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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Contest Entry · #2057411
Harold just wants to enjoy his day off, but is interrupted by a mysterious stranger.
Mug cupped in both hands, Harold brought the coffee to his lips and breathed in the bittersweet aroma. He smiled to himself. Usually, the obligations of work had him practically chugging his morning coffee, but not today. Today, he would savor each and every molecule of this precious beverage.

That thought had no sooner crossed his mind then his cell started to chirp. Harold sighed at the intrusion. There's no way I'm getting that. Voicemail was invented for a reason after all. Around the third chirp, however, several sharp raps at the door joined the din.

"Damnit!" Harold set his mug down with more vigor than he intended and rose to answer the door. On the other side was a woman with jet black hair, purple glasses, and a t-shirt that read, "I'd rather be in Vegas." Harold had never seen her before in his life.

"We need to talk," the mystery woman said as she strode right into Harold's living room without so much as a hello.

"Ummm...who the hell are you?" he asked, fingering the phone in his pocket, ready to call the police if this intruder refused to leave.

"Name's Kinsey. And you're in danger." The woman plopped onto his sofa as though she lived there.

"Thanks for the warning, but you need to leave now. Trespassing is a crime."

"You don't know, do you?" She looked at him with a frown. "Jesus. I figured Jerome already told you what's going on."

"Jerome?" he asked. "You mean the Rudy's Fried Chicken guy?" Harold had once done some market testing for Jerome back when his business was lagging. The guy still called to update him. Apparently business had been booming ever since. Even with the recent recession.

"Yeah, him. Only the chicken thing is a cover. He's a plant. CIA or NSA, I always forget. Anyway, his assignment has been to protect you from some very dangerous people."

Harold looked at her, a scowl adorning his face. "Ok. You can get out now. Whoever put you up to this, tell them 'ha ha' for me, but it's my day off, and I really don't have the patience for this crap."

"Fine. Get killed. It's not my ass on the chopping block if you do. Tell me, have you gotten any calls today? A wrong number or a telemarketer?"

He remembered the chirping phone from a few minutes ago and pulled the device from his pocket to check the display. "I got one call, but I didn't answer it. I don't recognize the number."

"Yeah. That's how these fuckers operate. They use the call to triangulate your location, then they strike. Usually looks like an accident, so there's not even an investigation." Kinsey rose from the couch then and peered through the front window's blinds. She jumped back immediately. "They're here. Two spooks in a silver Buick. We gotta get outta here."

With that, Kinsey crossed the room and disappeared out the back door. Harold gazed longingly at his now cold coffee, then shrugged and followed the mysterious brunette into the autumn sun. The pair ran down an alley and rounded the corner onto Avemore Street. Harold was just starting to get winded when Kinsey climbed into a black SUV. Harold followed suit, hearing little more than his own heavy breathing, and they shot off toward the interstate.

"So are you gonna tell me where we're going?"

"All you need to know is that you'll be safe there." Kinsey glanced at him and offered a thin smile before turning back to the road. Harold looked around, and his gaze landed on a tiny Buddha statue swinging from the rear-view mirror. Funny, he hadn't pegged her as a Buddhist. To each his own I guess.

The drive seemed to last forever, and Kinsey didn't speak much. Harold studied her, though, trying to figure out her story. Her long hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and he didn't see any trace of makeup. He glimpsed of a blob of color on her thigh, and it took him a few moments to realize a butterfly was inked into her flesh. The last butterfly tattoo he'd seen was much more elegantly done than this one; not that he was a connoisseur or anything, but the insect in this case seemed to have two differently sized wings, both of which were too small for it's body.

She caught him looking and sneered. "Yeah, my eighteen year old self had much less discerning taste than I do. Well, that and access to too much free beer."

He smiled at that, glad to have at least one scrap of evidence that Kinsey was a flesh and blood human being. She seemed so closed off. "So what do you.." he started to ask, but was cut off by a sharp right turn into a deserted parking lot.

"This isn't the safe house," she said as if reading his mind, "but you can't know the location, so I have to blindfold you." She pulled out a piece of dark blue cloth and tied it securely around his head, folding it over to make sure he couldn't see.

She pulled out of the lot then and they drove a few more minutes, finally coming to rest...somewhere. Harold heard Kinsey get out of the car. He opened his door, and her voice was next to him. "Step down, and I'll lead you inside, then you can take off the blindfold." He did as he was told despite how odd he felt giving this control over to a stranger

"Surprise!" The word came from multiple directions, and Harold tore off the blindfold to see his family and friends, including Jerome, surrounding him. The banner across the far wall read 'Happy Birthday,' and he saw his two nieces blowing bubbles near a table filled with snacks. He laughed and turned to Kinsey. She was grinning.

"I'm Jerome's sister. Nice to meet you. And happy thirtieth by the way."



Word Count: 997
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