The Hitman's Last Job

Refusing to acknowledge the aching, growing wound in his side he only focused on getting to the house. He had family nearby and they’d help him for sure. That was if they remembered him though.

An open patch of empty road stretched out before John and the effect of the heat on the horizon gave off a peculiar illusion. John was certain the road ahead was melting, that the landscape was swaying. But it wasn’t until he consciously felt the car move him from one side of the lane to the other that he realized he was veering off the road.

Quickly righting himself he pulled the vehicle back into the center of the lane. He wondered what the hell had just happened. Had he momentarily gone mad? Had he lost his sight? Or was he starting to succumb to his injuries? He concluded that it was the heat making him tired and he drove on towards Monterrey.

~

Anna was sat in the passenger seat of the bar manager’s sedan clutching at the briefcase of money.

“That bastard,” she muttered to herself. “That dirty dog,”


Meanwhile the bar manager kept sneaking glances at her.

“I’m Tony by the way. Just realized I never told you,” he felt so awkward in her presence he almost croaked out the words.
“I’m Anna,” she grumbled. “I’m sorry I’m not much company right now,”
“Oh don’t worry about such a tiny thing,” he smiled at her. “We’ll get you to the station soon,”
“Thanks,” and she looked out the window to another strange town with new people and new accents, new experiences she couldn’t explore and different cultures she wouldn’t learn about.


As the car pulled into the station parking lot she felt the need to hug Tony hard. He was both surprised and ecstatic and hugged her back eagerly.

“Good luck kid,” he smiled at her. “And I hope whatever’s upset you goes away,”


She waved goodbye to him and disappeared into the crowd. When she emerged out the other side she was scanning her eyes for a payphone. Delving into Carl’s backpack she found lose change swimming between his belongings. Stepping into the nearest booth she slid the coins in and felt the sweat on her palms as she clutched the receiver.

“Hello Chicago PD, how may I help?”


Anna hesitated for a moment before choosing her words carefully. Her voice shaking as she spoke, she hesitantly uttered the hardest six words she’d ever said.
“I want to report a murder,”

She filled them in making sure they knew every detail.
“He’s in Corpus Christi right now. I left him in a bar called The Bison. About three miles to the south, just off the highway,”

And she hung up with a heavy heart.
“What have I done?” she stared into space for a second but she was too angry to think about it much more.

All men were dogs who treated women like filth. At least that’s what was going through her mind in the moment. Making her way over to the bays she looked over the various busses about to depart. Her eyes caught sight of the nearest one that was heading over the border. She fumbled in the briefcase as subtly as she could then joined the queue to get on board. Holding her cash out to the bus driver as she climbed the stairs, she tried to stifle the tears flowing from her face. But it was no use and she could tell passengers were staring at her.

“One way please,”


~

Carl was so enraged and panicked that he ran up and down the length of the street desperately trying to find her. Little did he know she had already boarded a bus… with all his possessions. When he exhausted himself he returned to the bar.

“Have you seen her?” he felt like throttling the barman.
“For like the tenth time, no I haven’t seen her,”


Carl felt like crying as he climbed back on his stool. He pushed his fingers into his jeans pockets and counted what cash he had left. It amounted to $115.

“Hey, can I get bourbon? Actually can you just give me the bottle?” and he slid over twenty dollars.
“Look I don’t want you to get blind drunk and pass out here,” the barman explained glibly. “How about your find yourself a motel and crash there? If your girlfriend comes back I’ll send her your way,”


Carl nodded glumly.

“There’s a place two minutes from here. Just cross the road and take a right down that alley. They’ve got cheap rooms and cable TV, if you don’t mind the cockroaches,”
“Carl slid off his stool clumsily. “Thanks buddy,” he clutched at the bottle of bourbon and made his way out the door.


~

Detective Callahan was sitting at his desk with his head in his hands. He had a migraine coming on and still had six hours left before he could go home. Not that he wanted to do that either. He thought back to his wife’s hollering from last night and felt his stomach churn.

Suddenly another detective swaggered up to his desk with a crisp, new file.

“Hey Callahan, that mob hit on the south side from earlier this week. That’s your case ain’t it?”
“Yup,” he sighed and prayed he wasn’t getting more work to do.
“Well we got a suspect. A Carl Reiner,” and he dropped the file on his desk.

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