His cold lifeless body being lowered into the earth was an unsettling sight. The two cold dead hands of his were wrapped around each other as if he were going to fall if he didn't hold on tight
enough. His death made him larger than life. People who hated him were now his friends, his obscurity turned to popularity, and his ignorance turned to intelligence. The cold wind blew, causing
the tarp above the funeral to shake violently.
The priest heading the funeral rumbled bible verses incoherently through his thick Irish accent. The Priest never knew the living Peter Jones, he never witnessed him breathing or speaking as his heart pumped warm fresh blood. The only Peter he knew was the cold dead lifeless one that was being cried over. I knew the living Peter more than anyone here. I knew him at the most crucial moment of his life. His screams and pleads were the most pure, raw emotion any human could exert. I had a job to do, and I did it cleanly. I made good money, but the job still hadn't served it's purposes. I had forced myself to go to all of their funerals. Even the children's funerals. My job was something that would make most people cringe at the thought of. I call myself an insurance rewarder. My job is simple. When someone wants to get their moneys worth from their insurance plans I am there to get that money. Usually I sabatoge things like cars or homes, but sometimes I get the more complex jobs. Car Insurance is easy to carry out. Just throw out thick road spikes popping their tire, then the story is that they'll get out of their car, and repair it. As their door is wide open I drive up in an unmarked vehicle and boom. Their door Is taken clean off. They take an insurance claim, and me a small percentage. Now that's a simple job, but Peter was more complex. Peter or rather Peter's fathers claim was on life insurance. I also received a small percentage of cash from Mr. Turner, the funeral director. I had already murdered Mr. Turner's family in a car crash, so he received a double insurance claim for life costs, and car costs.
If most people knew the truth they would judge me bitterly, when I'm no more evil than insurance agents. They practically take money that they may or may not give back. And if you think that I'm still guilty for murdering the innocents, then you're dead wrong. Peter was a lack wit deadbeat, Mr. Turners wife was a cheating aging liar, who has been extorting money from her ex-lovers for years. Her children were vicious little ignorant brats who would end up like Peter.
By the time the funeral ended the wind turned into a distracting irritant. Mothers wrapped their daughters in their arms, and filed them orderly into their cars. Single fat women gossiped. Men made small talk. Close family wept, and sighed. No matter what anyone at the funeral were doing didn't matter, because at the end of the day they would hang up their clothes, and forget that Peter Ever existed. I looked around at the rustling trees. Green, and black thoughtless creatures that do nothing but produce. Unquestioning, unknowing, obedience. That's what my employers see in me. Obedience, that and my talent for destroying cars, homes, and lives.
The hard slam of my car door was followed by the soft click of my seatbelt. When I got in my car I wondered if I would come home to find my house burned to the ground, or maybe I'd run over a road spike. Maybe I'd be met with a hot knife to my throat. The only thing that waited for me when I got home was a sealed envelope. Before I opened it I looked at my 5 year old husky name "Rusty" His body was completely different than when He was a puppy. At first he had a thin white coat which changed into a thick combination of black and white. Every physical feature had changed, except for his two large blue eyes. I tore open the envelope to reveal a folded piece of paper. The paper was a clean white. Double bonded. Bordered with a gold interworking. There was no signature, no seal, not even who it was from, but I knew whom it was from. There was only one name on it, written in fine pen ink. The page said "Judd Thomas-Life"
I burned the edge of the paper sending a slow wave of flames across the fine white sheet.
I looked at my watch to reveal that it was a wednsday. I didn't keep track of the day due to me having no set schedule, only deadlines. They give me one month which is plenty of time for planning and investigation.
The first step is investigation. The most useful tool an insurance rewarder could ever hope for is a free open database for everyone. Well we have that. It's called the Internet. In order to gain access to them you'll first create a mock account, then message them. Find out their email, and ask forget password. Then you Will be met with a security question. In Judd's situation it was what was his favorite teachers name. Then go back to your mock account and create accordingly. If you're hacking a woman's account create a good looking man. If you're hacking a mans account create a good looking woman. Make small talk with him through IM. If you're hacking a resourceful person then you should protect your ip address with a proxy, but Judd doesn't seem bright enough with his security due to his simple security question. As you make small talk begin to reveal false information about your false person. Then as you open up he/she will open up, and then come to the question.
Judd:lol I was thinking the same thing
Sophie (Me): yeah lol I mean if you were bringing a big knife or something to school I could understand but it was just a tiny little Swiss thingy.
[depending on which character you are portraying use diction to further suit their stereotype]
Judd: Yeah that's what I said, but who would have known I was only in like 5th grade and that teacher hated me. You know that's the one thing That makes school different than jobs and that's teachers.
Sophie:yeah but my boss is Pretty strict, he like monitors our computers and stuff.
