Where are the keys

The man was clueless. If he was a good stalker, one he claimed to be, he could have known that that wasn’t my car. I don’t even have a car. I’ve been breaking into cars for the past year. They make it too easy these days. Who needs a wired hanger, a bobby pin, and a card when the black market is available. All you have to do is pay a stranger to make a coded tab that lets you into 1nice, new updated car. That or know an insider who is willing to sell you a copy of a key. That’s too much in my opinion. Image having a handful of keys fora variety of cars. It’s not like I steal them for more than a day. I steal them from high end lots. I know who’s who, the 9-5 workers, those who won’t even miss them. How he got in here, I have no idea. I suppose we all have our own way, I mean I got here didn’t I? Props to him. His car however, most certainly did not fit in. Guess I’ll be bumming it for the next week. Unless I feel like hiding onto it for a little longer. Who knows, maybe it’ll be humbling. Its always good to do that now and then. A nice check to pure sanity. If you can claim sanity even exists. The body however, is another thing.

I could assume he doesn’t have a family, or least lost touch with them. As for his friends, well, hope for their sake they don’t exist. He’s definitely not that dead. Unless he has a condition I’m unaware of. Nonetheless not my concern. I mean, he was trying to kidnap me after all. Can you even call it that? Kidnapping. Im sure as hell not a kid. Holding hostage? But napping partakes first. Like throwing into a knapsack right? Bag dolled frothier future pleasure, whatever that may be. Do they keep the tittle kidnapped because it’s like being a kid? Held against your will with an authority you’re not allowed to question, but you obviously do.

I don’t take a real look at him, but he wasn’t too bad looking. Shame. Not to say he couldn’t have been somebody if he was ugly, but he definitely didn’t have to stalk to get any action. Who know, maybe if he had just asked for my number I would have said yes. Couldn’t base his personality off of his charcoal grey sweats and black zip up hoodie. He probably had some kind of hobby for himself, maybe a job. Funny, I wonder what his story was. I guess I could let him live. No need to even turn him in. I play with his brain first.

Have I become the kidnapper? Huh. I guess after stealing things for so long you get bored of the objects. Could we be one in the same? Mmm not really enjoying that thought. Maybe I’ll just knock him out again for good measures. Leave him on train tracks.

I know I won’t miss him. It’s annoying being watched. Always walking with the feeling of someone over your shoulders, having to act like it’s not happening. You keep walking trying to find your own pace. Eventually you slow down, acknowledging the speed you picked up. Half form the need to run from anxiety, charging for your destination, and then well, the stalker. I wonder what his name is. Should we go to a motel? These days they are just as expensive as a hotel. Which one holds more secrecy? How do people in the movies make that so nonchalant. Do I give him the heads up? I’m not one fore weapons. I have nothing, but a shield made from my own body. Not even pepper spray. Come to think of it, I didn’t check him for anything. I don’t think he has anything. He was surprisingly light and nothing seemed to budge out. Nothing fell out. I should have grabbed his wallet. No not for the money. Not for taking cards. Those kind of cards. Im more of a routing number kind of girl. I wonder what his name is. Jimmy. Something with a J. Hmmm.

When I open the trunk, will he jump out or be calm? He hasn’t screamed yet. Would I even hear that? Has he bashed his way out? I would definitely hear that. I look at my rearview mirror. Can he even do that?

Fuck. He needs gas. Of course he does. I look to see which side the tank is on. I lift the middle consul, there’s his wallet. Damn no J. Trent. Trent Train Bistle. Brown hair. Brown eyes. 6 foot 3” at 185 pounds. Organ donor. Perfect vision. Hmmm. Well gas is on him then. I lock the car, fill er up, then go inside to grab a water and a snack.

There he was sitting in the front passenger seat. I pause at the doors that start to close on me. What does he think he is doing?I walk up to the drivers side. I slowly open the door. He smiles, says no word, and gestures at the seat.

“Did you-“ not sure how to continue the question, I stop there. He points to the middle console dropped in the back seat. It laid flat on the seat two empty cup holders in sight.

“The back seat” he smiles. “it opens.”

My eyes widen at the thought. A genius invention for an old car, a hassle for me.

“So you just decided to come up here, in the passenger seat.”

“More comfortable.” he says.

I blink twice.

