Past Work: Trigger
I wrote this for one of my creative writing classes in college. I liked it a lot and I've started on a sequel as well as my current WIP fan fiction.
TRIGGER
The blood is leaking out of my mouth now. I can’t focus my eyes for a second, then I concentrate and the room comes back into focus. Including my view of Steve. He grins at me as I spit a glob of blood and saliva to the side. I give him a glare. “Hey I’m just doing my job,” he says holding his hands up in defense. He swings at me again and I hear my nose crack and break against his brass knuckles. My head swims and my vision blurs again.
The other guy sitting on the crate shifts around. “Quit screwin’ around and kill the bitch, would ya?” He’s obviously uncomfortable. I think he’s called Ricky. He lights a cigarette and takes a deep drag. I watch the smoke swirl before I realize that Steve had taunted me again.
“What?” I choke out.
“I said, do you want me to snap your neck or shoot you in the head?”
“Um….” I take a moment to consider this. Shot to the head is the most reliable, but it leaves a weird hole in your head. Excuse me for wanting to leave a nice looking corpse. Neck snap is pretty, but there’s a chance it won’t kill me. I could lie there and suffocate because he broke my trachea, but not my spine. Well, I’m not going to die anyway.
With that thought, I strained my arms against the ropes I had been wearing down with a hidden razor blade, and they snapped apart. Rope went flying and Steve’s eyes went wide. Ricky hasn’t noticed yet. “Holy Shi-" Steve doesn’t get to finish because my leg swings around knock him over. He falls and his head hits the cement floor with a loud crack.
Ricky has definitely noticed now. His ciggy has fallen out his mouth and to the floor. I dive forward to Steve’s body, where his head has started to form a small puddle of blood on the ground. I snatch at his 9mm and I hear Ricky jump off the crate. I roll onto my side and aim the gun at Ricky’s chest before he gets his all the way out of his holster. “Don’t move!”
He freezes and his hands shoot up into the air. His eyes are wide and I can see his knees shaking in my peripheral vision. I smirk a bit and sit up. “Thanks. Now, I need you to you to take of your jacket, then your holster and toss them both over there. Slowly.”
“Please, god! I’ll tell you, just don’t shoot me!”
“Just follow instructions and you’ll be fine,” I lie.
He starts to take off his jacket and I get my first good look at him. He can’t be more than 19. The others guys I overheard before I got caught were talking about a newbie. Must be Ricky here. Stupid kids, couldn’t he have just gone to trade school or something? I hate killing kids like this. He was taking off his holster now.
“Good and toss it,” I say nodding in the opposite direction of Steve. He tosses it over with a loud clack. “Now, your entire stock of weapons is here, isn’t it?” I ask as I stand slowly. He looks so scared.
He practically whimpers, “Y-yeah, it’s all h-here. I heard them talking ab-bout it. Now, please, let me go!”
“Sorry.” I say and pull the trigger. The bullet hit him between the eyes and I see the back of his head land on the floor before the rest of his body does. He looked so scared. His eyes all wide, and his mouth hanging open. Why do kids like him get involved in these crime families? Probably the same reasons as usual. Bad parents, abuse, over-rebelliousness, etc. It’s so sad.
I feel something odd on my cheek. I put a hand up to it and look at my hand. Water? There’s no holes on the ceiling and it’s not raining. Wher- I shake my head of the thought and start dragging Steve between the crates of the storehouse. Ricky’s next. When I go to grab him, his face calls my attention to it again. It’s so calm compared to before. He just looks like he’s sleeping. How did he manage that? I shake my thoughts off again and get him hidden with Steve. I pull my multi-tool out of my pack and open up the pliers part. Opening up Ricky’s bloody mouth, I fix the pliers around his top left incisor. With a quick yank and twist, it pops free. I drop it into a plastic bag and start on the rest.
Once done pulling Ricky and Steve’s teeth, I toss the bloody bag of teeth into my pack and pull out a small bottle of concentrated gasoline jelly. I spread some on Steve and Ricky, and then throw some packing hay on top of them. I position the lid of a wooden crate so it leads from their bodies to the crates next to them. Smearing, the jelly on the lid, I make sure that the fire will spread quickly and create confusion. That way, I can get out of here easily. I find my matches and strike one. Ricky’s stupid, scared face flashes through my mind again and I throw the match onto the packing hay. It catches quickly and the power of the flame doubles when it reaches the flammable jelly.
Soon, I find myself sitting on the wall of the compound watching people come out of the buildings surrounding the burning storehouse wondering what the hell is going on. I save that image for later and drop down the outside of the wall. Sticking my hands in my pockets, I walk calmly down the street towards the car I parked in the alleyway. The streets are empty, but they won’t be soon. Lookey-loos enjoying the firemen and paramedics saving the criminals inside. The dusty red corolla is where I left it and I climb in. I let out a long sigh and zone out at the steering wheel.
