Eternal Slavation

This is the first installment of what may be a longer work, or one that is a series. Tell me what you think.

Eternal Salvation

By, Ronnie Venable

I drove up in this small coastal town steering an old beater, who's windows would hardly roll up or down, no catalytic converter, no muffler, sounding like a perpetual sonic boom anytime the engine was running, an old rust bucket with a duffel bag that had a pair of swim trunks, goggles, and small air tank in the trunk, the car spitting up the elements of acid rain out its tailpipe onto the vehicles of the lot of a new car dealership. I look around out of the cracked windshield, and see all the sharks turn toward me. They would have done this anyway, but I think that all of them found me an easy target, until I stepped with my old boot with holes, covering my socks with holes, out of the car allowing the shocks and struts to squeak to life, or maybe death. My pale face turning to look around the lot at all the new cars for sale, or the next available victim, that face of mine with its forest of a beard standing half an inch tall in the drab autumn brown, and that unwashed and greasy hair too far past its due cutting, falling randomly in which ever way the pillow allowed it to, looking through my coke bottle classes framed in that old salvation army light brown glassy rims, like a 60's era teacher would wear, and clothed in rags, rainbows of patterns and textures, nothing matching, and everything coming from the old closets in old houses of the even older members of the local Church from their latest “clothe the poor” charity event held this morning, the event only stroking the ego of the people who gave their tattered belongings and it served no other purpose, everything your pack rat of a aunt Ilene, or Rosa would just now 20 years after the last person who would actually be caught dead in, finally realized that she really didn't need to keep that old whatever, but thats all they could come off of, because you never know when you will need that out dated puffy purple nylon coat that comes down past your knees. And yes if you are wondering I smell of bad BO, but no one else would say so because each article of clothing that I have on was stored for years in pirate chests of moth balls, closed away for what I can only tell was the rapture that never came. I turned and faced the building, that held the people who owned this place, or wished they owned this place, and saw the phone number under the large sign that had a generic last name and one of, pick your poison, the automakers' company names. I took out that brick of the first generation Nokia cell phone, that EVERYONE has had at one time, and dialed the number under the name, as I walked away from the car, which I left running because it would never crank it again, walking in the opposite direction from the salesmen as well, in their small circle of cigarette smoke and chatter.

The person answered in the normal, “Thank you for calling -input generic business name here-, this is Judy. Can I help you?”

I say in my most up beat, suburban businessman tone, “Well Judy, you can help me. I am here in...” Judy chimes in, with the name of whatever the hell town I am in, “Oh, yes, well as you would guess I do quite a bit of traveling, thus the fogginess on the name of this great town you have here, and my car is getting up there in mileage. And I was wondering who would be there tomorrow morning, and what time they will open up?”

Judy replied, “Well that would be Tim. Can I ask why?”

I say, “Oh sure, I am most likely going to be busy until late today, and I would like to get the earliest start tomorrow that I possibly can. So Tim would be there how early?”

Judy said, “We open at 8:00, but he will have to get here at 7:30 to open up and everything.”

I said, “Well thank you so much for that, and I tell you what I might just be able to work it out to drop in on Tim today, if he is there, now.”

Judy said, “Yeah, he is here until 5:00.”

I said, “Good, good, thanks so much you have been such a help to me today. Oh and just one other thing, I know this is about to sound funny, but I know that car salesmen have a lot of tricks up their sleeves in negotiating and all, I have a little trick of my own I like to pull and it would involve me being able to recognize him, so now that I know his name, would there be any way for you to tell me a little about how what he looks like, and what he is wearing? This would only work of course if I can get over there today before he leaves, and if you do this there might just be a little surprise for you too.” Judy said, “Ha, I can do that, I never really liked those sales techniques they use on people, they are really sneaky sometimes. Well anyway, he has brown hair, but he is bald on top, the only salesman we have that is balding by the way, clean shaven, and right now he is wearing a yellowish shirt with brown slacks, but that would not help you that much, cause that is the salesman uniform.”

I say, “Well Judy, you have just been a pleasure, and I hope that I can get over there to see you today.”

Judy says, “Oh well I hope to see you too... Umm, what is your name?” I said, “Sorry Judy I got to go, see you soon, bye.”

