27 seconds

It was a normal job. There really wasn’t too much to it and all the preparations had been made. The only odd part was the actual object I was to steal and the fact that someone I knew was on the inside. We were all set to go on the night of the 15th. This morning I had awoken from a nightmare and I was actually terrified to go back to sleep. That had not happened to me since I was a kid. I didn’t remember the dream when I woke up, but the feeling of sheer terror remained. During the day’s preparations, small snippets came to me. Like deva-vu. Things like the smell of the stolen truck. Oil stains and potatoes. I never mentioned it to the others as they looked to me for confidence and any sign of weakness on my part would only mean low morale. Besides I was the one going in.

We arrived at the building slightly ahead of schedule. I used the time to do a small recon of my escape route. There was an unused service road that came out the back, in large yellow letters was painted “THRU ROAD ONE WAY”. At one time it was used as the truck route but this complex hasn’t shipped out anything in years. All our researched had shown it was an old warehouse with some offices. Only the offices were used now.

The lights were all off now except for the security light. There was a guard but he was in the back in the old shipping office. Jeff would take care of him when to time came. 27 seconds!
That was part of the dream. I am confused, like I am living in two worlds. I am unable to separate them. I try to focus. I shake my head and things clear up. That was one heck of a dream when it invades my waking thoughts, especially now when I am usually so focused. Ben comes over the radio to say that they are all ready. I walk back to the front and wait by the bushes. Jeff walks thru the gate and under the surveillance camera. Jeff is an odd guy. He is so average looking he can disappear in a crowd of one. He is almost unflappable too. It can definitely a detriment though. He won’t even duck when someone punches him. The guys think he is cool but I know he is slow. Still he is an asset on our team. He always goes in where a cool head is needed. Besides, he can lie his ass off and make you a believer.

Jeff motions to me. That means that the guard is coming to the door. That means he is not watching the cameras. I slip in and to the far end of the building. I am at the office side entrance with a huge steel door. It was built in the 70's when fire was a big deal. Fire? An anti-tank missile wouldn’t get through this thing.

I have to meet my contact in the last office, she knows where the safe is but I have to break in. If it’s the safe I think it is then there is no way I am going to crack it. No worries, in my bag a have some C4. A little in the right place is all we need. Once it goes we have to move. Jeff will have taken care of the guard by now so we don’t have to worry about him raising the alarm but you never know who is lurking about with a cell phone.

I am in the office and she is there… and so is a really big guy with an MP5, not the car, the gun. A cold sweat, this was part of the dream. But I can’t remember what comes next. Rough hands grab me from behind, a kick to my knees and I sink to the floor. The girl leaves out the side door. A hear a few soft pops from out back. I look to the big guy and I know that my crew is being slaughtered. So why not me, why the ruse to get me here? I must remember the dream, remember how it ends…

I haven’t said a thing yet and neither have the two guys in the room with me. They don’t seem too worried. I may have one chance to get away and one chance only. The side door, she left it ajar. If I pick my moment I can make a sprint for it. I don’t think the two guys have guns and if I run out the front I’ll miss the execution squad. The big guy rolls open a pack. I can’t see the contents from where I am kneeling but whatever is in it is shiny, the light from the bulb on the table is reflecting onto the ceiling. He looks at me now and pulls a syringe from the pack, he starts towards me. Now is a good a time as any, a break for the door and am rewarded by a crack to the side of the head. The room spins and goes blurry. I was out for only a second but the pin prick in my ass is unmistakable. Finally the guy speaks. “He’ll be out in a minute, and then we can extract his kidneys”.

Mother-fucker! What a bitch, I come in to steal a fucking kidney from a deep freeze safe and all she wanted was mine. She found the match for her kid after all; too bad they were inside of me. Clever girl, silly boy.

I have to make break for it. I lurch to my feet, and stagger towards the door. I am in the hallway, I think I am running. I smash into the fire door at the side. Now I remember the end of my dream. Painted on the driveway out the side of the building in letter large and yellow letters read “YOU ONLY HAVE 27 SECONDS TO LIVE.” But they are not painted here now; the words come from the doorway behind me. “Don’t bother running,
you only have 27 seconds to live.”

Killers

The wind whipped around the corner, screaming. It blew the dust and dirt up and into my eyes. I blinked and they watered. Now it looks like I’ve been crying. No Mom, I don’t smoke, I puff. Ah, I blow a plume of blue smoke in the air. The wind whisks it away. I lean against the building and wait. He said 10. I’ll wait until 10 past. Usually I wait for a more reliable contract but times have been tough. 10:04, there he is. I push off and cross the street.
Not a great area but the locals are regulars. That’s good. When the locals start leaving town to drink, that’s bad news. There are 6 bars on this row. All low level, old rafters with neon. Tacky. I can see him cross the bar through the window. I enter, Joe’s Place, how original. I keep my coat on but I pause at the door. I like to warm up. I check my eyes in the mirror. Good, they’ve cleared up. Still cold and unfeeling. Worked hard on that one. I take a deep breath. Stand tall, head up, chin in. Arms swing loosely at my sides. I see him at the end of the bar at a table. I walk with purpose over to the table. I catch his eyes about 10 feet away. He leans back and away. I stop at the table. He asks, “Whadya want.” A statement, not a question.
I say coolly, “You Joe, from Philly?”
His eyes squint. “No one calls me that anymore.”
“You remember Frankie Valone?” I ask.
His face recoils in horror. His hand reaches for his pocket.
I was expecting all this, or at least something like it. I slam 4 slugs into him. I smile as he slides from his chair under the table. Not like the movies. Bullets only have so much energy and the body is pretty soft. No one moves. People are too shocked.
I walk out and cross the street. Everyone will remember my face but I’ll be gone in 1 hour. I’ve done this so much its a routine. Find him, confirm it, kill him, collect your money. I figure I was already going to hell by the time I was 16. What was the point. I got into my car and put the key in. My face explodes from a 12 gauge slug. Not even sure who did it. Death…finally.



Hmm, I’ve done this too much. Seen it all. But this guy didn’t even scream. Just seemed to sit back. Must have been expecting it. I walked to my car. Killing is way too easy. This one was easy and good money too. He was a freelancer, no revenge possibilities. I’m looking forward to a week in Vegas. Old stomping grounds.