“Where to next?” He asks.

So he’s clearly sick in the head. As if we didn’t already know that.

“Water?” I hand to him as I open my own. I still decline to take a seat. Unaware of how this was going to play out, I needed a second to think. He didn’t seem to mind the wait. He takes a sip.

“Mint?” He offeres.

“Thanks. Im good” I say.

With no plan in mind. The pressure has now been turned on with someone in the car.some now conscious in the car. I cant take him back to mine. That’s a no brainer. Can’t drop him off at his, I don’t even dare ask where that is. Where to next… A park would be sus. Hmmm. An ally way is asking for trouble, plus this int some drug deal. This is a body. What to do with this body. He senses my hesitation in driving after a mere 10 minutes. Tempted by his wandering eyes I follow them as a guide. Does he know what he’s doing? Is this his scheme? I want to ask him if he’s hungry. Maybe a public setting woulds suffice, but I couldn’t bare to take a bite. My hands shake. What I could use is a hit, not from one of the nasty flavored sticks, but from a cigarette. To taste the regret and shame on my tongue. Feels good. Self harm is less of a harm because we believe we control it, unlike the pain from others. Is that why it’s common to see smokers always isolated? Too cool for the world around them? Or am I reflecting. Definitely not too cool. Smart, maybe. But someone always has something to offer. Each brain trained still steers away. Now I’m annoyed, did I just call myself not cool? He seems to be cool with himself. Confident in the direction we’re going. Again where are we going? I know. Im just annoyed now. Repetition, is, slowly dying knowing you’ll come out of it alive. Every time. Repeating wont help here, this isn’t some pretty little practice, walking towards something. It’s a decision that needs to be made right now. Something bigger than this moment is on the end of my final answer. I want out and to feel as calm as before.

You think stealing cars would leave you on edge all the time. Waiting for a card you don’t want to use. But it was peaceful, part of my day. I guess I just got used to it. I wonder what he’s used to, what his “normal” is. His peace.

“Close your eyes” he tells me.

“Huh?” I blink, as if i’m not driving.

“Let me take the wheel” he says calmly making his way with his arms towards me.

I shift my shoulders out and back towards the wheel.

“That’s hilarious.” I snuff.

“You don’t trust me?”

I don't even trust myself st this point. I like plans. This was not the plan.

“I just think you’d like it.” He starts.

“And why would I like it?” I ask.

“Because yay haven’t done it before.”

Well I haven’t done any of this before. But this part, how would he know about this part. A lucky guess. But maybe, maybe my silence gives it away. I speak…

“Seems hard to do when I have the directions.”

He smirks.

So he is aware of my misdirections. Unsure of our destination. And, possibly, following his eyes. Only here and there tho. Lying to myself now, embarrassing.

Fuck it.

He grins wide as his teeth shine as the sun still beams thru the window. I had forgotten it was in the middle of the day. Few more hours til sunset. Should we just keep driving til it’s dark? Can I stall for that long? Do I even want to stall for that long? He grabs the wheel, I then close my eyes. Peeping in steps of safety.

“Do you like the beach?” He asks.

Do I like the beach… is he taking me to the beach? Is this some kind of date to him?

“Why do you want to go to the beach?” I ask.

“Who said I wanted to go the beach. I was just asking a question.”


“Oh.” I say. Stunted by his direction in conversation.

“I mean, I guess. Who doesn’t.”


“People who hate the sand, or worse, the water.”

"There’s a point in there.”

“Im going to point. You guess where. Left or right?” He points but my eyes stay closed.

Trying to remember where we are, feeling for the distance and turns, I say “right.”


He turns, but the lane wasn’t long because we come to a quick stop. I open my eyes. We’re in a lot. Not a lot with a bunch of stores. Just an empty lot as the stores are closed. I hadn’t seen the place before, maybe the beach would have been better.

“Wanna see something funny?” He gets out of the car.

I hesitate to follow as he pulls out his phone. I panic in response and grab it.

He laughs “It’s okay. Here, click the camera.” He pulls up his sleeves to show what seems to be a tattoo of a barcode. “ it’s my company.”

My eyes widen. He owns a company? What kind of company could he own. Will this just alert he’s in danger? A tracker. Or worse his way to traffic people. I mean it’s his environment. What do I do now?

