“I hope this finds you well,” I read through my blurry vision the note’s opening salutation. It had found me at the end of its trajectory, being previously tied to a stone and thrown through the window I was passing. The glass proved no obstacle, and the missile struck my head like an assassin’s bullet. As I sat dazed in the shattered glass, I tried to parse the next line:
“Just wanted to let you know we’re working on a rescue mission. Mike suggested we fake your death by shooting you and then burn some other guy’s body for the ashes. I told him we don’t have another guy’s body. So we’re going to have to bury you and dig you up. How long can you hold your breath? Kyle.”
Another window exploded, and amid the tumbling glass, a new missive rolled. I crawled over toward the stone, crouching in case of further messages while trying to keep from cutting my hands open on the sharp splinters lying about.
I untied the new note and read:
“PS I still say we poison you so you only appear dead. It will just have to stop your heart long enough for a doctor to declare you dead. Mike.”
Blood was dripping from the wound in my head onto the short scrawl, and the words were growing fuzzy before me. I don’t remember passing out, but I think my last thoughts were, Who the hell are Mike and Kyle?
Tale Told 