Adventure Beckons

This is a an almost perfect setup. Me, someone outside of society and living by myself; no friends or family. Fred has no background, no history and no ambition, beyond the immediate. As long as I can keep me off the radar, I should be able to do this. By off the radar, I mean not losing sight of being careful and don't leave fingerprints or DNA.

That's why I picked up the used syringes with the box and not my hands; besides not wanting to stick myself. Once I use and discard them, all that is left is my target's DNA and the fingerprints and biologicals of whoever used the syringes before I acquired them. Quite safe, so far.

My initial plan now is to score a few doses of heroin or some type of phenobarbital. I could go back to where I found the syringes, but I don't want to show a 'new" face twice. I don't want to be carrying the stuff around with me either; it's a one off for this job. I figured a large dose of a soporific is an easy way to take care of my cancer victim.

I checked in on the drop and there was but one message, just my target's name and address; up the road a piece in Hudson, New York; about an hour and a half or two up the road. Funny how this is all coming together... Hudson is right on the other side of the river from the Catskills, right where Rip van Winkle took his long nap.

Tomorrow, I travel. I'll take the 7:15pm Amtrak train up and two hours later, I'll be in Hudson. A short cab ride and I should be near the house before 10:00. Good. That allows me enough time to take care of business and catch the 6:45am train back the next morning.

Tonight, I just need to go out and buy some dope.

I've been running this whole thing back and forth in my mind. It's a puzzle; that's all; a puzzle. Something with a solution. How to kill a person and get clean away. That is the intriguing element; the penultimate teaser with an 'A' or 'F' outcome; pass or fail; do it or get caught.

My life now is nothing more than living my future as it is today. I tried the marriage thing and a nose-to-the-grindstone job, which were like taking one step in front of another, day after day. Where does it lead? I know where it leads and I don't want to go there. It's not my thing; but, what is my thing?

What's that line from "Me and Bobby McGee?"

"Freedom's just another word for nothing left to lose,..."

I got nothing left; nowhere to go that I haven't been, in one way or another. Certainly, I was prepared to live in a cheap flop-house for as long as it took or as long as I wanted. There was nothing to go back to, anymore.

This, then, was a way out; one way or another. If I got caught, I have nothing more than what I have now. If I didn't, I have adventure.

Tomorrow starts the adventure...