Part One

September 4, 2010
By , Tucson, AZ
It was dark, too dark. Slowly the door creaked open. I stood with my back up against the far wall-the darkest part of the room-with a gun in my right hand, a knife in my left and grim determination on my face. It has to be done. I kept telling myself over and over again. If you don’t do this your life will be ruined. Your family’s life. And if you screw up too bad you might end up dead.

As the door opened I could see only a vague silhouette of my prey. However, I knew it was him. One would be hard-pressed to mistake the six-foot seven-inch man walking through a door intended for someone much closer to the ground. When he turned his back to close the door, I made my move.

I shot out of my corner and emptied the first magazine of hollow-point 9mm shells into his back from my antique silenced Beretta. The silencer made a series of dull thupping noises as the molten bits of metal dug into the back and bulging biceps of my poor, unsuspecting target. Before the beast of a man could get his bearings I leaped up on his back and plunged my freshly sharpened knife into the small place where his neck joined his shoulders. It made a soft, wet noise, followed by a crunch as I twisted the blade. I thought to myself, Its over…its finally over…I always think back to that moment; the moment that sent my life into the next circle of hell. I wish I would have brought an umbrella; the forecast calls for flaming rain.



I sat there catching my breath; trying to congratulate myself on a job well done, reassuring myself that it was both done and done well. Under any other circumstance, I would have picked up what was mine (spent brass and anything else that could have tied me to the bloody lump behind me) and left before the timely arrival of the authorities, but today curiosity got the better of me. I walked across the room and switched on the light and who I saw was not a middle-aged, slightly balding giant of a man by the name of Jeff; what I saw was a problem. The problem was that it wasn’t his blood that was splattered on my all black, stealthy attire and coated both the floor and one wall. It wasn’t the blood of a man who had initially started the now infamous R&S Inc. (Rogues and Scoundrels Incorporated, or the largest organized crime syndicate in the solar system) however, it was that mans only living descendent. It was his son. His SON.

"Oh God. What have I done? What have I done?" I unconsciously brought my hands to my mouth, like a schoolmarm who has seen a student of hers bring in a toad or something equally shocking. I began shaking violently and dropped my pistol and knife. The knife stuck in the hardwood floor, that was making the place smell like some kind of exotic tree, while the gun bounced gracelessly five feet to my left

The scene that lay before me was truly horrible; straight out of a corny TV detective show from the 1990’s. Only this gore wasn’t corn starch and red #42. This bloody mess was as real as it gets.

“Oh God. Oh GOD!” It was all my mind and mouth could think to say. I felt my heart hammering away as if it were replaces with a jackhammer and my lungs furiously took in air. My heart beat still faster yet as a state of panic set in. Somehow I pulled calmness and semi-tranquility out of reserves I didn’t know I had and sat back to analyze my situation; to find a solution to this jumble of parts and odd ends in front of me. Maybe the best thing that can happen is if they end up killing you anyway, I thought grimly. I didn’t need to worry about finding them. They would find me. That was one thing, with all bribery and trickery aside, they were good at; finding people. And then killing them, which means they would probably kill me. Joy and rapture. At least I finally had something to look forward to.


Late one night, a stranger came rang my doorbell. Normally this wouldn’t disturb me, however this late? On a Saturday night? Something was definitely off. So, being the rather stupid person I am, I left the guest house that was attached to the thirty five thousand square foot mansion that my father called his “humble abode”, and went to go into the main house but the side and back door were locked. That was just like my father. Every person who would even want to knock off this place was smart enough to stay away for two reasons. One, because my father was the most ruthless and wealthy person on the planet; there were a couple people back on Earth who were ahead by a zero or two, but this far out he was the biggest game going. That and he was also employing half of the scum that crawled around this city’s and the rest of the damn solar system’s underbelly to do his dirty work like roughing up some voters or getting rid of the leftovers from the unwise few who didn’t ever come around to see things his way.
So I went around front to see who was calling at this silly hour of the night. When I came to the front gate I looked over and I didn’t see anyone. Hmph. I thought. Damn kids. I smiled at the bittersweet irony of what I just said, being barely 20 years old myself. Looking at me, the average person said I had to be about thirty, but when someone who is almost seven feet tall and built like the world’s toughest linebacker is asking you how old they look, you tend to be extra generous. That combined with who my father was, I felt like I had a pretty lofty position in life, although I rarely exploited it. People thought I was fair, honest and actually a nice guy, apart from giving you kinks in the neck from looking up at me for too long. This was behind my back too; apparently I was the apple that fell off the tree, down the hill and into paradise.
I opened the gate and proceeded to the front door with every intention of raiding my fathers’ refrigerator for a sandwich or two, but as I opened the door and turned to close it I felt a twinge of apprehension.

