25. The Traitor
Callie stared at the phone laying on the ground several feet away from her.
It was broken in two as a result of her rage-induced throw against the nearest wall.
She should have known better than to call Jenkins.
After his change of heart with switching from Darla’s body to Pamela’s, he was never going to understand her plan to continue switching with people.
“That traitor!” Her scream reverberated around her in the small space she’d woken up in. The trailer was only about six feet wide and twenty feet long.
The number of roaches she had encountered already this morning made her skin crawl, and every time her hair brushed lightly against her skin, she was convinced it was a critter roaming around on her body.
The chance she had to get back to her life as Pamela Shaw was long gone as she stood panting alone in the trailer.
The wedding picture on the wall showed a frizzy, red-headed bride with a hard line in place of a smile.
She was standing next to a rather large man who wore a tuxedo shirt in place of an actual tuxedo.
He looked the opposite of friendly, and even in the photograph, she could see a faint purple color around one of her eyes.
How could Jenkins do this to me? Sentence me to this life?
After everything I have done for him. I saved him from a similar fate and now he wants me to live out the rest of my life being abused surrounded by cockroaches and filth.
No. Callie shook her head. I worked too hard to have it all taken from me.
“I need to get to L.A. and kill them both.” She clenched her fists and rolled her shoulders back. A new resolve formed within her, a new, but temporary, purpose.
A short, frantic search rewarded her with a small satchel that contained her car keys, a wallet with an ID, and a bank card. After a glance in the mirror, revealing her wild red curly hair that framed some small bruises around her eyes and cheeks, she was out the door.
“Callie, my name is Callie. I live in Traverse City, Michigan. I’m thirty years old.” She jammed the car key in the small, run-down car. “And I am absolutely not waiting around for whoever gave these bruises to me.”
The bank was close to the trailer park. She quickly parked and entered the bank’s foyer. My name is Callie, my name is Callie. She ruminated on her new name. A slip of the tongue could prove detrimental to her plan.
Inside the bank, the air conditioning provided relief from the blistering heat of the summer sun.
She scanned the small lobby and found an open teller.
She gripped her satchel tighter and tried to walk in a way that prevented her slick sneakers from squeaking against the tile floor.
After a few steps she gave up and walked normally to the waiting desk.
“Hi, I need to withdraw some money from my account.” She set her satchel on the counter, and the dirty smell wafted up into the air. Her cheeks burned as the teller quickly looked away and avoided meeting her eye.
“Of course, can you please give me your bank card and ID?”
Callie slid both to the teller and fidgeted, waiting for the transaction to be completed. Her thoughts trickled to what her plan was. She needed to get a map, because Michigan was quite a distance from California. It was going to be a challenge to get across the country.
She glanced out the front windows at her beat-up brown car. The front driver’s side hubcap was missing. The paint was peeling across the hood, and she tried to ignore whatever problem was causing a high screech sound from the engine when she accelerated.
The car situation isn’t ideal, but I can hitch a ride if needed. More importantly, I need to buy a gun.
“How much would you like to withdraw?” The teller stared at her as she returned her focus to the current task at hand.
“What is my account balance?” She picked at her nail bed, which was already pretty ragged from the previous Callie chewing her fingers down to nubs.
You better not chew my precious fingernails on my body. Her skin grew hot at the thought of this low life nobody, Callie, in her beautiful perfect body.
“$475.” The teller did well to hide her reaction to such a small number as Callie groaned.
“All of it,” Callie said through gritted teeth.
“Ma’am, are you sure? Emptying it will result in a monthly fee.”
She nodded frantically. “Yes, I’m sure. Small bills please.”
The teller clicked on her keyboard, and Callie took the opportunity to summon the tether. She held her breath and focused on the teller’s face, jealousy bloomed as she desperately wanted to be her. She exhaled quietly in defeat. The tether refused to surface.
I don’t understand why now of all times the tether won’t work! It always came when I was desperate to switch, and now, nothing.
The teller placed the small stack of bills and change on the desk between them. “Would you like an envelope?” Callie stared at the teller.
