How to be a spy 2
Okay, so now I have this strange box in my hands, and an alien phone in my pocket. After the men had gone, I decided what everyone whose brain is working relatively well will do when faced with a situation they do not understand: try to locate something familiar.
In my case, it was home. Quickly and without further event, I made it into my apartment and locked the door. Then I took out the strange box and began observing it. To my knowledge, it looked like some strange sort of electronic device, although I didn’t see anything with which I could activate it further, nor did it have any buttons or apparent user interfaces.
I was just about looking for a screwdriver, when my phone rang. Or rather, the phone that strange old man gave to me. Initially, I was not going to pick the call, until I realized that the number calling me was actually my own number, that is, the number of the phone which had been taken from me earlier today.
Well, what could go wrong? I picked the call and said the usual cursory “hello?” The person that replied was not the old man who’d taken my phone. It was some lady with this lovely voice. She was glad she reached me before the ‘bad guys’, she said. The old man who’d given me the box had asked her to contact me, so she could get the box from me. She asked for my location. I lied about it. I asked to speak with the old man, to which she said he was in danger, so he couldn’t come and speak to me.
Of course, she was lying. If the man was in danger, and she was his colleague, how did she get my phone from him? It would have been easier to call me and give me directives, than ask someone else to call me, after giving them the phone which was originally in his possession. So I knew that this lady was most likely one of the ‘bad guys’.
Immediately, not sure of what I would do next, I packed a few clothes into my backpack, took all my credit cards, made sure my house was in order, and then placing the strange box in my backpack, I locked my apartment and left.
I was thinking about making it to the bus terminal and taking a ride to the next city, where my brother lived. I’d probably give the box to the police, lay low with my bro for a while, maybe two weeks, and then come back home. Better yet, maybe I would give the box to the police first.
That was when I felt the cold steel of a gun against the back of my neck.
To be continued...
Thanks for coming!
That little boy,