Boundlessness
Chapter 1 Sam & Kat
The sun rose that day much like any other in the crisp month of October, just a breath away from Halloween, marking the onset of the first cold week post the relentless scorch of a typical Vegas Summer. Rising promptly at 4:00 am, my daily ritual unfolded – washing my face, brushing my teeth, laying out my attire, and downing a protein shake followed by a Miller High Life tall can.
The morning dance continued with the meticulous tasks of accounting and inventory. Starting with a count of the products on hand at my immediate disposal, I then jumped into the inventory housed in my vault beyond the city limits. A rough estimate of anticipated profits was calculated, meticulously documented, and securely stashed away in my safe beneath the shower flooring.
The following steps involved scrutinizing the stock levels of various dealers, tracking outstanding balances, and addressing any discrepancies that might have arisen. Friday was designated as the delivery day for my top-tier vendors, each shipment orchestrated by a different courier to minimize the risk of repeat encounters. A sealed envelope containing the deposit box code awaited the vendor, with the second part of the key provided only upon cash insertion.
For larger deliveries, a set of keys and the location of the vehicle were disclosed post-payment, ensuring the courier's safe departure. To underscore the seriousness and precautionary measures, all deliveries were accompanied by a discreet presence of plastic explosives, coupled with the lingering tales of my purported brutal psychopathy. Tales, which over time, had swelled with embellishments.
With the logistics sorted, a well-deserved shower beckoned, followed by the careful selection of accessories, the choice of a vehicle, and a swift entrance into my garage. By this time, the clock had rolled to 6:45 am, triggering the vigilant setting of alarms as the vehicle crossed the threshold of the garage door.
My destination was the East Side of Las Vegas, in the heart of my territory, the legendary Boulder Highway. I navigated the familiar streets, easily recognized as the most feared figure on this side of town. Tales of my rise to power echoed the narratives spun in classic crime movies, and the comparison wasn't unwarranted, given that I always found myself at the epicenter of it all. The stories of my exploits had woven a web of fear, ensuring my reputation as the formidable force ruling these streets.
I glide into the East Side Cannery, a bustling casino and hotel nestled in the heart of Boulder Highway, behind the wheel of my brand new Indigo BMW 760 Presidential. Pulling up to the front doors, I casually throw my keys to the waiting valet, hand him a hundred, and make my way to the elevator. The journey to the 8th floor is swift, and from there, I prefer to take the stairs for the remaining ascent to the penthouse. Each time, a different route – a small nuance in an otherwise routine path, though the destination always remains the same.
Entering the penthouse sanctuary, I secure the locks and set the alarm, a habitual precaution. My first stop is the bar, where I nonchalantly place my .40 mm Rugers, pouring myself a generous dose of Bacardi 151. I knock it back and refill, settling onto the sofa. In a ritual known only to me, I prepare a syringe with a gram of the finest crystal Vegas has to offer, mixing it with warm water. The shot hits, and the world transforms into ecstasy. Cooling down from the rush, I discard my T-shirt, leaving me in a wife-beater.
Unlike the average person, I don't succumb to coughing fits despite the harsh hit to the throat. Beads of sweat form as I sit in contemplation. It's 7:25 am, the usual time for me to begin the day's preparations efficiently. Yet, an unusual realization sets in – my phone, the lifeline of my bustling enterprise, hasn't rung even once. Normally, this hour would be punctuated by calls from clients arranging their weekly shipments or addressing concerns about tardy deliveries caused by the previous night's escapades involving drugs, alcohol, and women.
As the clock strikes 7, an eerie silence persists, stretching for another forty minutes. I slide into the realms of speculation, pondering the possible scenarios that could explain the unprecedented absence of communication from my clientele.
As I pondered the unusual silence, the thoughts swirled in my mind. What could elicit fear from those who crossed my path? Perhaps nothing short of my true form materializing outside their window, reminiscent of a scene straight out of a horror movie. Or maybe, it was a simple oversight—a forgotten delivery, a glitch in the meticulous numbers. It's not unheard of, especially if the digits don't align precisely. Then again, I considered the possibility that I was overthinking the entire situation, a rare occurrence for someone like me who rarely engaged in overthinking.
In the midst of my contemplation, a sudden buzz from my phone jolted me. Katjana. New in town, already the subject of much attention. And why not? She embodied beauty, radiating fitness and a heart full of love despite the tragedies she'd witnessed. Katja was a unique soul, unafraid and unyielding, unlike anyone I'd encountered. Her happiness wasn't derived from what I possessed or what I could offer; it was a genuine joy that resonated with me. She lingered in the recesses of my mind, uncharted territory for someone who had never experienced love and harbored no desire to do so.
Answering the call, I greeted her, “Yo…”
"Hey Sammy, what's up? I really need to speak to you," she responded.
"So speak," I replied.
"I would rather do so face to face if you would be so kind," she requested.
"Where are you right now?" I inquired.
"Just finished at the gym over on Trop, about to head home. You want to meet in an hour?" she proposed.
"Text me your address. See you in an hour," I agreed.
Ending the call, a peculiar transformation swept through me as the fading silence settled in. An unfamiliar surge of excitement or perhaps happiness coursed through my veins, a sensation foreign and baffling. It was all Greek to me, an indescribable phenomenon brewing within, growing stronger with each passing moment yet restrained, unable to manifest physically. The question lingered: Who was this girl? I mean, who was she truly?
