When The Time Comes

chapter 18; Lib

The street lights hit the fifty dollar bills in a way I can't quite describe. If you've ever seen a briefcase full of cash, you'll know money looks different when they're all banded into sets. They feel different in your hands too. Heavy and important. I've never seen this much money all together in one place. I'm mesmerized a while.

Ben's mouth is a little open. He keeps staring at the box and even Omar's quiet for a moment. None of us expected this. At least, I don't think we did.

"What do we do with it?" Omar picks up a stack, flicks through the notes and then puts it back.

"Well," Ben replies. "I think it's obvious, we keep it."

"I don't disagree," I swallow. "There's no point in returning it."

Ben nods a little too eagerly. I don't blame him for it though. We got lucky. Really lucky.

"How much do you think there is?" I ask.

"No clue, at least a thousand? Probably more," Omar stands up, the case under his arm.

Somehow Ben looks pale even under the sharp orange lights. Cars drive past, blissfully unaware of this enormous treasure three dying kids have found.

"Careful," Ben says. "Someone might hear us."

"There's nobody else here," Omar deadpans.

"I know, I'm just saying we should go back to the hotel where it's safe."

"I don't think anywhere is safe with that much money," I cross my arms over my chest as the cold begins to crawl up my jaw and nose. The wind picks up, sliding my hoodie off.

"Who stashes so much cash anyway?" Ben mutters, more to himself than to anyone else.

"This has to be Stewart's money but why did he leave it behind?" Omar asks.

"Maybe it's been there for years," Ben guesses. "It doesn't mean he's alive."

"Good thing we still have time then," Omar brushes Ben's pessimism off.

"We could just take the money," Ben looks at me to back him up but I stay silent. We could be done by tomorrow and still catch a flight. Another 24 hours means nothing to me. At least, it's slowly starting to look that way for me.

Omar is quiet as he stares at Ben. I can sense the tension between them. This is maybe the third or fourth time Ben's suggested we go back.

"Nobody's stoppin' you pal," Omar says, gruffly. We start walking towards the hotel and nobody really says anything the rest of the way. Ben excuses himself and takes the stairs instead. It's probably because he's equally pissed and tired. Not too tired to take the stairs though, I guess. Omar and I take the elevator to our respective floors.

I let a casual 'good night' slip over my shoulder just as the silver doors close.

When I wake up, the sun slights through a gap in the drawn curtains. My sheets are disheveled, one leg out and the other, across the spare pillow. The room is hot, my shirt sticks to my back as I sit up in bed. I've overslept somehow.

I quickly check my phone for any missed calls. There aren't any so I take my stuff to the bathroom, have a quick shower and call Omar's cell phone. He answers on the third ring.

"Have you seen Ben?" he asks, hastily.

"No, I just woke up," I tell him. "Why?"

"He's not in our room," Omar continues. "And I can't find the brief case."

"Uh-" I pause, unsure how to reply. "Are you sure?"

"I've checked the room, it's not where I left it last night. Ben isn't picking up either."