A Writer's 21st Century Memoir.

To The Grave

Photo by Aaron van Dorn via Flickr

Photo by Aaron van Dorn via Flickr

It took me a few hours to finally make my way off of the 95 and well into DC where my contact lived. I drove through the city and eventually parked next to his building with the hope that he could help me shake the hired guns that were after me from Springfield. I reached back behind my car’s seat and carefully opened the ripped part of the upholstery to grab the file full of secrets given to me by another contact.

I then got out of the car with the folder and I quickly made my way to the nearest payphone. I wish I that had some sort of sanitizer to disinfect the filthy phone, or my actual cellphone, but the sim card was taken out and the phone was smashed hours ago.

I dialed my contact, and after two rings I hung up.

I waited a moment.

The payphone then began to ring, and on the second chime I picked up the phone.

I spoke my lines as I was told, “Hello, Dr. I’m going to need the full package.”

“Ah yes, I’ll meet you there in an hour.” My contact hung up the phone on his end with the hopes that I would be waiting at a spot outside of the city. I was given his number and the spot’s location on a crumbled up piece of paper once for occasions such as the one I was in. I was to be alone, and to be in so much trouble that I would need to quickly disappear if necessary.

I had to admit that entire government of Springfield working with the head of the Newspaper where I was employed to try and stop me from printing any information was a big deal. Money had been stolen and people have been killed in the process and I know that they are not done yet.

I didn’t want to end up like the other contact I was supposed to meet at the coffee shop, and with my DC contact I was hoping to shake it. After hanging up the phone in the booth and walking back to my car I jumped in, started the vehicle, and drove to spot outside of the city. I waited there for the rest of the hour looking for some sort of sign that would tell me when my contact had arrived. Ten minutes after the hour went by and I began to worry. If this plan failed, and if I was found out, then I would become a dead woman who carried the biggest secret of her life to the grave.

Everything You Know Is A Lie

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