The White Rabbit

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
The tale of a man set on revenge.

Submitted: May 19, 2016

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Submitted: May 19, 2016



After I killed the fourth, I knew they were on to me.  Though I had been careful at first, I had slipped.  I had lost my cool. I had allowed him to make me angry and I had lost my cool.  I was now running out of time to finish what I had started.  The last two would not be as carefully planned as the first four, but there was no helping that now - if I wanted to finish, I had to move fast. 

Coming in to this I had always known I would not survive.  All I had really wanted was to finish.  And then I slipped.  So close to the end and I had allowed that son-of-a-whore Phillips to make me angry.  I had never even been close to losing my temper with any of the others, but somehow he had gotten under my skin and I had fucked up.  Look, dead he still was, but now it made the rest of this so much harder to finish than it had to be.

I'm still not sure why I had lost my temper - exactly what it was that pushed me over the edge - but, I'm sure a part of it was the way he wouldn't crack.  Sure, most them started out strong and tough and stubborn, but that was only expected of these sort of people.  They had an image, a persona, and most of them kept it up for as long as they could.  But they all cracked in the end. They all begged and cried and pissed themselves and prayed and bargained and begged some more before it was over. 

But not Phillips.

He was a stubborn fucking asshole right up to the end and well past it.  He mocked and provoked and mocked some more and I snapped and now they knew.  They knew

Why I decided to take off the gloves is clear.  Why I destroyed his face with my bare hands is apparent.  Why I decided to strangle him is obvious.  I wanted to feel his windpipe crush beneath my fingers - to feel the life drain out of him, gasp and gurgle by gasp and gurgle. And that was what had cost me my advantage. I had taken to long with him. I should have been in and out.

Though his eyes were probably what bothered me the most.

The victory. Even at the end, Phillips knew he had won. Knew he had caused me to lose my cool as he had always done since we first met.

The others had not been a problem. I had watched. I had planned and I had waited. And every one of them died without a hitch.

Jacobs had been the first and in some ways the hardest. He was my own personal Everest and I had known that if I could finish him off smoothly, everything would be so much easier. And it was.

Jacobs had also been the only one I had ever truly liked. Maybe even considered a friend. But die he had to die - he was a part of it and he probably deserved it the most. And that's why I decided to do him first. Do the toughest thing first and the barrels will roll, is what my mother always said. Though that didn't make a whole lot of sense, that's exactly what I had done. And I had made him suffer for what he did to Terri.

I hadn't really needed to watch Jacobs as long as I did, considering I knew his routine like the back of my hand. Shit, not long ago I had done that exact same routine with him, but I wanted to make sure about every detail of his day and that nothing had changed.

In the end the best opportunity was the one I had thought about before I even started watching him.

On Sunday mornings, Jacobs and I had gone to work out at around 6 am. We liked that time because it was quiet.

On a Monday a few weeks before I planned to strike I went to the gym to open a new contract - after all, a man who uses another man’s - who's been dead for 4 years - membership card, would be noticed - and I didn't want anyone remembering me. Luckily the gym was always hiring and firing staff because of the shitty hours and the even shittier pay, so it was a new teenage girl whom I had never seen before. The process went quickly and after my fake ID checked out everything was set.




On the Sunday I decided to murder my old friend, I arrived at the gym at exactly 5 am. I strolled in with my gym bag and nodded to the guy behind the counter, who was barely awake and never even glanced at me. I made my way to the locker room, where I changed into a black pair of jeans, a black polo neck shirt and pulled on a pair of yellow dishwashing gloves. I took out my Colt pistol, loaded the magazine and stuffed it into the back of my pants. I also took out a shower cap and put it on.

From the showers you could see the door when someone came in, but the person could not see you until they made their way around the basins, so I picked a shower and stepped in, closed the door and waited.

While I waited I took my lucky charm from my pocket and lovingly caressed it. It was an old, used and frayed white rabbit key chain. More yellow by now than white, actually. Terri had given it to me for Father's Day about 12 years ago and I had carried it with me ever since. Its one eye was missing, one ear was tattered and frayed and it's left leg was hanging by a thread. But I would never get rid of it. It had always kept me grounded and was a reminder about what was really important in life. Now it was a reminder of what they took from me - and it kept me going through the last hellish couple of years.

