an opportunity of escape, delivered by mail

i - the letter

Dear John W,

My name is Antonio Pascual. I am writing you to tell you that your great-grand-uncle Daniel Reváz has passed away.

"Antonio Pascual? Who the hell is Antonio Pascual? And I never had a great-grand-uncle." John thought to himself as he read the letter he had just received.

As part of his inheritance, he left to you $1,000,000 U.S. dollars. If you do not come to collect this, the money will be seized by the Colombian government. However, if you are interested in collecting the money to your name, visit 3.31876, -75.16054 on 12 March, 20:00 UST.

He dropped the letter onto the kitchen table. "I haven't got time for this crap," he thought. His head ached from another mundane work day spent cramped inside his office cubicle. John reached for the refrigerator door, only to be greeted by stale, leftover egg rolls from two nights ago and a half empty can of Pepsi. As he started the microwave containing a plate full of egg rolls, the withering houseplant on the windowsill drew his attention. He thought of how the once vibrant, green plant used to be filled with life, but just like everything else in this stupid town, its colors have faded to just a gray. Ding, the microwave interrupted his thoughts. After eating, he crawled into bed and closed his eyes; his mind flooded with tomorrow's worries. If he has to listen to Cathy narrate the story of her many cats again, he may just jump out the window.

ii - the catalyst

The long, boring drive to work gave John time to enjoy one of his podcasts. Recently, he'd been listening to Cholesterol Watching 101: How to Lose Weight and Feel Great, but somehow he'd gained five pounds in the last week. The drive was easy, not many cars out at this time in the morning. Then again, not usually many cars are out in this tiny, barren town at all. Although many didn't have enough money to buy food for the week, the company he worked for somehow had enough to pay for this 6-story glass monolith. He walked in, greeted by the familiar assistant, and scanned his pass to enter the main office. The moment he sat down, his boss greeted him with a familiar scowl. "John, you're late." the boss said.

"Sorry, sir, I'll get right to it." John bleakley replied.

"Now listen, I need these finished by tonight." With a lit cigar in his hand, the boss dropped a stack of papers onto John's desk. The loud thump it made drew the attention of other workers around him.

iii - the change of heart

Defeated, he returned home. He laid on the couch as he thought to himself, "Another bad workday.. my life just isn't worth living anymore." In a moment of somber, desperate to find a way out of the life he's dug himself into, he glanced at the table. The letter caught his attention. He thought, "There's no way that's real, right? .. I mean, why not give it another good look?" He glanced at the letter once again. After typing out the coordinates on his computer, he discovered that he needed to travel to the middle of a Colombian desert. "Colombia!? Why do they need me to go to Colombia!?" Not only would the flight be expensive, but he would be separated from all of his friends. Then again, it's not like he had that many "friends" anyway. "This could be it! With this money, I could finally move out of this place and do something with my life. I've got no other choice." he thought to himself. Although he was slightly anxious at the idea of traveling to another continent, since all his life he'd lived in the same town, he pushed through his discomfort in hope of a reward at the end. He went straight to the bank, withdrew all of his savings, and thought "This should be enough."

iv - the trip

During his flight, he got a call from his friend Bob. "Hey, man, where'd you go? I thought we were on for golf this Friday?" Bob said.

"I know, I'm sorry, but I got a letter in the mail saying that one of my long lost relatives died and-"

Bob cut him off, "John. Where are you?"

"Okay, I know it sounds crazy, but I'm on a flight to Colombia. Apparently I had a relative who died, and they left me a million bucks. I've just got to go to Colombia to collect it." John replied.

"John, you're nuts! Are you already in the plane!?"

"Half-way there."

"Alright." You could hear the disappointment in Bob's voice, "John, once you get there, you need to immediately book a flight back home, you hear me?"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"I've got no money, I was planning on purchasing the flight back home with the money I get."

"John, it's a SCAM." Bob yells at him.

"Just trust me on this, I'll be alright!!" John says as he hangs up. Immediately after, his phone rings once again. It's Bob. He turns his phone's do-not-disturb on. After landing, John went straight to a car rental service. "Hi, I'd like to rent a car for one day," he says.

"I can definitely help you with that, sir!" The service assistant goes on to tell John how much it would cost. Although he had no money right now, he only had to pay them once the day was done, and by that time, he'd be a millionaire! After receiving the rental car, he began driving down to the desert, using his phone as a GPS.

v - the arrival

As he drove down the rural, desert road, he noticed a large building out the corner of his eye. He's reached his destination. A rusted, dingy warehouse, but should serve the purpose nonetheless. John opened what looked like the entrance. The metal door creaked loudly as its unoiled hinges rubbed together. It clicked shut behind him. As he walked into the building, he noticed a group of five or so others standing in the middle of the large room, dimly lit by a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling. He walked up to them and asked, "Hi, I'm John. I was contacted by letter about some money I've inherited?"

"You too?" one of them said.

"What? Aren't you supposed to be my relative?" John replied.

"No. I'm just some accountant from Michigan," the man gestures to another, "and he's just a tour guide from California. We all got the same letter. Antonio Pascual, right?"

"Y-yeah, I mean.." John's sentence trailed off as he thought to himself. Could this have really been a scam? Was Bob right?

"Well, now what are we supposed to do?" someone else chimed in. Amidst their confusion, the door opened once again. Three silhouettes emerged from the darkness, one carrying a briefcase, the other two wielding what appeared to be assault rifles.

The frontmost man steps forward into the light, "Let's talk." The door clicks shut.