Judy says, “Okay, good bye.”

I then flipped the phone over, and took the battery out and buried the phone and battery in separate articles of clothing. I turned and scanned the parking lot, looking for the most expensive car on the lot, and inevitably it was the closest one to the building. I then turned and looked at the circle of men, who have smartly avoided starring at me or at the car, because once I stepped out of the car they marked me for someone who they would have to glad hand, but who would never afford a new car. So I looked at the circle of men, and found my Tim. And I eyed him. Hard. I started the walk to the crowd who had done their best to forget me and my car, but due to the sound, had obviously not been able to yet.

I marched over to them and as I arrived, they were talking and my boy Tim was telling a joke or something, and he apparently just got to the punchline when I got close enough to catch his attention, and he broke off, and said, “Can I help you Sir?”

I reply in the scraggliest voice I can muster, “Finish the joke.”

Tim said, “It can wait for a customer.”

I said, “No, No it cannot.”

He said, “No thanks I'll wait, what can I do for you?”

I said, “You can do what I said and finish the story.”

He turned back to the crowd and said in an ashamed tone, “He was so poor, he could not even afford new socks even though his big toe was sticking through.” The crowd just smiled and nodded their heads. The joke obviously ruined. I look down at the tattered leather of my boot and look up at Tim in the eyes, I kicked off my boot to pull my sock and foot out of the mess.

I then stepped my foot on the ground with my big toe sticking out of the sock, which was purely coincidence, and I said, “Strike one” while I held out my thumb. I said, “I think you know what happens when you get to strike three.”

Tim said, “I lose the sale?”

I said, “Yes.” as I passed my thumb across my neck to make the international signal for decapitation.

Tim said, “So, what can I do for you? My name is Tim.”

I said, “How much? And rule number one is I am the only one that asks the questions here,” as I pointed to the new car that is closest to the building, which seems to everyone except me to be too far beyond my league.

Tim said non-confidently, “Okay, but wouldn't you want to look at something...a little more conservatively priced?”

I said back, “Strike Two.” as I held out both my thumb and first finger, “ Boy didn't you hear me right, I said I am the one asking the questions, and I am now telling you that rule number two is that I am not going to repeat myself again to some s**t bag car salesman. You heard my question, and if you don't want to get to strike three, or insult me again, then I suggest you leave your 'conservatively priced' talk in your head and not let it hit your tongue. Didn't your momma ever tell you not to judge a book by its cover?... Well did she?!”

Tim said, more distraught, “Sure she did.”

I said in a sterner tone, “Then I suggest you take that advice.” I then glared at him while I pointed my thumb back at the car, not repeating myself, and willing the dumb a*s to tell me what I want to hear.

Tim said, “Well for that I need to go talk to the manager.”

I interrupted, “Tim, I am not playing your little salesman game today if you haven't figured that out yet, and you must want that last strike, if you think that I am stupid enough to think you do not know exactly how much that car costs, how much the lowest price available is, and exactly how much your commission will be if you sell it at whatever price point. I have the cash right now.”

Tim said, “Well sir, now really I must talk to the sales manager about the price before,”

I cut in, “Strike Three. You did not want to play in my little charade, and I am sure as hell not playing in yours. You just missed out on that fat little commission check.” I pulled up my layers of clothing to show crisp hundred dollar bills neatly binded in ten thousand dollar bands, pushing themselves out from under my belt, then shot Tim the bird, as I turned and barely kept my giggles to myself as I walked back to my rust bucket of a car, then I gassed the car as I left leaving a long tire streak in the car lot swerving close to the new cars just to give the boys one more fright of panic.

I then decided to find the local big box- we sell it all- store to get clothes that looked like the uniforms required at this particular dealership, the drab yellow polo shirts, brown slacks, and loafers that all the salesmen we obviously required to wear teamed with a brown sport coat. All that was missing from my uniform would be the embroidered logo of the dealership, but I didn't need that. I only needed to resemble what those salesmen looked like. I also went by the storage container supplies, and opened a box of gallon zipper bags, put one in my pocket, then I opened a box of sandwich size zipper bags, and put one of those in my pocket as well. I also got a pair of scissors, a mirror, shave cream, and some disposable razors, as well as some food for the next day. I then made my way to the front of the store.

