NaNo Day 13: Part Two. The last section I worked on.

So, this section completes my NaNoWriMo posting for the year.  I finished my project at 18,370 words.  Just so close to 20,000.  But I just couldn’t get my groove back after I got sidetracked at school.  Hope you enjoy!!  Next week, we will be back to our regularly scheduled 5-Minute Exercises.  Good Day all and have a happy/merry Christmas.

NaNo Day 13 part two:
You climb down the rope really feeling like you could use a drink right about now or a really strong drug.  “Alright.  Please tell me you have a plan that does not involve us living out the rest of our lives down here.”
Val scoffs at you.  “Please.  Do you know who I am?  I’m the alphabet man.  I got a plan for every letter of the alphabet.”  Val pushes a button and the brick wall moves.  This time when the wall opens, it turns a little, splitting the entrance in two.  Val rushes through the door.  You follow after him.  You can hear the door close behind you. 
“Val, let me ask you a question,” you say as you and val run through a series of curves and turns that makes you feel like you’re trapped in a never ending maze. “Why the hell do none of your doors open the same way?”
“It’s all about breaking up routine, buddy.”
Right.  Actually, you should have guessed that.  You know Val’s philosophy on routine.  Routines are like coffins.  Only the dead use them.
After a few more curves you come to yet another brick wall.  You decide to take mental bets on how this one opens.  Would it swing towards you, fall into the ground?  Oh no, you got it.  It will completely dissolve and then reappear.  Val definitely left a lot to be desired in the sanity department; although, no doubt he was a god among geeks.
Valpatine dropped his bag on the floor and sat down next to it.  “Um, what part of the plan is this?” you ask val.
“This is the part of the plan where we wait. “  Val looks at his watch.  “We have about two hours and twenty minutes before it gets dark enough to travel under cloak on foot.  We wait until then, and then we go up, get my car that I’ve stashed in one of the factories, and get the hell out of dodge.  I say our best bet is to go to someplace well populated.”
“And you have that crazy ass idea because…”
“Because of how much they love to work in secret.  Geesh, haven’t you been paying attention to your own story?  Everything you’ve told me about these guys screams dark and mysterious.  I really don’t get the feeling that they would have pulled and bum rush stunt like they did up there had we been at the park.  They like to leave a few witnesses as possible; makes it easier to get rid of them.”
“Okay, I’m with you there; however, they have people everywhere.  So how is your plan going to help us?”
He looks at you and you know an insult to your intelligence is coming.  “You rode the short bus when you were a kid, didn’t you?”
You roll your eyes, drop your bag on the floor, and sit down across from Val.
“Sure, they got people everywhere.  But in order to get us in broad daylight and still feign secrecy, they can only send their goons one maybe two at a time.  And every time they do, we’ll be ready to take them out.”
Eh, that was an okay plan in theory especially when compared to the plan you had which was nothing.  You looked over at Val.  He had his head against the wall and his eyes were closed.  Sleep sounded nice and you felt sad for yourself that you thought leaning against a wall looked comfortable.  You looked at your watch.  You still had a couple of hours before nightfall. 
You wanted to rest your eyes, but every time you were in the dark or you slept, you had weird dreams and thoughts about you killing people.  It made you seriously uncomfortable.  You thought only psychotic serial killers mafia dons had dreams like what you were having.  And what tripped you out even more was that the thought were clear as if you were remembering them.  As if you had actually done the things you had been thinking, which you knew was impossible because you could account for your time spent during the day and night.
Even trippier was the fact that, whenever you told your wife about your dreams, she didn’t seem the least fazed by them.  “Oh, well, you know, people have weird dreams, honey.  They don’t mean anything.”  And then she’d walk off. 
Before you knew you had, you closed your eyes.  The only reason you knew they were closed was because you had a dream about you fighting a group of people.  The fight ends with you standing behind some guy and slicing his throat.  You jolt awake and stand up.  Because you bolted to your feet, val, who is never that deep in sleep, jumps up after you and pulls a gun.
“Whoa!”  You parry and disarm him before he can shoot you.  “Valpatine, it’s me.”
Once he hears your voice and sees your face, he relaxes.  “What the hell, man?  Are we under attack or what?  You can’t just be jumping up like that for no reason, son.  That’s how mo fo’s get shot…like you almost did.”
“Yeah, look, are we good?”
“Yeah, man.  Give me back my gun?”  He throws his hand out.
You drop the gun into his palm.
“Damn man.  What are you all jumpy for anyway?” he asks as he slams his gun back into its holster.  “Ain’t nobody gonna get us down here?”
“It’s not that it’s just…I have a hard time sleeping.”
“Then don’t sleep.  Shit!”  He sits back down, still scowling at you.
You give him a dry stare.  “Thank you for that advice, doctor.  Any other solution you want to present that could get me killed or turned insane?”
“Why the hell ain’t you sleeping anyway?”
You shake your head and start pacing the little space between the walls.  “It’s a long a story.”
Val looks at his watch.  “We got an hour and thirteen minutes.  And I’m awake now, so…”
You look at him and shrug.  It’s not like you got shit else to do anyway.  “I keep having these weird dreams that I’m killing people.  And not just killing them, I’m executing them.  It’s weird.  It’s like…like I don’t know.  I am not capable of doing the things I’m dreaming about.  So, either I watched the Bourne movies too many damn times or, I don’t know what the hell.”
Val gives you a dry stare.  “That’s it?”
“Um, yeah.” 
Val looks at his watch.  “That didn’t even take fifteen minutes.”
“Um…”
“I am disappointed.  I was really hoping for a story, not a Facebook update.  And anyway, how do you know you can’t do those things you’ve been dreaming about?  What you got some key to the possible and impossible that I don’t know about?”
You sigh and sit down in front of him.  “Listen.  How much do I love to fly?”
He laughs at you.  “You hate it.  I’ve never seen anyone break out into the sweats like you at just the mention of being on an airplane.”
“Yeah, and how good a swimmer am I?”
“Uuum, I’ve seen dead fish swim better.”
“Exactly.  In these dreams, I’m jumping off of rooftops, swimming like the thing that made Michael Phelps.  Like, I am not capable of doing these things.”
“Alright.  I agree.  So, you’re having wishful dreams.  So, what?  Why are you freaking out?”
“Because they don’t feel like dreams.  Man, I’m telling you, they feel like memories.  So much so that it freaks me out.”
Val looks like he’s trying to take this seriously; he actually seems to be thinking about what you’re telling him.  “Alright, look, let’s say you really are some bad ass assassin for some government run sheep herd.  On the one hand, that explains why these people are after you.  I mean if you messed up on a job, I’ve seen enough movies to know things ain’t gonna go well for you.  However, if you are pulling a John Wilkes Booth at night, wouldn’t someone notice?  Wouldn’t there be time you couldn’t account for?  Or your wife yelling at you, thinking you’re sleeping around on her?  You know something?  Some sign?”
“Yeah.  You would think.  And I’ve been asking myself those same questions.  And I got no answers.”
“Except for the fact these sons of bitches like to work in secret.  Alright, so even if you had been going around doing the knife and gun routine, there would be no way to verify it.”  He thinks for a moment.  “Unless, you recognize your victims in your dreams.  Then we could find out if they really are dead and how they died.”
“Yeah.  I thought about that, too.”
“And?”
“Nothing.  I have no idea who these people are or why I would even have dreams of killing them.”
“Oh, great. So, we got nothing.”
“Yep, and a whole hell of a lot of it.”
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