“Good bye, mother,” James said, with a heavy sigh.
       The voice on the other end, worn by too many years of screaming, croaked a goodbye and disappeared.
       The silence on the other end was suddenly interrupted by a click, followed by the raspy hiss of static.
       James’ heart froze.
       A voice rose from the static, mumbling at first. James tried to say something into the phone, but he found his throat seized by fear. The voice spoke for him.
       “Celpo is mother.”
       With a frightened scream, James slammed down the telephone. He wrung his hands and turned to The Wall. On top of all the tabloid article clippings, he had pinned a summary of his discoveries.

       Jan. 30
       End
       Capitol
       Semi truck
       Kuat

       He frowned and went to his window. Peeking out a narrow slit in his blinds, he watched a man who apparently was looking at his window. A chill ran down James’ spine as the man matched his gaze. Almost sinisterly, the disheveled man with the fiery red hair blew a stream of smoke James’ way.
       “Just the type Celpo would…”
       With a shrug, the man walked toward the apartment across the street. James’ eyes followed the man as he entered the foyer. Finding that his eyes could not follow the man further, they went back to the street.
       There, in black trench coat and a bowler hat, was another man. His icy frown gave James a sudden realization: He had done something very wrong.
       Celpo was mother.
       “I’ll never go back!” James screamed.
Drawing his finger from the blinds, James spun around and gasped when he saw his calendar.
       The date which he had circled so many times was two days away.
       “All sales end that day… all sales end that day…” James muttered to himself, wringing his hands. “N-no. This… can’t be. It… I started to prepare earlier than this…”
       He ran his fingers through his hair nervously.
       “I need to take a shower.”

       He lit his cigarette.
       “Ten days and still no job. This is great.”
       Blowing a cloud of smoke from his lips, he read his newspaper, legs propped up on his dinner table.
       “These jokers don’t know what they’re writing about.”
       A knock at the door. He stirred from his reading.
       “It’s open! Come in!”
       The door flung open, revealing a tall, curly haired man, with a nearly inhuman smile. A new sight to the gray apartment.
       “Hey! I just moved into the apartment next door! I just thought I’d introduce myself.”
       Setting down his newspaper, he took another puff of his cigarette. He managed a smile.
       “Well, welcome to Albrook. What brings you to a city like this?” he said, motioning to the empty seat at the table. The taller man took the invitation, closing the door behind him.
       “Can I have one?” the man asked, looking at the pack of the cigarettes.
       “Sure. Lighter’s in the box.”
       The man laughed and lit a cigarette.
       “I heard there were jobs in Albrook. So, I came to seize the day!”
       Putting his feet down on the ground, the man laughed.
       “Heh. I wish it was that easy. I’ve been here for a year for nothing. My parents are about to give up on me.”
       The two puffed their cigarettes in silence for a moment.
       “Well,” the newspaper man said, “I hope you stick around in that apartment. You’re only the fifth person that’s moved through there.”
       “Ha, that’s always nice to know… ah… what’s your name?”
       “Beck. You?”
       “Jacob,” replied the tall man. “And I’ve got to get back to unpacking.”
       “Have fun,” Beck replied.
       Jacob rose from the table.
       “Ah, Jacob – I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind coming around tomorrow for some cards.”
       “I can’t – job interview,” Jacob said. “How’s the day after?”
       “Fine by me. I can’t go anywhere, anyhow, except the coffeehouse down the street.”
       “Good coffee there?”
       “Best in the Web.”
       “I might have to pay a visit.”
       “Great.”
       “See you, Beck!”
       “Bye,” said Beck.
       Beck propped his feet back up onto the table and glanced out his window. He shook his head.
       “What on earth was that man looking at me for?” muttered Beck.
       He put out his cigarette and lit another.

