Kristina and I froze. What the actual frick is happening? I thought at that time.
"Haha. You almost got us, sir. Your acting is immaculate. I almost fell for—" It was Kristina. Then her smile slowly turned into that of horror. "Wait! You—You're just acting, are you? No?" She added when Old Klein didn't react.
"Of course, I'm not. We don't joke in the camp where people's lives are on the line." Old Klein said. "Tell me what the kid looked like."
And after we described Andy to him, he fell into deep thought "You know what?" He told us. "I'll look into it. The next time you see the kid, make sure to contact us both and don't be alone with him. We still have a lot to learn about our enemy." Then he turned to Franco who was seated comfortably on the armchair to the left of his desk . "Give them your number and proceed with what I told you for now. And please get Betty."
We left the office.
"You sure you don't need the tour anymore?" Franco asked.
"Yeah. Thanks though." It was I who answered him.
"Well, if you say so." Then he handed us both two sheets of bond paper with prints on them. "Nothing's free in the world. You don't get a meal for free in this camp so you choose among the list where you wanna work for the three months you're training. You've got until three in the afternoon today to decide. And the other's your schedule. Any questions?"
"Nothing, sir." Kristina and I both said. And then he left saying he still had a lot to do.
"Which are you choosing?" Kristina asked me.
"Hmm… I hate cooking."
"I know."
We were back in our room. Zach wasn't around so I took that chance to spoon her. We cuddled at the lowest part of the bunk bed as we scanned the sheet Franco handed us, discussing which 'job' to choose. The list were the following:
1.Dormitory Hallway Cleaner
2.Cook
3.Electronic Repair Technician
4.Field Sweeper
And other six that I don't remember. After all, everything that you are reading now was something that happened to me in the past which I am recalling as I write as a web novelist. So it's only normal that I forget some unimportant details.
"Hallway cleaner, huh." I mumbled.
"You'll choose that?" She asked me. "Didn't you work at the repair shop?"
"Ah, about that, I don't do the repairs. I just handled the customers and made the place clean. I know nothing about electronics."
"Really? It's up to you then. I think I'll cook. I love cooking."
And we've decided. We informed Franco and we started immediately that day with no training whatsoever. After all, we aren't getting paid. We only do this to keep order and cleanliness in the camp and to pay for our meals.
By ten, Kristina went to the mess hall to cook lunch and I started scrubbing the floor in the hallway. And that was when I noticed something amiss. It was the soot stains.
It wasn't noticeable at first but if you look closer, there were few scratches surrounding the stain, as if somebody already tried to scrub it to no avail. And what's more disturbing was the shape. They looked like misshapen hands.
I dipped the cleaning cloth into the bucket and scrubbed it too but like I thought, it wasn't going away. So I let it be and made a note in my head to ask Franco about it later.
I avoided that area and did my job as quickly as possible. Then came lunch. And then dinner. And finally, it was time to sleep. I didn't see Franco the whole time. And his number was out of reach. I tried calling multiple times.
Zach didn't speak to us. He fell asleep the moment his head touched the pillow. And with nothing to do, Kristina and I decided to continue with the journal.
--ENTRY NO. 2 [FEBRUARY 6, 2000]--
--Consistency isn't my forte and as a result of consecutive procrastination, I forgot I actually have a journal. Anyway, the first entry was about my childhood. Now let me tell you about the present.--
--This happened a few hours ago. I was out drinking again at my favorite pub. I wasn't there because I was heartbroken or something. I just wanna unwind from a long day of work, dealing with ungrateful brats. Also, I love alcohol. When suddenly, a pornstar martini was pushed towards me. "Try this," said the young man with a nerdy atmosphere about him wearing a blue checkered polo and a necktie and thick horn rimmed glasses.--
--But here's the thing. Although I love alcohol, I'm not desperate enough to drink a drink given to me by someone so I humored him. "What? You're hitting on me?" Which resulted in him shaking his head quite aggressively.--
--"I—I just wanna talk about… something. But maybe not here." Was what he told me and I would be lying if I said I wasn't curious. So I motioned him with my head and as we were about to head to the parking lot, a deafening explosion roared behind us. I turned around and found half of the pub missing. There was a bomb on the stool I was sitting on. Isn't that crazy?" And the message was loud and clear. Somebody tried to kill me. And whoever might that person be, he/she wasn't afraid of killing other people just to see me dead."--
--How did I know? Simple. My guts told me.--
--Find him, other me. I know you're reading this now. Find the nerd. I knew he tried to help me.--
And that was the end of the second entry. Kristina and I sat side by side on her bed, still trying to process what we just read.
Assassination attempt? Ha! You must be kidding me! I remember my hand sweating profusely at that time. Because I know that since the first attempt failed, whoever that person may be, I was sure he/she would come after me next.