It’s a site for coders. Things for sale with no pictures or descriptions. Just a color coded wheel. What is this?

“I code.” He says. “And i’m pretty sure you know what I sell.”

Im now nervous. I’ve never seen this site before. At this point i’m not sure I even want to.

“Not from this site. But you’d recognize it elsewhere.”


“I can’t even see what you sell” I say pointing at the color wheel.

He grabs his wallet and places a metal card into the palm of my hand.

I do know what he sells.

The card that opens all the push start cards. Im shook. I have no words so I just stare. What did the creator of this, want with me. Why was he stalking me? We both know the use of the card. It’s not like I was doing anything wrong, from his eyes at least. In a sense we’re on the same team in this world. What did he want?

“How’s yours holding up?” He asks.

Unsure of what he wanted to do with this information I say, “my card looks different from yours.”

“Your card only does push to start cars.” He says/

Caught. My eyes Barry below my eyebrows, now i’m intrigued. “ what do you mean?”


“I made myself a master key.”


“How does a master key, work, what is that?”

“Do you trust me?” He asks in a sincere, but a sinister way.

“Yes”. I say. Wanting to know more.

“Where are we going?” He asks.

“I-“

“Can we go back to mine?”


I snap out of it with that line, “: definitely not.” I chuckle, more at myself then at him.

“Definitely, is a strong word.”

“I don’t see why we need to for you to explain.”

“Open ears are everywhere he.” He says.


He’s not wrong. But there has to be another place.

“What if we drive to it and you make the call upon entering?”

Still not loving the idea, I say nothing.

“Car it is.” He holds in a sigh and we both sit.

“I didnt mean to” he starts, but I cut him off.

“I-” I emphasize “didnt plan to, to kidnap you.”

“Safety first of course.” A small smile of, it is what it is, appeared on his face.

“So with that being said.”

“I wont press charged” he says, patting me just above the knee.

I laugh, not even trying to hold it back. “Right, cause that would happen.”

Taken back by my sarcastic tone he says “Oh? And why wouldn’t I ?”

I look at him just as surprised by his response. He was serious? Oh okay, well, um.

“Well I mean, given the scenario.”


“And what was that scenario again?” He asks mischievously.

“Well you went to grab me. After continuous staling might I add.” I throw in a tone loud and acknowledgeable. Im confused by his open eyes shifting to closed as he laughs.

“Stalking” he says with an almost pout.

“Stalking” I repeat back with sturdiness.

“Hmm..” he trails.

If he’s trying to gaslight me that won’t be happening. He will not be questioning me. I change the subject.

“When’d id you come up with the card?”


“On a ski trip in Denver.” He starts. “My friend was telling me about the night he spent in jail. He was a wealthy friend of mine and for that was released, no questions to follow upon. He got what he wanted as always. But he was appreciative. His parents taught him that. Then I thought to myself, what if you had just enough, to do whatever you want. At any price.?”

I stop him there. “That card only works for cars.” I say as a sentence, but in question to know of more.

“Your card” he says, waving his in the air.

“What else can you do? “ I ask.

“Anything with tags, codes, metal censors, electronics, chips and wires attached, All that and m one tap away from access.”

My mind astounded, my eyes in question, and my heart Sunk to my stomach. I just met the love of my life. The card. Not him. Im not one of those girls afraid to fall in love, have commitment issues, all that. Im not cold. Im just not drooling over a guy who’s shared one tool of his. After all he’s still a creep for stalking me. After looking at him long enough I will admit he is good looking. I’d definitely take a bite given he circumstances were different. He’s gotta stop giving me goggly eyes though. This is business at this point. Flirt with your object, not your buyer. Was he even selling? Was he pitching master keys to certain people? or, is that too powerful? To be spread around like that. I could only imagine how everyone would react. Oh the troubles it would cause may it be places in the wrong hands. They couldn’t be cheap tho thats for sure. Maybe there would be an interview before each purchase. Was this part of the interview? Im thinking to myself when I have all the answers right next to me. All I have to do is ask. Ask out loud.

“Do you know everyone who owns one of those cards?” I ask.“Only one master card. That i’m aware of. As for the others I have my tabs, but I’m not actively looking for how they’re handled.”

