The End of the Killer

May 1, 2012
By Anonymous

The Killer wore all white as he slowly crept closer to the small cabin. It was one of the worst snowstorms that had ever struck the small Alaskan town. The cabin was built twenty miles from the nearest form of civilization, and it was located in a secluded area of the woods. It was the perfect target.

The Killer had tackled the first nineteen miles from town on a silver Yamaha snowmobile, and had trekked the last snowy mile wearing snowshoes. Now, as The Killer slowly approached the cabin through the unrelenting snow, he took out his weapon.

The weapon was a long double-bladed machete. It was nearly brand new; it had only been used on one previous occasion and still had the glint of freshly polished steel.

As The Killer approached the North-facing side of the cabin, he immediately knew that something was not right. He had been told that there would be a man and a woman in the cabin, however through the glass he saw two men. The men were wearing suits, and they were pacing back and forth across the living room floor. Were they there to intercept him?

He crept around to the front area of the cabin, and looked for the green van that his targets were to be driving. There wasn’t a green van in sight. Instead, there was what seemed to be a black police-issue Chevrolet Tahoe SUV. Immediately The Killer realized that he was in trouble, but it was too late. Four identical SUVs came screaming down the driveway with countless red and blue lights flashing rapidly. They each skidded to a halt in the snow, and 14 men wearing suits rapidly exited the vehicles.

Stunned, The Killer desperately tried to scramble back into the cover of the woods, but the men quickly had him surrounded, screaming, “Get on the ground!”. The Killer still had the machete in his hand, and one agent screamed “Drop the weapon!”. But before The Killer could react, the men from inside the house quickly ran out of the doors and tackled him. His head hit the hard, snow-covered pavement, and he began to lose consciousness as he felt his hands being placed in handcuffs.

When The Killer finally came to, he was riding in the back of a police car. His hands weren’t handcuffed, but after discreetly trying the door handle he realized that he was locked in. There was a cage to protect the driver, and also to make sure that The Killer remained in the rear half of the car.

The car was small – a typical police Crown Victoria sedan. It appeared that The Killer was being transported somewhere. There was no snow on the roads around him, and there were no visible markings inside the car that identified any location. The Killer had no idea where he was being taken.

The driver of the police car was a young, uniformed patrol officer. In an attempt to get the driver talking, The Killer asked: “Where are we?”, but the driver didn’t respond; The Killer thought that maybe he had been ordered not to. After trying several more conversation starters, The Killer gave up. Staring out the window, he noticed that the car was speeding down an unidentifiable country road, without a destination in sight. Realizing that he had no control over his current situation, The Killer rested his head against the glass of the car window, and fell into a deep sleep as the car continued racing along the road.

A month ago, The Killer had received the Alaska assignment. His job as a contract killer involved travelling all over the world, so a job in Alaska came as no surprise to him. He was known throughout organized crime syndicates on multiple continents, and he had one of the highest reputations in the business. No one knew his name, and he was reachable only through specific methods of communication.

The Killer’s Alaskan assignment was to take out a man named Mr. Dell, as well as his wife, Mrs. Dell. The couple was to be staying in their Alaskan winter vacation cabin during the month of February. This was all the information that The Killer needed to know. He never asked why he was assigned a target; he simply named a price.

After being wired a monetary sum of 1.5 million Euros, The Killer boarded a plane destined for Alaska. Once the commercial jet touched down, The Killer retrieved his bags from the luggage racks and calmly walked to the rental car kiosk. After selecting a full size pick-up truck, The Killer paid for a week’s rental and stepped outside.

The targets were scheduled to spend the next week in their cabin, so the Killer had plenty of time to form a proper plan of attack. The goal was to attract as little attention as possible, so the highest level of pre-planning was necessary.

After selecting a modest hotel, The Killer dropped off his bags in his room, and got back into his rented white Chevrolet Silverado pick-up truck. He then set off in search of a business advertising snowmobile rental.

