Haunt Me

I managed to swallow the vomit back down, but only at great cost to both my confidence and my throat. The acid, like my will, were eroding my being and what started out as such a noble idea was seemingly heading toward a bitter and irrelevant end.

The lights danced off of the walls, triggering a sort of headache and providing some disorientation. Music thumped in my ears and eyes and I could hardly make out the beat. It sounded more and more like the heart beat of a coked out beast with a raspy roar than music. I finally found the exit and with it, my sanity. I hit the door and tried to get some distance between myself and what had to be some crazy experiment in human tolerance.

I rounded the corner and found the fire escape ladder where it was supposed to be. I pulled the ladder down and locked it into place before ensuring the bag over my back was secure. A few minutes later, I was on top of the old warehouse and heading to an outcrop of old, abandoned air conditioning units that had long since been relieved of their hardware.

I didn’t worry about witnesses. Most people didn’t notice me and those who did never thought to remember any of my plain features. I never thought of myself as remarkably handsome or a standout. I was, however, good at killing what needed to be killed. In that, I found no equal.

I tried a few of the doors and found them locked. Which wasn’t terrible. Their locations were predictable and they would be hard to escape from. Drones would spot me in seconds and the droids would be on me like flies on shit. With no where to run, I would have to pop this clone and rebirth. A painful procedure and one that cost too much for me to do more than a few times a year. It was already getting hard to make a living as a mercenary. I didn’t need to complicate things.

I found a ramp that led to another set of buildings and a roof access that let me explore the top floors of what seemed like a research office. A little lock picking device made short work of the deadbolts. Once inside I finally found the spot. An open window that was covered by a screen.

It is only in the mind of a civilian that sniper’s post up in a window. The truth of the matter is, we post up as far from the window as we can. Trying to get the angle that would provide the most coverage of a zone. The rooms would absorb a lot of sound and hide any flash that might be produced. The confusing network of lights and shadows concealed me and so long as I didn’t draw any attention to myself, the human eye would have a difficult time finding my shape in the confusion. No magic cloak needed.

I was set up in minutes and getting comfortable when the burner phone chimed. Well, vibrated. The instructions provided me with a zone, an abortion clinic, and I was told the target would be marked via the scope.

I moved the rifle down and focused on the clinic. Initially I thought the target would surely be the high tech center directly across from me, but I was wrong. I’d been wrong before, but I never dwelled in such things.

The rifle I used was a coil piece. Electromagnetic coils of wire spun and pushed a projectile out of the barrel at speeds never considered just fifty years ago. The round, a hardened tungsten dart, was enough to destroy the targets. It was messy. It was very messy. Even if I just winged a target, the Kendrick energy from the round was enough to cause massive damage. Twice I’d hit targets in the shoulder and twice I’d seen their arms go flipping into the air.

I should be more clear. I don’t like what I do. I am despised by my employers and I’m probably not popular with the people I kill. I am this necessary evil that must be done, but so few have the stomach to actually do it. I was well trained. I was experienced. And, to be honest, I had no heart. Both literally and figuratively.

Five years ago, this month, I received a text from my girlfriend. I was out shopping for an engagement ring when she told me that she was getting an abortion. It wasn’t me, she said, my body, my choice. I begged her to wait. I pleaded and I ran. I was in my car and racing through traffic when the bullet hit me in the chest. I kept going. I knew I was dying, but I needed to protect that little life. Had to. It was her body, but that life in her belly was at least 50% me. I had a choice too and I wanted it to live. The blood loss was too much for me to bear and the world shrank around me. I fumbled in my bug-out-bag for the medical kit, which somehow I found. I don’t know how, but I did. I jammed the device into the hole and pulled the trigger. The nanobots rushed into my body and got to work, but they were forcing me to pull over. I couldn’t and didn’t want to, but I did anyway. I sat there in a panicked minute, begging, out loud, to go. I had a life to save! My child! My child! I put a hand on the wheel. The person out shooting cops that day had apparently believed I was dead and decided to shoot at a few more. It worked in my favor as the roads were cleared as police flooded the area. I put my foot on the accelerator and pushed. I don’t know how, but I managed to get back on the road. 29 minutes later I pulled into the lot, alive and mostly well. Blood on my shirt and pants was thick and sticky. I was a mess, but I didn’t care, I rushed into the abortion clinic and stormed past the nurses station. Right to the back where I opened door after door until I saw my girlfriend and next to her another man. He was holding her hand when I came into the room, which she shook off. It was too late. She had already taken the termination pill. With a glass of fucking champagne that the male friend brought with him. He had paid for the procedure and he was told the kid was his-but not to mention it to anyone or her boyfriend would find out. Well, I did. I left. I left her and possibly my child who was surely scared and suffering as the medication worked to stop his heart.

In the office again, my thoughts needed to be refocused. To keep the nanotechnology working, I needed a dose of medication every day. I dug through the med kit and stabbed my forearm with the junk. My mind stopped racing as did what was left of my heart. I laid back down and peered through the scope. No, I hated this job. I loved being a cop. I loved being a cook. However, I was good at this and every shot helped me exercise the demons. I pictured me at the end of the rifle. Dying with every pulled of the trigger. Finally achieving what technology had stolen from me. Peace.

Looking through the scope, the target appeared. My former girlfriend who aborted my child. Maybe it was my child. She was walking from the big parking lot to the clinics and when she turned I could see she was pregnant. Maybe 8 months along. The facts of that day, the fact that killed me, was that I was unable to save that little life. I was denied the ability to even try. Now, as fate would have it, the person I have been hired to kill was the very same woman who stopped my heart that day and now, in her womb, and innocent life. I knew what I had to do, I knew and understood the consequences of my actions. I rolled off the table with my rifle and bag and ran out of the 30 story window. The nanobots would never let me put a gun to my head. Poison would just be filtered out. But jumping was an unknown to the brainless civilization that occupied my body and mind. I couldn’t save a life then, maybe, MAYBE I could now. It was worth a try. As I fell, I finally found what I had yearned for all those years. Peace. Finally peace and forgiveness.