When the bathroom door opened about 45 minutes later, I waited until the person had moved over to the lockers before drawing the pistol and stepping out of the shower. 

Jacobs heard the shower door closing and turned. The expression on his face when he recognized me was so priceless I had almost burst out laughing.

"Stevens?" he had asked quietly.

"Hello, Jacobs. It's good to see you again. Miss me?" I motioned with the weapon for him to step away from his locker and bag and he complied readily enough.

"Wha- How...?" he started, grappling to make sense.

"Am I alive? Well, that's an interesting story. Technically I was dead for 2 minutes.  And it really was a good effort." I lifted my left hand and touched the scar on my left temple where a single bullet had entered my skull.

"Anyway, I'm sure we can chat some more while we start."

"Start? Start what?" Some semblance of color had returned to his face and he tensed.

"You'll see. Take off all your clothes. Now." I lifted the pistol a little higher and he started undressing.

"I never wanted to go through with it Stevens, I swear, but they threatened to kill Julie if I didn't. And after that I almost still pulled out. I swear I - "

"Shut the fuck up you worthless sack of shit. Threatened Julie, you say? What about Marie?  And Terri?" 

I took hand cuffs out of the bag and told him to cuff himself. He did and I motioned for him to walk over to the showers. I used a second pair of cuffs to lock him onto the shower head, facing away from the head. I walked over to the bathroom door, locked it and then I removed duct tape from the bag and stripped his mouth closed tight. 

"Ok, Jacobs. You are going to die today." He started whimpering. "But not before you've had at least a small taste of the suffering I've had to deal with for the last four years."

I fully opened the hot water tap and it hit him on his neck trickling down his back.  I stepped back and looked into his eyes, waiting for the water to warm and to see the pain. Slowly his eyes widened and he grimaced while muffled moans escaped the duct tape. Soon steam was rising and his muffled moans became louder and louder. I opened the bag once again and removed a straight razor. With one swift cut I opened a gash in his belly, deep enough for a stream of blood to pour out, but not fatal. More muffled screams erupted from him. I then took my time removing both his nipples, first grabbing them, pulling and then cutting them away.  His screams had now reached a particularly high pitch, and I jabbed him in the throat with my elbow to quieten him down.

I stepped back for a minute or two while he coughed and caught his breath. Moments later he started whimpering and sobbing.

I stepped up to him and lifted his chin to look him in the eyes.  "I hope you burn in hell for what you did to Terri, you motherfucker." I said, while lifting the razor stained with his blood. 

It was time to go, but not before I destroyed the man who had destroyed the two women I had loved. I crouched in front of him, grabbed his penis, and with a vicious swipe I removed it, to an absolute clamor of screams and sobs. Blood sprouted from the wound like a fountain and I stepped back, lifting his manhood to show him what I had done. His eyes widened and he tried to scream even louder. I dropped the destroyed piece of meat, bent once again and opened his femoral artery with a smooth cut. He jerked and let out another muffled scream, but it was already weaker. I glanced at him once more, weakly moaning while his life blood gushed out like a waterfall, and then walked away. I quickly took my clothes off and put on the ones I had entered with, stuffing the wet ones back in the bag along with all the tools I had used. Except the cuffs - I left him hanging there like a gutted animal at an abattoir. I took one final glance at the red shower, kicked the door of the shower shut and left.




I got back from the Phillips disaster at about 4 pm. The shithole warehouse I had made my base of operations was cold and dark and it suited my mood. I took off the bloodied clothes and tossed it into the old incinerator, chucked in some wood, doused it with gasoline and lit it.  While the fire was crackling away I popped the cap off of a bottle of whiskey and downed half. The burning it caused lifted my spirits a little and I lit a cigarette. Falling down on a ruined old mattress I thought about how I would be able to finish this off, while holding the rabbit key chain and caressing the floppy ears. Only two to go. But they were now completely aware I was back and would react accordingly. They would buckle down, pull themselves behind a fortress of walls and guards and most likely send some out to try and find me. The cops would be after me in hours as well.

I needed to finish this and I needed to finish it quickly. It was pretty clear to me that I would have to go in guns blazing, but at least they would be together.

I hoped.

But first I was going to get shit-faced, fall-down drunk.

I finished the bottle with another swig and pulled a new one from beneath the mattress.




