“Someone needs to tell those tales. When the battles are fought and won and lost, when the pirates find their treasures and the dragons eat their foes for breakfast with a nice cup of Lapsang souchong, someone needs to tell their bits of overlapping narrative. There’s magic in that. It’s in the listener, and for each and every ear it will be different, and it will affect them in ways they can never predict. From the mundane to the profound. You may tell a tale that takes up residence in someone’s soul, becomes their blood and self and purpose. That tale will move them and drive them and who knows what they might do because of it, because of your words. That is your role, your gift. Your sister may be able to see the future, but you yourself can shape it, boy. Do not forget that… there are many kinds of magic, after all.”
Erin Morgenstern – The Night Circus, 2011
The Cosmic Bat Nebula – Image credit Mark Hanson and Mike Shelby
He did not know his employer. He never did.
By design. It was safer that way – safer for him, safer for the client. Not so safe for the person, or persons, he was paid to call on. Very few made it past an encounter with him to the next day.
In the beginning, when he first started, he thought he would get caught. If not the first time, then the next few. But he didn’t. Still hadn’t. He was always on the lookout for complacency, so while his initial fears were titanic and ever present, time and routine had dulled the cutting edge of that particular fear. He tried not to let it make him sloppy.
This job was different. It started out like all the others. Contact via the dark web. Certain steps to ensure authenticity. Details. Half payment up front, plus expenses, if applicable.
It got weird during the details. He was to wait on a certain road, during a certain time. An SUV would appear. That was the target. It was to be made, as much as possible, to look like an accident. He was good at that. Presumably, this was why he always had work. That and his success rate.
So after he got payment and expenses, he went and bought an old store mannequin, stopped by the Goodwill and picked up some cheap clothes for it, then went home and dressed it.
On the night in question, he loaded Freddy (the stuff of nightmares) into his pick up and drove to the specified location. A full moon made things far too visible and he preferred it darker but time and place were non-negotiable. Needs must. Besides, there was a sharp curve in the road that would do just nifty.
When it got to be within 3 minutes of the specified time, he unloaded Freddy and placed him in the middle of the road. He had parked the pick up just off the road a few dozen yards away and after he had Freddy strike his pose, he walked back to the pick up and started the engine. He kept the lights off. Parking the truck just before Freddy he thought was a nice touch, it made it look like the driver was in the road.
Right on time, he saw headlights come ’round the bend.
Freddy did his job exactly as intended.
The SUV swerved, lost control, and exited the road. Into an extremely large tree.
He smiled. Couldn’t have worked out any better if he tried. And he had.
He was a professional though, one was wise to make sure.
He got out of the pick up. He walked to the SUV. He did so carefully. There was more than one occasion when the mark had started shooting. Nothing to worry about this time. The mark was out, slumped, bleeding.
Still. He took out the syringe. He injected the mark. It wasn’t fast but it would make sure.
He thought he heard a car coming. He ran back to the truck and made sure to snag Freddy under one arm and toss him into the bed on his way. He didn’t notice that a shoe came off.
He drove away.
He was found dead in his very expensive home three days later.
Natural causes, the coroner filled out.
