A Man Out of Time

“Siri! Open my audio recorder.” We all run out of time. This might be it for me, thought Danny. “Siri, begin recording and send to the cloud 30-seconds after I stop talking.”

Okay. Here goes… Message to my son: I’ve learned never to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. This has allowed me to run every kind of drug imaginable up and down the east-coast and not get caught. It all started with the COVID-19 pandemic of 2020. Your mom forbade me from driving UBER. And, jobs… Well, it was almost impossible to find one.

A Turkish friend, Kazan, offered to allow me to make local marijuana runs as a means of supplementing my driving income. At the time, I respectfully declined the offer. Unable to drive UBER for the sake of my family, I went to Kazan to see if he still had any work for me. It made sense that the offer wouldn’t be available. It also made sense that he’d need a driver to make state-to-state runs.

COVID has shut down everything and people were being told to stay indoors. Interstate travel for reasons other than work was strictly prohibited. This made some of Kazan’s regular drivers understandably nervous and apprehensive about making runs to places like Philadelphia and New York. Necessity is the mother of invention. So, I saw a golden opportunity. I’d make those runs.

Turns out – a run to Philadelphia paid $1,000. In one day, I could make as much money delivering packages as I’d made in a week driving UBER. I devised a plan. I used the graphic design skills I’d honed in college to create a hospital I.D., nothing elaborate – just something good enough to get me from point-A to point-B. I’d convince law enforcement I was a medical professional.

Why not? It was the perfect cover. It was almost laughable how easy it was to travel after that. In fact, I didn’t stop there. I ordered a lab coat from E-Bay. I even got cute and ordered a cooler to pretend I was carrying medical samples. It was too easy. Soon, I graduated to running cocaine and meth, since those jobs paid more. I was making $5 to $15K each week. And, guess what? I never got stopped, even once. Troopers and cops would look into my vehicle, but I would raise my gloved hands and wave. That was all it took.

2020 was a good year. I was in the right place at the right time to make more money than I could previously imagine. Lauren was happy. She could buy you new clothes and feed you well every day. We could also afford that high-speed internet connection you needed for virtual learning. Other 5th graders were not so lucky. So, I helped out a few of your classmates’ parents with laptops and supplies. I could afford to give back. So, I did.

Anyway, flash-forward to today. It’s December 10, 2020. Earlier today, I got a call from Kazan. Turns out – he has a job. The pay for that job is $20,000. All I have to do is deliver what he’s calling “the little black book” to an address in Northwest Baltimore. I was already in Philadelphia at the time, so it sounded like the deal of a lifetime. I’d pick up this book up from a house off of Chestnut and bring it to northwest Baltimore. Easy-peasy!

Well, I get to the address, walk up to the door and knock. “Hello!” I noticed the door was wide open. No one answered. So, I peeked inside. I could see the shadow of a figure rocking back and forth. I was a little apprehensive, but there was $20,000 at stake. And, Kazan wasn’t the type to play around. If he accepted a job, it was legit. Further, he wouldn’t risk losing his best driver to anything sketch.

I stepped inside and noticed a man in all black seated in a wooden chair. He was the one rocking back and forth. Again, I said, “Hello.” No answer. I thought the guy was on drugs. Turns out – the guy was praying silently. Even having been raised Catholic, I had seen this before. The guy was Jewish Orthodox. He said nothing as I stepped all the way into the sitting room. He simply kept rocking and praying silently.

Then, I heard a voice from the corner of the room. “That’s Jochebed.” It’s pronounced Yo-che-ved, but it’s not spelled that way.” The voice in the corner was coming from a little boy. He couldn’t be any older than eleven years old. He was sitting on the floor with his hand on his chin. “Jochebed is one of the good ones,” the boy continued. “And, you’re Daniel, but people call you Danny. Thank you for coming.”

“I’m here to pick up some ‘little black book’.” Delivering drugs, you learn never to ask questions. “I’m the little black book.” The kid got up from the floor and adjusted his yarmulke. “Sorry, it’s not a Moleskine ledger or anything like that. Oh! And, I apologize in advance, because we’re out of time. But, I will make it up to you. And, try not to be upset with Kazan. He’s just following orders.”

I had to assess the situation quickly. Kazan didn’t believe in running guns or trafficking women or children. He had a kind of moral code that all guys like us seemed to have. We justified what we did by saying we were taking care of our families. We adopted a strict set of rules that assured no one got hurt and that no one was robbed of their choices (if at all possible).

