Call Center
Chapter 1:
My nose crinkles at the foul smell in the alley. I look to see if anyone is around, but of course no one is. It’s 2 am, why would anyone be around? Everyone should be in bed sleeping, or working a night shift or something. Yet here I am now, at 2 am. I try to remind myself that I am doing this for my own benefit, but it does not help calm my nerves in the slightest. My hands still shake and my breath still rattles with each intake. I reach into the dumpster on my right and start digging around. I am so nervous I don’t even mind the disgusting garbage that I am feeling around in. Finally my hand finds the cool metal. I pull the gun out slowly, my hand shaking violently, I still cannot believe that this is actually happening. I am still silently hoping that this is all just a bad dream and that my eyes will snap open and I will sit up in my own bed, in my own house, safe and sound. But as I pull the magazine out of the gun my heart plummets. I have to accept that this is no dream, I will not wake up because the clip contains only one bullet, just like he said it would.


Chapter 2:
My alarm goes off at 5am. I drag myself out of bed, my body still aching of sleep. I plop down at the kitchen table and sip my coffee as I watch the news. “There has been another death in New York City that seems to be linked to the one in Vermont last week,” the reporter is saying. “The authorities say that the building was burned from top to bottom and that these deaths may not have been accidents. If you have any infor-” I switch the TV off. It is all just more senseless violence. I get dressed in my normal uniform, grab my bag and head off to work.

***

I sit down in my chair and turn my phone line on. I pick up my headset and turn on my computer. In just minutes the calls are rolling in. “Hello this is Gardersoft customer service. My name is David, how can I help you?” The same line over and over again with every new call. That line is branded into my vocal chords. Sometimes I fear I might start to accidentally say that at the beginning of every conversation I have.

The day goes on monotonously, as usual. People calling with the same problems as always. Sometimes it’s “my internet won’t load,” or “your computers suck, I can’t do anything with them,” or even “how do you get into the settings?” And I have to sit there patiently answering all of their stupid questions. Finally lunch comes, like an angel descending from the skies to take me to the land of milk and honey. My half hour of peace and sanity. But sadly, like all good things, it ends too soon. Back to that uncomfortable chair, and the droning voices of unhappy, unskilled and exasperating customers. I put my headset on and answer the first call as usual. “Hello this is Gardersoft customer service. My name is David, how can I help you?”
The voice that responds is deep and mysterious. “You must do exactly what I say, and nothing else or you will be dead by morning.”
“Who is this?” I ask, though not entirely surprised. “Is this some kind of prank?” I have heard about people getting prank calls in our office, but I have never gotten one myself.
“I assure you this is no prank.” The man replies, “Now listen carefully. When you leave work you must go to 33rd and Warton and turn down the alley on your left. There you will find a dumpster. In the dumpster you will find a gun with one bullet. You must take this gun to 1204 Marrison Lane at 2:37 exactly. Go around the back of the house, the back right window will be unlocked, enter through it.” I pull out a piece of paper and quickly start writing this down so I can file a report.
“You must make your way to the second floor and walk down the hallway.” He continues, “At the third door on your left, stop. There will be a bedroom. There is a man inside. I warn you, he will be awake. You must kill him. You only have one shot, so don’t miss. Then, go to the basement take the gasoline can in the third drawer in the cabinet on the right. Burn the house down from top to bottom. Do all of this and nobody will bother you. Tell no one, and be careful. Don’t try anything funny, we know where you live.” The line goes dead.

Chapter 3:
The rest of the day passes by in a blur. I keep nervously checking my pocket to see if my notes are still there. For some reason the call has me worried that there is someone watching me. Maybe they do know where I live. By the end of the day however I convince myself that it was all just some elaborate prank, but I still keep the notes close at hand and stay alert. I tell myself that it was probably just some teenagers trying to get a laugh out of scaring people. I get in my car and drive home feeling a bit better. When I get home I kick off my shoes and get comfortable on the couch. I turn on the TV. It is still on the news channel I was watching this morning. Thinking of this morning I remember the news story that was on.
I gasp and spring up off of the couch, remembering something that they said. I rip the notes out of my pocket and scan through them. Near the bottom I find what I am looking for. He told me to burn the house down from top to bottom. Just like the story on the news this morning.
I run over and grab my phone I start dialing 911, but before I hit call I stop and think a minute. What if it was a prank? They probably knew about the murders I put the phone down and enter my bedroom. I lie down and stare at the ceiling. I just lie there and think. What if I just go to where he said the gun would be and see if it is there. If it is, then I have proof. I know it is a bad idea though. If this was a horror movie I would be screaming “DON’T GO IN THERE! DON’T GO IN THERE!” But this may be the only way to find out.
Suddenly there is a crash from the living room. I jerk up in bed and think about how maybe it would be a good idea to own a gun. I walk slowly to the door, adrenaline coursing through my bloodstream.

