Chapter One
I sat in the foldout chair in the corner of the room, smoking my cigarette. A man was five feet from me, but he wasn't as lucky to be breathing as I was. He lay sprawled out over the ugly maroon carpet, blood leaking from the bullet holes I had given him. The gun I had used was lying on the bed, also drenched in blood. I could hear sirens in the distance, and contemplated escaping. To me he was just a two-hundred thousand dollar bounty. He was no convict. He was a business man, who had gotten his foot in a hole of mud and couldn't get it out. He had a wife and two children, but I couldn't think about them. It complicates the job.
I stubbed the cigarette on the table next to me, and got up. I took out a small black box I always took with me on my hits. From the box I pulled out a set of tweezers. I walked over to Harry, as his name seemed to be, and dug the tweezers into his wounds,
pulling out the bullets as I pulled out the tweezers. I put the bullets in a plastic baggy, put the baggy in my breast pocket, and grabbed the gun, putting that in the inside pocket of my jacket. I opened the door at the end of the room, and walked out into the hall on the third floor of the sleazy Wake-An-Sleep motel. I walked out onto the streets of Harrison,
Florida, and got into my car. Slowly I drove off into the night, following the black highway pavement that led to nowhere.
I realize that in writing this I am writing my confession to the conspiracy and murder of Harold Rhinzahk. My name is Derrek Zekker, I work as a freelance hitman and have been responsible for the deaths of many important people. Don't ask me why they were killed, because I don't know. My job is to kill, not to ask questions. The black highway I was talking about. That was the only friend I ever kept true to. For, the highway was always there, and it would never betray me. Eventually I stopped and got out of my car, a flat tire. As I was jacking up my car and removing the bolts which held the tire on I thought about where I was going to go after my stop in Pondville. Mexico? Germany? Where?
I put the spare tire on, put away the jack and crowbar, and got into the black Sunfire I was driving. I looked into my rearview mirror and saw a pair of headlights. Past many exits I went, but they did not turn. About twenty miles from Pondville they made their exit and I relaxed a little. I made my way to Pondville by daylight. Did I mention that when I left the motel it couldn't have been more than two o'clock? Anyways I was in Pondville by five and at the Sunshine Lounge at six. I checked out room thirty-four and was settled in at seven.
A knock at my door. I took my gun out from it's chest holster, thinking about the car which had followed me until we were twenty miles from here. I lined my back up against the door and looked out the peep-hole. I saw a man in a dark suit with a emblem of a cats eye overlapping a human eye. This would no doubt be Chester's man.