Judd: Yeah there can be good bosses and bad bosses or good teachers and bad teachers.
Sophie: who was like your favorite teacher growing up?
Judd: definitely mrs.strayson
(your converstional partner has just disconnected)
Typing in Mrs. Strayson was a success. I then changed the password to 401837. Just a random sequence of numbers in no apparent order. I look through his email to find a message from his mistress. I had no doubt that his wife carried out the order. She would get a 2 in one deal. Take care of a cheating Husband, while getting life insurance. He was going camping in thick forestlands no doubt with the mistress. This camping trip would no be the best time to carry out my contract.
Step Two: planning
Judd just received several emails confirming his purchases of camping supplies, and hiking gear. Hiking is considered an extreme sport even with todays safety gear. I had most of my operation planned out. When Judd is seperated from his companion he will suffer a fall off of the steep mountain. By the time his mistress would be completely unaware of his fate up until two days later when the search party would either find him, or abandon the search. The sad widow would claim insurance money, as well as a hefty lawsuit with the National Parks.
As my car drove through the countryside I remembered the first Life Insurance Job I did. She was a woman, extremely beautiful. The Crimson Red of blood looked beautiful in contrast with her pale skin. It seemed as if she were going to a nice dinner, with a nice man. I remembered how I hesitated, which allowed her to get away momentarily. I heard the electronic dialing behind the shield of the bathroom door that sheilded her from death. I only brought a knife which was a mistake on my part, but I had only murdered two people before that, so I felt inexperienced.
" Tom? Tom? Please Tom for the love of God call the police someone is here. No please......... look please the food can wait!"
Over the banging of my boot I made out the muffled laughter over the other end of the phone. The door didn't seem to break so I grabbed her nearby dog. I knew that she was ignorant to cherish that dog's life over hers. I squeezed the dog, but not enough to hurt him so he would whimper.
" Please for the love of God why? Why?.....Ok! Just don't hurt my dog."
The moment I heard the click of the locks the door swung open. I heard the rusty hinges squeak. Damn I could have just broken the hinges.
I carefully set the dog down. When I saw her distraught face I trembled. I had had these emotions towards people, but reality and fantasy were two things on the opposite end of the spectrum. I knew her face. I didn't know it personally, but I knew what that type of face was.
" Haha, man look at that face. If you had a wife with a face like that you would understand. Right?" A chuckle was released from the mouth of the man standing behind me. He was the same man who laughed at her on the other end of the phone. The distorted voice on the phone still depicted his youthful energy.
He kicked the Dog towards me and said " Hey cut this dogs head off, and put it in the freezer that'll give you a bonus. Haha."
I looked at the dog, and I looked at the woman shivering with fear. I slowly edged towards him as if to pick up the dog, but I passed it and grabbed the man by the sleeve, and replied " Maybe I'll cut your head off and put it in the freezer, that'll make an interesting story in the paper."
His cocky face and attitude melted. I slid the knife across his throat letting out a fine trickle of blood across his silk brazillian shirt. I grabbed his wallet and tossed his insurance card toward the distraught woman. " Take out his life insurance. Give him the cheapest funeral you can find, or burn his body to ashes, and put him in a coffee can. Use the leftover money to buy yourself something nice, don't go on vacation, then they'll start suspecting things." I paused, and looked at the dog. It was a small husky breed no more than a puppy, with huge blue eyes looking at me. " I like this dog." I picked up the puppy and walked down the stairs into my van, and drove away.
I never liked music, so when I was on long rides like these I often remember times that had gone by. When I finally arrived at Fort Davis, Texas I started wrestling a question in my mind. Was I truly just? Were my killings righteous even though they served greed? All of the people I killed were either pedophiles, deadbeats, thieves, or murderers. Then I realized that all humans deserve to die, now or later, whether they were murdered, or died of old age it didn't matter, because all humans die.
My car had been parked in front of some rock shop. Jesus Christ they'll buy anything. Beyond cement, and steel there was only rock here. Just a sandy rock terrain. Am I good or evil, just because my murders are justifiable (Which they aren't) doesn't mean that I'm completely malevolent.
I drove around town watching the sunset over the huge mountain. My mind was focused on one thing at that point, sleep.
I awoke before sunrise. The sky was a dark blue one side of the horizon was bright, the other dark. I put on shoes with no pattern on the bottom, so they couldn't track the foot print to a certain type of shoe.
The rising sun crept along the edge of the horizon, and spread its light across the land revealing things that had the protection of the night. I set off on foot. It would be a long hike up a mountain of dust, and rock. Not until you reached high altitudes would you experience forest. The branches of trees marking its territory, their curved branches pointing down towards there own kingdom of rock, and snakes.