It wasn’t long before The Killer found the perfect place. He left the truck at the curb and walked inside through the smudged glass door. The shop smelled of snowmobile fuel, and the temperature was not much warmer than the cold winter climate outside. The girl working at the counter looked up from her book as The Killer walked in, and she asked, “Can I help you?”.

The Killer rented a silver Yamaha snowmobile, and selected the weeklong ‘Woodsmen’ package. He did not purchase insurance. After completing the transaction at the front of the store, the girl took him through a door to the back of the shop, and introduced him to a man who called himself ‘Rusty’. Rusty helped The Killer get the snowmobile into the bed of his truck, and The Killer drove to the edge of the woods. It was starting to get dark, and it was also starting to snow. There was already a thick and deep coating of snow on the ground, and if the intensity of the snow increased, a journey through unknown woods on snowmobile could be treacherous.

The Killer unloaded the snowmobile from the bed of the truck, and fired it up. Luckily it had a bright headlight, and The Killer would have no problem navigating in the dark. Using a handheld GPS module, The Killer traversed nineteen miles of snowy woods, and then stopped the snowmobile. The snow had increased rapidly, and it was also pitch dark outside. The Killer flicked on his LED flashlight, and took his snowshoes out of his pack. He travelled the last mile on snowshoes, and eventually saw the cabin. He didn’t approach it, as he was simply scoping out the location. He took out his binoculars, and was able to see through one of the windows of the cabin. The Killer saw a lit up living room with a TV and couch, but couldn’t see either of the targets. The cabin would be very easy to stealthily approach under the cover of darkness; it would be an easy assignment.

He would come back tomorrow fully prepared to do the job.

The next day, The Killer awoke in his hotel room, and asked the front desk about any nearby breakfast establishments. After selecting one that seemed anonymous, The Killer jumped in his rental truck and drove to the restaurant. The previous night had yielded almost a foot of snow, and it was not relenting. The roads were absolutely terrible; there were more snowmobiles in use than cars.

After a hearty breakfast of eggs, hash browns, sausage, orange juice, and raisin toast, The Killer paid for the meal, got back into the truck, and drove back to the hotel. He had woken up late, it was almost noon. All he had to do now was wait until nightfall.

At seven o’clock, The Killer loaded his snowmobile into the bed of the Silverado pick-up truck. He made sure that he had his weapon and all of his supplies. He was ready.

The Killer drove to the edge of the dense forest, parked the truck behind a massive snow pile, and unloaded the Yamaha snowmobile. He made sure the truck was locked, and started the snowmobile. It started on the first try, but the loud engine shattered the peace of the silent night. The Killer flicked on the headlight and made sure his backpack was secure.

He angled the craft towards the woods in the direction of the cabin. However, as he started to drive off, he noticed a car driving down the road through the woods about a half mile to his right. Who would be driving in these conditions? The Killer chose to overlook the car, and continued on his journey.

The first nineteen miles on snowmobile were extremely treacherous. The snow was deep, and there was a dangerous amount of hidden rocks and logs underneath the powdery snow. The going was slow, and it took The Killer over an hour to make the trip. Finally, however, The Killer reached the same point he had reached the night before. He parked the snowmobile, took out the snowshoes, and began the final one mile trek to the cabin.

The Killer awoke as the police cruiser came to a screeching halt. It was night time, and it appeared that the car had caught the tail end of a green light and the driver had stopped quickly in order to avoid a collision in the intersection. They were driving through a densely populated city. The Killer still had no idea where he was. As the young driver swore under his breath, a static filled transmission came over the police radio. “All available units – please respond to an armed robbery”. The driver looked back at The Killer, and then simply stared at the radio. Another transmission: “1-3-0, show us handling”. Another: “4-3-1, show us responding”. The traffic light turned green, and the driver slowly started to accelerate into the intersection. A third transmission crackled over the radio, and a panicked officer was shouting into his microphone. It was impossible to make out what he was saying, but it was obvious that he was in trouble.