Remembering he has a barcode I ask “Aren’t you afraid of getting caught? I mean all the proof is on that arm.”

“One slash and the barcode is no more.”

Valid approach, painful, but valid.

“Plus it’s safer than hanging out business cards.”

True. I hadn’t thought about that. The mans smart i’ll give him that. “So is this your only job then?” I ask.

“I’ve mad a limited amount and I only sell in between certain time slots.”

“I know you background check them.” Not speaking in truth, but seeking the truth.

“Recognize the coding?”


“Something like that.” I say. “ so what do you know about me?” I ask, now knowing he knows more than your average stalker. Not only does he know where I go, what I’ve done, and what I have, he most likely knows what i’m about to do , who I know, and and how I spend.

“Enough .” He says like he’s content with the information received.

“And I don’t know anything about you. Now how is that fair.”

“We both know this life is not fair. thats why we do what we do.”


“Are you secretly recruiting people?”


He laughs. “No, definitely not.” He takes a beat. “i’m grateful for my accomplishments i’ve done alone. But even those who work alone, with open ears, have had help from others wether they want to admit it or not.”

“Well you have definitely helped others, I’ll tell you that.”

“I know.” He says with a smile, not cocky, but assured in himself.

“Okay, so. “ I start”

Maybe e the beach wouldn’t be so bad I think to myself.

“How's Venice beach sound?”

“Chaotic.” He grins. I think this Is suppose to be taken in a good way.

“On our way we go.”

He turns on the music. The neighborhood is paying. We both sit back in our seats. A lease of tension has been lifted. Strangers. Stalkers. Kidnappers. To… well I don’t know what to it yet, but I feel relaxed now. Not sure if he was worried before like I was, but he sees more comfortable too.

We sit in silence for a while. Well musical silence. No ones singing along or tapping their feet. The windows are up and the ac barely makes a breeze. Maybe the adrenaline has gone down, but my body feels back to normal temperature. Im neutral at this moment.

A car cuts us off. I slam the breaks, he’s somewhat calm. Enough to be concerning in my eyes.

“Used to reckless driving?” I ask. He just smiles. Did he know the person in the car? Now I’m just being paranoid. This was a new feeling for me. I didnt like it. I don’t like it. I check my phone to see what time it is. His eyes follow the glow. I feel like he’s an android user. Or he’s both. I then remember I’m driving his beat up car. I feel less shaky. I can only imagine crashing one of the other cars. I could have been done for. We didn’t hit the other car, but you think about that stuff in those instances. I don’t like slamming the breaks. Never have. Some fear of mine is I’ll fly thru the window shield. So. I break. Slowly, just enough to where my foot isn’t pushing the pedal tot he ground. Even if that means I hit something. I some how feel like he knows that. I’m not bad driver. He knows that, otherwise we would have been more forceful with his request to drive. After all I have no weapons to tell him not to. But maybe he thinks I have one? No, I don’t think he does.

A whole lotta ifs, a lot of imaginary he said she said going on in my brain right now.

We arrive to the beach. We walk over to the sand. Closest to the dunes, hidden from appearance to others.

“Now what “ he says, almost making fun of the situation.

“I’m not really sure yet” I admit. It kinda slipped out.

“It’s my car.” He says.

Obviously, does he think imm stupid? I look at him blankly, but I cant help but just laugh. What is he getting at? He laughs, now making me pause. A crazy mans laugh is more concerning.

“No. The one you tried to break into, it’s my car.”

“Huh?” I say disgusted by the claim.


“I’ve been watching you.”

“Yea you’re the stalker we’ve already established that.”

“Cause I know what you’ve been doing form 9-5”

Is this some kind of trick question without it being a question?

“You’ve taken my car, maybe four times? It’s been minute, but to my surprise you chose mine again.”

“Is that why you-“


“No. I was not trying to steal you.”


“What, you thought you could turn me in?”


“No. Just thought is let you know maybe next time, choose another car.”


“Well you shouldn’t just grab someones arm like that.” I say.

Stomped I try to think of the next thing to say before I say it.

“How did you come up with such a way to go about stealing?” He asks.

“I don’t like how nosey you’re being.”

“And I don’t appreciate being kidnapped after my car has been stolen, but we’re both here so we might as well let it all out.”

