Plan B -- a blognovel :
Updated: 11/29/2002; 6:10:35 PM.

 









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Monday, October 07, 2002

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Click!

ClickClickClickClickClickClickClick!

Eddie keeps pulling the trigger, but nothing happens. He looks at the gun in puzzlement.

Pete grabs the gun from his hand and says, I told you to give me that.

It'snotloaded, Eddie says, disappointed. I can see him thinking, What? No armor-piercing cyanide-coated bullets?

Of course it's not loaded you idiot, Pete says, What did you think?

He didn't, I say.

What? Eddie says.

Think.

Eddie seems to be about to throw another tantrum when Pete grabs him by the shoulder and says, Come on. Eddie follows him, and they become simply muted steps on the carpet. Seconds later I hear the door open and then close, and afterwards all that's left is the background hum of the air conditioning.

Ted says, Mhmmhhmhm-hhmhmh.

I look at him and say, What?

He says again, Mhmmhhmhm-hhmhmh, then points with his head at the tape around his hands and feet.

I think he's saying, Untie me.

I say, Did you say, Untie me?

Ted nods violently.

I snort. You mean, untie you first? I say.

Ted nods again, some sort of threat in his eyes.

And he is not joking. Ted's weapons-grade management stupidity reminds me of someone who was told by his manager to give advance notice of all unplanned outages in the network. Untying him before I untie myself is in the neighborhood, I suppose.

With some effort I stand up. My legs hurt. There is an itch in my chest, but I can't do anything about it.

Suddenly Jordan appears, a kitchen knife in her hand.

I look at Ted, who seems to be terrified again.

Hey, Jordan says.

Took you long enough, I say.

Here, turn around, she says, and I do. In a few seconds she cuts off the tape. I remove the rest in a painful excercise that rips off a few of the tiny hairs on my wrist and on the back of my hand. Rubbing my hands, I look back at Ted.

I scratch my chest.

Are you okay? Jordan asks from behind.

I say, Yeah.

Ted says, Mhmmhhmhm-hhmhmh!!

I look at Jordan, and she says, What about him?

Him? I look back at Ted for a moment.

No time, I say. Let's go.

We walk out the cubicle and head for the door. Behind us, the Hmming of Ted grows louder for a moment, then subsides.

In front of the elevator, I say to Jordan, Where to?

She looks at me and says, Security.

The basement.

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4:27:50 PM    

© Copyright 2002 Diego Doval.



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