Excerpt: Dead On Arrival

Slowly, she opened her eyes. It was dark, where ever she was, but she could see the stars. Small points of light, blinking down at her from way up high. Funny, she couldn’t remember falling asleep outside. Actually, she couldn’t remember falling asleep at all.
Rolling over on her side, she heaved herself up on her elbow and looked around. She seemed to be on a roof. That was… strange. She furrowed her brow, trying to think back. Unfortunately, this was not aided by the pounding headache she suddenly realised she had. Raising a hand to her head, she started massaging her temples, groaning softly.
“Oh, you’re awake.”
Startled, she looked up. A man was standing a few feet away from her, almost completely hidden in the darkness. It was no wonder she hadn’t noticed him before. With the black clothes he was wearing, he almost melted into the small wall surrounding the rooftop.
“Where am I?” she said, her voice raspy.
“I didn’t think you’d wake up quite so soon,” the man said, clearly ignoring her. “That make things a bit awkward.”
“Awkward how?”
“Well, I’m not really good at small talk,” he said, moving slightly in what seemed to be a shrug. “How’s your head?”
“I’m… Well, it hurts,” she said, feeling even more confused.
“Yeah, that’s a side effect from me hitting you over the head. Sorry about that.”
“You what?”
“Hit you over the head,” he said, pronouncing each word slowly, as if she was a particularly dense child. “Common procedure when kidnapping someone.”
She processed this for a few seconds.
“I’m confused,” she admitted.
“That’s understandable.”
“I’m… kidnapped?”
“Yes.”
“By you?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
He turned towards her and she had the feeling he was flashing her a smile, even though she couldn’t see him clearly enough to notice if he was.
“Well, that part is a bit complicated,” he said.
“Are we in a hurry?” she asked, not entirely sure if she wanted to know the answer or not.
“Ah, not really,” he said.
“So, tell me?”
“Alright then,” he said, pushing away from the wall he had been leaning on and walking towards her.
He looked boring, was her first thought. His hair was dark brown, semi short and arranged in a hairstyle that could either be fashionable, or a result of lack of styling at all. The clothes he was wearing were all black, probably to be able to hide in the shadows as he had been, but they weren’t anything special. Just pants and a sweater. He was tall, but not abnormally so and he was slightly pale, like someone who spent too much time inside. There was nothing remarkable about his face and the thought hit her that she could have passed him on the street a million times, without noticing him.
“Here,” he said, handing her a water bottle, a small smile on his face, like if he had seen her looking and known what she was thinking. “Your throat’s probably a bit dry, since you’ve been out for a while, and it will help with the headache.”
“Thanks,” she said, taking the bottle.
The water soothed her throat, making her feel better, even though it didn’t’ do anything to help with her headache. Putting the bottle down, she looked up at him and raised her eyebrows.
“So, I’m kidnapped?” she said.
“Yepp,” he said, sounding far too cheerful for her peace of mind.
“And what are you planning to do with me?”
“Nothing special really. You’re essentially just bait.”
“Wait, I’m sorry, what? Bait?”
He nodded, smiling slightly at her.
“Bait for whom?”
“The goody two shoes heroes who are probably on their way here to save the day as we speak.”
She shook her head, pinching the bridge of her nose with her fingers.
“You’re really not making any sense, you know,” she said.
“Ah yes, people often tell me that,” he said, sitting down on the roof next to her.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of cigarettes, lighting one p and taking a deep drag. It reminded her that she probably hadn’t smoked for several hours, what with being unconscious and all. A quick look around confirmed that her purse wasn’t anywhere near her.
“Where’s my purse?” she said.
“Possibly where you dropped it. Probably not though. I imagine someone must have stolen it by now.”
“Well, shit,” she said.
He gave her a curious look and for some reason she felt compelled to explain.
“My cigarettes are in my purse,” she said.
“Smoking is bad for you, you know,” he said, actually sounding vaguely disapproving.
“For some reason, that does not seem to be my biggest problem at the moment.”
“Fair enough,” he said, shrugging.
He picked up another cigarette and handed it to her.
“Thank you,” she said, actually feeling grateful as he lit it up for her.
“You’re welcome,” he said. “Just don’t try to stab me with the glowing end.”’
“I wasn’t planning to.”
“That’s good. Just making sure, you know. Some people get it into their heads that they should try to play heroes and I’m just telling you now that it won’t help, it will just annoy me.”
“I’ll keep that in mind.”
He flashed her a smile and some of the absurdity of the situation it her.
“So you do this often ten?” she said. “Kidnap people, I mean.”
“That depends on what you mean by often,” he said. “But it happens every now and then.”
