mojo
03-23-2008, 08:00 PM
I never fly.
Just the thought of being trapped in a confined space thousands of
feet above the ground covers me in a cold sweat. I only ever travel
by road or rail.
This time by rail.
I had time after my latest job to take an easy route out of the city.
One of the odd things about not flying is that it actually works in
my favour much of the time. The police and the feds never seem to
figure out that a hitman fleeing his latest hit would take the train,
why they always seem to think we will look for the quickest way to
remove ourselves from the scene of the crime, i'm not sure. But like
i said it seems to work in my favour.
The latest contract was a fairly simple personal hit, not a mob or
black ops hit, just some rich dude who wanted his wife out of the
picture. Pretty simple really, i just made it look like a carjacking
gone wrong. The cops would never even piece this one together
as a professional hit so i had time on my side.
I had my duffel which contained my tools locked in my sleeper but
decided to sit out in the seating area, i like to watch people, it's
good practice for someone in my line of work. After a while the
sound of the wheels on the tracks and the carriage rocking had me
drifting off to sleep.
A sudden jerk bought me awake with my hand snaking into my
jacket and around the grip of my glock, before i realised that the
train had just come to a stop. Odd. It shouldn't be stopping until it
reached Dallas. I decided to get out and stretch my legs, there
weren't any other passengers around, i figured they had already
stepped out.
The station was eerily quiet, not a soul around, and i immediately
thought that i'd somehow been traced by the feds. I ducked into
the building keeping close to the wall, nothing but a pristine empty
station. Though it was clean it had a distinct feeling of age about
it, it didn't seem to belong to the 22nd century, no vending
machines or automated ticket booths.
When i stepped back out onto the platform the train had gone.
My duffel bag was lying on a bench by the wall.
You don't get to be as good as i am if you panic easily.
I picked up my duffel and left the station through the exit turnstile
at the end of the platform, scanning in every direction for a sign of
movement or the flash of a uniform.
Still nothing.
Passing through a small underground walkway i came out at street
level.
I stood stunned for a minute, i have never been caught by surprise
as i was right at that second.
All about me was a bustling busy metropolis, people streaming by,
cars honking and bleating.
What had stunned me was the obvious discrepency in the clothes,
buildings and cars. It all looked as though i'd stepped back in time
about fifty years.
There was a taxi parked at the curb and i quickly slid into the back.
"Where you going buddy".
"Just drive for a while will you while i get my bearings thanks", i
wasn't sure what to do and needed time to sort this all out.
"No worries bud, i get paid either way".
After a while my heart rate had slowed and i took the time to
survey the outside world as the cab meandered through city
streets. It all seemed strangely familiar, but i just couldn't put my
finger on why.
The cab turned a corner and my breath was sucked out of my body
in a second.
"Let me out here" i managed to say through gritted teeth.
I slung my duffel over my shoulder and walked in a daze across
the street to a newspaper stand.
While the vendor wasn't looking i snatched up a paper and kept on
walking, out and across the street and into the plaza.
I found a shady spot under a tree by a bench and sat down with
my bag by my feet and unfolded the paper.
The date at the top of the paper was Friday, November 22, 1963. I
looked across at the street sign not far from my seat.
Dealey Plaza.
People were starting to line the streets, there was a buzz in the
air.
I knew where i was at last and what needed to be done.
Just the thought of being trapped in a confined space thousands of
feet above the ground covers me in a cold sweat. I only ever travel
by road or rail.
This time by rail.
I had time after my latest job to take an easy route out of the city.
One of the odd things about not flying is that it actually works in
my favour much of the time. The police and the feds never seem to
figure out that a hitman fleeing his latest hit would take the train,
why they always seem to think we will look for the quickest way to
remove ourselves from the scene of the crime, i'm not sure. But like
i said it seems to work in my favour.
The latest contract was a fairly simple personal hit, not a mob or
black ops hit, just some rich dude who wanted his wife out of the
picture. Pretty simple really, i just made it look like a carjacking
gone wrong. The cops would never even piece this one together
as a professional hit so i had time on my side.
I had my duffel which contained my tools locked in my sleeper but
decided to sit out in the seating area, i like to watch people, it's
good practice for someone in my line of work. After a while the
sound of the wheels on the tracks and the carriage rocking had me
drifting off to sleep.
A sudden jerk bought me awake with my hand snaking into my
jacket and around the grip of my glock, before i realised that the
train had just come to a stop. Odd. It shouldn't be stopping until it
reached Dallas. I decided to get out and stretch my legs, there
weren't any other passengers around, i figured they had already
stepped out.
The station was eerily quiet, not a soul around, and i immediately
thought that i'd somehow been traced by the feds. I ducked into
the building keeping close to the wall, nothing but a pristine empty
station. Though it was clean it had a distinct feeling of age about
it, it didn't seem to belong to the 22nd century, no vending
machines or automated ticket booths.
When i stepped back out onto the platform the train had gone.
My duffel bag was lying on a bench by the wall.
You don't get to be as good as i am if you panic easily.
I picked up my duffel and left the station through the exit turnstile
at the end of the platform, scanning in every direction for a sign of
movement or the flash of a uniform.
Still nothing.
Passing through a small underground walkway i came out at street
level.
I stood stunned for a minute, i have never been caught by surprise
as i was right at that second.
All about me was a bustling busy metropolis, people streaming by,
cars honking and bleating.
What had stunned me was the obvious discrepency in the clothes,
buildings and cars. It all looked as though i'd stepped back in time
about fifty years.
There was a taxi parked at the curb and i quickly slid into the back.
"Where you going buddy".
"Just drive for a while will you while i get my bearings thanks", i
wasn't sure what to do and needed time to sort this all out.
"No worries bud, i get paid either way".
After a while my heart rate had slowed and i took the time to
survey the outside world as the cab meandered through city
streets. It all seemed strangely familiar, but i just couldn't put my
finger on why.
The cab turned a corner and my breath was sucked out of my body
in a second.
"Let me out here" i managed to say through gritted teeth.
I slung my duffel over my shoulder and walked in a daze across
the street to a newspaper stand.
While the vendor wasn't looking i snatched up a paper and kept on
walking, out and across the street and into the plaza.
I found a shady spot under a tree by a bench and sat down with
my bag by my feet and unfolded the paper.
The date at the top of the paper was Friday, November 22, 1963. I
looked across at the street sign not far from my seat.
Dealey Plaza.
People were starting to line the streets, there was a buzz in the
air.
I knew where i was at last and what needed to be done.