I walked off of the trail so no early birds would spot me. If they did I would most likely have to send them twirling off of the edge of the mountain. Luckily wednsday during a work day meant that people were at work, or sleeping. An unconscious person was better than a conscious person. Unconscious people pay my bills. My chuckling immediately died when I spotted a group of teens off in the distance.
Work your way through the eyes into the brain.
Hide, and wait for them to pass.
Prop their heads on the posts. Hack their arms off and replace the arrow on the directions sign on the trail.
Let them live a long and fruitfull life.
End their miserable existences.
Walk past them and tell them to have a good morning.
Cut out the man's and make his girlfriend choke to death on it.
"Hello, good morning."
Bash in their brains
" Make sure to watch out for rattlesnakes."
Bash in their brains
" Stay in school and stay safe!"
Feel the soft grey flesh of their brain run through your fingers.
" Stay away from drugs and sex, but it's okay to keep murder close!"
Thank god they passed, now I can get on to murdering Judd.
Take the first one from behind, go for his throat, then the blonde girl, get some red on that hair. Kick the fat one off of the cliff. Use the leverage of his punch agaisnt him, pull him towards you, and go for his stomach. Twirl around to match the other screaming techniqueless fighter and go for, well anywhere.
My neck had been red due to hours baking in the heat of the sun waiting for Judd to pass. After hours of singed skin, and dry lips he passed. He was alone.
That was strange, but put me in a better condition. I could follow him without anybody else looking out for him. I followed off trail again, trudging through vine, and destroyed, and dead tree limbs. By the time he stopped at a rest area my legs were torn, and sopping wet with the warm chill of blood.
I followed him into the rest area, and into the bathroom. He was splashing water on his red balding head, nearly out of breath. His face and body seemed like a normal 30 year old, but his hair had been thinning, and falling out.
" Man that trail really beat my legs up" I said to him trying to make small talk.
" Yeah I should have brought a hat. It's like a damned oven out there."
" Yeah haha, well now you know why Arabs wear towels on their heads." I chuckled heavily, but Judd only managed out a small laugh as if to only please me.
" So. What happened to your leg?" Judd asked, pretending to be concerned.
By this time I had been wiping the blood off. I slowly mopped it up with a napkin while whistling a tune of my own creation.
"I have high blood sugar, so I have to take blood samples every 20 seconds" I said sarcastically, though in a completely serious tone.
" Man I'm sorry." Judd said in a tone as if he were trying to make himself believe what I just said just to be polite.
" Don't sweat it Judd." I forgivingly said.
" Wu...wait. How do you know my name?"
I started whistiling the tune again, and smiled. I slid my knife out of its holder, and began to wipe the blood off of it. I then gathered all the bloody rags together, and through them out the window, off the edge of the mountain.
Judd ran to the door, fearing for his life, then in an instant a splatter of blood sent him on his back wheezing in pain. I dragged him on his legs towards the windows. I opened it, and stuffed Judd through the window. When I squeezed through the window I was met with the edge of the mountain. Judd then tried again to struggle, but his efforts were futile. I over powered him, and sent him off of the cliff screaming.
His body bumped on the rocks. The sunlight shimmering across the valley was a beautifully breathtaking sight, except for the image of Judd's corpse hitting on dry sandy rocks. The sun was ecliped by the larger mountain towering over the one I summited. Across the valley were miniature buildings, and cars. They were all just ants working on their daily routine. They wake up at six, eat their breakfast drink their coffee without getting blood on them. They make sure their ties and dresses are neatly straight without getting blood on them. They button their shirt without getting blood on them. They pull up their socks to their calves without getting blood on them. They put on their shoes, brush their teeth. They get in their shimmering beatifully factory robotically crafted cars that is fueled by turning liquid into fire. It's odd that after 60 million years of us discovering we haven't found something better to use as fuel other than fire. I guess fire is something that you can't expose yourself too much, but set on an inanimate object in order to take us to work. Ah the daily ride and ride back to and from work. If you aren't dead, then you're dying. Every breath takes you one second closer to the eternal demise that every human will meet. That demise is death. I have come to terms that everything I love (I love nothing other than my dog rusty, money, and murder) will die, except for money and murder. That's why I love them. They are immortal vices, the only way to live forever is to be less concrete, and more abstract. Don't let everybody know who you are. Your life should be a book, and your identity is a sentence that noone can define.
Judd's identity will be lost in a few months. His wife will collect her money, and go home. Funeral goers will sigh and hang up their annual clothing. They'll watch Sunday night football, and forget that Judd existed, the same way as they forgot Peter. His body had stopped tumbling. He was too now an ant, except now he was useful. Coyotes could pick at his flesh, and his body would be a nice shelter for snakes. My body shuddered at the thought of being torn open by a snake, and used as a shelter. Even as a cold lifeless body with dead nerves a snake would be vile and disgusting.
