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Freeing Meal (5-21-18)


[WP] You just have to go in there, get the package, and come out. Easy-peasy. [Link to post.]

Terry Mullins stared out the car window at the unassuming Chinese restaurant. He eyed the full parking lot and wished he could choose a better time frame. Some time darker, and not so in the middle of the weekday dinner rush. He turned back to face the rotund thug sitting in the driver's seat with a shotgun resting on his lap, barrel pointed at Terry.

 "What if-" Terry began to ask, but the enforcer cut him off. 

 "Go in there, get the package, come out," he repeated. The only words he said to Terry since the big boss sent Terry on this errand. 

 "Right, just double checking." Terry said, then looked out the car window again. 

 "Today's Monday," the driver said. Terry turned around and nodded.

 "Yeah, it is," Terry said, confused.

 "I watch football every Monday, all season. I never miss it." He focused his gaze and locked eyes with Terry. "I don't know how long it's going to take you to get your ass out of this car and go get the thing, but I do know how long it takes me." He looked at the clock on the car radio, it showed 5:38 p.m. "If getting the package is so easy, you should probably start wondering why the boss sent me along with you." He shrugged and sat back against his seat. 

 "Right. I got it," Terry mumbled quickly while he forced himself to open the door and step out of the car. He felt a cool breeze rub his skin as he walked to the front door of the Chinese restaurant. The sound of a bell above him caught his attention when he pushed the door open. He looked around and felt relieved to see no one else paid him much attention. He walked to the counter where an elder Asian woman greeted him with a smile. 

 "Hello. Can I help you?" She asked. Terry looked around himself to make sure there were no eavesdroppers nearby, then he leaned forward over the counter. 

 "Dragonheart," he whispered. He revealed a matte black credit card under his hand, then slid it across the glass to the woman. She looked down at it, but did not move to get it.

 "We no longer serve that," she said. Terry blinked several times at her while he processed her response.

"I'm sorry, what? No, that can't be," he said. His voice took on a hard, panicked edge.

"How about some Firecracker chicken?" she asked. Terry shook his head.

 "I'm gonna die. They're gonna kill me," he mumbled to himself. He stared down at his reflection in the glass counter.

 "Who?" the old woman asked.

"They told me if I did this simple errand,.."

"We haven't served Dragonheart in years," she said. She turned to the kitchen and yelled out something in a language Terry did not recognize. A burly cook in a white t-shirt and dragons tattooed on his arms walked out of the swinging kitchen door holding a large cleaver. The old woman spoke to him and pointed out the front door.

"What car?" she asked Terry.

"Wh..What?"

 "Bad guy. What car?"

"Uh, green Ford across the street." Terry replied, she smiled then continued to talking to the cook. When she finished the cook turned around and walked back into the kitchen, she followed him. Terry did not know what to do next, but he knew he shouldn't go outside yet. He found an empty booth and sat down to ponder his life. After several minutes the lady walked out of the kitchen holding a tray of food. She brought it to Terry's table.

 "They trick you to kill you, they know we don't serve Dragonheart anymore. You not the first, but you'll be the last. Eat, relax. Takeru kill them all."
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