Chapter 5:

Allen booked a flight leaving the next day with a connection in Miami. He had a feeling, come tomorrow morning, that he’d be clenching his anus again from his driveway to the airport until his flight actually took off. He began an email to Dr. Steele, so he wouldn’t have to hear that fuckin’ voicemail again.

Richard, I really need to get the hell out of town before something bad happens.

Richard, after our last conversation it’s occurred to me that I really need a vacation, and there seems to be no better place than Havana, Cuba, as the island has no extradition treaty with the United States. 

Allen admitted that Steele might not be interested in indulging his most batshit client while enjoying his solo-get drunk and get laid vacation. So, Allen endeavored to put him at ease, and leave out the why. Richard, I’m coming to Cuba. I need a vacation. Let me know if you’d like to get together. Prepare for my arrival. 

He took a flash drive out of his desk and wrote his bank details into a document. He checked the balance. $4.5 million. Solid. Someone’s going to kill the shit out of me. He went to Craigslist for the first time in his life. People used it to kill each other all the time. Didn't they? He imagined a strike team of muscular underworld assassins polishing their guns and playing Five-finger fillet. He just had to get out of town and on the road before these murder-hungry bastards dropped out of the sky to come slay him. He could see some crazy, bald ex-soldier falling out of the back of a plane over his house right now with a dagger in his teeth. “I’m coming for ya. Ooh, yea, I’m coming!” Allen shuddered. 

Ok, craigslist.com. Yea, I’m looking for ‘services.’ Health and Wellbeing?’. Yea, that makes sense. Allen started to type up a post:

Hello, online community. My name is Allen. I’m 62 years old, and I’m losing my mind. I’m looking for a highly-skilled individual to put an end to me. But as Allen wrote, he thought of the bloodthirsty killers descending upon him with guns, knives, and butt plugs. 

…I’d like the end to come suddenly, peacefully, and painlessly. That means no shooting or stabbing. Otherwise, I’ll leave the method up to you. Whoever accomplishes the task and rubs me out will find a flash drive on a chain around my neck with the details of an account with $4 million in it. 

Now, I won’t make it easy for you. I’m globetrotting, and I’m cutting off my email, phone, and social media. No messages. Basically, I’m traveling the world, a blank slate, and enjoying myself. Don’t let me see you coming. (Attached is a picture of me for reference, so you don’t end up taking out the wrong guy.)

Allen uploaded his Linkedin picture, which featured him in a blue shirt, black tie, and gray v-neck sweater. Upon first seeing this photo, one could not be blamed for thinking the subject was an untrustworthy dentist. In his opinion, this would entice more assassins who might be on the fence about taking him out. Happy hunting! He wrote at the bottom, then went to click ‘post.’ It popped up just above an ad in Glendale for someone trying to sell a massage table. 

        Immediately after he fired it off, Allen ran to his bedroom and started packing a rush of clothes: short-sleeved collared shirts, linen pants, a Panama hat. A notification popped up on his open laptop minutes later. A reply already?

Username: Peppepino42 wrote: Hey, big boy, I like all the talk about rubbing and whacking and money. But I think you need to put this kind of thing on the dark web. Craigslist is probably going to take this down any minute, too. Good luck!

PS – sorry to hear you’re losing your mind. Xx

        Allen had failed already. What the hell is the dark web? I don’t need a black person to kill me.  Asshole! What a racist bastard. I said, ‘no message’ the fuck’s the matter with you? He sat down and got to researching the ‘dark web.’ Two hours later, Allen turned on his VPN and Tor browser, then redrafted the same thing he wrote for Craigslist but used more explicit words: assassin, kill me, etc.

“Post!”

Allen sat back and breathed in the silence around him. The laptop fan and loading sounds mocked his loneliness. He did something he hadn’t done before at his own suggestion. He screamed. Not like a victorious madman howling at the moon. He was on fire. But he wanted to enjoy a few months before he fully burned himself down. ..Then he closed the window. Shit. He wondered if his neighbor heard that and would call the cops. They hadn’t talked since Rose died. On one occasion, Allen had yelled, “SHUT…UP!” when they were celebrating their son’s fifth birthday. 

Allen’s late wife facilitated all the meaning that he and their kids enjoyed together. She was like a prophet in biblical times who made life a land of milk and honey. She didn’t leave a successor, but she told Allen to scream to his heart’s content when he presided over her deathbed, and he told her he would miss her so much. The unwelcome masses growing behind her eyes sucked the entire universe into them. 

But Allen didn’t want to hear his conscience, which was trying to stream Rose’s stern rebuke of the dark web ad. When he wasn’t screaming, he heard it saying something like, Don’t do this to us. But Allen didn’t think he had a choice in the matter. A wild current in a cold river hurled him towards a jagged rock splitting two waterfalls. One led to madness, the other to death.“I’m gonna do it.”