I felt as if I was being seen or heard. I looked around frantically to extinguish this mounting paranoia, when my fears were justified. Looking down the barrell of a gun I remembered her face. Judd's secret lover, but her face was different. It was another face, not one he had thought about for a long time.
Autumn leaves flying across the green landscape. The orange setting sun on the horizon, her thick black hair flowing in my hand. Our shadow crept across the wooden wall of the home as one. Her
blue eyes meet mine as we grasp each others hands. Her soft hands rub against my rough hands. Our fingers interlock as she reveals her beautiful smile. The country side is barren and landlocked,
but her blue eyes fill it with a wave of cool water, and turn the barren lifeless land into a thriving ecosystem.
Five years later she looks at me with those same eyes, yet they seem different, changed, they are red. Red with rage. She looks at me in my full body brace. A prisoner to my injuries. It all started when we were married. Marriage was the first step in the decline of her love. After years of coming home late she was gone.
I walked through our suburban home. My dress shoes clicked against the wood floors. The clicking gradually became more rapid.
" Honey, look where are you. Please I'm so sorry. Look I love you. Just please tell me where you are? I don't care if you don't forgive me I just want to hear your voice." I asked frantically looking around.
" Please. I'll quit my job. I don't even want to be an insurance agent."
When I entered the kitchen the pantry light was on. Confused I walked toward the kitchen counter. I picked up a card that read "James and Toby Taylor-Life."
I turned around to see an obese man holding a bar of chocolate in one hand, and a pistol say " Eh, so you're the lucky James Taylor. Man your wife sure does know how to grocery shop."
I ran away easily outrunning the man. I slammed the master bedroom door, and locked it. He began to pound on the door and scream.
I ran to Toby my newborn son's crib. I was relieved to see him safe when I saw his face emotionless. He had a blanket over his lower body. His blue eyes stared deep into mine. His mothers eyes. I lifted the white blanket to reveal a bloody stain. The man was screaming in an angry rage.
The insurance rewarder busted through the door. I grabbed him, and shook the gun out of his hand. In a violent struggle he was prevailing. I knew I was dead when he grabbed hold of my wrist. I didn't care if I died or lived, only that the man who stabbed my child would burn in hell.
I grabbed his shirt, and ran to the bedside panoramic window. We smashed through the window. Three stories down I still remember his screaming.
The next day in the hospital I awoke. My wife looking at me in a capsulated rage as the doctor spoke " When your husband fell his fall was cushioned by .... The other man. Of course there was concussion, but the real issue is his spine."
I met her rage 100 fold. The small slit through the bandage that revealed my eyes. I knew she did it. Her mind had deteriorated over the years I could tell. Anytime I looked into her eyes I heard the man's screams. I would break my back to grab a medical scalpel and peel a layer of skin off of her lips so it pained her anytime time she said m or b or f or p or w. Make bait for perilous wars.
Ever since that day the emotional part of my brain had died. Maybe the fall or extreme rage caused this. As soon as my back healed I did whatever it took to bring back my emotions. Joy was impossible, love doesn't exist, laughter is a weak enjoyment, sadness is easy to gain, and I have ran out of rage. I started with fear, but fear was impossible. Bungee jumping, roller coasters, and skydiving gave me no reaction.
Nothing made me sad. Dead headless puppies, children tortured to death, and babies being baked into a stew and eaten in front of their mothers did nothing for me. So I went to the extreme. I explored all sorts of weapons, but none fascinated me more than a knife. It's rough hilt good for smashing, it's short point good for quick jabs.
I looked around town for An insurance adjuster, but found none. Until I went directly to the one person who I knew who had a contact with them, my wife. I came in for a simple job, and left with contact information, a puppy, and my ex-wife's current lover's blood.
I soon began taking contracts, but even that didn't give me the emotions I wanted.
I'm still at The National Park, staring at the barrell of my wife's gun. Tears began to run down her face.
" You...You son of a bitch. You took my baby."
" You're the one who killed him. You hired that insurance adjuster..."
" My god...you actually are...I thought your lawyer advised you to plead insanity, I didn't know you were actually.."
" Insanity. What are you talking about?"
" James, there is no such thing as insurance rewarders."
" No.. No this is just one of your tricks."
By this time her blue eyes were pumping out tears. The gun looked heavier, and heavier in her hand.
" James, you killed our baby."
A pistol round flew into my chest. I quickly dropped to my knees in pain. She walked towards me still pointing the gun at me. I opened my mouth releasing a wave of blood onto my chin.
My wife rested her foot onto my chest and said " You won't survive this fall." She violently kicked me sending me down the edge of the mountain just like Judd.
I couldn't help but smile on my way down. I felt the emotion of fear.
© Copyright 2016 Trevor Scott Morgan. All rights reserved.
Book / Thrillers
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