This is getting old. The infiltrating, the interrogations, the killing, the escaping…Too old. Killing kids who are in the wrong place at the wrong time because of wrong decisions is just -for lack of a better word- wrong. I’ve been doing this for 11 years and it hasn’t bothered me before. Why is this one assignment getting to me? Probably because it was such a dumb assignment. Revenge against this crime family for stealing a contract with an arms dealer. There were tons of other deals we could have taken. Better ones. But no, the Boss had to be stubborn and territorial beyond reason and send me in to destroy their arms supply and who knows what else. Petty arguments causing the deaths of dumb kids who don’t know any better.
I turn the key in the ignition and start on my way to the Office. I’m not looking forward to it. The Boss has been on a downward spiral for the last couple of years. He’s been drinking and his decisions have been getting stupid. He’s even started to think he might get me in bed by strutting his power around me. Right.
My Corolla chugs down the freeway until I reach my exit, pulling off, I think about other assignments I’ve had. Especially in the beginning, they had more meaning and purpose. The Boss chose the jobs carefully and they, of course had monetary value, but no pointless killing of small time criminals because they annoyed him. It’s become ridiculous.
I pull up in front of the Office. It seems normal on the outside. Eight stories, typical modern glass and steel architecture, hidden underground floors. Well, the hidden underground floors aren’t exactly normal. After parking, I pick up my pack and head to the top floor. In the elevator, Ricky’s frightened face sneaks into my brain again. I frown and my thoughts go back to the Boss’s face. His thin face with the sunken in, eyes red from last night’s drinking. The ding of the elevator doors pull me out of my reverie.
The floor looks normal. Beth, the secretary looks up at me. She gives me a sad half smile from her sad little desk. All of sudden, I can’t hold back the memories anymore. The faces of all the dumb kids, seasoned veterans, unsuspecting bystanders and horrible hit men flood into my head. All the emotions I’ve always buried flash through my heart and I feel my legs shake. Beth looks confused as the elevator doors shut. I hear the whooshing sound as they close and I lean back against the wall of the elevator. Another strange feeling on my cheek again. Without thinking I put my hand to it and look at my wet fingers. Water. No, not water. Tears…Tears? I’m crying? I haven’t cried since…my first assignment.
It hit me then. What is this job doing? I was doing something once. I gave up my emotion so I could help the Boss do what he needed to. I believed in him. But he’s slipped. The assignments have slipped. I have no reason to cage in these emotions any more. It’s not worth it. I punch the lobby button on the elevator and I feel the elevator descend. That’s it. I’m not doing this anymore. Screw it. I know the Boss’ll send people after me, but I’m the best operative he has. He won’t get me. I don’t belong to the Company any more.
TRIGGER
The blood is leaking out of my mouth now. I can’t focus my eyes for a second, then I concentrate and the room comes back into focus. Including my view of Steve. He grins at me as I spit a glob of blood and saliva to the side. I give him a glare. “Hey I’m just doing my job,” he says holding his hands up in defense. He swings at me again and I hear my nose crack and break against his brass knuckles. My head swims and my vision blurs again.
The other guy sitting on the crate shifts around. “Quit screwin’ around and kill the bitch, would ya?” He’s obviously uncomfortable. I think he’s called Ricky. He lights a cigarette and takes a deep drag. I watch the smoke swirl before I realize that Steve had taunted me again.
“What?” I choke out.
“I said, do you want me to snap your neck or shoot you in the head?”
“Um….” I take a moment to consider this. Shot to the head is the most reliable, but it leaves a weird hole in your head. Excuse me for wanting to leave a nice looking corpse. Neck snap is pretty, but there’s a chance it won’t kill me. I could lie there and suffocate because he broke my trachea, but not my spine. Well, I’m not going to die anyway.
With that thought, I strained my arms against the ropes I had been wearing down with a hidden razor blade, and they snapped apart. Rope went flying and Steve’s eyes went wide. Ricky hasn’t noticed yet. “Holy Shi-" Steve doesn’t get to finish because my leg swings around knock him over. He falls and his head hits the cement floor with a loud crack.
Ricky has definitely noticed now. His ciggy has fallen out his mouth and to the floor. I dive forward to Steve’s body, where his head has started to form a small puddle of blood on the ground. I snatch at his 9mm and I hear Ricky jump off the crate. I roll onto my side and aim the gun at Ricky’s chest before he gets his all the way out of his holster. “Don’t move!”
He freezes and his hands shoot up into the air. His eyes are wide and I can see his knees shaking in my peripheral vision. I smirk a bit and sit up. “Thanks. Now, I need you to you to take of your jacket, then your holster and toss them both over there. Slowly.”
“Please, god! I’ll tell you, just don’t shoot me!”
“Just follow instructions and you’ll be fine,” I lie.
He starts to take off his jacket and I get my first good look at him. He can’t be more than 19. The others guys I overheard before I got caught were talking about a newbie. Must be Ricky here. Stupid kids, couldn’t he have just gone to trade school or something? I hate killing kids like this. He was taking off his holster now.