Jacobs had turned out to be a much easier task than I had thought. Once I saw his face and the immediate fear and confusion on it, anger had taken over. Anger at what he did to my daughter. All the old feelings I had once had for him vanished, replaced by an unstoppable need to cause him extreme pain and humiliation. And I had - I had removed the thing he had used to hurt so many women, including Terri, and that had given me some satisfaction.

The cops had no leads and were utterly baffled about the murder, but I knew the others would be nervously looking at each other over their piles of money and wondering ...

Daniels had been a little tougher to tail and watch. He had always been the most alert, the most careful and it seemed that that had not changed. He always checked for tails before actually going in the direction he wanted to, and his routine differed from day to day. I couldn't hit him at his house, there were too many eyes. The other problem was that he always left at different times - if he left at all.

My understanding was that he was retired, but soon I began to see some of our old contacts, connections and partners popping up in his daily visits, so either he was still in the business or he had gone rogue. Either way, I was going to kill that fucker.

After about a month of tedious and sometimes frustrating surveillance - I finally found a constant pattern on one of his days.

Every second Wednesday, he would go to the cemetery and visit a grave. I assumed it was his dead wife, who died of cancer 9 years ago. The times always differed, but it was always after 8 and before 4. That left a big gap true, but it was the best I could hope for. 

So I formulated a plan and scoped out the graveyard and after I felt the time was right, I set about getting together everything I would need. On the next Tuesday preceding his visit, I drove over to the cemetery and arrived at about 17:45, just a couple of minutes before it closed.  The groundskeeper would lock the gates at 18:00 and then head home - there was no one who stayed on the property over night.

At 18:00 the keeper drove out, closed the gates, locked them and left. At 19:00, as the sun was setting, I drove up to the gate with bolt cutters and quickly snapped the rusty iron chain keeping the gates closed. Pushing them open, I looked around for any eyes watching me, but the entrance was on a fairly quiet street and it was deserted. I quickly jumped in my car and drove through. Stopping under a tree that shielded my car from the streetlight, I jumped out, quickly pulled the gates shut, and locked them with a lock and chain of my own.

Daniels' wife's grave was in the heart of the boneyard - it was not visible from the street and it was completely in the dark. I pulled up to a path leading to the grave and stopped. On my previous visit I had noticed that a plot a couple of graves down from his wife's was open and an idea had come to me.

I removed a pick axe, and a shovel from my trunk and got to work.

I left the graveyard at around 4 that morning, taking my chain with me and replacing the snapped one. The groundskeeper would likely think vandals or teenagers looking for a midnight adventure were responsible.

I raced back to my warehouse, cleaned myself from a drum of water, and fell on the mattress, setting an alarm for 7. It wouldn't do for me to sleep through his visit or for the keeper to discover the newly opened plot - which was my biggest risk. I just had to hope that the hole remained undiscovered until it was done.

At 7 I woke to an aching back and blistered hands. It would seem that grave digging was not for the faint of heart. Popping a couple of pain killers, I pulled on some inconspicuous looking clothes, filled a bag with what I would require and headed for the cemetery once more.




Luck, it would seem, was on my side. Daniels arrived early - half past 8. I saw him entering from my vantage point behind a big tree not far from the gate entrance. He stopped his car close to his wife's grave, got out and strolled over with a bunch of flowers in his hand. I followed him and waited until he knelt next to the grave to replace the old flowers.

I stepped up behind him, drawing my pistol.

"You know, I always thought she was too good for you." I said raising the weapon. He jumped up and whirled around, reaching behind his back for something hidden beneath his jacket. I had expected this, but I had also forgotten how quick he was. As he jumped up I quickly took the two steps separating us and pistol-whipped him against the temple. He fell back, dropping the silver .38 revolver he's had since I can remember. I quickly kicked it away, and while he was still groggy, I rolled him over and used thick cable ties to bind his hands behind his back. I rolled him back over, quickly glancing around for any unwelcome guests, and seeing none. I helped him up, and started marching him over to the grave I had dug the night before.

"Stevens? How are you alive?" He asked, quickly regaining his wits. "I saw Phillips put a bullet in your skull."

"You did. And he did, but I guess you should've made sure."

I kicked his knees out from under him next to the gaping hole I had dug, and he fell heavily.  Working quickly, I also cabled tied his feet together and took out the duct tape from my bag, should he start screaming.

