The Call Pt 4

I spent the next week anxiously waiting a call while binging every crime drama available to me by my ex’s unwitting donations. Little did I know this would be the start of a murder content addiction as I try to subdue my overactive brain. Waiting for the next call was excruciating as the days crawled by. 

Wake, Smoke, Stifle, Serve, Suspense.

The day started as any other. Dread shook me awake and I reached for the roach cringing in the eye of the hurricane. I trudged my way to the bar relieved by the lack of covers at the top of the shift. My mud had nearly frozen in the biting wind of early November as I burst into the bar, the result of yet another sticky lock war. I’d started taking it personally. A moment of piece is quickly robbed as the phone rings. Fuck. Time slowed as I reached for the handheld holding my breath.

I recognized the synthesizer immediately.

“41.499167, -81.694722. Go to the library. Walk through the West entrance. 20 paces forward, take the stairs on the right to the second floor. 45 paces forward. It’s within the isle. J 1.14/2:98026090. Do not deviate. “

“Who is this” I choke out.

Click.

I jump for my bag housing the crappy 2016 iPhone, anxiety gurgling as the device struggles to load my contacts. All 23 of them.

“It happened again. This time at the bar. It was too fast to call you first. I’ve been instructed to go to the library, downtown.” Adrenaline stomped any fear of repercussion as the words hurl out of me. In a blur, I was dressed, outside with the bar door locked. I didn’t even bother to turn off the lights as I rushed for my mission.