The driver swore loudly and picked up his radio transmitter “4-4-1, I’m responding”. He then proceeded to flick a switch that activated the lights and siren, and jammed his foot down on the accelerator. The car jumped into motion, and they took off down city streets.

As the car quickly sped down the middle of the road with cars moving out of the way on either side, The Killer wondered what the hell was going on. He tried to yell at the driver over the din of the siren, but the driver was concentrated on the road and did not respond.

After a quick seven minute drive, the driver killed the siren and screeched to a halt in front of a bank. There were many other police cars and ambulances skewed in different directions at the curb; they all had the same blinding red and blue lights. Each of the other police cars was labeled Anchorage Police Department. The Killer now knew where he was: Anchorage, Alaska. Anchorage is one of Alaska’s biggest major cities, and The Killer wondered why he had been brought here.

The officer parked the car, left the light-bar flashing, jumped out of his seat, and ran towards the doors of the bank. There wasn’t anyone outside, just seemingly abandoned police cars. The Killer assumed that the rest of the officers and emergency personnel were inside the bank.

However, after about twenty minutes of waiting, The Killer wondered where everyone was. There was no one outside on the street, and none of the flashing police cars had moved. He tried the door and found that he was still locked in the back of the car. He tried to shout for help, but no one came to help him. What was going on?
All of a sudden there was an explosion that came from inside the bank, and in a ball of fire and dark smoke, the bank’s glass front doors shattered and blew outward.
The Killer knew something had just gone terribly wrong.

After the bank doors exploded, everything was silent. The Killer smelled and heard smoke come out of the holes in the building where the doors and windows used to be. The police cars remained idling at the curb, and The Killer remained handcuffed in the back seat of a patrol car. He wondered what was about to happen to him. His eyes wildly surveyed the scene. After seeing an abandoned ambulance, he developed an escape plan. But he couldn’t do it without a little help. As the fire burned brighter and hotter inside the bank, The Killer strained at his cuffs and tried banging his head against the window. Nothing worked.
Then, the fire trucks arrived. More ambulances arrived also, as well as Alaska State Police cars. No one seemed to notice The Killer trapped in the car. The officers, medics, and firefighters all rushed into the bank, and they disappeared for a minute. The Killer was nervous, what if they had walked into the same trap as the previous officers? The Killer’s nerves were calmed as they came back, carrying as many wounded officers as possible. As the medics got to work, the firefighters began to fight the remaining blaze.
As the rescue personnel worked all around him, The Killer wondered what had gone wrong. It was originally a bank robbery, but then a bomb had gone off. Were the perpetrators wounded? Was the weapon only targeted towards pursuing police officers? The Killer wondered, in fact, if he knew or had heard of the perpetrators.
Eventually, the fire was extinguished, all officers had been retrieved, and the scene had calmed down. It seemed that there had been no deaths. As a State Trooper walked by, The Killer banged his head against the glass again to get his attention. The officer stopped, turned around, and started walking toward The Killer.
He opened the door, and said “How long have you been in there? This whole time?”. The Trooper looked like a new recruit, he seemed nervous and he was sweaty and sort of shaking. The Killer replied and said that he had, and the officer said he’d be right back. As the young officer scurried away to find his commander, The Killer was glad to notice that he had left the door partially ajar. The killer used his feet to kick it open all the way. Then, after looking around and seeing a clear scene, he quickly darted behind an abandoned ambulance. He waited there for a second and made sure that he wasn’t followed. He listened for footsteps, there were none.

The Killer tried the doors of the ambulance and found it was unlocked. He rummaged around in the rear compartment and eventually found something sharp, similar to a scalpel. After finding a way to wedge it into some drawers, the killer was able to cut away the connecting wire of the flimsy handcuffs. He was free!
The Killer knew that he needed to escape. Looking through the rear window of the ambulance, he noticed an unmarked police car. It was abandoned, and it seemed to be a detective’s car. The detective was nowhere in sight.
The Killer jumped in the car, flicked off the LED police lights, and slowly drove away into the night.