So it is kidnapped. But I didnt kidnap him, must holding him for questioning. illegally. But who does anything legally these days. Everyone has their own opinion of the fine line.

Okay so, he’s not a as talker. That narrative is out of the brain and i’m more confused than ever. I have an understanding of who he is, but what I don’t understand is why he’s chilling here with me after I knocked him out. My fear says to do it again and just leave him here. Car an all. I can always find another lot. Make new acquaintances. It’s a process, but all good things are. It could be good for me. I have been there for a while longer now. The key is to keep moving, but i’m not trying to be one of those on the run type of people. I like to keep my friends, go to my favorite places. Im still human.

“Where did you go to school?” I ask.

“Cambridge” he says like a taco order. He’s smart, but again not cocky.

“You?” He asks.

“Homeschooled” more like I bought my own textbooks and I toured the internet.

A little bit from each subject. Enough to get by, then the real world stuff and anything else I was curious about came from hands on experience.

I was in the foster system since I was 12. Once I was adopted, they kind of took the checks and dipped. How hard could it be? I looked older for my age so I took under the table paying jobs and lived in someone’s guest house until I was 17. After that I stayed in really interesting homes. Beautiful places. Funny enough it’s easier to do without credit. I cant only imagine the place he lives in.

“What’s that like?” He asks sincerely. I wasn’t sure how to explain because I didnt want him to take a safe advertisement of it. I know mine was different from your average homeschool system. The more I think about it though, i’m sure there are many variations of it.

“A lot of independent work, forced motivation, and a lot of going mad.”

“Not many friends to turn to?” He asks slightly concerned, but excited? Perhaps to form a friendship?

“Many. But only by phone. On odd hours.moving around a lot will do that.”

“Brat” he says nonchalantly.

“Excuse me?” I say turning sharp to lock eyes so he knows what he just said was heard loud and clear.

“Like an army child” he says like he’s talking to a ghost with no past.

It was not something I had heard before. “ oh, no no.”

“What did your parents do?”

“Travelers” I didnt want to lie, but I didnt know what to say. In a sense it’s just an alteration of the truth.

“Where have you been?”

“Oh you know, all around.” I start naming random places til I realize he’s not convinced. I probably wouldn’t either given my gestures weren’t matching up with my words. Body language, one hell of a subconscious form of communication. A rat really. My rat tho, so. Even when you train yourself out of it, if the other person has studied it, they can catch it in a heartbeat. Like an actor watching a film. Ruins things for us, doesn’t it, knowing too much.

Leaving no room for the delusions, imagination and oblivion to enjoy life. Waiting for the weight of your ongoing brain waves to crush you, draining you til you cant speak. One thing about know the truth before it’s told, you prevent the pain. Oh the dramatics. But pain must always be experienced. So life will find another way to hand it to you. Your mind will get creative waking up t’s own pain. Just so you can understand all the emotions in the life. To be. Human.

I keep pressing human. Don’t worry im not going to turn not some kind of creature in the middle of this story. I just emphasize knowing that there is more out there, in my opinion. But i’ll carry on.

“I’ve lived. Here and my whole life” he says. Taking his time to say it.

“Whats that like?”

“You start to know everything and everyone around you. Like the back of your hand. Including people. I wouldn’t say for the better. But that’s why I got into the coding. Barry my head in the books instead of the minds of others. As a child growing up most kids have the same thing to offer. Sports, gossip, crushes, and one random hobby that kept us busy after school.”

“Sounds like the movies”

“You wish you could relate?”

“I’m happy where I am, I don’t know if I would say wish. Curious maybe.” I say, sturdy and sure in my tone. It’s true. I kinds liked it, I like it, it’s my story. “ and you family?”

“Your average joes, the four of us. Me my brother, and my two moms.”

It's not the I was surprised to hear he had two moms. It was just a matter of questioning if he was adopted or if each mom took a turn at birth. Curiosity wanted tot he pick the story. But I all I bring myself to say is, “cool.” He seemed well put together. In terms of his physical appearance. His skin was baby smooth, his beard freshly groomed and his eyes glowed with no light reflecting off of it.

“Whats with the attire?” I ask him, as it didnt match the rest of his health. Not to say sweats and a zip up isn’t an aesthetic we all enjoy, it just wasn’t fitting for the job he had. or at least- wait. Did he even work there? Why was his car parked there? Why was his second car parked there?