Is she stupid? Why would I need an envelope for so little money?
Callie shook her head and snatched the money off the counter, stuffing it in her satchel. She rushed back outside without a backward glance.
She drove around the small downtown area slowly. Her eyes scanned the buildings she passed until she found the one she was looking for. The car clunked to a stop in the parking spot, and a small haze of steam escaped from the cracks of the hood.
The bell above the door dinged as Callie pushed hard against it, causing it to slam against the wall with a loud bang. The man behind the counter jumped from his seat, on high alert until his eyes rested on Callie.
His dirty white tank top had smears of oil and food particles.
His jeans looked both too small for him and too large at the same time.
His arms were covered in dark curly hair that extended all the way up and blended into his chest and back hair.
The baseball cap he wore covered a completely bald head, and the emblem on it was the silhouette of a woman on her knees.
“Woah there, cowgirl! You break it, you buy it.” He squinted his eyes at her.
His cheeks rolled around as he talked. As Callie approached she could see he had chewing tobacco in his mouth.
A nearby Styrofoam cup was half filled with black liquid, and flecks of dip lined the inside of the cup up to the edge.
“Sorry it looked heavier than it is.” She made her way to the counter and casually glanced at the guns behind the glass barrier.
I don’t know anything about guns. I need to appear like I know what I’m doing.
There weren’t many options. Some of the guns looked like they would take both of her hands to fire.
Another one had a revolving barrel. It looked pretty straight forward to load and shoot. The wooden handle would easily fit against the palm of her hand, and the short barrel would provide her the ability to conceal it.
“I would like to buy that gun right there.” She added her fingerprint to the array of smudges on the glass.
“That one there is $200. Do you need ammo as well?” The man opened the sliding glass panel behind the counter and retrieved the small gun.
He held it out to her, and she wrapped her hand around the handle.
The weight caused her hand to drop slightly before she recovered, adjusting to the slight, yet heavy, weapon.
“Yes, please.” She kept all emotion from her voice, but she felt powerful holding the gun. It was a different kind of power than what money and position had provided her all these years.
“This is a 380, good for a girl your size. Should do the job to protect you.”
“Mm-hmm.” She gave the man a closed-mouth smile, closer to a line across her face, but she was trying to remain pleasant to not raise any suspicion. The last thing she needed was for the police to get involved.
“I only take cash for gun purchases.”
“Not a problem.” She answered too quickly, and the man responded with raised eyebrows.
“The gun with ammo is $250,” He replied and turned around to grab a box of ammo off the shelf from the wall behind him. Callie threw open the satchel to pull out the correct amount of money. She was careful to not pull too much out so that he didn’t see how much money she was carrying.
She placed the cash on the counter and picked up the gun.
I’m going to need to be as close as possible if I want to succeed in killing Jenkins.
She thought. That traitor! The ache in her stomach turned to a boiling rage as she felt the weight of the gun in her hand.
This is all your fault! You pushed me to do this!
She wanted to scream but smiled instead and maintained her composure, as always. I’m going to make you pay, Jenkins.
The man counted the cash and pushed a button on his register.
“Need a bag for this?”
“Nah.” Callie scooped up the box of ammo and stuffed both in her satchel.
“So where are you headed? Leaving town?” The man closed up the glass door and locked it back up with the small silver key and resumed his barstool perch.
He grabbed the cup and spit out a black liquid.
Callie’s stomach turned as she watched it ooze down the side of the cup and settle on the glass display case.
“Just passing through, heading out west. I have a family out there with a ranch and they want me to come home to work.” Callie lied; she didn’t want to give this man too many details.
The man nodded his head and smirked. “All right, good luck out there, Callie.”
“Thanks,” She mumbled as she turned to leave.
Inside her car, sweat trickled down her face as she calculated in her head the amount of cash she had left. It was $275. That wasn’t much, and she was going to need to figure out a plan to acquire more money—once she killed both Jenkins and the person in her body.
Ideally, she would be able to get Pamela to agree to the switch after taking out Jenkins. But a backup plan was needed.