Dead Last, Page 2

  I’m a dead man hiding.

  Chapter Five

  “Where does this blood lead to?” The brute asked, looking at the path I left for them leading to the plastic covered room.

  “I haven’t checked, yet.” The smaller man said.

  I’m hoping the big guy orders his friend to check because there is no way in hell I’m going to fight that ogre. One at a time worked for Agent 47 and it’ll work for me.

  Bang!

  Sounds like Warner is awake. The sound of his tools sliding everywhere as he tries to get up proved to be an advantage for me.

  “Let’s move!” The smaller friend said.

  The brute went in first charging through the door in a tank-like fashion.

  Boom! Boom!

  A loud thud shook the floor we were all standing on. Did he miss?

  The second partner went in and I followed with the scalpel armed.

  A dazed Warner was still standing holding a fifty-caliber pistol that he hidden on his person and a dead giant on the floor.

  “Lil Shake!” The machine gun man yelled, drawing his gun up to Warner.

  Warner knew he wasn’t going to survive with the look in his eyes. I didn’t make a move yet, choosing to lurk behind to watch the scene unravel.

  In a burst of rage, the machine gun finally unloaded, tearing up holes in the driver who was standing defenseless to the barrage of lead. One by one, each empty bullet casing dropped to the floor like pennies after cashing out a piggy bank.

  In a few minutes, another body dropped and it was only the machine gun man left standing.

  Or so he thought.

  He sighed and turned around only to see me standing behind him with the scalpel.

  “Shit.” He dropped his empty gun, understanding that he just wasted his only chance of survival for revenge.

  I didn’t know what to do. I was up-close and personal with a potential victim. I’m going to feel his life drain away as I follow through this kill for the sake of my own survival.

  I lunged at him with the scalpel in hand. In order to prevent a fight I quickly pierced the scalpel to his neck, keeping it pressed. Using my right leg, I swept him to the floor to keep him from evading me. My arm pushed down his chest to keep him at bay as I felt his heartbeat slowing down and watching his squirming calm down. He reached for my face and neck, but I either pulled back or swatted his hand out of the way. His hand clutched my arm until he gave out his last breath, accepting his fate. For the moment, I was a cold-blooded killer, staring at my victim’s eyes as he faded away.

  Inside, I felt sick to my stomach and I knew if I closed my eyes through all this I wouldn’t even make it in this game. Then, I realized that these guys were ready to snuff me out in a heartbeat. Am I just mentally unprepared for this? I can’t think about this now.

  I was ready to make my leave until I heard all our phones ring with that familiar chime. I decided to search their phones and see if they contacted anyone else about me.

  The first phone I checked was the driver’s. The only message I saw was that his rank and bounty had changed. No family or friends, so I was in the clear zone of my morality.

  I checked Lil Shake’s phone, but the same results although with some nudes of his various one-night stands. Not much of a church man, I assumed.

  The last phone was Shake’s partner, whose name by the looks of these texts was Twist. I saw the same messages of his rank and bounty, but one of the recent messages was to a man named Clive, who asked about the state of the scene. Twist responded with the not-so-subtle term “Bloody mess”. I put two and two together to figure out that Clive was probably a forensic specialist, or someone that can remove all forms of evidence to make the prospective crime scene look like nothing ever happened.

  I looked for his number in Twist’s contact list to give him a call. In the Kill Spot world, he has to be freelancer, a guy’s got to eat.

  I checked my phone as well. My rank jumped to number seventy-four with a bounty of a million and five-hundred thousand dollars. The length of time I stayed here I might as well lay out a welcome mat for all my would-be killers.

  I dialed Clive’s number to see what he can do about these bodies. A ring tone sounded, which was good news.

  “Hello?” A British accent answered.

  “Is this Clive?” I asked timidly.

  “This is the damn Tooth Fairy,” His sarcasm was expected, “What do you want?”

  “I have some people here that I--”

  “Give me the city, state, and address.” He cut me off, obviously he’s done this dance more than a hundred times.

  “Schofield, Texas, the abandoned hospital in Strawberry Drive, the fifth floor, room five-zero-one.” I gave him as much information as I could.

  “Alright, mate,” He said, “Give me a few minutes, I have another job in progress. Wait for me there.”

  He hung up the line. I guess I’m not going anywhere.

  I waited for about twenty minutes before I heard some footsteps. I drew my one clip glock and readied it for any sudden surprises.

  “Someone here called me?” A familiar English accent echoed through the halls. A figure about my age wearing a tailor-made suit walked out of the filthy staircase.

  “Over here!” I waved through the door as if I was guarding it.

  Clive walked toward me with his hand sticking out to give me a handshake and the other holding a case full of his supplies.

  “I’m Clive Whalen, the cleaner.”

  “Mark Chavez.” I obliged his handshake.

  Clive peeked inside the plastic room, giving an approving nod. I guess the plastic made his job easier. He gestured me inside.

  “Ah,” He saw the bodies of Twist and Lil Shake, “I see you took out my main clients.”