“Casual Friday?” He laughs hesitating but with no concern for my response.

“It’s Thursday” I say flat.

“Look. We both know you don’t work there. How would you know if I work there.”

Seems a bit defensive, but I bite. “so you..”

“If we’re being honest” he pauses

“Yes “ I say to confirm.

“I changed. To fit the picture of owning the other car. I know it’s wrong, for many reasons, but I-”

“What’s with the other car anyway?”

Someone walks behind us, interrupting his answer. My hand waves out as a reflex, only tot be caught. Thankfully not twisted.

“Whoa there windmill.”

My stalker, scratch that, my copilot? Laughs.

“Can I ask you for the time, my apologies to intrude. My phone died.”

“Oh its fine. it’s 7 pm. “ I say. Funny if you’re familia with with your area you start to pick up on the time around you. At least around sunset and sunrise. I didn’t even check my phone, but neither of them blinked. It was 7:14, but close enough. The walk away.

“What’s your name” I ask my now copilot.

“William” he says confidently. And in that moment I remembered I already knew his name. His wasn’t William though. I remember the ID. Like a photographic memory.

“No it’s not I say.”

“First you ask, then you claim i don’t know my own name. What n approach.”

Normally that would work, to find more answers, but I actually did forget his name when I asked.

“Ahh, have a good time filling up my tank?” He asks, realizing where I had my answer from.

I look. down, then look back upon remembering the position he was in. “ Yes, gets better milage than the other.”

“I have my work name and my field name.”


“Field name?” I ask confused. Then I chuckle “You mean street name?”

“Grass is greener on this side.” he says with a sweet smile. “Field it is for me.”

Interesting. He was interesting. I wanted to know more.


“I could get away without you bringing up the car again, but I’ll level with you. I brought it incase you took my car again. I could have followed you this time.”

“But you walked up to me”

“I know. It was not part of the plan.”

“Why were you going to follow me?”


“I wanted to know what you do. You bring them back. Same tank. Same smell. Not a single complaint. Let em asks you this. Do you have a deal with security? Like the guards on camera duty.”

“No.” I say calm like it was a normal yes or no question. Then I smile. He saw value in my action. Like he wanted me on his team. Whatever that team was. All I know is it cant be a bad ride when you’re hanging out with the man who holds the master key.

“So which ones your real one. The original name.” I ask.

“William. What’s your name.

“Element”

“Element? Element. No kidding.”

“I know.”

“Who came up worth that one.”

I dint have an answer for that. “my dad” I say. I carried that name my whole life, but I don’t remember how I got it. I hadn’t thought about making a fake identity. It be suitable for my environment, but I came into no trouble with how I’ve been moving. So I just keep it. I don’t even have a license. I do have a passport though. Hard to get by on planes without that info. Cars on the other hand, easy, breezy, beautiful confident driver.

It felt weird getting personal so quickly. It want the usual for me, and given his way of life, im going to say he's probably feeling the same way right now. Maybe we felt like we could share it because we are similar. Not one in the same but close enough with our current lifestyle. Eventually you rant to get things off your chest. You ether rant to yourself, write it down, or share with someone else. Then. Remember I didnt completely tell the truth. Bad star? Really im just keeping info to myself, will ever change?

“I want you to work with me.” He interrupts my thoughts.

“Doing what?’ I ask

“working on a new project of mine.”

“What is it?”

“Only catch is you have to take your life in order to proceed.”

“Are you doing the same?”

“On I have to keep this name alive at that job.”

“Why?”

“You don’t really know what that office is about do you?”

I've talked to enough people to get the inside scoop. Ive befriended the highest rankings in there, yet I didnt know him. Were there hidden subdivisions? He responds to my thinking face before I come up with an answer.

“We help those who have been hacked. So badly so, that they have to start their identity all over again.”

“So.”

“So in order to scam, you need to know how to save.” He smiles. “It’s like physics. You can drip a ball over and over again, but if you want the ball to fall exactly where you want it you must learn how to shape it’s course. Speed, angles, and depth will be your friend.”

“Speed, angels, depth.” I repeat.

“For our case here, speed - less time to trace appearance, Angels - know who how and why a code was made by, and depth- know everything, speak on nothing, only do.”