Monday January 9th, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: the selection process.

Feeling inspired to return to The Gang today.

Trip to Penticton happened this morning, just not as planned. Mostly because Miles threw up overnight, then threw up again while I was brushing snow off the car this morning to get ready to go.

So Kat stayed home with Miles, Max spent the day with Kat's parents, and I did the trip on my own. Got most of the stuff done that we wanted, and Kat ended up taking Miles to the doctor to have him checked out (no concerns, thankfully - probably just a flu bug).

He's feeling better now, so hopefully we're in the clear on that one.

Mine:

Have you ever walked the streets knowing that the police were searching for you? It's okay if you have, I'm not here to judge. I mean, come on - you've read what I've done (up to this point in my story). You're among friends here.

But if you haven't... I wouldn't recommend it. The level of paranoia you experience (Does she recognize me? Is he calling a friend or the cops?) is ulcer-inducing. You're trying to look everywhere at once while at the very same time trying to act normal. And you do a fine job of acting normal.

Assuming you're aiming for high hobo normal.

Now, add on top of all that the fact that you are searching for someone to carjack and you've pretty much got a recipe for disaster, if this world had any fairness in it at all. I knew I didn't deserve to get away with what I was about to do, just as I knew whoever I robbed wouldn't deserve to have their vehicle taken by criminals on the lam.

As I studied every opportunity - no way I'm stealing that mini-van from that mother of four; that dude looks like he's got a shotgun in his truck and knows how to use it; that stupid little thing wouldn't even fit the three of us, much less the money - my thoughts kept returning to what Tammy had told me at the clinic I'd left the girls at.

"You're worrying too much. People will do whatever you tell them to do if you're pointing a gun at their head." Tammy turned to smile at the doctor working on Crystal's shoulder, then tapped him on the back of his head with her gun. "Ain't that right doc?"

I had my weapon in my jacket pocket, holding it with a hand that was growing increasingly sweaty. I had begun to worry that at the moment of truth I would try to pull it out and it would slip from my grip, skittering across the pavement to the man or woman I was trying to rob. Wouldn't that be just perfect?

There were too many people (aka witnesses) on the sidewalk, so I took a side street and kept going until I couldn't hear the traffic on the street I'd just left. It was much quieter there, with houses lining one side of the street and a forested park on the other. I could feel the clock ticking in my head - surely the doctor would be finished his work soon - and didn't want to keep the girls waiting any longer than absolutely necessary.

That's when a man exited the house three doors down. He was young - I pegged him for mid-thirties - with short curly red hair and a neatly trimmed beard. I thought he looked like a college professor. He had a leather satchel in one hand and keys in the other, and he pressed a button on the fob as he descended his front steps.

The black SUV parked at the curb in front of him beeped and the doors unlocked.

And I thought to myself, This is it. Holy hell, this is it.

"Excuse me, sir?" I called out as I drew near, giving him my best Crystal smile. "Can I ask you a question?"

"Yeah, of course," he said with a friendly grin that made my heart ache just a little for what I was about to do to him.

"Would you mind terribly," I said as I pulled out my gun (without dropping it, thank God), "taking me for a ride to my doctor's office?"

Without planning on it, I guess I was going to add kidnapping to my criminal resume.