Dust blew down Camacho Street as Ernesto walked to work. He shielded his eyes with his cybernetic hand, a custom job that he had to done to make his work easier. A little camera built into his hand counts pills for him as he fills bottles at the BioCon Ultra pharmaceutical factory most days. Should I get the ham sandwich or the chicken burrito. I had ham yesterday for dinner. I’ll get the chicken burrito. What’s that? In the middle of the sidewalk sat a big fat sack of money. A couple of hundreds and fifties wafted out of the bag and onto the nearby parking lot. Ernesto looked left and right, half-expecting it to be a prank or some hidden camera show. After a short moment of doubt, he scooped up the sack and closed it up tightly. He chased after the loose bills in the parking lot, shoved them in his pockets before he ran back home to his apartment on Circle Point Drive, a little one bedroom apartment that had a nice view of the scrapyard across the street.

I don’t think anyone saw me. He double-checked that he locked the door behind him. He closed the ratty moth-eaten curtains before emptying the sack of money on his coffee table. It took him most of the hour counting and recounting it. It was a quarter of a million dollars in twenties, fifties, hundreds, and two-hundreds. He got a call from his boss. He answered the call with a thought.

“Benavidez are you coming in or do I need call somebody to replace you?” His boss asked.

“I’ll be there. I must’ve eaten some bad eggs for breakfast or something. I’ll be a little late.”

“Alright, but you better hurry up. Time is money, comprende” He said.

“Comprendo.” Ernesto replied. His boss disconnected from the call. Pinche jefe racista. Te odio. Ernesto put the money back in the sack, minus a couple hundred-dollar bills and hid it under his bed. He ran all the way to work. A bead of sweat built up around his temples, and he was huffing and puffing by the time he was halfway there. A policeman in a patrol car did a u-turn and followed him as ran, expecting to get a call about a Hispanic suspect in jeans and a gray button downed shirt. He was disappointed when the call didn’t come in and drove off as Ernesto passed through the company security checkpoint and into the pharmaceutical factory.

Ernesto counted what seemed like millions of pills to him, but the counter on his hand only counted 200,000 that day. He knew he couldn’t quit his job with just a quarter million, but he would finally get to enjoy some of the finer things in life. Maybe I’ll get another upgrade to my hand. Since they only pay me by the orders filled. If I get a better one, I probably make a couple hundred more each week. Nah, fuck practical, I want something fun. Maybe a motorcycle or a visit to the Pleasure Hut. I hadn’t been there in ages.

On the walk home he had a bounce in his step and an underserved air of confidence. He found the money right under his bed where he left it. It’s really real. He filled his front pockets with as much cash as he could carry without drawing too much attention. He tested this approach by looking in the mirror and shoving wads of cash in and taking them out. No, no, no, that’s too much. Oh no, that’s too little. Maybe just a few more. When he was finally satisfied, he called a cab that took him straight to the Pleasure Hut. He had a night to remember but recalled none of it the next day because he got blackout drunk.

A knock at his apartment door felt like a jackhammer directly on his brain. He crawled out of bed and to the door. He finally stood up to answer it. He cracked the door open to see who it was. Two very large men, one black and one white with metallic lower jaws and heavy duty cybernetic arms to match waited behind his front door on either side of the door.

“I think you got the wrong apartment.” Ernesto said. He tried to close the door, but they burst in before he could close it on them.

“Where’s our money?”

“What money?”

“You know what money. We’ll turn this place upside-down if we hafto.”

They tore the TV off the wall, emptied his pantry. They pulled out all of his the clothes from the closet and dresser and walked all over them with their grimy boots. They punched a hole in the wall before he finally gave in.

“It’s under my bed.” Ernesto said.

“Now, why didn’t I think of that,” The white muscle said to his partner.

The black muscle flipped the bed over and found the sack of money.

“Seems a little light to me,” The black muscle said.

 “I only took a little,” Ernesto said.

“What’s your name son?” The white muscle asked.

“Ernesto.”

“Well, Ernesto, you took some money from some bad men and you’re going to have pay us back or we’re going to do some bad things to you.”

“I don’t have it right now, but I can get it. If you give me a little time,” Ernesto pleaded.

“Did you hear that Paul? He says he’s going to pay us back. I like that. Don’t you like that?” The white muscle said.

“Mm-huh, sure do. I like that a lot.” Paul said.

“You scrap it together anyway you can. We’ll be back tomorrow and if you don’t have the rest of our money, we are not going to like that. Ain’t that right Paul?”

“That’s right Tom.” Paul said.

They left Ernesto alone in his apartment and went to their car and circled the block. They knew he would try to run. Not even an hour had passed before they saw Ernesto in a baseball cap, sunglasses and long coat trying to flag down a taxi. They revved their engine and squealed the tires. Ernesto started sprinting. He left his suitcase in the road as he tried to cross four lanes of traffic. They pulled up next to him and Tom drew a gun.

“Get in the car!” Tom said. Ernesto sheepishly got into the back of the car.

“Do you think we are stupid, Ernesto?” Tom said.

“No, but I was afraid of what you would do to me,” Ernesto said.

“Is it safe to say, that you don’t have a way to get the money?” Tom asked.

“Yes, ” he said as tears started to well up..

“Did you hear that, Paul? An honest answer. Some might even say it was earnest,” Tom said.

“Sounds earnest to me,” Paul said.

“I like you son. So, I’m going to give you a chance to pay us back by doing a little job for us. You understand? Nod if you understand.” Tom said.

Ernesto nodded.

Check back next week for part 2 of the story. Please like and subscribe it really helps me out. Thank you.