{"id":2343,"date":"2022-01-29T16:41:46","date_gmt":"2022-01-29T23:41:46","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/?p=2343"},"modified":"2022-01-29T17:25:13","modified_gmt":"2022-01-30T00:25:13","slug":"retirement","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.evardsson.com\/blog\/2022\/01\/29\/retirement\/","title":{"rendered":"Retirement"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

prompt: Write a story about two characters whose first impressions of one another are wildly inaccurate.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

available at Reedsy<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n

As a retirement officer, Jillian had a job to do. Distasteful or not, it had to be done. She smirked, laughing at herself internally. Distasteful? I\u2019m a professional, <\/em>she thought, I don\u2019t get to make value judgements<\/em>.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She saw her mark, a painfully stereotypical \u201clittle old lady.\u201d Slightly stooped, walking with the aid of a purple cane, heavily lined, round face pink with exertion, blue eyes swimming behind oversized pink pearl glasses, white curls in a style fifty years out of date, and a large shopping bag she struggled with.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Intending to verify and get closer, Jillian approached her as she was about to leave the store. \u201cExcuse me, ma\u2019am. Can I help you to your car with that?\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Valery looked up at Jillian. Slender, tall, straight brown hair against tanned skin, pale showing under the collar where it hadn\u2019t had as much sun, and green, slightly hooded, almond-shaped eyes. \u201cWell, aren\u2019t you just the sweetest?\u201d She set the bag down. \u201cIf you could carry that, I\u2019d be grateful.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jillian picked up the bag. \u201cI\u2019ll follow you. My name\u2019s Jillian, by the way.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThank you, Jillian. I\u2019m Valery.\u201d She stopped for a moment to study Jillian\u2019s face. \u201cYou\u2019ve got the cutest little smile, like you know a secret.\u201d She then continued her tottering walk to the parking lot.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jillian chuckled. \u201cThat\u2019s the nicest thing I\u2019ve heard about my looks in a long time. Usually, it\u2019s some guy saying something creepy or outright disgusting.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t take that,\u201d Valery said, an unexpected edge in her voice. \u201cYou never<\/em> let a man talk to you like that. If we\u2019d had \u2018me too\u2019 back in my day, damn near every man I knew would\u2019ve been in trouble.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cTrust me, I don\u2019t let them get away with it anymore,\u201d Jillian said laughing. \u201cYou\u2019re a pistol, aren\u2019t you? I bet you didn\u2019t let \u2019em off easy, either.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cNever have let a man walk over me, and don\u2019t intend to start now.\u201d Valery stopped at a well-maintained Honda from the late eighties and opened the trunk. \u201cThank you, sweetie. I could\u2019ve made it,\u201d she said, \u201cit just would\u2019ve taken me a bit longer.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cWell, if I made your day a little easier, it was worth it,\u201d Jillian said. \u201cIt was a pleasure to meet you.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jillian waved as Valery backed carefully out of her spot and pulled into the parking lot traffic. She leaned against the wall and watched how she drove out, stopping short of the lines, leaving a large gap between herself and the car in front, and smooth, slow acceleration.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jillian re-entered the grocery store and left through a different exit, checking her phone on the way. Her map showed a marker with its speed, moving away from her, getting on the nearby freeway. She watched for a while as it moved down the freeway at a steady fifty-two miles per hour, getting off at the next exit. The marker finally came to rest and Jillian looked up the address: \u201cClear View Retirement Community.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She spent the afternoon on exercise and meditation in her motel room, then slept for a few hours before she prepared to go out. Jillian cleaned her weapon, a .22 semi-auto pistol with a suppressor, and loaded it with subsonic rounds. The closest you could get to the movie-style whispers of shots.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

After a final check to make sure Valery\u2019s car hadn\u2019t moved, she left the room with her only bag and dropped it in the trunk of the car. It took less than twenty minutes to reach the retirement community, and another five to drive around the perimeter before parking a few blocks from where the map still showed the car.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She walked toward the location marked on the map. As she approached, she realized the actual location of the marker was the middle of a parking lot surrounded by three tall privacy fences. \u201cWhy didn\u2019t you park at your condo, old lady?\u201d she quietly asked of no one.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Unable to see into the lot from her current location, Jillian walked to the fence, then crept up to the corner, pistol in hand, checking her back and above every step of the way. The lot was empty, save for a piece of paper flapping about, held in place by a large stone.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jillian assured herself the lot was empty, and the size of the lot precluded an ambush as she had a clear view with time to react. She walked to the paper and saw the transmitter taped to the rocked. The note beneath it read, \u201cSorry. Not today.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jillian growled. This was supposed to be an easy one. At her age, all Valery was doing was prolonging the inevitable. She picked up the tracker and stuffed it in the cargo pocket of her black trousers. \u201cWhere are you, you old bitch?!\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She walked out of the fenced lot and a sudden sharp pain in her wrist loosed her hold on her pistol. \u201cI\u2019m right here! And just because you\u2019re a woman doesn\u2019t give you the right to call me a bitch.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Training took over, and Jillian kicked the dropped pistol behind herself and began to get some space between the two of them. \u201cYou know it\u2019s not personal. You\u2019re past due for retirement.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRetirement? In my day we called things by their proper name. No wonder you\u2019re so soft.\u201d With unexpected speed and fluidity Valery jumped toward the retreating woman, spinning as she brought her cane in a swift arc toward the younger woman\u2019s head.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jillian avoided the strike only by falling back, landing her near the pistol. She rolled over the pistol, snatching it on the way, and got to her feet. \u201cRetirement officers aren\u2019t expected to live long enough for their work to be declassified,\u201d she said.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cRetirement officers<\/em>? I have a retirement officer; they make sure I get my government retirement checks from the Department of Energy secretary position I never had.\u201d Valery kept moving, using her cane as a staff, forcing Jillian back, looking for an opening to get the pistol out of her grasp again. \u201cYou and I, we\u2019re assassins, and if you can\u2019t get over it without prettying it up, you\u2019ll never survive. Of course, if<\/em> you survive now, I can congratulate you on your first contact. I didn\u2019t place it until I swept the car and found the tracker.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Jillian kept backing away, trying to get enough distance to raise her pistol and fire but the older woman kept closing on her. Deciding that a gamble was better than a continued stand-off, she took two quick steps back as she raised the pistol and fired.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

The gamble didn\u2019t pay off. On the second step back, her heel caught the curb, tumbling her to her back for the second time, and sending the shot wide. She didn\u2019t have time to react as Valery connected with the cane, crushing her windpipe, and standing on her hand that held the now useless pistol.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cBefore you die, you\u2019re going to learn something they should\u2019ve taught you in training,\u201d Valery said. \u201cWatch out for the old folks in a profession where most die young.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Valery watched as the younger woman\u2019s lips turned blue, her gurgling ground to a halt, and the light left her eyes. She stepped off the trapped hand and sighed. \u201cI\u2019ve put down better than you,\u201d she said. She found the phone in the woman\u2019s pocket and entered the emergency code on the lock screen, hoping someone would be by soon to clean up the mess.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

She\u2019d known it would come eventually, and now it had. With no reason to take it easy any longer, Valery floored the accelerator as she hit the freeway, the turbo whining. She wouldn\u2019t bring anything other than the bag of clothes and case of money in the trunk with her. The monthly retirement checks were done, but she\u2019d never needed them. She wondered, as she flew down the interstate at 100 miles per hour, where she should hide out first.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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