“To use as bait?”
“Most of the time, yes.”
“This is very confusing, I hope you realize that.”
“I imagine it must be.”
“So, are you going to try to explain what’s going on?”
He pulled something out of his pocket, that looked like a palm pilot and gave it a quick glance.
“Yeah, we’re fine so far,” he said, putting it back. “What do you want to know?”
She tampered down the urge to ask what he’d just done and chose to focus on the more essential parts.
“Why did you kidnap me?” she said.
“I already told you, to use as bait.”
“Yes, but what does that mean?”
“It means,” he said, taking a long drag on his cigarette, “that you’re a means to lure a couple of annoying law enforcers here and then distract them long enough for me to kill off as many as possible.”
He said it so calmly and dispassionately that it took a while for her to process what he’d actually said. A cold shiver ran don her spine and she had to fight the urge to crawl into a ball and cry.
“Kill them?” she said, trying to sound casual.
“Hopefully, yes.”
“Do you often kill people?”
“All the time.”
She took a deep drag on her cigarette and tried to fight off the rising panic. So far, he’d been amicable, but she had no desire to do something that might annoy him and panicking might do that. As far as she could recall, you were supposed to be calm when dealing with crazy people.
Interestingly, keeping her panic down wasn’t all that hard. A couple of deep breaths and t quieted down, going back to boiling slightly below the surface. The situation was still too surreal; she didn’t have it in her to be frightened for real yet.
“Are you going to start crying?” he asked, with what seemed like mild, polite curiosity.
“I don’t think so,” she said. “I think I might be in shock,” she added, glancing up at him.
He nodded.
“That’s probably just as well,” he said. “Crying people get tiresome very fast.”
“I can imagine.”
“No, I don’t think you can,” he said, flashing her one of those quick smiles again.
That smile disturbed her, but she couldn’t pinpoint why. If it had been anyone else, she would have thought that they were trying to be charming. With him, she wasn’t sure at all.
“So,” she said, struggling to bring the conversation back on track, “you’re going to kill some police officers. How do I fit into all of this?”
“Technically, they’re not police,” he said. “They’re a part of the anti-terrorist branch of the NSA:”
“Oh, you’re a terrorist?” she said, surprised at her calm her voice sounded, when she was feeling so very faint.
“That’s what my criminal record says.”
“And that’s working out fine for you?” She struggled to find something to say.
“Oh yes, the dental’s very good. Are you going to keep asking polite and meaningless questions, or was there something you actually wanted to know?”
There was no irritation in his voice, but the words were a clear warning in themselves.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ve just never talked to a terrorist before. I’m not sure what to say.”
“The trick,” he said, lowering his voice and leaning slightly closer, as if about to impart some great secret upon her, “is to not speak to us as if we’re crazy.”
“Aren’t you though?” she said, before she could stop herself.
She slapped her hands over her mouth and stared at him, her eyes wide with fear. The true danger of the situation had yet to make it across to the slower parts of her brain and she suddenly had the acute feeling that her ability to stick her foot in her mouth was going to get her killed much faster than she’d expected. He didn’t seem to b very upset however. Mostly, his look was one of amusement.
“I probably am,” he said, after a few seconds of silence. “But it might not be in your best interest t point that out.”
She nodded, not daring to open her mouth yet.
“So, how do you fit into all this?” he said, picking up from where she’d left off. “As I said before, you’re bait. I got into a bit of a situation with our local heroes and decided that a change of location might be a good idea. To do that, I needed to make sure they would follow me. Hence, you.”
“Wouldn’t they have followed you anyway?” she said, her curiosity winning out over her fear. “I mean, if you’re a terrorist, they would want to catch you, right?”
“Oh sure, they would have, eventually. But then they would have had time to fetch reinforcements, probably tried t come up with some sort of plan and that would have taken time and over all, the whole thing would just have been horribly annoying.”
“So, in short, you wouldn’t have had the upper hand.”
“Exactly.”
His smile still made her blood run cold, no matter how brief it was.
“How are you so sure they’re going to find you though?” she said. “I mean, if they were following you, shouldn’t they have been here already?”
“They put a tracker in my car,” he said, shrugging. “They’ll find us.”
“That’s good I suppose. For me at least,” she added. “But how will you know when they show up? I don’t mean to criticize you or anything, but you don’t exactly seem to be keeping a look out.”
“I put trackers on their cars as well.”
Her mouth fell open and she gaped at him. The corner of his mouth twitched slightly and she realized she probably looked very silly. She couldn’t have cared less.
“I try to be prepared for anything,” he said.