In the checkout line, the lady looked at me and smiled while she said, “What you trying to do? Do you want to be a car salesman for Halloween?”

I laughed and said, “Yeah, the local dealership was kind enough to give me a job, commission only of course, so they told me to come down here with a few dollars of their money, and I could get some appropriate clothes for the job, instead of these old hand-me-downs.”

She said, “That sounds just like them, you know I buy all my cars from them, there is nothing like the service you get from a local business compared to some big city dealership.”

I said, “You know, you couldn’t be more right on that.” I looked down from her eyes to her name tag and said, “Thanks so much, Emily.”

Emily said, “No problem, have a nice day.” I took the bags and left the building and entered the air outside, then opened the door to my car parked in the fire lane, engine still blazing like I was driving to the moon, and I headed to the nearest motel, where I got a room for the night. This motel seemed to be stuck in the dark ages of technology. It was ran by some old man, that had no intention of getting a computer, so everything was still done the old way, through a large register book, marked up and down in pencil. I also noticed that he handed me the key, it was a real metal key to get into my room instead of some plastic card, that if you got it anywhere close to your cell phone the signal would somehow erase the data from the card and lock you out of your room, so I guess I can see that sometimes it is good to be stubborn in your ways. Once I was comfortably in my room for the night, with my necessities acquired from the store, the food that would sustain me till morning, clothes that would make me look like a salesman from that dealership, scissors to trim my hair short enough for a shave, the aerosol shave cream and razor to erase hair from whatever surface of skin I saw fit, mirror to let me to see the image of the top and back of my head that the one on the wall would not physically allow, wax to shine the top of my newly balding head, all of these puzzle pieces fit together in such a way to make me the approximate copy of the person who I would become to the fleeting glance of a local towns person, the split second recognition, and instantly forgetting me was all I desired. This was my task for the night, to make myself like one of those salesmen, and one in particular.

After the surgery of the night was over, I laid my head down for the night, to let the thoughts of the next day to seep in, and the terrors of my dreams takeover my slumber. This was the ritual that I went through every night, yielding my thoughts over to a dream world that would never relent in its desire to torture my sanity, with disturbing images and thoughts. Once I over came the night's onslaught, which is only accomplished by waking the next day, I began to eat a quick breakfast in my room, from the provisions of the previous day's trip to the store. I then got dressed in the new clothes that I bought, and bagged my old donation clothes in the garbage can liner from the room. I went over to the phone and retrieved the phone directory from the top drawer of the night stand, resting right beside the Bible. I looked up the number for the local taxi company and entered it into my old cell phone. Then I looked up the address for the local Good Will store, and recorded it on the pad provided by the motel. I scanned the room for anything else that was mine, or told of my existence. When I was done not even a 20 year veteran of the custodial services would know that someone had occupied this room the night before. I walked outside near my car, and dialed the number to the front desk.

The manager answered, “Thank you for calling. This is Carl, how can I help you?”

I said in my most apologetic voice, “Yes, Carl, I am so sorry I did not tell you sooner, it just slipped my mind, but I am in room 322, and I smelled a smoky smell several times throughout the night and morning, and I just thought I would let you know. I don't know if someone was smoking in the room on either side, or if something electrical was burning a little inside the walls, but I have left for the day and will be back later, and I just thought you should know.”

Carl replied, “Well, that’s okay, we get that all the time, someone probably was just smoking close to your room. Thanks for letting us know. I'll go have a look around to see who I get to charge for a smoking room now.”

I said, “Well I didn't mean to get anyone in trouble, but I just thought I would let someone know.”

Carl said, “Don't worry about that, you did the right thing.”

I said, “Okay, thanks, bye bye now.”

