Caroline Branton could not find her way home. It is alternatively too dark and too bright for her to make out the way forward. Flares and strobes washed over her eyes, suddenly replaced by what felt like the deep darkness of space. Cuts leak blood down her clothes, smearing sticky red along her arms. Still, she ran, hoping, praying, knowing that the way out would be right around the corner. Too late, she missed a turn and ran face-first into a wall, the rough unpolished stone smashing her nose and cutting her cheekbones. She swore in pain and frustration. But she had to keep running. The way out was right around the corner. She had to find her way home. She had earned it after all.
Less fear than anger boiled through her veins. Anger at herself for accepting the man’s deal. Anger at the world for backing her into a corner. Anger that she hadn’t been smarter.
The deal was simple. All she had to do was drop a bag off in an alley just after midnight. Do that and she’d never have to worry about anything again. She could wake up every morning and live a life of unending luxury. Dreams of white sand beaches, long walks through her own private greenhouses, resorts in Monaco, long nights in Paris, and private flights to remote islands danced through her head. Cool friends, stylish dinner parties, staff to wait on her every need. Freedom would be hers to do with as she wished.
She said yes without even asking what was in the bag.
The devil had looked a bit like Bill Pullman, which even now made her laugh. Not a dead ringer, but enough to make you wonder if they had been related. It was one of the reasons that she had talked to him in the first place. Caroline wasn’t in the habit of talking with strangers, especially those who were asking for signatures for petitions. But the recognition had been enough to break the ice.
“It’s for a good cause.”
Caroline had ignored the pamphlets he tried to hand her and signed her name on the proffered sheet. She thought it might have been about the environment or something. Maybe abortion, probably pro-, based on where she lived, but that was an assumption. She wasn’t even sure why she had stopped at all, usually, she just ignored these pests, waving a hand vaguely in their direction, as if to ward off a particularly frisky bee. But this time, she stopped.
She had almost gotten away after signing her name, turning her back on the man and taking a step toward the café that she heard had a good cortado.
‘Wait, Caroline. Do you know Jessica Giel?”
She didn’t know a Jesscia Giel, but that question turned into another into an exchange of phone numbers, into drinks at the bar on Friday night, into him asking her if she wanted a better life. No, not a better life. The words of his offer were emblazoned in her memory, one of the few things that were.
“Do you want to live your best life. I can make that happen.”
Of course, she wanted a better life. Who didn’t? Just look around, it’s not like things were particularly good for the average person, were they? Wars, babies starving, cops killing wantonly, disease, the four horsemen were having a field day just about everywhere you looked. Enough to make anyone go crazy. Not even to mention that her bills never seemed to stop growing, and she hadn’t gotten a real raise in who knew how long. Hell, she hadn’t been on a real vacation in four years. Not unless you counted the semi-annual visit she made to her parents for Christmas. And no one counted that.
At first, she had laughed in his face. How could this random man she had met on the street offer her anything other than a few free drinks and maybe a halfway decent lay? She opened her mouth to tell him as much, but he seemed to read her mind.
“Follow me.”
That weekend had been amazing. Stellar. Beyond her wildest dreams. They had flown private to Turks and Caicos, partied all night, then hopped on a jet to Italy, where they sailed on the Mediterranean. There had been a garden maze, constructed entirely out of granite and marble, that she had fallen in love with. The rest had been a blur of drugs, famous faces, and more wealth than she had thought possible.
When they had finally come back to her apartment, he had made the offer.
“That can be yours. Whenever, wherever you want. Just take this bag and deliver it a few minutes after midnight tonight.”
He had given her a location a few miles from her place. She had taken the bag on the spot and promised that it would be there. A cold shiver ran down her spine, but she was tired and hungover, and it was probably just the AC running a little too much anyway.
She had looked in the bag. It had just been a bunch of papers. They looked like legal documents, but she couldn’t be sure. She saw a number of names on them, foreign-looking. None of them rang a bell. Certainly, no one related to her. There wasn’t enough time to go through them all. So, she left her apartment, called a Lyft, and put in the address of a store across the street from the alley.
Caroline half-answered the driver’s questions about her, mumbling empty phrases. She nodded without listening at the stories he told her about his family. Something about immigration. Plans for a formal English garden, complete with a stone maze, ran through head, and she could have cared less about the problems this stranger was dealing with. She wondered just how much she would lord her new lifestyle over her sister.
Thy Lyft driver dropped her off, presumably speeding away to catch another fare. It was one minute until midnight. Her glory was nigh. Her life of endless pleasure, complete with mazes and drinks, and trips to the Seine, mere ticks of a watch away. She stepped out into the street and crossed it.
A middle-aged woman, three children hugging her legs, stood in front of the alley. She held out a hand to Caroline.
“Please, miss. I need to feed my family.”
Caroline shrugged. She’d be rich soon anyway. What could it hurt? Reaching into her pocket, she threw her wallet at the woman.
Ignoring the woman’s gasps of shock, Caroline checked her watch to make sure it was the right time. She dumped off the sack, turned around, and exited the alley. She walked a few blocks away, breathing heavily.
Her phone buzzed. A notification from her bank. A successful transfer to her savings account. $100 million. An offer for a wealth advisor. Her knees shook and she steadied herself against a wall.
“Ready for your dream life?”
Bill Pullman, face obscured by darkness, was behind her. He held out his hand. Caroline took it.
“I think that garden maze is going to be fabulous.”
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