He stared at the hole and at the shovel and pick axe poking out of the bag and an eerie realization dawned on his face.

"Are you serious? What the fuck, you misunderstood Pet Sematary or something?" He asked with a grimace, but I thought I had heard a trace of panic creeping into his voice.

I ignored him, just staring at him as he lay there, blood slowly trickling from the side of his head.

"I'm now going to bury you alive. You ruined my life, took away the only two people I loved, and now you're going to die. Slowly."

He opened his mouth to protest or to curse, but I'll never know, because I kicked him in his stomach, dropped my knee into his chest and taped his mouth shut. I'm pretty sure one of his arms broke as I rolled him into the hole, judging by the sickening crunch I heard, but that's neither here nor there.

I quickly picked up the revolver, opened the cylinder and dumped the bullets into the grave tossing in the gun as well.

As I took a final look down at him before I started shoveling, I saw a tinge of remorse in his eyes, but that was quickly replaced by anger, hate and then utter fear as I started dropping dirt on him.

I worked quickly, knowing that the groundskeeper could catch me any second, but also not caring that much. I lost myself in the work, shoveling the ground into the hole and onto my victim one shovel-full at a time, getting into a sickening death rhythm that let the time pass quickly. Soon he was completely covered and not long after that the hole was more or less filled. I stepped back, looking down at the fresh grave, while squeezing the rabbit in my pocket.

Two down.




The day after the Phillips fuck up, I took stock of all the weapons I had. Two 9mm pistols, one semi-automatic H&K MP5, a Falcon 12.7 mm sniper rifle, a kevlar vest and enough ammunition to wage a small war.

I cleaned each weapon, loaded them and packed all the extra ammo into a backpack. I then waited till sundown. When the sun had set, I pulled on the kevlar vest, pulling a shirt on to cover it a little. Then I strapped the 9mm's to my waist - one on each side. The sniper rifle I packed into a bag that I had designed years ago to resemble a guitar bag and the H&K I hung from a strap over my shoulder, pulling on a coat to hide the weapons. Finally I picked up the rabbit. Giving it a kiss for good luck, I put it into the inside pocket of my coat.

I took a final look around the old warehouse and left, more than likely leaving for death, and not caring - only wanting vengeance.




Richardson was next on my list, and he was the easiest. He had had a stroke a couple of months ago, most likely due to his excessive drinking and cocaine addiction. He was in a special hospital that cared for patients who couldn't care for themselves. The fact that he had no family, meant that he would probably be there until he died. I would just make sure that happened sooner rather than later.

Early one morning a couple of days after Daniels I went to the hospital, quickly finding his room by pretending to be an old friend coming for a visit.

I entered his room and saw that he was asleep. I gently prodded him, saying his name. I wanted him to see my face before I snuffed the life out of him.

He slowly opened his eyes and they widened when he recognized me. He whimpered, but it was apparent that he could not speak nor move anything other than his head.

"Hello, motherfucker." I whispered, removing the pillow underneath his head.

"Time to die." I firmly pressed the pillow over his face, keeping it there until his light struggling ceased and then keeping it there for a while longer. I replaced the pillow under his head, rearranged his bed to a neater degree and left, passing a nurse in the hallway responding to the flatline screaming from beside his bed.




I drove to the compound where my final two targets were, going over my rushed plan again and again. It wasn't a very good one, but it would have to do. Time was against me, and if I waited too long, they would find me, but I doubted that they expected me to storm the castle.

There was a low cliff looking down over the compound, though it can only be reached on foot. Thus I parked the car a couple of blocks away and then approached the cliff with a big detour, trying to make sure I was not spotted by any of the guards that were crawling all over. The hike took me about 2 hours. I reached the spot I had in mind, taking out the rifle and looking down on the compound through the scope.

I immediately counted 9 guards outside and I knew there would probably be at least twice as many inside. I also knew that they would not alert the police if attacked, due to the massive amount of illegal shit going on inside that house.

I took a deep breath and got the guard closest to the house in my crosshairs. Taking another deep breath, I squeezed the trigger.




Phillips was the hardest. I thought he would be the easiest, because I hated him so much, but my emotions got the better of me. Even on the days I was tailing him, every time I saw him I started shaking with anger. After all, he was the one who had pulled the trigger.