Carl said, “Bye and you be sure to have a nice day.” Then the phone went dead. I stood there leaning against my car, in the salesman uniform plus a sport coat, watching Carl through the windows dart from behind the front desk to investigate. I then walked in the front door, reached over the counter to retrieve the registry, found the room number 321 and the name I gave beside it, then looked at the column with check marks indicating when someone was checked out, imitated the tick, replaced the book, and left the building for my car. I managed to crank the car and I headed for the Good Will store, to redonate those clothes your Aunt Darlene or Martha, let me have at that old Church clothing drive. Once I got there to my delight the place was not opened yet due to the time being a little after 7:00 in the morning. I opened the door and threw out the regifted clothing on the door step, and drove off from the clothing drive by. I then drove the car to the beach while I looked for the closest peer I could find. When I got to the first one, I drove by just out of principle, then the second was too narrow, third not vacant, but the fourth was perfect. I got out of my car when the front wheels rested on the first few beams that formed the peer. I took the tape measure and measured the width of the peer, and looked down the entirety to make sure it was the same width the whole way down. This truly was the perfect one because it had no hand rails or anything. Then I popped the trunk to take out my snorkeling gear and cash from my belt. I stowed the bag of gear under the peer as close to the bottom side as possible, to escape detection, part of the gear was a small lead pipe about a foot and a half long which I kept with me, and an envelope which I was sure to stick in my pocket.

I got back in the car, and then started making my way toward that ole local dealership, to do my bartering. I suddenly stopped a few miles away, parked the beater in some beach front space, where minivans that toted kids out for the summer would surround it in a few hours, got out of the car, left the keys on the seat and driver window rolled down, the car ready to be stolen if any one would the VIN plates in all areas taken off, the dash, the engine block, the driver's side door, even under the chassis, so it is an untraceable car. Most likely would be towed off by the city in a few days and impounded, and would be parked in the area where cars that did not want to be retrieved by the owners went. I went around to the back of the car and took the license plate off the bumper, which was only held on with bent paper clips for quick and easy removal, and stuck it on my back under my belt and shirt beside the lead pipe. I walked a way, until the car was no longer visible, deposited the plate in the closest trash can ensuring it was not noticeable from the opening of the can, and dialed the taxi company and got them to pick me up.

The cabby finally got the hint and stopped chatting me up, when my face grew cold in just a matter of seconds from entering the cab. The next thing he said to me was the price of the fare, and I threw a couple of wadded up bills, no tip and he would hate me, big tip and he would love me, a few dollars tip and he would forget me, so it was a few dollars tip he got, as I closed the cab door. I stood there looking over the lot before it was opened, and waited as I looked around at the cars closest to the exit gate. Then a car came creeping up to me, stopped, and rolled down its window. The driver was Tim, just the man I wanted to see, just at the right time.

Tim asked, “Hey can I help you?”

I said, “Tim, is that you? Its me Mark. From High school. Don't you remember me?”

Tim said, “Well I don't know, you don't look familiar to me. And you went to East High?”

I said, “Yeah I am a little insulted, I can't believe you don't remember all those fun times we had together.” My negotiating skills already sinking their teeth into him, he is not used to being sold something, not on letting someone have too good of a deal on a car, and definitely not what I am selling him.

Tim said, “Oh yeah, you played football, right? Quarter Back?” Right now, he still does not remember me, mainly because I did not go to school with him, but he thinks that he will have an easy sell if we have some type of history together, this would be much better then some fake rapport he must build in order to sell me a car.

I said, “You got it.” As I pull a pose like I am passing a football, as I grin.

Tim said, “Yeah, well let me open the gate up and I'll see how I can help you.”

I said, “Sure that sounds good, but I am in a huge rush, my company car is pretty much shot, and I just need to get something really quick. It will be on my company credit card.”

Tim said, “Okay, well I'll be right out.” as he waved his left hand and I found the shine of gold around his ring finger, telling him he was off limits to other women, or it was just another one of those killer sales techniques. It was just a matter of minutes before he was walking up to me in the same clothes I had on, minus the sport coat, my blurry mirror image in front of me.

He stuck out his hand for a shake and said, “How have you been?”

I shook and said, “I'm not trying to be a dick or anything, I would love to catch up, in fact give me your card and I'll call you when I am back in town and we can do lunch, but I am in a super rush and need a car, like a few hours ago.”

Tim said, “No hard feelings, what are you looking for?” as he gave up his card.

I said, “Three requirements,” I held up my first finger, “New,” I added my second finger to signal number two, “All electric,” I added my middle finger to signal number three, “Four doors, and that's all.”

Tim said, “That sounds good, we can make that happen, I saw you looking at that one there, and it fits, wanna test it out.”

