Excerpt VIII: Conspiracy

September 13, 2010

“So, my family is dead. My best friend is dead. I might as well be too.” She mumbled quietly. She crossed her arms and tried to sink further into the leather seat.

Tom glanced at her for maybe a second. “Have you ever been in love?”

She shrugged. “Not really. All the guys at school were big retards. Why would you ask that?”

“I was just thinking that maybe you would feel a little better to know that you’re not the only one who has lost everything.” He glanced at her again, this time with a piercing gaze. “But you obviously don’t know what it’s like to lose the love of your life.”

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s a long story.”

“It’s a long drive from Miami to Texas.”

“Alright, but you have to promise not to tell me how ridiculous this will sound to you.”

“Sure.”

“Okay, I’m sure you saw the headlines last year about my wife’s heart attack.”

Lizzie nodded. “Yeah. I’m really sorry about that.”

“Don’t be. She didn’t have a heart attack. She was murdered.”

Lizzie sat up in her seat. “That’s not what the news said! Everyone knows it was a heart attack! What are you trying to pull?”

Tom shot her a look that told her to settle down. “They killed my wife right in front of me. I watched her die, but I couldn’t do anything about it.” His voice wavered, and he rubbed his sleeve over his eyes.

“Who’s they? What is this, some kind of conspiracy?” She chuckled.

Suddenly, Tom whipped the steering wheel to the right, and the car screeched to a halt on the shoulder of the road. He put the BMW in park and stretched his arm over the back of Lizzie’s seat. “No, Elizabeth, it wasn’t the kind of ‘conspiracy’ that you’re talking about. It was real. They are the people who murdered every single person on the compound this morning. They are the people who murdered your family. They are the people who control everything you see on TV, decide what goes into your food, and control both sides of every war that has ever been waged. They control everything. Elizabeth, these people mean business, and they will stop at nothing until their plans are carried out all the way to the end.” His nostrils flared a bit, and he pursed his lips. “But yes, my wife’s murder was a conspiracy, in the sense of the dictionary definition.”

“And what’s that?”

“An evil, unlawful, or treacherous plan formulated in secret by two or more persons.”