“I’m… it… yes, it seems that way,” she said faintly.
A small beeping sound could be heard and he reached into his pocket again, pulling out the small device again, glancing at it.
“While I hate to seem rude,” he said, standing up smoothly, “it seems as if we’re about to get some company.”
“I guess that’s going to cut into our conversation time,” she said, her voice lighter than she would have imagined.
His mouth twitched again and she wondered if that twitch was a better indication of his amusement than the small smiles he kept sending her every now and then.
“Quite so,” he said. “Please don’t move, I’d hate t have to hit you again.”
“I’m sure you would.”
He didn’t answer, just walked back over to the shadowy corner he’d been hiding in before, lifting up something sleek and black. It took her a few moments to relies it was a rifle. The sudden rush of fear and adrenaline made her head spin. Her heart was hammering madly in her chest and she felt as if she was suffocating, while a small part of her brain seemed to be standing back, chastising her for forgetting, even for a few seconds that this was for real, that she was going to die, that he really was a crazy terrorist, no matter how deceptively kind and polite he seemed.
He didn’t however, to her utter surprise and relief, turn around and shoot her. Instead, he picked up some sort of contraption of the ground and started attaching it to the rifle. It only took him a few seconds to manage to do whatever it was he was doing and then he was moving away from the corner, over to the part of the roof where the surrounding wall was only a few feet high. He put the top of the rifle over the wall and pulled out legs from the metal contraption. It wasn’t until then she realized that it was a sniper rifle.
“You’re going to shoot people?” she said, her voice sounding small and silly.
“Why else would I bring a gun?” he said, not bothering to look over at her. “Come over here.”
“Excuse me?”
“I said; come over here.” He still hadn’t turned around and his voice was still maddeningly calm. “I want you where I can keep track of you.”
She flexed her legs slowly, trying to get some feeling back into them. Sitting still on the cold cement for this long hadn’t been a very good idea and it was almost painful to try to stand up.
“Can you walk, or do I have to drag you here? I can if I’d have to, but I’d rather not. I’m a bit busy at the moment,” he said.
“I’m coming, I’m coming,” she muttered.
Wincing, she managed to make it to her feet. From her new vantage point, she could make out the door that led up to the roof, which was probably the only way down as well. Unless you discounted the quick route. With only a slight stumble, she made it over to where he was still fiddling with the rifle, slumping down on the ground a few feet away from him.
Sitting down, the wall came up to just under her chin and she pulled her arms up, folding them on top of the wall and leaned her head on them. The headache had mostly disappeared by now, but it was making itself known every now and then with sharp pangs. Perhaps she had a concussion. Although, shouldn’t she be feeling more nauseous if that was the case? Leaning slightly forward, she glanced over the edge of the roof. Ah, there was the nausea.
She quickly pulled her head back and took a few deep breaths, suddenly wishing for another cigarette.
“I don’t suppose you have any more cigarettes?” she said, not sure if it was bravery or plain stupidity that made her open her mouth again.
He did glance over at her this time, though it was quick, before he focused back on whatever it was he was doing with the rifle. Without looking away from it again, he pulled the cigarette package and the lighter from his pocket and tossed them in her direction.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, snatching them up from where they had landed next to her.
“You’re welcome,” he said. “Now be quiet for a moment, this requires a bit of focus.”
She looked over the wall again, avoiding looking straight down. There was a rather big street going past right under them, stretching far into the distance, packed full with cars. It suddenly occurred to her that she had no idea what time it was. She’d assumed it was late at night, or maybe even early in the morning, but from the amount of people still moving outside, it couldn’t be past ten. Her sense of time, which was normally quite accurate, seemed to be shot to shit.
“What are you aiming at?” she said, ignoring his earlier comment.
The little part of her brain that seemed to inhabit her common sense was screaming bloody murder, but she silenced it. Really, exactly how much worse could the situation get?
“A car,” he said.
“You’re shooting at a car?”
“Yes. Do you know the meaning of the word quiet?”
“Sorry, I tend to talk when I’m nervous.”
“Why be nervous?”
She gave him a dirty look, which was completely wasted since he wasn’t paying attention to her.
“Oh, let’s see, I’m stuck on a roof with a terrorist that is planning to use me as bait and then kill me,” she said. “Whatever could I be nervous about?”
“Being nervous isn’t going to help the situation; it’s only going to make you more uncomfortable. Try to relax, think of nice things. You might even get out of this alive.”
“You mean you’d let me go?” she said, not being able to help the hopeful tone in her voice.
“No. But overall, these guys are quite good at rescuing hostages.”
“What guys?”
“Those,” he said, pulling the trigger.