I said, “That would be great.”

Tim said, “Good cause I already got the keys on me.”

I said, “Tim, I like your style.” We walked over to the car closest to the gate and he handed me the the keys, I put them in my pocket, and fished out the tape measure, and began to measure the width of the car.

Tim said, “More demands?”

I said, “Ha, yeah but this one I just have to see for myself, to make sure I can fit it where I want to. No big deal,” the tape snapped back in place, “This will work for me.” I walked around to the back of the car, while taking the keys and the remote out of my pocket, and popped the trunk. I said, “There is one last thing that I need to check out.”

Tim came over to me, and said, “What is that?”

I said, “I need to see if the trunk will fit what I need to. Get In.”

Tim looked at me like I just escaped an asylum, which was not totally unjustified in the current context. I said, “How many cars have you sold this month, with the recent hike of gas prices?”

Tim said, “Ha, not too many.”

I said, “This will be the easiest sale you ever made, you just need to get in.”

Tim said, “You will buy this car right now, for sticker price, cash, if I get in the trunk?”

I said, “Yes.” Tim just looked at me, shrugged, and complied. I said as I pointed, “Now all the way in, and lay down.” I stood there and contemplated the size of the trunk.

Tim asked, “So will this one work for you or will you need to see something else?” in true salesman style.

I said, “No this one is perfect. It will do what I want.” Tim then scooted toward the opening to get out of the trunk, as I rested my hand gently on the top of the open trunk.

I said, “Not so fast.”

Tim asked, “What else did you need?”

I said, “Just to ask you a question. Did your better judgment warn you against getting in?”

Tim said, “Well yeah, but I needed to sell a car badly.”

I said, “Well next time, I really think that you should follow your better judgment.” Tim’s eyes grew. I then took my lead pipe out of my belt, and cracked Tim on the head, then his body went limp onto the carpet lining the trunk, I then gently closed the trunk imprisoning him. I, moving with the nonchalance and calmness of a grasing cow, with intent, but without mistake, a lookalike of Tim, my heart fluttering, and adrenal glands working overtime, entered the car, to drive to that fourth peer, where the next phase of the plan will come to life. Just as I turned out of the lot and onto the road, I saw another car pulling into the lot. This would only be another worker, so I rolled the window down and waved bye to them, being quite sure that they thought I was Tim. I maneuvered the car down the streets of this town, trying my best not to speed to the fourth peer, but getting there when I did, and calmly. I do not need to attract any attention to myself in a negative way. My heart leaped out of my chest when I made the turn on the road that ran along the coastline, and would bring me to that peer, as I heard the siren of what had to be a police car trailing me after the person who I thought, believed me to be Tim, but obviously not fooled, had called 911, until I realized that this siren was ringing out from this phantom police car otherwise known as my cell phone. The sigh of relief that hit me was a tsunami in its force, but a desired companion. I took the siren out of my pocket, saw a number that looked familiar and foreign at the same time, intrigued to know who would be calling this early I pressed the green button releasing a woman's voice from the speaker.

The phone said, “Hello, this is Judy from the car dealership, I believed that I talked to you yesterday about you wanting to come in and look at a car? Do you remember me?”

I said going back to my business voice, “Why Judy, how could I forget a voice such as yours?” Judy said, “Stop that, your making me blush.”

I said, “Exactly my intention. But I do regret to say, that I had to leave earlier then I planned, my company already arranging for a car to pick me up last night. So I will not be able to have my day brightened by meeting you, but I should be in town soon, and I believe that I will drop in on you then.” Judy said, “Well that sounds quite nice, although I am sorry about not seeing you today, I was calling to inform you that one of our employees saw Tim leaving right as they were coming in for the day, and we have not heard from him, but we are trying to reach him to see if anything is wrong.” My breath left me, how could I have been so stupid as to not check for his cell phone. What if he has woken up and called someone? The game is up.

