “Oh please don’t reject a desperate man. I just want to get to know you, for I have never seen such beauty and class.” He is smiling so hard, while all I can think about is how I am about to end his life and everyone there. My thoughts are so crazy. I have to do this soon because he is boring me and I am ready to get home to be with my family.

I need to block the back door so no one escapes. I guess I will use more explosives. If someone tries to run out the back, they are in for a big surprise. I also decide to lock the door with a special device I call “Holiday’s Special”. It is simply a chip that when placed in an area gives me control to lock or unlock anything that will help the mission. We as Ghosts need to be able to control the environment. I agree to sit with Peter and he seems pleased, but I ask for a minute to use the ladies’ room. The eyes on my body as I walk away are not satisfying, but only make a rush come over me—I need to end this quickly.  Luckily, the bathroom is right by the kitchen.  I am about five feet from the back door. I move quickly, put everything in place on the back door, and walk into the bathroom.

 Once I am inside I gather my thoughts, take a deep breath, and pull my special 9mm with bullets that explode inside the person—no breathing once you have been shot with one of these bullets. I also screw on my silencer—I need to be quiet until I am out of the diner. I walk out of the bathroom and my expression has changed to cold and focused. The Holiday of no mercy takes over.

 I walk out and everything is slow, but I know this is my thoughts, not what is actually happening.  Peter is surprised, but before he could think, I killed his men.

“Please, what do you want? You don’t have to do this—I am really rich! Please don’t—I have children!” Peter begs. It is too late. I hear screams of people yelling and trying to go to the front door, but I am a predator. They are not leaving; everyone is prey.

“I want nothing but to see you are dead.” My eyes squint as I smile.

 I shoot him dead in the eye, only because his staring is irritating. I watch as the people run to the back, only to find the door locked. I call for them all, but no response. I promise I am not going to hurt them, but of course this is a lie—I just need them up front.

“Please everyone, come back to your tables.” I speak with authority. They come in.  They all look scared and confused.  I hope they kissed their loved ones goodbye today.

“Look, everything will be fine as long as you do exactly as I say. When I walk out the door, someone come and lock it and no one leaves until I am out of sight.”   I am short and fierce.

 I need them to pretend to still be eating and conversing. They all agree. I look at no one as I walk out. They do as instructed. I cross the street and see them trying to use cell phones and the diner phone.  Before, I also put a device on the building that ensured no calls could be made or received. I walk across the street and see everyone looking at me. A rush of power always comes over me during a mission and this day is no different. I stop and smile, pull out my lipstick, and turn to walk away. As I turn the lipstick to place on my lips, the building explodes. It is my signature. I feel nothing for them. I forget about them instantly. Another rule: once you have completed a mission, forget.

I am in my car and on the road so fast, driving back home to my rich suburban neighborhood. I think all the way home of how one day I am going to stop because of Evey and Joe, but mostly for Evey—she is of my blood and I want her to be normal. My problem is (or so I have been told) that you are a Ghost for life. I never chose to be a Ghost, but what am I going to say? “Though I never can be trusted because you trained me to kill, being a Ghost is not my retirement plan. Can I get out?”  It sounds ridiculous in my head, so I can only imagine what Ava or the others would think. Who am I kidding? This is my life and I am good at being a Ghost! I am so confused. Oh well. I put on some music and concentrate on my evening with my wonderful husband and my beautiful daughter. The lion within me is silent…for now.