The Fifteen Minute Novel is a novel written fifteen minutes at a time with each week day’s section starting with the sentence from the previous day. At least it is attempting to be a novel. For now I am just aiming at one continuous story, worked on for fifteen minutes each day. Started Friday January 1st, 2021 (in case you want to search for the beginning. I can’t wait to see where it ends up. It could be good, or it could be a mess. We’ll have to see. For now, here is today’s fifteen minutes.
Day 213: James wondered if he could freeze to death in his own living room.
James wondered if he could freeze to death in his own living room. He found himself unable to hold on to the idea of his mother’s death. “Step-brothers,” James said, the word easier to say than anything related to his mother.
Tucker looked relieved at James’ reaction. “Those we know weren’t accidents. They were shot it what looked like a mugging. The bullets traced back to several other deaths we suspect are paid hits. Including,” Tucker paused as though gauging James’ reaction before moving on. James waved him on. While the words were no longer rampaging to get out at the same time, they now seemed to have deserted him completely and his mind felt as empty as air.
“Including the man from the store,” he finished.
James nodded. A part of him suspected it. “Will someone be coming after me again?” James asked. The words slipped out before he really thought about them.
Tucker lifted an eyebrow.
James shrugged. “You will investigate. You will tell me what you think I need to know. I need to know if you think someone will try to shoot me again and if I will have to relocate again. Possibly into a new life.”
“Are you having problems with this one?”
“Right now it works,” James said. He realized that while he liked the way his world was working at the moment, there was nothing really special keeping him in it. He there was a comradery with the others in the marathon training group, but they rarely spoke beyond a few words and didn’t really hang out after training. James lingered a few evenings to see if there were going to be any post training chats. The two ladies went off chatting to their cars, separating at their vehicles. Terry was picked up by his wife. All James learned was that one of the ladies had a son who played soccer and whose team made it to the semi-finals and that Terry took up running because his doctor recommended it.
While it was nice to know a little bit about the people around him, it wasn’t as though he was tied deeply to this life. Nearly everything he did was a solo effort. He suspected even his office comraderie could be replicated elsewhere.
“If there is nothing wrong, then we’d like to leave you here for now,” Tucker said. “Moving you might look suspicious.”
“Suspicious?”
“There is the question of inheritance. Even though publicly dead you are still listed as a beneficiary and there is the possibility that someone suspects that you are alive and now want to trace the money. “
“I see,” James said. He wasn’t certain how he should feel about that and decided to stay safe in his protective numbness a little longer.
“We have ways of dealing with it, so that the funds will eventually come to you without a trace. It will simply take a while.” Tucker studied him a moment.
Ten til Midnight 