I said with a crackly voice, “Oh,” pulling myself together, and looking around to see if anyone is following me yet, I said, “That's a shame, well I hope everything turns out alright. Oh I'm sorry someone is beeping in on the other line, Ill have to let you go. Bye.” I pressed the red button to end the call, and looked up to see the fourth peer just appearing in the distance, and I could not get there fast enough. For my sake it must still be too early on this side of town to be going yet, but I had known this would be so, due to my research and travel here before I visited on this occasion. After what seemed like thousands of miles, because of my unfortunate mistake of leaving Tim with his phone, I pulled up to the peer from the sand and stopped the car. I sat there looking in both directions seeing only a few people in the distance who camped the previous night on the beach. I decided it was only getting worse, and I was only getting closer to my fate by sitting here, I still may be able to salvage this day, but there is no knowing what could happen. I got out of the car, sprinting under the peer to retrieve my bag of supplies, throwing it on the seat, and nearly teleporting to the trunk, I used the remote to pop the latch, holding the lid with both arms, pipe gripped in hand, ready for the battle about to take place. I slowly allowed my arms to move up, letting the lid inch higher and higher to reveal my treasure of a Tim, limp like a baby sleeping still crumpled up in the trunk. Another tsunami of relief hit me hard, and I could do nothing but smile at my accomplishment. But my smile faded quickly when the synapses in my brain remembered to bring the vision of Tim calling from his crampt cell desperately calling anyone who would believe him. I felt all over him, and finding his phone, I looked at his recent calls, and nothing going out today, but there were some missed calls, from what I can only assume to be the dealership trying to find out why he left work in a dealer's car. I decided to lay his phone to rest in his pocket where I found it. I closed the trunk lid back to its locked position and entered the driver's seat, for the last time. All I could think about now was me playing chicken against some other guy driving our cars towards a cliff, the winner being the one who stays in the longest before jumping out of the car, unless you jumped too late, to prove your point of having the biggest balls or the smallest brain, going down over the cliff with the cars, becoming the loser, in life and death, and everyone would now know how stupid that guy was, dying to prove something so trivial, and subjective. But this is what I wanted to do, I wanted to go down with the ship, and that is precisely what I did, slamming the car in drive, and pounding the gas I steered the car down the peer making sure I was moving as fast as I could get the car to move, so I could get as far out from the peer and into the ocean as I could. Right before I felt the car launch, I remembered to crack the windows about a quarter of the way down, I braced for impact and the punch in the face from the airbag as we hit the water, I grasped my life line to this daredevil stunt, my bag with air tank, with only enough oxygen for about 15 minutes in my right hand. All the movies and TV shows do not do it justice, but when a car is in water, it sinks much faster then you would expect. The water filling the car around me, making me wet to the bone, hearing Tim awaken to a fit, banging around his prison cell, water ascending, car descending into the depths, I did what only I could and rejoiced, my mission nearly complete. I knew that I had to wait until the water had filled the inside completely before I could attempt to open the door to escape, so I took off my clothes except my hidden swim trunks and, in the last few moments before I left the car happened I took the time to donned my snorkel mask, then stuffed my clothes in the now empty bag, took an envelope and placed it in the glove compartment, and readied my self for my last gasp of air, before I was tied to the life detonator of those 15 short minutes, of my small oxygen tank. I floated up to the top of the car, glaring at the dome light as the last sliver of air bubbled around, trapped inside the car until it inevitably was fished out by the cable of a crane. I looked at my watch, to mark the minute, took my last normal breath, stealing it from the accumulated bubble on the ceiling of the car, and placed the mouthpiece of the small tank in my mouth, and conserved st much air as possible, to lengthen the time I could live on it. I opened the door, the car still descending, I swam to the trunk and rested on top, with my ear upon the trunk lid, listening to the kicking, punching, living Tim, slowly die. The symphony of his death, making my heart pound, thoughts of helping him shooting through my mind, with the implication that he would not tell anyone that he was captured, and did this of his own accord, chickening out of his suicide at the last minute, but I stood fast, knowing the ordeal almost over, immensely enjoying the fruits of my labor and preciseness. I sat there, and at the moment of touchdown on the ocean floor, I heard nothing from the trunk any more, where I concluded that Tim's light of life was extinguished, but mine burning in a way never witnessed before. This was a truly exciting experience, but of course there was regret and remorse involved, but I shoved those away as far as possible, to allow the novel emotions to surge within me. I looked at my watch and saw that six minutes had passed, and realized only nine were left to my life if I did not hurry. I used the key to open the trunk, and there, a bloated white blob was Tim, and it was at this point where all those enjoyable feelings left, when I realized that I was now in for a fight, for my life and freedom, and so I made a quick job of it, being extremely thorough. All I had to do was place Tim gently in the front seat, and close the door, and trunk. Beside the air issue, there was just one more time constraint, Tim's blood. The one thing that I forgot to research, was if this water was infested with shark. If that was the case then I needed to hurry even faster, the blow to the head that I gave Tim was still bloody, as well as his fists from pounding on the underside of the trunk to escape of notify someone else besides me of his predicament. I was counting on the fact that there were fish that would find Tim and eat away at him for as long as he was there or until there was nothing left but bone. The crack in the windows would allow the car to fill faster with water, and for me let the fish in to feast. I was starting to worry, when I remembered that moving his body from the trunk to the front seat, under water would be just as easy done as said, and that was something that I proved to be true, the low gravity of being underwater doing most of the work. By the time I had Tim safely tucked away in the front seat, and when using the last tool, a pair of hand cuffs attached to both hands and looped through the steering wheel would ensure he could not get out of the car, only two more minutes had passed, leaving seven minutes, so it was time for my ascent to the regular air. So I climbed up through the water, nearly reaching the surface, but I stayed with my head below water, swimming parallel with the beach line, so that way it would seem that I was just a happy beach goer swimming in the surf, as far away as possible from where the remains of Tim would be found. The minutes ticking by, but my air tank no longer a huge requirement because I was swimming inches below the surface of the water while making sure I was about 200 feet off shore. When my tank ran out of air I stuck it in my bag, with my cell phone and wallet double zipper bagged, and the mimic clothes that I had from when I was Tim. This slowed my progress, but the damage was done, I was fleeing the scene, and there would be not trace of me around. I decided to walk in the neck deep water instead of swim, and when I dared to look back the peer that I jettisoned a car from was much closer then I thought it would have been by then, and I started to panic a little. I wondered had anyone saw me? Had they noticed me that close to the peer and why I did not go toward the peer to see what happened? I started to look around, like an alligator with my eyes just high enough out of the water to not get them wet, but I did not look like a floating log, just a floating blob of a human, trying to leave, quickly. I then noticed there was a runner making his way up the beach toward me, or the peer, but there is no way that he saw me. The closer he got the more I noticed that somehow, he did see me. And he was waving his arms around at me, motioning to me and the peer, and yelling for me to come to him. And I knew that the gig was up. It was over and I had been caught. So I made my way to him still carrying my bag soaked permanently with sea water, and heavy because of the clothes. I just waddled that convicted walk that kids do when their parents caught them, doing something they were not supposed to, like getting into the parent's liquor cabinet, cigarettes, or gun collection. But what I did was much worse then all that. Dripping still I walked upon the damp sand where the water just retreated from its surface, and stood beside the him. No one else in sight.