“Good and toss it,” I say nodding in the opposite direction of Steve. He tosses it over with a loud clack. “Now, your entire stock of weapons is here, isn’t it?” I ask as I stand slowly. He looks so scared.
He practically whimpers, “Y-yeah, it’s all h-here. I heard them talking ab-bout it. Now, please, let me go!”
“Sorry.” I say and pull the trigger. The bullet hit him between the eyes and I see the back of his head land on the floor before the rest of his body does. He looked so scared. His eyes all wide, and his mouth hanging open. Why do kids like him get involved in these crime families? Probably the same reasons as usual. Bad parents, abuse, over-rebelliousness, etc. It’s so sad.
I feel something odd on my cheek. I put a hand up to it and look at my hand. Water? There’s no holes on the ceiling and it’s not raining. Wher- I shake my head of the thought and start dragging Steve between the crates of the storehouse. Ricky’s next. When I go to grab him, his face calls my attention to it again. It’s so calm compared to before. He just looks like he’s sleeping. How did he manage that? I shake my thoughts off again and get him hidden with Steve. I pull my multi-tool out of my pack and open up the pliers part. Opening up Ricky’s bloody mouth, I fix the pliers around his top left incisor. With a quick yank and twist, it pops free. I drop it into a plastic bag and start on the rest.
Once done pulling Ricky and Steve’s teeth, I toss the bloody bag of teeth into my pack and pull out a small bottle of concentrated gasoline jelly. I spread some on Steve and Ricky, and then throw some packing hay on top of them. I position the lid of a wooden crate so it leads from their bodies to the crates next to them. Smearing, the jelly on the lid, I make sure that the fire will spread quickly and create confusion. That way, I can get out of here easily. I find my matches and strike one. Ricky’s stupid, scared face flashes through my mind again and I throw the match onto the packing hay. It catches quickly and the power of the flame doubles when it reaches the flammable jelly.
Soon, I find myself sitting on the wall of the compound watching people come out of the buildings surrounding the burning storehouse wondering what the hell is going on. I save that image for later and drop down the outside of the wall. Sticking my hands in my pockets, I walk calmly down the street towards the car I parked in the alleyway. The streets are empty, but they won’t be soon. Lookey-loos enjoying the firemen and paramedics saving the criminals inside. The dusty red corolla is where I left it and I climb in. I let out a long sigh and zone out at the steering wheel.
This is getting old. The infiltrating, the interrogations, the killing, the escaping…Too old. Killing kids who are in the wrong place at the wrong time because of wrong decisions is just -for lack of a better word- wrong. I’ve been doing this for 11 years and it hasn’t bothered me before. Why is this one assignment getting to me? Probably because it was such a dumb assignment. Revenge against this crime family for stealing a contract with an arms dealer. There were tons of other deals we could have taken. Better ones. But no, the Boss had to be stubborn and territorial beyond reason and send me in to destroy their arms supply and who knows what else. Petty arguments causing the deaths of dumb kids who don’t know any better.
I turn the key in the ignition and start on my way to the Office. I’m not looking forward to it. The Boss has been on a downward spiral for the last couple of years. He’s been drinking and his decisions have been getting stupid. He’s even started to think he might get me in bed by strutting his power around me. Right.
My Corolla chugs down the freeway until I reach my exit, pulling off, I think about other assignments I’ve had. Especially in the beginning, they had more meaning and purpose. The Boss chose the jobs carefully and they, of course had monetary value, but no pointless killing of small time criminals because they annoyed him. It’s become ridiculous.
I pull up in front of the Office. It seems normal on the outside. Eight stories, typical modern glass and steel architecture, hidden underground floors. Well, the hidden underground floors aren’t exactly normal. After parking, I pick up my pack and head to the top floor. In the elevator, Ricky’s frightened face sneaks into my brain again. I frown and my thoughts go back to the Boss’s face. His thin face with the sunken in, eyes red from last night’s drinking. The ding of the elevator doors pull me out of my reverie.
The floor looks normal. Beth, the secretary looks up at me. She gives me a sad half smile from her sad little desk. All of sudden, I can’t hold back the memories anymore. The faces of all the dumb kids, seasoned veterans, unsuspecting bystanders and horrible hit men flood into my head. All the emotions I’ve always buried flash through my heart and I feel my legs shake. Beth looks confused as the elevator doors shut. I hear the whooshing sound as they close and I lean back against the wall of the elevator. Another strange feeling on my cheek again. Without thinking I put my hand to it and look at my wet fingers. Water. No, not water. Tears…Tears? I’m crying? I haven’t cried since…my first assignment.
It hit me then. What is this job doing? I was doing something once. I gave up my emotion so I could help the Boss do what he needed to. I believed in him. But he’s slipped. The assignments have slipped. I have no reason to cage in these emotions any more. It’s not worth it. I punch the lobby button on the elevator and I feel the elevator descend. That’s it. I’m not doing this anymore. Screw it. I know the Boss’ll send people after me, but I’m the best operative he has. He won’t get me. I don’t belong to the Company any more.