After an intense day at work, Trevor barely made it home awake. He felt like a zombie, stumbling through the front door of his tiny apartment, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on him. As soon as he hit the bed, his body sank into the mattress. Although his bed was small, at this moment it felt like lying on a dozen huge boobs, cozy and welcoming, a paradise of comfort where he could finally relax and exhale the stress of the day.
Just as he was about to drift off into the comforting arms of Dreamland, a vivid image of his conversation with David at work returned to his mind, interrupting the blissful silence. Drowsiness gave way to sharpened awareness. Sitting up, with his hands resting on his knees, Trevor felt the bed squeaking below him as he contemplated the situation.
"What if it's just a prank?" he weren'ttttttred, pulling the card that David had slipped him from his pocket, his heart racing at the sight of the digits. "It sounded too good to be true."
$20,000.
That was a staggering amount—money that could change his life in ways he hadn't dared to hope. Trevor had been buried under a mountain of debt, the constant pressure rising like waves threatening to engulf him. Despite working overtime and picking up side gigs, he had only managed to claw his way down to seven thousand dollars in debt. The looming payment to the hospital was also a persistent weight, always reminding him that failure was not an option.
He sighed, frustration coursing through him as he stood up, his nails digging into his hair and disordering it. "But it was drugs. Cocaine, at that. And judging from David's tone, it seemed like a lot. Of course, the prices wouldn't be that steep if it wasn't substantial." Trevor was conflicted; should he take the plunge into this harrowing world?
"And David has done this several times. My life shouldn't be in danger… completely," he said to himself, trying to convince his anxious mind that everything would be fine.
He thought hard for what felt like an eternity before exhaustion finally set back in, and he lost the battle against sleep, slipping into a much-needed rest.
The next day at work was chaotic. As he flipped the meat in the pan, the sizzle of the food echoing in the busy kitchen, he caught David's gaze across the room. David smiled faintly, and Trevor quickly focused back on the meal he was preparing, the weight of their last conversation still heavy on his mind.
"I will take it," Trevor decided firmly, a sense of desperation fueling his resolve. "I don't have the luxury of time or opportunities. Opportunities only come but once, especially now that my uncle has made it his life's mission to soil my name."
He needed to act fast. Making a quick excuse to one of his co-workers, he headed for the washroom, intending to make the call. Pulling the card out of his pocket, he dialed the number, heart racing.
"Ring ring! Ring ring! Ring…!"
"Hello, who is this?" came a deep, hoarse voice on the other end.
"David said I should call this line. I'm Trevor, and I'm ready for the job," he said, trying to keep his voice steady and low, cloaked in the anonymity of the moment.
"...ohh…good," the voice responded, sounding more alert now. "The time and place will be communicated to you tomorrow, Friday. And remember to keep a low profile; don't breathe a word of this conversation to anyone—not even your family."
Toot! The line went dead, leaving Trevor staring at his phone in disbelief.
"Well, that was tense," he muttered, shaking off the nerves as he headed out of the restroom.
Unbeknownst to him, lurking in a dark corner near the restroom entrance, Mike had been eavesdropping on Trevor's conversation, his curiosity piqued.
*FAST FORWARD*
It was Friday evening, and the air was thick with tension. Under the dark night sky, the moonlight shone down, illuminating the street, while the wind howled, bringing a whisper of an ominous chill. Trevor, wrapped in a thick coat and sporting a black cap pulled low to obscure his face, clutched his phone tightly, waiting for the next direction.
Thirty minutes passed, and with each passing second, his earlier bravado began to crumble into second thoughts. He glanced around the desolate street, shadows lurking in every corner. A chill of dread coursed through him, and he murmured to himself, "I think I'll just go..." but his thoughts were interrupted.
Ping! His phone buzzed, cutting through the thick tension in the air. He quickly pulled it out and opened the message that read:
"Head to XXXX street. You will see a van with an ice cream mural on it. The keys are in the ignition. Follow the directions to XXXXX and enter XXXXX, then drive for another five minutes to reach the abandoned shipping dock. Someone will be there to pick it up. The code is "ice cream chocolate chip."
Seeing this, Trevor wasted no time. He hailed a taxi, his heart racing, the anticipation coursing through him. He got down several meters from the specified street entrance, quickly spotting the cargo not far from where he stood. The van was older and dirty in some places, with some rust on the wheels, but he didn't mind; this was a means to an end.
After stealing another look around to ensure no one was watching, he entered the van. It felt surreal, like he was stepping into a completely different world. "Here goes nothing," he exhaled nervously, sinking into the old seats.
With a trembling hand, he twisted the key, and the engine roared to life. Adrenaline surged within him as he stepped on the accelerator, speeding off and sticking to the routes provided in the cryptic message. He was determined; he was there for money, not to get caught.
As he took turn after turn, the initial nervousness began to wane, and a strange sense of anticipation took its place. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad, he thought, his mind racing with images of how the money could change his life.
Suddenly, out of nowhere, the sound of a police siren blared behind him. "What?! When did a police car get behind me?!" he screamed inwardly, losing his cool. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white, and sweat cascaded down his face, soaking through his shirt.
Panic surged through him, and with a bit of hesitation, he pulled over. Lowering the window, he braced himself, feeling as if the very breath had been knocked from his lungs. A stern-faced officer approached, his body radiating authority.
"Why didn't you pull over immediately?" the officer asked, his voice deep and formidably commanding.
"I… I… um… I'm so sorry, officer!" Trevor stammered, his hands shaking as he struggled to keep his composure. "I was distracted." he was trying to play it cool; his thoughts raced
"Quite the car you've got here," the police man commented,his stern face relaxing. He attempted to chuckle, forcing a grin as his heart hammered in his chest.
"Have a nice night!" he said, the words tumbling from his lips.
"Ha…ha…ha… That was close! That was so goddamn close!" he muttered, visibly shaken as he regained his breath.
After a few minutes, he steadied himself, shaking off the adrenaline that threatened to overwhelm him. He resumed driving but this time, he was diligent, scanning his surroundings with heightened awareness.
Ten minutes passed in tense silence as he drove down a long, lonely road with the huge docks finally coming into view. As he approached, he felt the butterflies in his stomach intensify—the thrill of danger blending with the fear of failure.
When he reached the entrance to the docks, a guard stepped forward and waved him down, the headlights of his flashlight shining sharply on Trevor's face. "Certificate or pass?" his voice boomed.