Thud! A head sized chunk of cement fell from the ceiling, shattering the alarm clock. Sam slammed beside his head, paused for a while, then felt it with his palm. It wasn't the clock.
"Wait a minute." He thought for a moment then looked towards it.
Sam muttered under his breath with least bit of energy, "Tch. Gotta shift from this place. It'll kill me."
He stood up, slid unironed shirt and pants on, and walked out of the one bedroom apartment. The apartment was completely empty except for bundles of all the cash he had and a pair of night dress.(and of course, the broken alarm)
The whole apartment was shoddily cemented; cracks spread through every step. There was no reason for lift to exist in this 4 story empty apartment. It was abandoned several years ago and labelled 'Danger Zone'.
Sam stepped out of the apartment and entered the 5 star hotel in front of it. The receptionist didn't bother calling him out. He entered the hotel and never ordered anything. He just groomed himself.
He no longer had the fire inside him. Ever since that day, the only good thing he had in life was being able to groom himself in such a hotel daily.
Like any other day, he stepped out of the washroom with wet face and clothes. A taxi stopped just after he walked out of the hotel. It was a rather quiet place but who wouldn't want a fixed customer?
Hours passed like any other day in the monsoon. The heavy rainfall began some minutes after Sam entered the office. Clouds covered the sky and thunders freaked out some of the office workers.
His work was to enhance the UI of the game that their company made. Sam typed the final lines of the code and saved it. Lifing the mug of coffee, he thought, "Nothing beats a cup of Latte after work." With a slight smile on his face, he gulped down the coffee.
Knock! "Come in!"
A thin guy on glasses entered with a file. "Sir, someone wants to meet you. He said he has some business with you but won't say what. Shall I let him in?"
"Sure, but before that–who is he?"
"He didn't say that."
He ordered, "Let him in."
The man who entered was a huge 7 foot guy with rough skin and a deep scar on his right palm. He took out a golden case and pressed a button on its side.
A thin cover opened from one side of the case, revealing an ID card. It was of-
"Interforce here, we've got something to talk about."
He put the case back in his pocket and continued, "The name's Tom, Tom Dillard. You must be Sam Sabers, right?"
Sam didn't reply. His name was written on the nameplate on his desk. Instead, he took another sip of coffee.
The man didn't wait and continued, "I've been observing you for some days."
Sam spat out his coffee and coughed for a while. Then, he wiped his mouth and asked, "Why?"
Tom ignored his question and elaborated, "Your case was closed for years, but a week ago, when I was dealing with something else, this came on my hands."
He placed his bag on the table and took a file out of it. The file had a family photo on its front cover and some text printed below. The text was blur as if it had been drowned before.
"The death of a certain football player's whole family was the second most breaking news. Lucky for you that the king was killed the same day. You couldn't have made this cover if it wasn't the case."
Dillard took a second of pause and continued, "Why do you think it all happened? Why weren't you killed that day? I dare say whoever shot you on foot that day didn't miss the shot. He could've tossed grenades at you."
Sam, now trembling with red face, replied in a loud and desperate voice, "How do you know about that?! I never opened my mouth!! I just disappeared from this world!!"
As he spoke, he took long and quick mouth breaths; it had been years since he ever went out of his usual self. He calmed down and continued, "Sorry but I don't wanna talk on this matter. If you have nothing else, you may leave. I've got a lot of work to do."
His voice got back its shallowness. Tom waited just enough for Sam to calm down and not get irritated. Then, packing the file back in the briefcase, Tom said, "I know it's hard on you. I won't force you. But if our goals align, meet me at the deserted backyard of Easter High School four days from now at 6 pm. I'll wait for you. We can talk more there."
Sam had gained his composure and drowsy attitude back. He had begun thinking what to say. After all, he wasn't gonna ask for sympathy after 10 years of loneliness. His mind began debating.
Without another word, Tom left, placing an envelop on Sam's table.
Sam put his laptop aside and ripped the envelope open. It contained a letter to him by a girl named Margaret. He gasped and was trembling slightly. Tears dropped from his eyes.
He thought, "You... you're alive,... Margs?"