Chapter 4:

I open my bedroom door as slowly and quietly as possible, but it is no use. If there is someone in my house they can probably hear my heart beating as loud and as fast as a bass drum with a double pedal. I realize I should have grabbed a weapon, like a bat or something, but I am already halfway down the hallway. I stop at the end of the hallway, back to the wall, hands out to my sides, like a spy in a movie. I stand there and listen, but hear nothing but the breeze coming in through the broken window. I slowly peer around the corner, and unsurprisingly the floor is covered in broken glass, the drapes blowing like silent ghosts in the fall breeze. There is nothing but a large rock with a piece of paper tied to it lying amongst the glass. I cautiously walk towards it, still suspicious. I pick up the stone and already know that this is it, this is the proof that the phone call was real. I untie the note from the rock and read it carefully.
You know what you have to do.
2:37am exactly. Do not disappoint us.
We know how to find you.
I knew it. There is still that small voice in the back of my head saying, hoping, that this is all a joke, or a dream. Telling me not to worry because I will wake up soon. But it is a seed of doubt that I will not water. I have to act. My first option is to stay here, clean up the glass, cover the window, stay awake and keep a look out; and if nothing happens, then I will stop worrying. The problem with that is if something does happen I will probably end up in a bad situation, and possibly dead. My second option is that I could do what they said to do, kill this man, and burn the house down. Of course, then I would be a murderer and an arsonist, and would probably go to prison and have to live with my guilt for the rest of my life. The third and most sensible option is to call the police and stay under their protection until these people are caught.
I walk over to the phone on the kitchen wall and pick it up. I dial 911 and put it to my ear. I hear nothing. I dial again, still nothing. I slam the phone down in frustration as I realize that they must have cut the phone line. I walk back to my bedroom where I left my cell phone sitting on my bedside table, but it is not there. Maybe I left it in my pocket. I grab my pants off the ground and frantically rummage through all the pockets. Nothing. I stand there holding my pants in one hand, the incoming breeze making my hairs stand on end. I stand there contemplating where I could have left my phone when I come to the realization that there should be no breeze in my bedroom. I whip my head around so fast that I am surprised I do not get whiplash. The window is wide open. The window that I closed and locked two weeks ago when the weather started getting cold. The window that is locked from the inside, or rather was locked from the inside. No.
“No no no no no!” I scream. Those sneaky bastards took my damn cell phone too.

Chapter 5:
The drop from the window was farther than I anticipated, but I did not want to risk taking the front door. As I creep through my backyard, I come up with a plan; I will sneak through people’s yards for awhile, and when I am far enough away from my house, I will make a break for the police station. That way if there are people watching my house, which I am certain there are, I will reduce my risk of getting caught.
As I climb over the fence separating my yard from my neighbor’s, I wonder more about who these people are, and why they want this guy dead, and why they can’t just do it themselves. On the other side of the fence I crouch and start slowly across the yard. In the pitch black every piece of patio furniture looks like someone crouched, ready to pounce on me. The grass is short and freshly cut. I barely make it halfway across the yard when I hear a soft click and the dirt explodes in front of me. I dive backwards and hide in the darkest shadows of the fence. No more shots come. I climb back into my yard and run across to the other side. Maybe I can go south and loop around. I climb over the fence and into the yard. I make it all the way across without any problem. I get to the next fence and swing myself over. It does not seem like there is anyone waiting for me in this direction, so I relax a little and start to move faster.
After running through nine or ten yards, I creep along the side of a house and out onto the street. There is no one in sight, not even a car to be seen driving in the dark of the night. I cross the street and start heading west down Hoyle, the police station is on 35th. I walk briskly in the chill fall air. I forgot to grab a jacket, but luckily the air is still, and does not whisk away my heat as easily. As I walk, notice I that there is not a cloud in the sky, but it is dark. There must be a new moon tonight.
This is crazy. I am just a normal, average guy, but all of a sudden I am running for my life from some mysterious person, or persons, who want me to kill a guy for some ominous reason. This must be a dream, but nothing short of a vice would pinch me hard enough to wake up.
I count the streets as I get closer. 29th, 30th, 31st, 32nd. As I cross 33rd I notice the shadows up ahead shift slightly. I stop in the middle of the street, my blood turning to lead. I can hear my heart beating in my ears like a stampede of elephants. I stand there frozen and watch as a dark figure approaches me.