Cocoa Tales

Episode 9: Chapter 3 - Being a Brief Summary of the Return of the Redding Bomber

Six months passed with little incident.

I realize I'm steam-rolling over what transpired between The Sandman and Jessica Holiday; indeed, you are probably quite worried about this intrepid young redhead, concerned that this dangerous man choked the very life out of her.

Well, rest assured, she lived. It was only a sleeper hold. And when she awoke from that sleep, she was handcuffed to the passenger seat, sans seatbelt as The Sandman drove them north along Interstate 5.

Ever driven Interstate 5? It cuts right down the middle of California, and it is one of the most boring, unattractive drives in the world. Farmland, the occasional city: it's just a flat uninteresting expanse of land, south of Redding.

Drive north of Redding through Central Valley and I-5 will show you some of the most beautiful landscapes in the world. Jessica missed out on seeing the lovely Shasta Lake, the namesake having been acquired by ole' man Shasta because he felt Lake Winnemem was too difficult to pronounce. She missed out on Castle Crags, enormous granite spires towering above the interstate, but she also missed out on the mid-eighties Accord that cut them off and caused The Sandman to curse loudly.

So there's that.

It was slowing on the off-ramp exiting I-5 that woke her up. She started yanking at her arms but quickly realized she wasn't going anywhere. At least, not within the Deluxury truck. It was turning off the ramp, onto a nondescript road leading them deep into the forest.

"I'm not planning on killing you," The Sandman said, "and not just because I'd have the FBI all over me if I did. Truth is, Jessica Holiday, I'm not the man you think I am. I'm not the man I once was."

"You kill children," Jessica whispered. "That's all I need to know."

The Sandman shook his head. "You got the wrong guy, Holiday." He turned to look at her. "You think I'm the only hitman who calls himself 'Sandman'?" He shook his head again as he returned his attention to the road. "I've never killed anyone under 18 years of age, and any collateral damage due to my actions has been minor and insignificant."

"You kill for money."

"Yes," The Sandman said quietly. "Now we're back in agreement."

He hit the brakes and the truck skidded to a stop in the middle of the road. He took a deep breath slowly, and then he let it out. "Ms. Holiday in a few minutes this truck will be engulfed in flames. You can be in it when it burns down, or you can walk away from it safely. Understand, I'd rather you not follow me when I walk away from this truck. In fact, I'll be fat and happy if I never see you again."

"Why do you want to kill Montgomery Gerald?"

"Because someone is paying me to kill him," The Sandman replied, "I thought we established this."

"Who?"

"Wouldn't be much of an assassin if I said that, now would I? And you're not exactly in a position to demand answers. Like I said, I'm not planning on killing you."

Jessica shut her mouth, lifted her chin high but remained glaring at The Sandman.

"Give me a reason to remove the cuffs and let you out of this truck before I blow it up."

"What do you want from me?"

"I want you to leave me alone."

Paris, Moscow, London, Bordertown, NV, just north of Reno: Jessica had been on the heels of The Sandman for quite a few years. And there she was, in the truck with him, mere inches from him, and he was prepared to let her live.