Billi Wack and the Story of Mystery- Chapter 4

“Mr. Finnish is a surprise competitor for this… plan, sir.” The lady asked, holding the folder closer to her chest. A man was at the desk, his hands on his face grumbling about not eating in the past hour or something. He slicked his hair back with his hand, then settled it on the desk looking at the lady across from him.

“Ms. Fern, we decided to have Mr. Finnish because he seems… put up for the challenge as I would say. Out of the dozen of men we have chosen, out of the possible outcomes, and out of the spite of me I choose Mr. Finnish because he is challenged enough.”

“So should I go tell him now, sir?”

The man raised an eyebrow before leaning back into his chair. “Why not?” He stated before adding ‘make sure he doesn’t tell anyone’ look as Ms. Fern smirked out. The man chuckled looking up at the ceiling, counting the squares only to come up to fifty. He looked out the window at the surrounding place; desert everywhere except for the solar trees outside- the company had wanted to have trees that saved energy and gave air to everyone.

The man put his legs down, realizing he was going to forget about what he had to do. He picked up his phone, and dialed a number.

Ms. Fern walked down the hall, papers in hand. She had been working here for seven years, dealing with all the manager’s problems and work related ideas. Sometimes it would deal with the plans for his daughter’s fifteen birthday, giving her a gift of a bunny rabbit or a possible card with money. Ms. Fern was on it. She enjoyed it, having that she couldn’t have kids and liked to watch the little children run around, their arms out trying to play tag.

She stopped in front of an elevator door, glancing at the buttons on the side. She pressed the up button, blinking before looking back at the door. The sound of the elevator mumbled quietly, sliding upwards towards Ms. Fern. She shuffled the papers, sometimes looking over at the numbers of floors the building had. Fifty seven floors and counting. Her manager had wanted the building to be earthquake, flood, tornado (although it was highly unlikely), and other natural events. Ms. Fern was highly skeptical about it all, as she would be out of town if anything would happen- plan ahead of anytime, she would say.

The elevator chimed, signaling it was time to go up more rows of rows building to the top. She stepped in, sighing at the sight. She never liked elevator, had a horrible problem as a child with them. Going onto a ride with them as it dropped down but after coming to her workplace, her fear seemed to slip away. All in the movies, some would tell her as they walked into the elevator and something happening to them the next hour or something.

She stepped into the elevator, jabbing the floor she needed to go as she lifted upwards to the next floor. It was a glass elevator, making you more scared by the minutes of being who knows how many feet up in the air. The elevator stopped, the groaning of the chains of the elevator made Ms. Fern wary as she stepped out and onto the floor.

Around her was glass dividers with people inside, people being interviewed for this job. She smiled at some people, glancing up then looking down at the papers in front of them. Little did they know, someone had been chosen as the rep for this important job. Ms. Fern continued to walk down the vestibules until she saw a musty door with swirls of dust and other things. She sighed, as she reached for the handle.

Inside was Mr. Finnish and Donna Herkins, the main clerk of the area. She looked up to see Ms. Fern standing in the doorway and smiled.

“Good day, Rebecca. I am just in the middle of asking Mr. Finnish some questions.”

“Well aware of this, Donna,” Ms. Fern stated. She set a pile of papers on the desk, neat and stacked as she sat on the edge of the desk. She looked at Mr. Finnish with a wondrous look, running her eyes over his body before coughing.

“You seem excited for this, Mr. Finnish. May I ask why?”

Mr. Finnish looked up and grinned. Donna had asked this question before and he had answered honestly. He sat up in his seat, adjusting before looking at Ms. Fern with a content face.

“It is purely for the joy of seeing if NAPA exists but also for the thrill of leaving this horrible place,” he automatically stated. Ms. Fern pressed her lips together, rubbing her hands.

“Yes I know that. I can see that in Donna’s notes. But why?”

Mr. Finnish looked sideways at Ms. Fern. “I just want to help see if NAPA truly existed, and to help the company. But what I don’t get is why I was randomly chosen? All I was a clerk in a local store, only way my wife and I survive with bills.”

“Oh, you are married then?”

Mr. Finnish nodded, glancing out the window.

“You know, Mr. Finnish, you cannot tell your wife this.”

“I wasn’t planning to in the first place, madam.”

Ms. Fern smiled before looking down at the pile of paper in front of her. She grabbed a packet and threw it in front of Mr. Finnish.

“Could you please sign this?”

Mr. Finnish was started as he took the packet in his hands, flipping through pages.

“Why do I need to sign this? Asking a stranger whom you never know, signing something seems out of the question madam.”

Ms. Fern pressed her lips once more. “We just need to know more about you later on, sir.”

“But why? You should get to know a person in a matter of time rather than on paper. What is the use of that?” Mr. Finnish stated as he slapped the packet down. He looked up at Ms. Fern, who raised an eyebrow. She took the packet and looked at the door.

“Are you saying you are not doing this, Mr. Finnish? Because if you are, the chances of you ever doing this again are very rare.”

“Really? Why would I want to do this again? Look, I know I said I wanted to go get out of this place, maybe take my wife, but even if it is all lovely and neat, I don’t want to go again.”

She nodded, sliding off the table and looked at Mr. Finnish, who grinned and crossed his left leg on his right leg. “And no, I am not saying I won’t doing.”

Ms. Fern smiled, walking to the door. She looked back at Mr. Finnish. “Just so you know, you cannot tell your wife or anyone about this mission or whatever, Mr. Finnish. If you do, well… that is classified.”

Mr. Finnish made a zipper motion on his lips as Donna waved Ms. Fern out. She walked out, grasping the papers closer to her as she continued her walk back to the manager’s office. Must be Tuesday, Ms. Fern thought to herself as she walked to the elevator once again. Tuesdays just seem too unpredictable.