A second buzz from my phone interrupted my contemplation, revealing her address. Familiar with the apartment complex, I swiftly adorned my shirt, holstered my guns, and made my way out. Navigating the casino floor with purposeful strides, I ensured that anyone who spotted me had the good sense to steer clear. It appeared to have worked, or perhaps I went unnoticed—either way, I felt grateful.
The valet attendant, recognizing the urgency, swiftly retrieved my car within minutes. A generous tip exchanged hands, and I hopped into my vehicle. About 15 minutes later, I arrived at the apartment complex, cruising around to locate her door. Parking in reverse, a typical precaution, I stepped out, set the alarm, and approached her door.
After an extended wait from my knocking, she finally answered. Stunning doesn't begin to describe it. With her hair still wrapped in a towel, donning a long t-shirt that hinted at small shorts underneath, she stood before me—a sight to behold.
"Hey, come on in, make yourself at home. I'll be ready in a few minutes," she warmly invited.
"Sounds good. I need to use your restroom," I replied.
"The first door on the right," she directed.
Entering the restroom, it appeared smaller than I had envisioned. Without hesitation, I pulled out a pre-loaded syringe and set it down by the sink. Flexing my left arm until the veins surfaced, I grabbed the pin and injected. Leaving a small air pocket allowed the blood to rush in as soon as the vein was breached, and I pushed the contents in. Instant heat, swimmy vision, and a jolt in the throat followed. Disposing of the pin down the toilet, I collected myself before heading out.
"You alright?" I heard her voice from the living room sofa. How long was I in there?
"I'm good. So what's up? What did you need to talk about?"
"Always straight to the point with you," she remarked.
Raising both eyebrows conveyed my message, prompting her to proceed.
"Okay, so this is gonna sound weird, and don't get any ideas by how it starts."
“Word,” I replied.
"Ever since I met you, I've been having these vivid dreams that seem so real, it's crazy. I wake up in a dark room, that part is always the same. I get up, look around, and then you come in. As soon as I see you, you greet me and start telling me a story. Wild shit."
She looked around, a hint of unease evident in her demeanor. The anticipation hung heavy in the air. If what she described mirrored the vivid dreams I had been experiencing, the revelation was bound to be mind-bending.
"Okay, so you start telling me these crazy stories about how we used to be gods and were destined for one another. How we were created from one soul and split in two..."
My mind raced. There's no way.
I couldn't hold back; I cut her off and started speaking.
"We were created among the first, an amalgamation destined to be together and drawn to each other every life. We aren't immortal, just too difficult to kill. Our race was designed as the perfect soldiers—unemotional and efficient. Yet, we were also given the capacity for love, for connection. That's how we found each other, life after life.
We have no memories of our past lives, but we always feel a deep connection to each other. It's as if we are two pieces of a puzzle that fit perfectly together. Drawn to each other in a way we can't explain.
Every life, we find each other and fall in love. But our love is never allowed to last."
Her eyes widened, mouth agape, and tears welled up. Goosebumps dotted her arms.
"How... how do you know what you said? This is so fuckin' weird," she blurted out.
"I've been having these dreams too, except in my dreams, it's you telling me these stories. What in the fuck is going on?" The air thickened with an eerie sense of shared bewilderment.
Chapter 2: The Echoing Dreams
"We need to figure this shit out, understand why this is happening to us," I declared, the resolve in my voice echoing the determination that now fueled us both.
The weight of our shared revelation hung in the room, the air pregnant with unspoken questions and the mysteries of our intertwined existence. Katjana's eyes, a mix of disbelief and curiosity, met mine as we grappled with the unfolding narrative.
Katjana nodded, her eyes reflecting a blend of uncertainty and newfound purpose.
"But where do we even start? How do we unravel something that feels like a tapestry woven by forces beyond our understanding?"
The room echoed with the weight of her words, and I considered the magnitude of our situation. The dreams, the shared memories, and the echoes of a past that had bled into our present begged for exploration.
"We start with the dreams,"
I suggested, the logical starting point revealing itself.
"We compare notes, piece together the stories we've been telling each other, and see if there are any discrepancies, ciphers, anything.”
As we sat down, Katjana began describing her dreams—the dark room, my entrance, and the tales of gods and destinies. Each word resonated with a familiarity that sent shivers down my spine.
I shared my dreams in turn, recounting the vivid scenes that played out in the realm of shared consciousness. The amalgamation, the connection, and the forbidden love echoed through our descriptions, weaving a narrative that defied the boundaries of our understanding.
As we exchanged details, a pattern emerged—a pattern that hinted at a deeper truth woven into the fabric of our shared dreams. The tapestry of our intertwined destinies, once enigmatic and ethereal, began to reveal its contours.
"We're in this together, Katja. Whatever this is, whatever forces are at play, we navigate it together," I asserted, a commitment forming in the crucible of our shared uncertainty.
With a shared nod, we sank deeper into the dreamscape, determined to decipher the echoes of a past that beckoned us toward an unknown future. The tapestry unfurled, revealing glimpses of a story that transcended time, beckoning us to uncover the secrets that bound us inextricably to one another.
