2013 QBN Story Time
Out of context: Reply #15
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- GeorgesIV0
[WP] Every year 10 people are placed on what's known as "The Kill List". They can be from anywhere around the world, and if you are found murdering them you are showered with wealth and fortune. If you are on the Kill List and survive the year, you are showered in wealth and fortune.
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And then there was one. I looked into the wall-to-wall mirror that hung up on the wall behind the bar. Behind me, the tables were full and the booths packed. People jostled and pushed their way to the bar to order, shouting above the raucous.
A thick-barreled man wearing a striped buttoned shirt motioned at the large television that sat perched above the bar. "Hey, man, turn it up!"
The bartender nodded and reached for the remote.
A pretty blonde with pink lips was speaking into the microphone. "It is day three hundred sixty-six, and the last man on The Kill List is still alive! Sources say he was last spotted in New York City; stay tuned for further updates!"
I threw down more whiskey and ignored the television. Leave it to lady luck to pick me on a leap year.
"Can you believe the guy?" A man--more of a kid, really--shoved his way to the bar next to me. He motioned at the television, which was showing a photo of me. Except it wasn't me. The kid took a draw of his drink. "He's gonna make it, man! This dude is like a shadow!"
I nodded, stroking my beard in thought. "You think you could kill him?"
He scoffed. "Of course, man! My own estate on mars and two million dollars? I'd be livin' the life!"
"A tempting offer." I nodded at the television. "He must be feeling pretty lucky. One more day an' he's going to be living on mars and a couple million bucks in his accounts."
"Yeah, lucky..." The kid turned and left, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I was pushing my luck, and I knew it. We weren't identical twins, but me and my brother looked similar. When I first read my name, I almost killed myself; better to do it yourself than to be hunted by everybody. But then they showed the picture. It was Adam, and he'd died eight years ago. A beard and a shock of hair on the head, and a self-imposed broken nose later, and I looked like another man.
It was time to leave. Go to my room, stay inside, and wait until the year was over. Then I could emerge a rich man. One who could get away from this polluted and over-populated dirt-ball. I exited the bar and inhaled deeply. New York City, due to the pollution-shield, was one of the few cities left with fresh air. I hailed a taxi and one darted out from traffic and pulled to a stop in front of.
It was with my hand on the handle that I stopped myself. This was going to be my last night in New York City. I'd walk to the hotel.
Times Square was desolate, yellow-tape sprawled and strewn across it, reconstruction never quite taking place after the bomb. I was a block away from the hotel when that gut feeling hit me. It was the feeling of being followed--of being watched. I threw a casual glance behind, as if looking to cross the street, and there he was. Hooded, hunched over, hands in pockets. He picked up his pace and I picked up mine.
I reached down and rested a hand on my gun. I would use it. I would be legally obligated to use it. But not yet. I stepped off the curb onto the street and cast one more glance backward. The hooded figure turned into an alley and I felt a wave of relief wash over me.
Brakes squealed and something hard hit me at the knees. I flopped sideways and slammed into something hard before flying the opposite way. I landed on my side, the broken bumper of a silver car staring back at me.
The door flew open and a woman in a black dress got out, blonde hair flying. "Oh my god, oh my god, please, I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry!" She knelt down and pushed me onto my back. Pain erupted at the small of my back, and I almost blacked out.
A car squealed to a stop and a door slammed shut. "Is he alright?!" The voice belonged to an old man who appeared over the shoulder of the hysterical woman. He stopped when he saw me and his face went blank. "You're going to be alright son." He grasped the woman by the shoulder and pulled her back, speaking softly. "He's gone, ma'am. No way he can survive that."
I tried to get up, to ask what he meant, but I couldn't move. The street underneath was cold. I stared into the sky and watched as the shield shimmered and glistened, causing the stars above and beyond it to streak and throb across the sky. I chuckled, or at least, I tried to chuckle. Instead it came out as a rasping sort of cough, and something wet slipped from my mouth. I could hear lady luck laughing as she led me away.