Saturday, September 8, 2007

Sierra Lima - The Hotel

Adam sits on an old bed, the rusted out frame barely holding up his weight. Tuffs of cotton stuffing jut out of the stained mattress, worn from decades of puke and other unmentionable bedtime mishaps. Shards of light shoot through the holes of an old piece of rotted plywood nailed precariously over a broken window, lighting up invisible dust particles floating through the putrid air. His boots sat flat on a dusty hardwood floor covered with empty booze bottles, used syringes, blackened spoons and other objects one would rather just imagine weren’t there. Against the cigarette smoke stained wall stood an old bedside table with the drawer hanging open, a forgotten Gideon bible it’s only contents, probably untouched since it’s placement. Does anyone ever read these? Probably could have done a few occupants of this room some good, Adam thinks as he continues to scan his new surroundings. A single hotel room with a double bed. It was probably a nice stay in its day, hundreds of dollars a night, now a condemned building used by the crap of society, but it was perfect. Adam looks at his watch, it’s 2:33pm. He has exactly one hour and seventeen minutes.
Feeling quite different than he thought he would, Adam gets to work. One hour was more than enough time to complete the tasks he practiced over and over, but it was always better to allow for more time than not enough. This was a one shot deal. Get it done, get out. One hour. He starts by opening up the face of his watch, carefully dials a series of codes. A flashing green arrow with the digits “5.2m” appear, and after holding his wrist flat and steady, the arrow points east towards a closed closet door about 5 meters away. Standing up, he feels disoriented, like he’d be drinking heavy and this was the worst hangover ever. Beaumont told him he would feel this way, and that it would quickly subside, but the walk to the closet feels undeniably strange. He is not just in a foreign place. The closet opens with a stuck crack. This closet hasn’t been open in years, he thinks, a suitable placement, and a lot closer than anticipated, more time saved, damn they’re good. On the floor the metal case stood with the handle propped up in the carry position, like someone just placed it there and walked away. He picked it up and carried it back to the bed. The thought of yesterday’s meeting came back to him, the instructions, the repercussions of failure, all carefully planned by Mr. Bhig, to whom Adam was ready to prove his worth, as well to Beaumont and to the others members of the Sierra Lima.


Anonymous said...

Wow! Do you ever know how to spin a tale! But what the heck are you talking about? I liked the other stories better, where you talked about something we all could understand.

Anonymous said...

haha - totally off topic but just saw it this morning.

Check out
for probably one of the best pranks I have seen pulled off in a long time!

Big DC

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