Sprusse Avenue
Mainland Road 104
7 PM
25° C
The night was ruling across the broad blanketed horizon displaying tiny flickering pigments of dotted radiances, as the clock stroke its tail on seven in the evening but the busy town showed a dawn environment where the night breeze floated calmly over the gleaming evening earth.
“Where are you taking my baggage?” Jasmine yelled desperately.
“You have to leave now,” replied the landlady.
“But no, it can’t be. I have to wait, Mama. She will, take me back from here— not so soon— but sooner.”
Her throat sored together with her teary eyes.
“She won’t come back anymore. Now, it’s time for you to vanish in this place.”
“Tell me you are lying please.” She folded both hands.
“I have nowhere else to go.”
She held the landlady’s hand, but the landlady escaped from her grip.
“God won’t leave anyone in the wilderness.” The landlady eyed the busy street.
“I am pleading you. Please let me stay in here.”
She knelt.
“Everything happens for a reason and a purpose.”
The landlady strolled her slippers on the yard of the house and closed the gate without laying a single eye on the poor teen whom she left crashing apart.
“Miss—”
Jasmine’s knees weakened as the landlady seemed never hearing her plead, yet the minute she turned away from her was the juncture she never looked back anymore, proceeding her feet inside the house.
Jasmine stood outside beside the three heavy baggage of apparel tainted in dried tears and coated in a breaking heart. Her world burst in one unexpected catastrophe. She desired to curse her existence, yet her tongue was sundered. For her, the world unyoked the last piece of hope she held. Once again, she is an outcast.
***
It was a busy night. Always, he thought. The second time he would play as the heroin and life savior. Doctors were heroes but they could also be the villains— quiet, neat, and tranquil. He choked the last liquid of soda in the can held in his right hand, before he applied a force in it— crinkled and folded, and thrashed. His eyes were tired; his body was light. The vast avenue was alive but dead in the eyes. He sat in the driver’s seat of his car solemnly while watching other vehicles resting their wheels on the street.
He eyed his wristwatch for the nth time. 7:15 PM. He yawned at the view of the heavy traffic. At least he could think of a way to cure his boredom.
Hours passed. The heavyweight of his head forgot him asking that he should complete the job as quickly as he could. He already waited hours, and his body was willing to wait for more— perhaps, it could wait the whole night. For busy workers, traffic could be a life-saver. He was near to closing his eyes again when his phone rang. He picked up the call.
“Hello?” His voice was husky.
“Where are you?”
His senses went back to life when he recognized the tight mouthpiece from the other line.
“I’m stuck in traffic,” he replied.
“My God, Austin. We are running out of time. What time is it already?”
He moved to check his watch and realized that its tail was stocked at 7:15.
“I don’t know. My watch is broken. I don’t know why.”
He organized his seat.
“So, are you going to sit there forever?”
Dr. Zandra Astrael pulled his hair on the other line. She looked at the wall clock— 10 PM. She couldn’t calm her shoes— it strode back and forth in her office.
“Any suggestions?” Austin asked in the other line with bored eyes. He pinched his forehead.
“For a smart doctor, thank God I keep track of you.”
“What do you mean?”
His eyelids zipped.
“The GPS tracker.”
“Smart enough.”
He smirked.
“See the Tañon Street sign on the east side of Pecerve Hotel?”
He moved his gaze on the side mirror which brightened from the illuminance of the street lights. Vehicles were parked aligned with his Lamborghini. From the minute corner of the side mirror, he saw the image of a five-star hotel. It was broad and tall. The night gloomed its entirety, but the huge inscription above saying “Pecerve Hotel” gleamed. The wide yard was cloudy visible from the mirror. Amidst the registration of his eyes to the place, these were caught by a dark corner— the only portion of the place that was lightless. In news, it could be visioned as the setting where crimes may take place. It was foggy. Going there crippled his stomach. On its side, a sign was inscribed in an old log but readable enough saying “Tañon Street”. He sighed as he figured out the place.
“Aus?” Zandra called from the other line when she heard a long pause.
“Saw it.”
“Good. Now get out of your car. I’ll ask some crews to fetch it. Entered the Tañon Street, walk two miles, then you will see what is waiting for you,” she directed.
“You aren’t ambushing me right?”
“Well for a good friend and a doctor, I guess I must but we shall finish this job first before I’ll kill you face to face.”
“The chairs are the witness of your words. You hold accountable with my death.”
“I can bury you alive.”
“Too harsh BFF.”
“What are you waiting for? Get out.”
“Roger that Madame,” he copied the voice of an agent in mission.
“And by the way, suit what will you find inside the car. Many eyes are watching.”
“Noted.”
He put his hand lower but was cut off when he remembered something.
“One more thing Zans, remind the crews who will be picking up my car to take good care of my baby.”
The phone call went period.
“She is trying to kill me. I’ll get my revenge not too soon,” Austin talked to himself as he entered the vastness of the dark narrow road.
The area was murky but cloudy enough for a beam of gleam from street lights to brighten his pupils. He got his phone from his pocket, wore headsets on his ears, played his favorite soundtrack, and walked silently. It took him numerous footsteps before he saw a black car parking beside weeds and bushes. His ears never escaped from the melodies of the crickets as he removed the headsets.
He neared the unoccupied car realizing it was unlocked. He got in. From the rays of the crescent moon, he saw a piece of cloth lying on top of the driver’s seat. He grabbed it and examined it. It was a black face mask. He didn’t bother thinking about what to do with it, he wore it immediately.
“I guess Zandra will be laughing at me. I look more of a criminal than a doctor.”
He seated properly and handed for the key which was already fitted on the keyhole of the car.
He positioned himself, then the engine began crunching for a start. He was in the middle of getting to know his new accomplice when he heard a peep. In an instant, his right hand pulled down the face mask worn. He looked back meeting the lights from the four-wheeler truck.
“Need any help?” The driver asked.
He didn’t see its face yet he was certain that it was only a passerby— perhaps a cargo delivery.
“No thanks.” He shouted back.
It shoved towards the dark road. He allowed a couple of minutes to dive away before he drove on his way.