His routine was pretty straight forward though. He left his house every morning around 7 am and returned again around 15:30. Then on most nights he left again around 18:00 and returned around midnight. What made it a little simpler was that he lived alone and his house was also fairly isolated from the rest of the street. So I decided that I would take him there.

On D-Day, I waited until he left. I drove my rental a little further away from his house, parking it on the curb behind several other vehicles.

Walking calmly yet quickly to his house, I continually surveyed my surroundings, looking for any witnesses that could cause trouble, but the street was deserted. I walked up his driveway, pretending that I was supposed to be there, and slipped quickly around the house to the back door. Pulling an old Leatherman from my pocket that was a gift from Marie, I made light work of the back door, jimmying it open in a manner of seconds. There was no alarm - this I knew from my days of surveillance, so I entered, closing the door behind me and standing a moment so my eyes could adjust to the gloom. I knew the house fairly well - I had been here often back when we sometimes pretended to be friends so the boss would get off our backs, so I knew where what was. I walked to the garage, rummaging through the drawers until I found rope and duct tape. Of course by this time I had put on the washing gloves again. I set up a single dining room chair in the middle of the living room and took a seat in his Lazyboy that looked straight at the front door. I pulled out my pistol, cocked it, and waited.




By the time the 6th guard fell, they finally saw where the gun shots were coming from and opened fire, but the range was too great for their pistols to be effective, so I wasn't bothered much. I took down 2 more before the last one realized that the smartest thing to do was probably to get inside the house. As he crawled towards the door, I shifted my aim to the window of the entry hall he was aiming for and just as he stood up I painted the wall behind him red.

I reloaded the rifle as I waited to see whether they would send out more guys or wait for me to come to them. I slowly panned the rifle from window to window, managing to take out 3 more before it seemed to sink in to stay the fuck out of sight. After a good 5 minutes, I decided that they were waiting for me, and as I didn't want the shots to attract possible police attention too soon, I put the rifle down and got up. I removed the rabbit from my coat pocket, connecting it to my belt and took off the coat, cocking the H&K as I started down.




The front door opened some hours later and Phillips stepped through, closing the door behind him. As he turned, he stopped, sensing something was amiss, but I was deep in the shadows, and doubted he could see me.

"Get your hands up, now."

He cocked his head, seemingly recognizing my voice, and I thought I saw the tiniest hint of a smile. "Stevens?" He asked, not moving, but squinting into the gloom.

"I said, put your goddamn hands up. Right now." This time the smile was larger and he slowly raised his hands.

"Now drop the keys and take four steps forward - away from the door. Slowly."

He complied, dropping the keys and taking the steps. Those fucking keys. The keys that changed everything.

"My, my. What a pleasure this is. Though I have to admit I am somewhat surprised."

I slowly got up from the chair, walking toward him and keeping my pistol trained on his chest. "Turn around." I said calmly, and he did. I quickly patted him down, finding a pistol and a knife. "Now go sit in that chair and tape your feet to the legs."

"Why Stevens, is this any way to treat an old friend? Can't we talk like adults rather than taping and gun pointing?" He smiled again, not moving towards the chair.

I calmly looked him up and down and then smashed the butt of my pistol into his mouth.

"I am not, nor have I ever been, your friend!" I spat as he stumbled backwards, his hands shooting up to his mouth. He tripped over the small coffee table I had moved earlier to make room for the chair, and he went sprawling.

"Get up you piece of shit."

He slowly got to his knees, blood pouring from his mouth and he chuckled. He spat a large amount out and got up.

"You know, that temper of yours will get you in trouble one day. Oh, wait, that already happened." And he spat again, never losing that infuriating smile from his bloodied mouth.




I dove behind the knocked over granite table and inspected the H&K. The clip was empty. I chucked it away, drawing my two pistols. I looked myself over while the AK 47 rounds were smashing into the table and the wall above me. A round had grazed my left arm and I was bleeding quite heavily, though it was only a flesh wound. The other wound in my hip, just below the kevlar vest was much more serious, and I knew I was quickly running out of blood and time. By my estimation, there were only 3 guards left, but they were blocking my way into the study where Michaels and Kain were holed up.

