Easily Parted

You stare in horror at the scene in front of you. The screams from the old lady are a distant echo in your ears. It isn’t your fault. You know that. It isn’t your fault the man took one look at you and started screaming about how you were after him. It also isn’t your fault that he tripped on the little old lady’s yard equipment and impaled himself on the gardening hoe. You know that. You know that.

Suddenly, you notice a little black notebook peeking out from the man’s inner pocket. The old woman, who’d technically caused the accident by so carelessly leaving her equipment out, was screaming into the phone for the police, and wasn’t paying attention to you. You pick the book up and run your thumb over the edge of it. It’s lighter than you imagine. The scaled leather rubs over your hands and is surprisingly comforting, despite the bloody scene in front of you. The intricate gold design on the cover is mesmerizing, and it takes a moment before you can open it up. That’s when you see the ominous note on the first page.

“You are now in possession of $20,000. You are also now the target of everyone who knows this book exists. Use it wisely. Good luck.”

Thinking it must be some sort of prank, you turn more pages, hoping to find some sort of diary. Instead, you find three more blank pages, and then discover the rest of the book is hollowed out. Your eyes widen when you see a thick wad of cash sitting in the hollow, bound together with a rubber band. Despite the suspicious red stains on the corners of some of the bills, you can’t stop yourself from picking the stack up and thumbing through it.

The police show up minutes later, and for some reason, you don’t turn the book over to them. You stick it in your back pocket, even though you know that you should turn it in. Guilt gnaws at you as you omit the book from your statement, but the $20,000 in cash is a good motivator to stay silent. The cops don’t need to know. What happened is a tragic accident, and to have that much cash sit in an evidence locker seems like a waste to you. No one needs to know.

You are supposed to be going to work, but you call your manager and let him know you’re taking a sick day. As you walk back to your house, you can’t stop staring at the book. It was … compelling you. Urging you to hold it, not to let it go. However, you catch people giving you strange looks, and you force yourself to stick it in your pocket, at least for the moment.

Once you get home, you sit down at the computer, simply letting your coat slip to the floor before you drop in the chair in front of the computer. You pull the book out and read the first page again, then laugh and set the book on the desk. You can't stop yourself from reading it again though, and each time you do, you tense a little more. You make yourself relax. There is no way anyone else knows about the book.

The biggest question on your mind now though is what to do with the money. Your logical side is screaming put it in savings. Actually, your logical side is tied up in a corner, because it won’t shut up about taking the money back to the police. The rational side is arguing for savings. Your impulsive side says spend it all in one place, like everyone always says not to do. There are so many things to do with $20,000. You can use it as a down payment on a new house, or invest it in stocks. Take that trip you’ve always wanted to. Maybe pay off part of your school debt. Although … there is that life-sized stuffed giraffe you saw online the other day. The one that cost $1,600. You can buy that, and still have plenty left over …

Before you quite know what’s happening, you’re online looking at the most ridiculously expensive things you can buy. There are so many things, so many options! You pause when you see the limited, special edition figurine of your favorite character. $6,000 is a lot for sure, but you are now the proud owner of more than triple that. This is excess money you can spend, and not feel guilty for. There are payment plans and loan forgiveness for everything else. This … this is money for you. You deserve this. You’ve never done anything wrong, and you deserve a treat. Or two. Or three.

Your mind is made up. You add the items to your cart, and you go to checkout. Wait. Crap. All the money is sitting on your desk next to the keyboard. Cold hard cash. Completely useless for purchasing things online. You need to deposit it in your bank account. You try to shake off the pit expanding in your stomach at the mere thought of going back outside. All you have to do is run to the bank. Nothing to it. It’s not like you’re carrying around a huge wad of cash that could be stolen from you at any moment. All plans for vacations, action figures, financial security, gone.

A glance at your watch tells you that it’s only 2:34. People aren’t off work yet, and places aren’t too busy. A dash to the bank to deposit the cash shouldn’t be too bad. Before you can talk yourself out of it, you push the chair back, grab the little black book, pluck your keys off the hook, and head out the door.

When you sit down in the car though, the engine won’t turn over. It sputters slightly, but then remains stubbornly dead.

“The target of everyone who knows about the book” plays through your mind. You shake your head vigorously, trying to dislodge the thought from your brain. There’s no way anyone else knew about the book, or the money. Your car is just dead. Even though you just took it in last week. It’s a junker. There’s no one out to get you. No one sabotaging your car to jump you.

Something catches your attention out of the corner of your eye. Your head whips around to stare at your neighbor, who is pulling their groceries out of their trunk. What are they doing home so early? Why had they chosen now to go grocery shopping? They’re supposed to still be at work!

Wait … now they’re looking directly at you. They smile, then head for their front door. You relax, barely. There is a perfectly logical explanation as to why they were home so early, you’re sure of it. There’s no way they knew about the book, about the cash.

What you do know is your car isn’t taking you anywhere, so you climb out and start walking. The bank isn’t too far away, but with $20,000 sitting in your pocket, it feels like you’re walking across the country. And, much to your dismay, there are people everywhere. Joggers cutting around you on corners, mothers pushing strollers, supposed babies in the strollers. There are also cars everywhere. The thing that makes you the most jumpy though are the men in business suits. There is nothing trustworthy about a man walking in a business suit. Clearly, they are some sort of secret agent.

Even though you’re minding your own business, you feel eyes on you. Everyone is watching your every move. You even catch a couple people following you when you glance back.

Then, out of the blue, your neighbor’s car turns the corner just ahead of you. Stalkers! They’re coming straight for you! You knew it! They want the money! You’re unsure how, but they knew about the book all along. Footsteps behind you alert you to your upcoming attacker, and you turn quickly, throwing out your fist and catching them in the nose. Ignoring their startled cry of pain, you take off, not even heading for the bank anymore. You have to hide.

Your palms are slick as they grip your jacket, holding it closed so the little black book doesn’t fly out of the inner pocket.. You feel it sitting there, weighing you down like an anchor. The adrenaline pumping through your body urges you to run though, and after a few seconds, you listen to it. Legs pumping, heart racing, eyes darting everywhere. You can’t be caught now.

Someone appears in your line of vision, stepping right out in front of you. Screeching to a halt, you look back and forth, feeling caged.

“Stay back!” you shout, fear mixed with anxiety and greed fueling you like gasoline on a fire. “You don’t know who you’re messing with! It’s mine, and you aren’t going to take it from me!”

The woman in front of you looks confused, but you know better. She can’t fool you, you’re too smart. She might be larger than you, but you’ve got the element of speed on your side. You spot an alley across the street, and realize that’s the best place to lose your pursuers. They can’t all follow you inside, and there’s bound to be something you can climb in order to lose whoever does follow you in the alley. You dash across the street, Hermes urging you forward, faster than you’ve ever run before. You hear your pursuer shout “No!” in desperation, and you swell with pride. In your haste and euphoria though, you fail to notice the car coming directly at you.

***

“No!” The young woman shouts as the stranger darts across the street. There’s no time for the car to brake. They go flying, and she can do nothing but watch as their broken body hits the ground. They don't move again.

Traffic is stopped now as everyone tries to see what’s happened. People are on their phones, calling the police. With no cars coming now, the young woman rushes across the street. The stranger landed face up, so she doesn’t have to turn them over, or even check a pulse to see that they are dead. Curiously though, a little black notebook is sticking out of their pocket. Without thinking, she grabs it, hoping to find an ID or something of the like inside. What she finds instead is a hollowed out middle stuffed full of cash, accompanied by an ominous warning.