       The doorbell rang that next morning in James’ apartment. With a gasp, he rose from his bed. The doorbell rang again. And again.
       “I’m coming!” said James.
       He walked to his door and carefully peeked out the porthole.
       “What do you want?”
       “Delivery for Anderson, from a Mrs. Anderson!”
       “Mother…” James mumbled. “All right, then!”
       He unlocked all of his locks and opened the door. He took the box and signed off for his delivery.
       “Thanks,” James said.
       The delivery man nodded.
       “Oh, by the way, this came in for you,” he said, giving a newspaper to James.
       The Messenger. That tabloid.
       “Thanks,” James replied.
       He closed the door and locked it. Putting the tabloid on a table, James opened up the box. He took the contents out.
       “Father’s Seraphim pocket watch.”
       Inscribed on its casing were the words, “Time is indestructible.” James laughed at his father’s irony. He attached the watch’s chain to his belt and continued on with his routine.
       The tabloid.
       For the past three months, James, by order of the Celpo, had been assigned a very specific duty: examine the contents of The Messenger for secret messages. James, being a natural cryptographer, took the task eagerly at first. However, he had discovered a haunting message that kept reoccurring in the tabloid.
       “It will end.”
       James knew that he was dealing with matters that he did not want any part in. He wanted out.
       Celpo was mother.
       He knew, after he discovered what “the end” was and relayed it to Celpo, he would die. They would come after him, and he would die.
       If “the end” came, he would have failed his mission.
       And he would die.
       James opened up the tabloid on a table and picked up a pencil that laid there.
       “Ninety-four… Ninety-four…”
       He began circling words. End. Kuat. Sale. Bomb.
       Bomb?
       It all fit together.
       “Anderson!” hissed a voice.
       James, uneasy, furrowed his brows.
       “Did you discover the secret?” the voice said.
       “Where are you coming from? Who are you?” James said, shakily.
       “Did you discover the secret?” the voice repeated.
       The watch. It was the watch. James unclipped the watch from his belt and stared at it.
       “Did you uncover the message?” the voice repeated.
       James opened the watch. “Celpo is mother” was scratched on the inside of the watch.
       “Oh, mother, dear mother… you let them get to Father’s treasure. His one and only watch…” murmured James.
       Taking a breath, James replied, “No.”
       
       Beck sat at the counter of the coffee house, smoking.
       “Afternoon, Beck,” the man at the counter said. “The usual?”
       “Yeah,” Beck replied.
       The chimes on the door jingled.
       “Beck! I thought I might see you here!” said a familiar voice.
       “Jacob! Hey,” Beck said, shaking Jacob’s hand.
       Jacob smiled and said to the man at the counter, “I’ll have what he’s having.”
       Beck put out his cigarette and turned to Jacob.
       “How was the interview?” Beck asked.
       Jacob gave him a curious look, but quickly realized what Beck was saying.
       “Oh, that! Ha, it was nothing! I just asked if I could work nights, and they just took me for the job,” Jacob said.
       “Great. I’m happy for you,” Beck replied, with a laugh.
       The man at the counter brought two cups of coffee.
       “Thanks,” Beck said.
       He took a sip of his coffee and set it down. Jacob took a sip of his as well. His face contorted into signature disgust.
       “How can you drink this stuff, Beck?”
       “It’s the cigarettes,” Beck replied.
       Jacob laughed.
       “So, what kind of work are you into… I mean, looking for?” asked Jacob.
       “Journalism. I’ve got the writing bug. Isn’t what you expected, huh?” Beck said.
       “Nah, I can see it. You just haven’t written in a long time, huh?” Jacob said.
       Beck grumbled and took another sip of his coffee.
       “I just haven’t had anything to write about.”

       “Anderson, we know.”
       James woke up. It was the day. The end.
       “You’ve lied to us this whole time.”
       The sale to end all sales ended today.
       The bomb. Semi truck. Celpo knew.
       “No! I haven’t been lying to you! I would never lie! Celpo is mother!” James screamed, hoping the man behind the watch would hear.
       James ran to the window. The man he had seen look into his window before entered his apartment. No men in trench coats. The Celpo had not come.
       “Safe,” James said.
       He grabbed his watch, attaching it to his belt.
       “Nothing’s wrong!”
       James unlocked his door and stormed out of the apartment.
       The man was there. Taking out his garbage. Smoking a cigarette.
       “What’s your problem?” the man asked.
       “N-nothing,” James replied.
       The man put his trash bag into the can.
       “I keep seeing you looking at me through the window.”
       “It’s… none of your business.”
       “It’s disturbing.”
       “It’s… none of your business!”
       James gasped, as he saw a man… wearing a trench coat…
       “You’re with him!” James screamed, pointing at the man.
James bolted down the street. He had to find the semi before the Celpo did.

       Beck entered his apartment, a new fire in his eyes.
       “Beck! What’s up?” Jacob asked.
       Beck grinned and picked up the phone.
       “I have something to write about. Call the police.”

       They were after him now, and in full force. He could hear their every footstep of the Celpo – every one of them after that deadly Kuat semi truck.
       He found himself running desperately toward the center of town, searching for the semi.
       Sirens. The Celpo had called in the police.
       “No!” screamed James, near tears.
       James heard the noise of tires screeching to a halt all around him. He turned left, into an alley.
       Dead end.
       “Stop right where you are!” said a voice.
       “Anderson… you betrayed us!”
       “We won’t hurt you,” said another.
       “You will surely die for lying to us.”
       “Just… don’t hurt us,” said the first voice.
       “Celpo is…”
       “Celpo is mother!” screamed James, as he fell to the ground, in tears.
       Beyond the stopped police cars, a Kuat semi truck passed by, delivering goods to their store.
       They needed to restock in the middle of their biggest blowout sale yet.