If Kazan took the job, there had to be a reason. He said we were out of time, but I assured the kid I would get him to Baltimore as quickly as possible. I moved swiftly through the door in my lab coat and descended the porch stairs. The idea was for the kid to follow me. Something told me he was important - someone I couldn’t just order around. As an UBER driver, I had learned to read people.

He didn’t wear a seat belt, which I thought was odd. He simply leaned over the seat, smiled and looked at me. “I’m 14,” he said. I’m a few years older than your son. You’re going to have to send him a little message telling him about our trip.” I was puzzled. How did the kid know I had a son? Why would Kazan even need to bring it up? “Why is that?” I asked. “You’ll see,” he responded throwing himself onto the back seat.

I quickly glanced at him through the rear-view mirror. Just then, I noticed a black truck turn the corner and get behind us. Then, another. Then, another. They were definitely following us. A feeling of terror swept over me, something I had never felt in my life. For some strange reason, I recalled feeling a little uneasy as we left the house. I explained it away. I was certain Kazan wouldn’t have me caught up in anything different from the normal. I sensed one of the trucks trying to get in front of me. He sped up and moved into the lane for oncoming traffic, but was forced back into the lane by an oncoming car.

It was then that I knew this was something serious. I was only four blocks away from the exit onto the highway and decided to go for it. The kid in the back was saying something, but I couldn’t hear him. My mind was racing at a hundred miles a minute. If my heart beat any harder, it would have jumped out of my chest. If this was law enforcement behind me, I was definitely going to jail. I still had five pounds of pills in the trunk.

I made it to the highway. I was doing 80 MPH, but those SUVs were still giving chase. I noticed there were men in all four seats of each vehicle. They looked to be black ops types and were all carrying automatic weapons. I also noticed that they were not trying to run us off the road or shoot at my car. So, I had time to calm myself and think. What’s more, I had time to listen to what the little boy in the back of the SUV was saying. “They are not here for the drugs. They are here for me…the little black book.”

I shot him a glance through the rear-view mirror. Was I harboring some kind of refugee? Were they terrorists? Was he some kind of bargaining chip? A spy? “They are government guys,” he answered. “Not the good kind though. And, you have about ten miles left. They are going to deflate your tires in an attempt to stop your car. You have to send your wife and your son an audio message so that they’ll understand.” The kid gave me a serious look.

“You have to do this.” Tears filled his eyes. “You’re going away for a while. You have to do this for Lauren. I will show you what the next steps are after you do this.” How did he know my wife’s name? Why was he so sure this was something I had to do? “I’m sorry. We were out of time, but you can still send them a message. And, when they see you in a few months, it will be okay. But, no more drugs. We are going to give you something else to do.”

“Siri. Open my audio recorder.” The thought of not seeing my wife and son for months on end brought tears to my eyes. I struggled to keep my composure. I had to stay strong for them, stay strong for the kid I was to deliver to Baltimore. So, I explained the situation. Just as I was wrapping up the audio message, I saw it ahead of me. It was a massive roadblock. There looked to be ten trucks. A spike strip was laid out a few hundred feet before the area where trucks and the men were.

I couldn’t speak. I tried, but I couldn’t. I knew the message would be sent automatically if I didn’t continue speaking, but something was holding my words in. Was it fear? Just then, I realized the little boy’s hand was on my shoulder. “We just need ten more seconds. … … Okay. It’s sent.” The car we were in slammed against the spike strips violently bursting all tires. I took all my strength to keep the car on the road.

“Okay. My turn. The little black book will take over now.” The car was barreling toward the barricade erected to ensure I put on the breaks. I was breaking, but the car wasn’t slowing down. The little boy smiled and raised his hands. I saw a flash of white light and it felt like I was being violently lifted from my body into the sky. Is this what death feels like? I was just happy I could send my family a final message, even if it wasn’t complete. But, the kid said I’d be back in a few months. They might expect me.

Even as my body was rising up, I had time to reflect. Some strange, symbols surrounded the little boy’s hands as he raised them. They appeared to be made of light. From what I remember, he then turned into light himself. Maybe I wasn’t dead. Or, maybe I am dead and was only hallucinating now. But, if I am dead, how could I hallucinate about being dead? I snapped out of it when I heard the voice of a beautiful woman. “Welcome, Danny Turner. It seems you were in the wrong place at the wrong time this time. So, you’ll just have to come with us. We apologize in advance.”