The Hitman's Last Job

~

Carl’s thoughts were focused and laser sharp as he ran from the bus station with his eyes on the lookout for a payphone. There was one close by but as he approached he saw the booth was occupied by a homeless man yelling into the receiver while knocking back a forty of beer. Jogging round the block he saw another one but yet again it was taken too, this time by a teenage girl who was in tears.

“Please God just give me a break!” Carl angered.


And his prayer was answered, because as he jogged a few yards up the street he finally found one available. He crammed his bag and briefcase into the booth and fished in his pockets for loose change. He pushed the coins into the machine and prayed that the guy’s number hadn’t changed. To his delight it answered on the third ring.

“Hello?”
“Yuh… Chuck? Dude, it’s Carl. You know Carl Reiner?” he asked with his fingers crossed behind his back.
“Holy shit dude! Carl! My God, how are ya buddy?”
“Well good. I mean no, not good. Actually things are rough,”
“Damn man, that don’t sound great,”
“Yeah… well it’s not. And I’m so sorry to ask but… you think you can help me out? I seriously wouldn’t’ ask if it wasn’t a proper emergency,”
“Well sure! I mean… I owe you a lot buddy,”
“Aaw man, thank you so much! You have no idea what this means to me,”
“Save your words pal. Just get your ass here and old uncle Chuck here will take care of ya,” he chuckled.
“Sweet, thanks,”
“So where are ya? Chicago still?”
“Actually I’m right here in San Antonio, at the bus station,”
“You’re kidding right? Holy Hell I’ll be right there! You still rockin’ that buzz cut?”
“I sure am,” Carl laughed as his money ran out and he hung up.


Now that his plan was in action, he had a spring in his step and he could finally tell Anna that things were gonna be ok. That they’d be in Mexico and on their way to safety in only a matter of hours but as he ran back into the station - he saw she was gone.


CHAPTER 21

John Reiner’s back was aching tremendously as he shuffled in the driver’s seat. He couldn’t believe that a man of his age in his condition was driving this far, but he wasn’t your average guy. Braking at a stop light he shifted in his seat again to try and eliminate the pain but it was no use, it only seemed to make it worse.

Changing gear though was more painful as he leaned down, stretching his broken ribs. Every few hours he’d pull open his shirt to inspect his injuries and it always looked steadily more grotesque. His side was now covered in a mottled purple that got more inflamed and angrier with each passing mile.

Soon though he’d be south of the border and that either meant he’d have Carl back or he’d have some place to rest and recover. Hopefully he’d have both those things, but he tried to stay realistic. The light turned green and he pulled away. As he approached St Louis he couldn’t help but notice a giant scorch mark in the road and he wondered what caused it. Probably just some car torched by vandals, he thought as he carried on moving.


He reached another stoplight and cursed himself for managing to hit every single red light along the road. But he took the moment to pull out the photo from his inside jacket pocket. It was of Miriam and her eyes were so bright that it looked as though the photo was alive. He kissed it for good luck and placed it back in his pocket.

“We’ll find him baby. We’ll make sure he’s ok,” and the light turned green.


~

Jorge and Jerry were holed up in the Evergreen Motel. The manager was confused at first as to how the two men knew each other. The last he’d seen of them Jerry was bundling the little Puerto Rican into his car. But as the two men entered reception and asked for a room the manager wasn’t dumb enough to question it. He handed over the keys with a smile and scratched nervously at his head as they left.

Now each of them lay on a single bed and stared blankly at the small TV at the bottom of the room.

“This place isn’t the four seasons now is it?” Jerry said out loud to himself as he nursed his broken hand.
“Yeah… so what?” Jorge pulled his knife out from inside his boot and began cleaning his teeth with it.
“Hey, you better have cleaned that thing since you took it out of old man Reiner,” Jerry laughed and his enormous belly jiggled up and down.


Meanwhile Jorge thought back to the old man and how he’d let him go. He felt conflicted at letting him live. He’d never cared about a victim before. Still didn’t, really. But something at the back of his mind told him he’d done the right thing.

“Hey, what you look so serious for?” Jerry asked with genuine concern. “Looks like your mind’s all churned up in there,”
“Ah just nothin’,” Jorge lied and resumed cleaning his teeth.

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