The bullets kept flying and I bided my time, waiting for them to reload. At the first lul of fire I leaned left around the massive table, quickly firing off three rounds and I heard them slam into the chest of the closest guard. Two more took down the other one slightly to the left of him. Two rounds rocked into my chest and knocked my wind out, but the kevlar was doing its job. I took down the last goon with a well aimed shot to the head, and retreated back behind the table, attempting to regain my breath.

A heavy silence had fallen over the compound, and combined with the ringing in my ears, I had a surreal moment, where an absolute calm I had never felt before descended over me. It was almost over.




"Awe, come on Stevens, don't be like that." Phillips mumbled after another round of savage beating. His face was a mushy pulp, but still he had that gruesome smile plastered to his face. My fists were screaming in pain. Time after time I had smashed my fists into his face and still he had mocked and smiled. I was panting, and I stumbled to the couch onto which I fell with a sigh.

"You know Stevens, I guess since I'm about to die, I could give you the truth." He spat more blood from his mouth and gave me a leveled look through his swollen eyes.

"Yeah? And what would that be?"

"I know you think it was Jacobs that raped, beat and murdered Terri, but that's not true."

I went cold.

Was he fucking with me? At the end? Or was this the truth?

"It was me." He spat again and looked at me coolly, perhaps waiting for my reaction. When I didn't move or speak, he spat again.

"And I have to tell you. She was fiesty. Put up a good fight. But once my dick slid into her tight snatch she moaned like a two dollar whore. I think she liked it. Really I do. Right up until I put a bullet in her pretty, pretty fa-"

I was up off the couch in a flash, not really aware of what I was doing. My hands were around his throat and the chair tumbled over, though my hands never let go. I squeezed and squeezed and though he was dying, in his eyes was a smile.

I heard a loud crunch coming from his neck but I kept squeezing.

I've often heard on police shows that strangling a person is the most personal way to kill someone and was often done in anger - and I could now say with certainty that that was true.

As I slowly let go, panting, I happened to glance to where his keys lay on the floor and something caught my eye. A red blinking light was coming from what I had at first assumed was a garage opener. I crawled over to where they were and my stomach plummeted when I realized what it was.

Kain had often given us a device similar to this one to use on certain errands. It was a recording device combined with a GPS. What made this device so clever, was that it recorded digitally to an offsite computer, so that even if the device is discovered and destroyed, the recordings would be safe. As for the GPS - as soon as the user presses the second button, the device sends a panic signal to the same place, letting whoever is listening know that assistance is needed. I had been there for more than an hour, which was careless. They had been listening, and had most certainly sent the cavalry.

Which meant I had no time.

I leapt up, running to where I had placed the pistol on the kitchen counter. As I picked up the pistol, the front door exploded inward and I dived behind the counter. I heard heavy boots rushing in through the door, at least 7 men.

"Come out now, and this will end a better day than it's been so far." One of them called.

My mind was racing. The only possible exit I had was the back door, but surely they would've surrounded the house?

"I'm afraid I can't do that." I called back. "You see, I still have two more people to kill."

I opened the cupboards next to me, looking for something - anything - that would aid me in my escape, and I hit the jackpot.

"Well, then your day is about to get much worse." The man called back and I heard automatic rifles cocking.

"Wait!" I called, pulling the small kitchen sized fire extinguisher from the cupboard.

"I'm coming out, don't shoot!" I slowly turned around, facing the cupboard, and in one swift motion I tossed the extinguisher over the cupboard, jumped up and fired. The fourth round hit, and the living room exploded into white mist.

I had already turned when they opened fire, and somehow I wasn't hit. Bursting through the back door, I immediately met two more men in full attack gear waiting in the backyard. Somehow I surprised them and I managed to take the one down with a single bullet between the eyes and tackle the other one to the ground in an almost continuous movement. I quickly rolled away from him, firing the pistol until I heard a round smack into him. I jumped up and saw that I had hit him in the throat.

Realizing my pistol was empty, I took off. I didn't immediately run for the car, but rather jumped over the fence into the house next door, doing this 6 more times, until I had made a huge detour to where the car was parked.

Peeking over the wooden fence that was adjacent to my car, I saw no one, but could hear men yelling and calling to each other, obviously searching for me. As quickly and quietly as I could, I hoisted myself over the fence and sprinted to my car, getting it started and going in less than five seconds. Flooring it, I tore around a corner, luckily meeting no more of the kill team.

