Morning all. I hope you are having a wonderful morning and that you had a fantastic Easter. Mine was filled with eggs, both real and candy filled plastic. I’m certain a few are still hidden somewhere in the yard. But it is back to normal today. So, timers set and off we go.
I spun my wheels a bit on this one but in the end I like the idea of someone with a driving passion reaching the end of the project and having no idea what to do with themselves. I think it could be fun to play with. Even if it took me a while to realize what I was writing about.
Monday, April 6th: After a time, it became habit.
After a time, it became habit. He checked behind doors when he entered, pushing them flat against the wall in case anyone was hiding behind them. He checked under furniture and in fact began storing plastic boxes under large pieces like the bed so there was no space for someone to hide should they choose.
He checked all closets when he returned and always did a thorough search of the apartment when he had been away, even if he was only gone for a few minutes. The lessons learned at Granthum stayed with him.
He nearly died that day, his blood soaking into the Aubusson carpet. He managed to survive by a few strange pieces of luck. He had no right to expect them then and he wasn’t counting on them again.
Admittedly all those who knew of Granthum believed him dead. He took great pains to make it appear so. The attackers took photos of the bodies. They were in a hurry and his was pictured last. He played dead and it passed. They were sloppy and didn’t check. His ‘death’ was messier than the others. He was certain that played a role as they couldn’t pass in the street with blood soaking them.
He was also certain from what he managed to overhear that they weren’t expecting him. He was a bonus. They were supposed to go after him later that night. Him being in the house was a gift.
They left and it took every ounce of his strength to haul himself to the first aide kit and patch himself up enough to leave. By then the house was already on fire. The smoke was thick and he crawled along the floor managing to slip out of the side door before anyone spotted him.
He made it to a safe house and stayed there until he recovered enough to plan, to move on. By then the details of Granthum were known. He was officially listed among the dead. If he could remain off the radar then no one would be sent to kill him.
He could continue his work in secret.
Eventually they would know that he either survived or someone was continuing his work for him. He hoped they believed a successor. It would buy him time and he made certain to watch those whpo would be the most likely candidates. It was his early warning system.
Truthfully, there weren’t many left. They did their job well and eliminated anyone whose work they felt threatened by. He was fairly certain he was safe. New name, altered appearance and different life style. Very little about his was the same, but he knew now to be careful. And so every closet was checked and every door opened wide to prevent anyone hiding.
He was close now. His research was done, his trials were concluded. He submitted the last of the reports. His name was missing, but they were sent in and verified. His work was almost complete. There were a few things to wrap up. It was what was to come next that he had yet to wrap his mind around. This work had defined him for so long. It was what he built his life around and he had technically even died for it. But it was nearing completion. What was to become of him?
Ten til Midnight 