He asked, “So what happened out there?”

I said, “What? Where?”

He said and pointed, “Out there where you drove the car off the peer, you wasted too much time sitting there, the car should have been in the water much faster.”

I said, “I thought it looked as if he was contemplating it before he went for it.”

He said, “Ha, well that is how people get talked down, and how you get caught.”

I looked down at my feet and said, “Yeah I guess you are right.”

He said, “Yeah, and do you know how else you get caught?”

I said, “How? Everything else...”

He cut me off, “By standing within a hundred mile radius from what you just did, lets get the f**k out of here.”

I said, “Okay,” my entire body in an uplifted grin knowing that it all was complete. Before we took that next step, in the opposite direction from that peer, we stood there shoulder to shoulder, I overexcited, him underwhelmed. Then we began to walk along, at a swift pace, and I asked him, “So how did you find me?”

He looked cross at me and did not reply, one of those looks that meant either, if you are too dumb not to know how he found me, that he would not grace me with the answer, or that I had to work a lot harder to get to his level, before he would give that question its answer, I could not tell which one he meant, but probably the first one. So I shut up, and began to think that these last two days, my actions, I wondered how people would see what happened here? And all I could think was that no matter what anyone said or thought, I was not an executioner today, but Tim's eternal salvation.

Then my mentor spoke up and asked, “So... What's next?”