Spinoffs, Short Stories, and Bonus Chapters

The Letter - Short Story

Henry Jacobson sat still at his desk, staring down the letter once again. He's lost sleep over it the night before, evident in the dark circles under his eyes and the sporadic way his dull brown hair was sticking up all over his head.

Reading it again, from a distance, to assure himself he wasn't in fact sleeping now, he finally moved to rub his eyes. What would he do?

The street lights were illuminating everything he could see out the front window in pools of soft light. Henry sighed and stood up, muttering something to himself about closing up the shop. He flipped the sign on the door and checked the flower arrangements, misting them with water for the last time before he finally left. It had been a long day.

He grabbed his coat and hat, pushing the door open and locking it behind him. He had taken the letter, holding it tight in his left hand. Mulling it over in his mind, he considered his options. The letter seemed urgent.

Please, it read, I need you. Who needed him? He lived alone, and rarely interacted with other except at the flower shop. Who could possibly have written it?

I couldn't possibly be considering this, he thought. The anonymous letter hadn't explained much else, only asking him to be at Parking Garage H3 of the hospital down the road at midnight, tonight. Alone, it specified.

Henry laughed. It could be a murderer! How could he be thinking of going through with it? Perhaps it was the desperation in the words. It could be the small, untidy handwriting that suggested that the writer was young. Or maybe, just maybe, Henry was just curious to see what happened.

Whatever the reason was, Henry found himself compelled to accept the request of the letter. During the short drive home, he tried to talk some sense into himself. This was dangerous. However, no matter what he told himself, he knew he had to go. There was no way to forget it now. He parked in his driveway and walked slowly to his front door, shaking his head. He could be walking right into a trap.

There was no changing his mind now. If he wanted to go, he would need to leave soon. He took a brisk shower and picked out a smart suit to wear. The letter had said to dress formally. He brought the letter in a briefcase as instructed, as well as what he also found inside the envelope - the part that scared him about the entire ordeal. Ignoring every sensible bone in his body begging him to turn around, he walked out the door and started up his car again.

As he turned onto the last street, it occurred to him that the parking garages might very well be blocked off at this hour. Perhaps that's the point, he reasoned, gulping as his heart jumped to his throat. He parked near a restaurant across the street and killed the engine, getting out of the car nervously. Straightening his clothes and correcting his posture anxiously, Henry crossed the street and began to look for a way into the parking garage. There were metal gates closing the vehicle entrances, but the concrete walls had a few large rectangular holes to serve as windows. Cursing at himself under his breath for agreeing to something possibly illegal, Henry climbed through an opening in the wall. Now, just to find the right part of the parking garage.

There was a helpful sign in front of the entrance, and Henry was thankful that most parking garages would direct you where you needed to go. He followed the blue arrows he found on the cold walls, indicated by the sign to show the way to Parking Garage H3. Finally, he made it to the correct section of the garage. Taking a deep breath, he continued walking, checking his watch. 11:48. He was early, but he didn't quite care about that at the moment. What am I even looking for? He asked himself. The garage was abandoned and empty, only serving to chill him to the bone - only half attributed to the cool air.

"Mr. Jacobson?"

Henry promptly jumped at the smooth voice from behind him. He turned slowly, taking in the scene before him. There were two men, their faces covered with black masks, who were each holding an arm of someone, one of them holding a gun. The person they were carrying had a sack over their head, so Henry couldn't tell who it was, but they had a slight frame and tattered clothes. What is going on?