Thursday, March 20, 2014

Travelers 2

“So, are you up for it?”
            I didn’t know what to say to this plump gray bearded man. How did I know this wasn’t a setup?
 “Am I getting paid for this?”
            “Why of course. But, that all depends on the trip we send you on. Usually a small trip starts at $100,000.”
One hundred thousand dollars…whoa. I haven’t made that much in my life. My mother raised me and my brother on her own once my dad left and we didn’t have much to begin with. I can’t really say I hate my dad, he was a good dad and always cared for my mom but he just wasn’t happy anymore. Of course he loved us but he just wasn’t satisfied with the relationship with my mother. I guess you can say my mom was a little uneasy.
            I had just fallen asleep when I heard my dad screaming.
            “Ah! Shit Callie!”
            “Get out! Get out!” She yelled back.
            I don’t know what could have happened he just came in from work. I lifted up the covers, walked downstairs, and peaked around the corner into the kitchen. Dad’s leg was bleeding. Mom stabbed him.  
            “What the f-“Dad stopped as he saw me standing there.
            “Dad. Are you okay?” I whimpered. His leg was bleeding profusely.
            “Daddy is okay Bruce. Go back to sleep.”
            That was all my dad could take this was the second time this happened and he was done. My mom never remembered what she did to him; her memory fades in and out. She mostly thinks everything is a dream. They got divorced but my dad got my mom some help. She seemed quite normal once she had treatment for a year but she had another outbreak so they placed her in a psychiatric hospital. My brother and I were placed in a foster home after that.
            “What’s the pay look like on a big trip?”
            “Well, that also depends, but anywhere from, $800,000 to more than you could ever dream of.”
            “What kind of job will I be doing in these ‘big trips’?”
            “Um, no need to worry about that now, let’s go get you set up with the paperwork and we will talk about it then.”

            I nervously followed him down the corridor to what was called, Sector 495.