Directions

The edges of the note were frayed, almost deteriorating under my touch.  I pulled it out carefully, and opened the bulging paper.

The edges ripped slightly along the fold, but not more than a centimeter.  As the text revealed itself, I gasped.  Four small notes fell out of the unfolded page, landing in my lap.  I picked them up with my other hand.

One was a picture ID, with Harry's picture on it.  The name, though.. it was "Timothy Gold."

In days like this, all you needed to get on a plane was a photo ID and enough money...

I ignored the thought and looked at the next two papers, which were small bills.  500 dollars, each one.  Where could Harry have gotten this?!

The last note was tiny, folded up into a square.  I looked back at the original paper, which had only one address on it, an address I couldn't recognize.  An address, and Harry's name, right above it.

Then, I turned back to the tiny square.  It was so small, it could fit on my thumb.  Sliding my fingernail underneath one corner, I lifted the thin paper, and continued unfolding it.  Once it was spread out, I could only barely decipher anything in the dim light.

I moved closer to a flickering streetlamp, leaning against the cold metal post, and looked at the labyrinth stretched on the paper before me.  In the upper left corner of the paper, Harry's name was printed again.

Engulfing the rest of the page was a map, of a huge building.  Every corridor, room, bathroom, elevator, and staircase was mapped out.  Even the janitor's closets.

Drawn through the map was a wavering line of red that looked like it was drawn by a child with a marker.  It snaked its way through a door on the side of the building, through a hallway, through a few rooms, and finally stopping on an X in a room labeled "Lab 34".

I threw the paper to the side and looked down at the ground, feeling like I was going to vomit.

Harry's body was about ten feet away, his head facing me, tantalizing me with so many unanswered questions.

This map, this building.. it had to be the Government Research Facility.  The money, the fake ID, the map... Harry was trespassing yesterday, just yesterday..

The money.  He had to have been doing it for the money, but who was he doing it for?  And what exactly, was he doing there?

I remembered the letter given to me by the old man, in my pocket.  Harry took jobs all the time, any job he could take actually, but.. he had all the money he could need for a long time.  Why would he take an old man's note to a library?  He was probably insane anyway.  An insane, old, rich man.

The letter could hold a clue.  It could tell me why Harry had gone to the Facility, why he.. died..

I couldn't open the note, though.  I'd given the old man my trust.

Looking back on that exact moment, I want to smack my former self in the face.  It wasn't just an old man's letter.

The letter was everything.

The End

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