Hunted: Day 34

[S] Caffeine buzz or...? (35,140 / 1,000,000)

Nolan stalked with purpose through the ambling crowds of slack-jawed retail shoppers. His long stride allowed him to glide past the other residents of the East Palmbrook shopping mall on that sunny Saturday morning. He hated shopping malls — with their hordes of witless consumers drawn to shit like flies — but he needed to blend in for now. He was being followed. He glanced over his shoulder while he walked past rows of mostly-vacant clothing stores and half-staffed food stands.

But we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

It had all begun that morning, while Nolan was getting coffee from his local roastery. This roastery, which happened to be situated smack-dab in the middle of the East Palmbrook shopping mall, was called Mrs. Beans. Nolan didn’t know why the place had such a damn silly name, but they were the only place in town who roasted their coffee beans on-site. Coffee was very important to Nolan, so it was imperative that he got high-quality, fresh roasted beans. Mrs. Beans had the best, fresh roasted coffee beans in town, so Nolan went there every third Saturday morning at precisely 9:00 am.

The time and date were chosen with great care — Nolan had done his research. First, he had discovered that the roastery, Mrs. Beans, received their shipments of fresh, green coffee beans the third Thursday of every month. Those fresh beans would be roasted the next day, and put on sale the following Saturday. So, coming to Mrs. Beans roastery on the third Saturday of every month allowed Nolan to get the freshest and highest quality coffee beans that he could get his hands on. Oh, and he went at 9:00 am because that was the least busy time of the day for Mrs. Beans on Saturdays. See, Nolan hated people almost as much as he loved coffee. 

Back to the main point.

This particular third Saturday of the month, Nolan had noticed something was off immediately. The moment he entered Mrs. Beans coffee shop and roastery at 9:00 am, something had given him an uneasy feeling — the kind of feeling that makes your ears twitch and your skin prickle. Nolan always knew to trust his instincts — they had kept him one step ahead of his enemies thus far. So, this particular third Saturday of the month at 9:00 am, Nolan had his wits about him; he was on alert for any kind of trouble while he purchased two pounds of fresh roasted coffee beans, and a black coffee to go.

While he was waiting for his beans to be packed up — they were freshly roasted after all — something caught his attention. In the back corner of the store, above the hallway that led to the back room, a small, white, box-style security camera surveilled the shop from the ceiling.

 Had that been there before? Nolan asked himself.

He thought that he would’ve noticed it by now, if it had been there all along. As if to confirm his suspicion, the tiny arm of the camera gave a miniscule twitch in Nolan’s direction, and he saw the lens shift to focus on his face.

Nolan’s heartbeat began to swell in his chest. They had found him. He took deep breaths, trying to maintain his composure, while he waited for his beans and drink. He didn’t know how they had found him so quickly, but he needed to make sure they didn’t know that he knew that they were onto him — so he had to play it cool for now.

By the time the nice woman behind the counter called his name, Nolan had mostly calmed himself. By all appearances, he was completely relaxed, save for the sheen of cold sweat that glistened on his forehead. The woman smiled amicably at Nolan while she handed over the goods, but he thought he spotted a suspicious glint in her eye.

Did they send her? Nolan questioned. She got a good look at my face — damn!

Nolan took his items, turned from the counter without a word, and stormed back into the halls of the East Palmbrook shopping mall. He assumed a steady stride, but made sure to not walk too quickly, so as not to attract attention.

“You’re welcome!” the woman called to Nolan’s back. He didn’t respond. He took a sip of his coffee while he walked, and savored the flavor of it — Mrs. Beans really did have the best damn coffee in town. The familiar scent and taste helped Nolan focus, and he began to formulate his plan. First, he would need to get out of the mall in one piece. But these blasted mausoleums of commercialism were stuffed full of surveillance cameras. With just a quick glance around, he spotted dozens. Small, black, half-orbs that peppered the walls and ceiling. Unquestioning and unyielding observers — exactly the kind of tool that they would love. Something to use and manipulate to their advantage. They used people in that way too, like the nice cashier at Mrs. Beans. Nolan shook his head after another sip of coffee. It was a real shame that he would probably never return to Mrs. Beans roastery in the East Palmbrook shopping mall.  

Nolan froze mid-stride. He looked down at the cup of coffee in his hand.

Was he feeling funny? He thought he might be feeling something.

If the cashier was compromised, could she have done something to his coffee? His heartbeat began to get away from him again, and he felt the familiar fire of panic begin to flare in his gut. His eyes darted around, looking for something. There, between a specialty kitchenware store and a food stand that sold solely pretzels, he spotted his goal. He ran to the bathroom, abandoning all pretense. He pushed through the door, and threw his cup of coffee into the trash before finding an empty stall. He dropped to his knees in front of the toilet, and without hesitation, opened his mouth and shoved his index finger deep into his throat, down to the last knuckle. His eyes watered as his body involuntarily spewed the contents of his stomach, including the few sips of coffee from earlier, into the toilet. Still kneeling, he sat back on his feet, and wiped his mouth with some toilet paper.

“Jesus man, a- are you alright?” a voice sounded from the stall to Nolan’s right.

Nolan ignored the question, stood, and flushed the toilet. He didn’t have time to dally. He looked down at the bag of coffee beans that he was gripping tightly in his left hand. After a moment’s consideration, he shoved it into one of the deeper pockets of his coat. He could check the beans for tampering later, he didn’t want to waste them. He washed his hands in the sink, and dabbed the sweat from his face with a paper towel. He took a few deep breaths to regain his composure, then stepped back into the halls of the shopping mall. He eyed an exit, and headed for it, eager to escape the somehow simultaneously sterile and septic seeming halls of the East Palmbrook shopping mall. The blasted place with all the damned people and all the damned cameras. He glanced over his shoulder while he walked.