Day 6

Jenn didn’t quite know how to respond to that. She looked back to the window, Marco with coffee bag in hand. He too was fixed on the suits, his eyes twitching between them as he wondered which one would ask to see his papers first. 

“You’re sure about that?” Jenn asked, taking the grounds and pouring them in the coffee maker. She didn’t know why she needed to lie, but something about these men was off. “Y’all’re the first I’ve seen in here since noon. Sure I can’t get you anything? We use our own pancake mix—“

“Miss miss miss, I’m going to stop you right there,” said the suit in the back, now making his way front and center. Removing the glasses to rub his tired eyes, Jenn could see his was visibly irritated. How irritated, she’d soon know. “We have multiple drones fixed over this location. These drones have been tracking some schmuck for the last six hours, and each of them outfitted with high-definition cameras that see every goddamn cockroach in this shithole.

“These cameras, they have heat sensors that register how fast that hick blood pumps through your body. My Ops guy is whispering in my ear right now, telling me your little burner boy in the back is ready to piss himself, he’s so nervous. He’s also telling me that your heart is starting to pump a little bit harder as I’m talking to you. It says to me that you’re starting to grasp the severity of the situation, that you might be picking up on the fact that this is the last fucking place I’d like to be right now.”

The man now takes a seat at the bar, the three others cool as cucumbers in a row behind him. Jenn looks down at the man but doesn’t feel any more at ease.

“So I’m going to say this again; leave now, before we level this place with all of your wasted potential still inside of it.”

Jenn wasn’t a stranger to this feeling. She often had to choose her words with more care than she’d like.

“I’ll just get my things.”

“You’re not listening,” the man sighed and rubbed his eyes. With a free hand, he held up two fingers and pointed to the kitchen window. Without hesitation, one of the suits reached into his jacket and produced a handgun, the barrel elongated. Both Jenn and Marco stood frozen as it levied toward them and fired.

Jenn shrieked as she saw Marco fall limp through the window, a splash of red at the back of the kitchen.

“Leave the bodies, we’ll burn it when we procure the—what the fuck was that?”

“What’s what?”

 

2/11/14 tues. The Terrible Infant.

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