  “Sorry?” I didn’t know whether to be proud or disappointed at his comment.

  “These sorry muppets owed me two months of work,” He snapped on some gloves, “You did me a favor.”

  “So what are you going to do?” I was curious to know his method.

  “I’m going to examine all the spots that have any evidence, then I’ll remove these cheeky blokes with one of their vehicles,” He began to remove the plastic from the walls, “I’m sure one of them will be nice enough to give you a lift home as well.”

  I checked the pockets of Twist and found a key to his Dodge.

  “I took the liberty of wiping down the cars already,” He grunted with Lil Shake’s body while he wrapped him up like a burrito, “Can you hand me that spray?”

  I looked in his bag and pulled out a homemade spray bottle with the words “Good Riddance” scrawled around it in marker.

  He grabbed it from me with a smile on his face.

  “This is the part of me job that I hate.” He sighed. I pointed out where my blood was and he began scrubbing it like a soldier on latrine duty.

  After a few minutes of scrubbing off my blood, Clive walked back into the plastic covered room.

  “You can go now,” He examined more of the room, “I’ll take care of the rest meself.”

  I began my way out of the hospital before I was stopped again by Clive.

  “Oh,” He snapped his fingers making me stop in mid-stride, “Now the matter of payment.”

  Of course.

  Chapter Six

  I grabbed my sniper rifle from the taxi and began beeping the Dodge’s car alarm. I walked about two flights of stairs of the parking lot before I found the car. It was a black Charger that just radiated amazing. I unlocked the door, tossed my bag inside, and started the ignition. The raw power of the engine got my heart pounding. This was the first time I drove this car and I killed someone to get it.

  I called Phil as soon as I left the hospital parking lot.

  “Hey!” He sounded happier than last time, “Did you have a busy three hours or what?”

  “What’s on Twitter?”

  “The fact that you killed your second assassin in the Kill Spot games o
n your first day is picking up sponsorship interests.” Phil typed away on his computer.

  “What about killers?” I sighed. The drive to the apartment made me more nervous. Most of these competitors have the ability to track their targets with ease. Almost like Warner, he found me within minutes of my first kill.

  “Dude,” He gasped, “The Four Horsemen want you.”

  “In their team?”

  “No, dead.”

  “I’m already close by the apartment,” I swerved through my neighborhood, “Don’t answer the door until I text you.”

  “Alright?” Phil was confused. Of course, he’s confused since he doesn’t have over two-hundred trained killers after him. I guess it’s good in a way since he can safely feed me any updates going on.

  I sent my roommate a text saying to open the door in the next two minutes as I drove the Charger into the parking lot and rushed out of the car to the stairwell that led to my apartment unit.

  The sound of shoes squeaking on the pavement of the second floor alerted Phil to pop outside.

  “Everyone wants the New Guy.” Phil smiled excitedly.

  “No kidding.” Before anything, I had to check my email for the earning receipts for my kills.

  The unread email inbox was full of new jobs exclusive to me, that’s pretty exciting I guess my newfound fifteen minutes of fame have some advantages after all. I examined a few job offerings before one of the messages caught my eye. It wasn’t a job, but it read “Duel!” from someone named Hatchet.

  It read:

  Hello Newbie,

  My name is Hatchet, rank number one hundred and sixty-two. In all honesty, I’m a bit pissed-off that a nobody like you has outranked me. On. His. First. Day.

  Now I’m just going to take this as a fluke and maybe your brain will be blown out by this weekend, but I’m an impatient SOB. So how about this? Tomorrow, four o’clock, you and me, one-on-one, hand-to-hand combat to the death. Winner take all of the loser’s earnings. Two go in, one comes out. You know the clichés.

  Bring your own knives.

  Love,

  Hatchet

  This isn’t exactly how I hoped my first day would be, and now I have a challenge from this guy. I guess I can get a new knife at a black market or something.

  I got up from the computer chair and dragged myself to the sofa, where I decided to call it a day. I pulled out my phone and paid off the remaining amount of my debt. Funny, it took me one day to pay this mountain of debt off and alter the course of my life.

  In retrospect, the debt doesn’t seem so bad anymore.

  Thanks for taking the time to read my book. The story originated after I watched Smokin’ Aces for like the fifteenth time. I loved the concept of various assassins competing for a job and fighting each other in the hopes of a giant payday.

  If you enjoyed it, can you take the time to leave a review at your favorite retailer? Maybe enough positive reviews can give this story a sequel, wink wink.

  About the Author

  Eric Gutierrez Jr. is a writer of comics, prose, and films based in Laredo, TX. He writes full time and collects vinyl toys and Shonen Jump magazines. He has a wife who can crochet a full-size alligator if given the chance, two children, and a Pomeranian named after a character from the Borderlands video game series.

  Discover other titles by Eric Gutierrez Jr.

  The Recruit (Short story prequel to the JumpStart! series)

  Summertime Madness (Book 1 of the JumpStart! series)

  The Paper Chase

  Connect with Eric

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  Check out my blog of…stuff: https://www.cirewire.tumblr.com