Then it happened.

it I mean the pain. By the pain I mean the piercing, screaming, white-hot stabbing agony that went through my upper, lower back and upper arms. Time seemed to slow down as the puffing and thumping noise that was coming from behind me went in time to the spots that felt on fire that appeared on my back went on for ages. For a brief moment I stood in shock; feeling the sticky warmth of my own blood trickling down my front and back. Before I could fully react, I felt a new weight on my shoulders. A PERSON!! My mind shrieked at me through an almost drunken daze. A PERSON!! HE’S GOING TO KILL YOU!! Then a bleak thought crossed my muddled mind. No, actually he already did that. Had I not been in mortal agony, I might have smirked at that thought. Then, as what I can only guess was a knife he (or she-I never really did see or hear this definitely masked assailant) plunged into my neck, just missing the bundle of nerves that keeps my body working like the well-oiled machine it was. Then I felt a dull pop and felt my neck shift to the left of its own accord. My would-be killer hopped off my back and landed silently as I crumpled onto the floor. As the blood began to pool, and my consciousness wavered, I heard the small clink clink clink of small metal things (I guessed the spent rounds) being picked up and bouncing off each other. The dark was replaced by a blinding light. I wished I could blink, but everything seemed to be on hold, like some giant accident had happened in my nervous system, preventing the signals from getting where they were supposed to go. I heard soft footsteps then a sharply drawn inward breath followed by a trembling “Oh…dear…God…” then like someone had hit a switch, the lights went out in Georgia. Thank you Atlanta! Good Night!

A few hours later I awoke to the peculiar scent of my own blood-a mix of a musty old attic and road-kill. At that particular moment I would have gladly let the hand of death reach in my chest and clamp down like a vice grip on my heart. Hell, I would have embraced it. But much to my disappointment, I was not allowed to die. Courtesy of a woman I would later come to know as Jennifer, I was spared. She had different-dare I say better? Maybe in her mind it was-plans for both my battered mind and body…or rather what was left of them…





The phone was ringing. I heard it ring. I knew who was on the other side. I had no desire to talk to them. None whatsoever. But still it rang. It rang as if it were trying to vibrate off its hook and shatter on the floor never to ring Ring RING again. But to no avail. Finally, after about a dozen rings (on about the 8th one I knew they weren’t going to just give up) I picked it up.

"Alright alright already….! Hello…?" My voice was cracked from not using it for a few hours. A timid voice answered.

"Hi yes, um is …Jeff?…in?" The voice was distinctly male, but have a softness to it that showed he’d been to many seminars about proper procedure with regards to calling someone.

"Yeah this is him. Do you have any idea what time it is? Who is this? Where are you calling from?" I was only half angry. I felt bad for the guy (I wasn’t the only one up at this obscene hour of the night. Or morning. Whichever.)

"My name is Robert and I’m terribly sorry for wakening you at this un-godly hour, but I’m afraid I have some unfortunate news for you, Sir." He spoke with a painful degree of patience and respect, almost as if he were guilty of something and was being apologetic.

There was a slight pause. I paused because I was not expecting him to be so frank.

"Is it about my son?’

"Yes, Sir, I’m afraid it is. You see I am under obligation from your estate on Europa to inform you of your son’s untimely passing, and to extend our deepest…."

I didn’t hear the rest of what he said. I hoped it was a dream I was soon destined to wake from, however no silver lining appeared around this particular dream cloud. The only things that stood out in the obviously well rehearsed string of apologetic and sympathetic lines were the words "Will that be debit or credit?

"Credit. Send the coffin to this address. Is that it?" I’m sure it was, but it just sort of fell out of my mouth.

"Yes sir, that’s it. Thank you for your time. Good night."

" ’Night…"

It’s only Monday. What a way to start a week. “good” night indeed. I could tell this was to be the first in an unfortunate chain of events that would change a good number of things for quite a few people, a good portion of whom would most certainly deserve it. I just hopped I wasn’t among those who did. I also felt pity for those who got caught in this crap ball rolling down the hill, unbeknownst to them. I can’t wait to see what the rest of this month has in store for me. Wonderful. Just wonderful.

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TrinityCreed said...
Sept. 10, 2010 at 8:40 am
Man, you know how to keep the reader on their toes. If you can write this you can write about anything that comes to mind.
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