I breathed a massive sigh of relief, caressing the white rabbit once more.




I reloaded my pistols and slowly got up from behind the table. Looking at the carnage around me, I started limping towards the large oak study doors. Kain and Michaels. Michaels and Kain. The last two. The first two. The two who had started everything. Who had gotten me into this life. And for some reason had taken me out.

"Michaels! Kain!" I yelled. "Everybody's dead! Everybody! Come out now and let’s end this!"

I stopped, waiting to see if they might actually come out, but doubted it. So I started limping once more, now having to hold my hip as I moved.

When I came to the doors. I stopped again, taking a deep breath. The chances were that they would be waiting for the doors to open and then open fire, but I had no choice. There was no other entrance into the study and I was quickly running out of time.

So I took one last deep breath and kicked open the left door - and was immediately thrown back by a shotgun blast to the chest.

I fell on my back and my two pistols went flying. I was struggling to breathe and I was sure some of my ribs were broken. I moaned and tried to sit up, but was unable. Lifting my head, I saw Kain slowly walking toward me with a pump action shotgun in hand and Michaels following close behind with his signature Magnum 44 revolver.

"I have to say Stevens - goddamn, I am impressed. Accomplishing everything you have in the last couple of months. Shit." Kain looked at Michaels and he agreed.

"I assume Daniels is dead too? We haven't heard from him in quite some time."

I didn't answer and looked away. I had failed and I couldn't look at the two men who had taken everything from me and would now get away with it.

I turned my head right and noticed my rabbit. Somehow it had come off of my belt, but it looked no more worse for wear. I reached for it and managed to grasp it in my right hand.

"You still have that thing, huh?" Michaels asked, and crouched so he was lower and closer to me.

"Look, everything that happened - it wasn't personal, it was business. You wanted to leave and we couldn't have that. We told them to take you out, not your family. That was Phillips. Though I wouldn't have minded having a run at Terri myself - she was something else for a 17 year old." He chuckled.

I looked to my left and saw a large broken mirror shard about a meter away. I pocketed my rabbit and tried to speak, but I coughed, and blood gurgled from my mouth.

"Damn, Stevens, you looked a little fucked up." Michaels chuckled again.

I tried again and this time managed to groan out a sentence.

"If you're so impressed with my work, how about you give me a last cigarette. Before you send me to my family."

Kain and Michaels glanced at each other and Michaels shrugged. He reached inside his jacket pocket and removed a pack of Marlboro's. He leaned down and helped me into a sitting position, dragging me a little closer to the glass shard. He positioned a cigarette in my mouth and placed his Magnum next to him on the ground, pulling out a zippo lighter instead.

Summoning the last of my strength, I scooped up the glass shard and jammed it into Michaels' neck just as he brought the flame to the cigarette, cutting my hand down to the tendons. He dropped the lighter and made a gurgling sound similar to a drain emptying. Kain raised the shotgun, but as he fired I pulled Michaels in front of me like a shield. The shot slammed into his back, rocking him into me and we both fell backwards, him on top of me. In what felt like slow motion, I grabbed Michaels’ Magnum and in one swift movement rolled him off of me, getting off a shot just as Kain fired again.

Kain's face disintegrated in front of me, splattering the wall behind him with blood, skull residue and brain tissue. He crumpled into a heap, hitting the floor hard, his non-existent head giving another horrific squirt of blood as it connected with the floor.

I realized that Kain had hit me again, as my left shoulder was now barely connected to the socket.

I slumped down once more, closing my eyes and coughing up more blood.

It was done. It was done.

After a few moments, I rolled over onto my stomach and crawled towards the closest wall. Pulling myself into a sitting position, I looked over the armageddon that I had wrought. Broken, mangled bodies were everywhere and I doubted whether the house would ever be able to be properly repaired.

But none of that mattered. It was done.

I had picked up Michaels' Marlboro's and zippo and I lit myself one, battling with my barely functioning hand and non-functioning shoulder, immediately going into a coughing fit, but relishing the hot burn the smoke provided. I wiped the blood from my mouth and removed the white rabbit from my pocket. Looking down, a single tear ran down my cheek.

It's done, I thought once more, closing my eyes.













© Copyright 2018 Pablo Dickens. All rights reserved.

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