Flash Fiction : The Redeemer

The Redeemer

               I twisted the silencer onto my pistol and took a deep breath. I was ready. I shot the lock and kicked the door open. I saw the butler reaching for his weapon but my red laser had already found its target right between the guard's eyes. His heavy body fell to the ground and his fatal wound transformed his head into a bright red fountain of blood. After memorizing the assassination plan for weeks, I knew the layout of the house by heart. I turned right and went up the Southern stairwell. The house was immense and I had to find Keith Burns quick. This whole ordeal had to be done in under 8 minutes if Collins were to pay me; that was one of his conditions. At the top of the stairs, I took a left and ran all the way down the hall to the large bedroom. I swung open the heavy oak doors and stepped inside the millionaire's private quarters. I found him sitting up in his bed with a young woman by his side. He was supposed to be alone but I had no time to think. My family needed this money more than he needed his life. This world is a free-for-all and I am simply the redeemer. I am the giver and the taker, the alpha and the omega, life and death. The old man and the young hooker's lives were hanging in the balance of my index finger. How simple it was for me to take away something so precious at will.

               The red dot over the old geezer's heart matched the growing blood stain visible on his white polo shirt. I confirmed my kill by walking up to him and coating the walls with his brain. I turned to the petrified young woman, she couldn't have been older than 25 or something, and she stared right back at me in horror. Frozen, as if I was medusa staring right into her eyes, her mouth went slack. The slackness of her mouth was followed by that of her body. Her corpse lay crumpled on the floor and she had a large exit wound at the back of her head. I looked at my watch; one minute and twelve seconds remaining before I had to be in the car parked outside. I knew that Collins' goons were not going to wait a second longer than they were told to, so I rushed out of the master chamber towards the Eastern stairwell. I grabbed a hold of the staircase's golden rail and leapt 3 stairs at a time until I reached the ground floor. I hurdled over the butler's body and ran out to the parked black Toyota waiting on the other side of the road. I looked at my watch and saw that I still had 14 seconds left. I got in the car and Collins' thugs sped off without even glancing at the bloodbath that had just unfolded inside the mansion. The heavyset man in the front passenger seat reached back, put a hood over me, and told me to keep my head down. I was used to it and knew the drill by now; I wasn't allowed see where we were going next.

               After a short drive, I arrived at Collins' secret warehouse and once inside, the hood was pulled off my head. As usual, Collins, which I doubt is even his real name, handed me an open briefcase with cash in it. I quickly counted it and nodded when I felt as though it was the proper amount. He shook my hand with a glove on so that I wouldn't be able to test any DNA he might leave on my palm. I handed one of his subordinates my burner phone who proceeded to destroy it. Another bag was placed on top of my head and I was escorted back to a car. This trip was a bit longer than the previous one.

               I lived in the outskirts of the city: where the large cracks in the road looked as though they were the result of an earthquake and the police took their time to show up. Once I arrived, the bag that veiled my face was removed and I was given my briefcase. I handed one of the enforcers my pistol to dispose of and proceeded to count my profit again. There was no "goodbye" or "see you soon"; the henchmen took off and I walked into my small cabin. I was greeted by my wife and the twins. There was a big group hug and I told all of them I loved them unconditionally and forever, no matter what. We ate supper and my wife went to bed early after complaining of stomach pains. It was her Crohn's Disease that was acting up again but soon it would all be better. I'll be able to afford the medication needed and help her get back on her feet. After picking up my daughters in both arms, I tucked them into the same bed their mom was sleeping in. After blowing out the candle on the floor, I walked over to the couch and pulled the covers over my body.

               I pondered what life would be like without the need to kill for a living. That idea stuck with me: "to kill for a living". I killed to live, it was my job and I was good at it. I could not afford to care about other people. Collins was my boss; he said who and I asked when. My twin daughters and my wife were my life and to help them survive, I had to take the lives of others. I am not a bad person, I am the redeemer, yet I wonder; how many lives must I redeem before someone comes to redeem me?