After about an hour of driving, The Killer felt that it was safe to stop. He was well outside of Anchorage. By now, he thought, someone must have noticed that the police car was missing. However, The Killer didn’t want to abandon the car – it was a good vehicle, and it had nearly a full tank of gas. But, the police often install hidden lo-jack GPS receivers so that they can track missing cars. Luckily, The Killer knew where these receivers were hidden. The Killer got out of the car at a rest stop, lied underneath the vehicle and found the tracking module. He used a large rock to knock the small contraption off of the car’s underbody. Then, using the same rock, he smashed it into oblivion. No one would find the car now.
The Killer got back into the car. He noticed that the laptop mounted inside had a green flashing light – he had not noticed this before. Thinking that it could not be good, he unplugged the laptop and dropped it into one of the rest area’s large metal trash bins. Then, he made sure that the police radio was switched off, he did not want the radio transmitting back to Anchorage Police Department.
Finally, The Killer was ready. He got back on the highway and found a comfortable pace. He had a long night of driving ahead of him.

After four or five hours, The Killer decided that it was time to stop for the night. Luckily, when the police had originally searched him, they hadn’t relieved him of his money. His pockets were still filled with stacks of fresh one hundred dollar bills held together with rubber bands. They had been given to him by his employer, he wondered if they knew of his arrest… The time for business would come later, however. Now was time for planning.

After selecting a dingy roadside motel, The Killer stopped. He parked the car in a spot behind the building so that it wouldn’t be seen, and he paid for one night’s room. He went inside, took a long hot shower, crawled into a bed with bleached crisp sheets, and fell into a deep sleep.

When he awoke in the morning, he would have a lot of work to do.

The Killer’s mental alarm clock woke him up at 7:55am. He woke up with his eyes closed and got back on the road. He had no idea where he was, so he asked the front desk. He was in an unknown small roadside town that seemed to only consist of a diner, the hotel, and an unknown gas station.

After a shower, The Killer visited the gas station, and then the diner. After the diner, The Killer returned to his car. It had gone through the night being untouched. It was a good sign. The Killer got back on the highway and headed west, back towards the rest of the state.

The Killer, after stopping for gas and food several more times throughout the day, drove over twelve hours. He had no idea what to do. If he tried to go back to his original hotel to retrieve his gear, he feared apprehension. What would he do?

By this time, night had fallen yet again. The Killer was tired. He selected the same type of dingy hotel, and spent the night. By this time, The Killer had driven deep into the western part of Alaska. He was now deep into the woods and forest. He was truly in the wilderness; he hadn’t seen a police car in a long time. The hotel that he selected seemed to have no other guests, and it smelled like it had gone some time without being cleaned.
Was he safe?

Unfortunately, this was the end of The Killer’s great escape.

Soon after he laid down in the bed, The Killer saw bright headlights sweep across the closed curtain of the window. It was extremely late at night. Who could be coming in? The Killer peered out of the window and saw that three black SUVs had parked in the lot, blocking the exit.

The Killer scrambled out of bed and tried to jump out of the door to find a hiding space. A dozen men in suits came out of the elevator and yelled STOP! The Killer made a feeble attempt to dive through the door into the stairwell, but didn’t get the door opened in time.

The government agents ran down the hall, with the coat-tails of their suits flapping behind them. Almost all of them had their weapons drawn. They were on The Killer fast. Each of the men was big and bulky, and The Killer was forced into handcuffs. He was arrested and taken down the elevator in complete silence. The men sat him in the back of one of the SUVs, and they drove away into the night. All of the men were quiet, only the hum of the engines could be heard. This was the end of The Killer’s career.

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