Page 3 of Slay Bells Ring

Glancing at him with a frown, I mutter, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

He must detect I’m no closer to signing now than I was before, because he sighs and steps closer. “You are… idealistic. It’s commendable, it is, but you are aware that this house, that your life and all of your pursuits are funded by the company, aren’t you? You wouldn’t be able to afford any of it if it weren’t for the men and women on the board—”

“No, I wouldn’t be able to afford any of it without the people actually doing the work, not the ones overseeing the work,” I correct him, finally pulling myself away from the hanging bag and turning toward him. “And I tried to give everyone a raise, and every single member of the board rejected it. So, Howard, tell me why I should give a shit about their Christmas bonus when they couldn’t even approve a cost of living raise?”

Howard heaves the world’s most explosive sigh before he holds out the tablet in my direction. “Please, Miss Cooper, just sign off on the checks. I won’t let you leave for your little getaway until you do.”

We have a staring contest for a bit, and even though I don’t want to sign the damned thing, I have to if I want to get out of here on time. Howard’s not lying. He’ll find a way to fuck this thing up, and then I’ll have to wait God knows how long for another chance at my parents’ killer.

Nothing is going to stop me from killing Kane. I sign the damned tablet screen with my fingertip.

“Wonderful,” Howard says as he shuts off the screen and holds it against his chest. “Thank you. I do hope you have a good vacation.”

It’s not a vacation, but whatever. To get him to leave, I just smile and say, “Thanks.” It’s only after he walks away that I resume my workout. I might punch the bag a bit harder after that.

Before I know it, it’s time to shower and go. I’m already packed. I have everything I need. Before night falls, I’m on the road, beginning the long drive to my destination: a tiny cabin in the middle of the mountains.

I know, I know, but it’s not thesamecabin. It’s a different one, and unlike the last time, the circumstances around this cabin are different. Way different. Let’s just say it took a lot of greasing the wheels on my end for the owner to look the other way.

Kane is spending his holiday alone, in a remote location with shitty cell service. If that’s not an invitation for me to finally kill him and avenge my parents, I don’t know what is.

The next morning, I load myself up on coffee and take a short break from driving while I eat a breakfast burrito. My file on Kane rests in the passenger’s seat, and even though I’ve gone through it a million times already, I glance through it again.

It’s mainly blurry pictures of Kane around the world, undercover, when he’s tracking targets and whatnot. From what I could find, the man’s been busy these last thirteen years. How many people has he killed? How many kidshas he orphaned? It’s not something I want to think about, but those thoughts plague me regardless.

I close the folder and toss it onto the seat next to me as I finish up my coffee. Whatever Kane’s done, it doesn’t matter. I’ll be face-to-face with him soon enough. The encounter could go a few different ways, and honestly, I am curious to see if the man will recognize me.

Chapter Two – Kane

There comes a time in every man’s life when he’s forced to reckon with the things he’s done. Granted, most men don’t have to reckon with sins similar to mine. I’m good at what I do. It’s what I was trained for my whole life, practically from birth. I grew up in the Guild, the Guild trained me, taught me everything I’d need to know, and then set me loose.

But everyone knows hitmen don’t live to a ripe old age. There’s never really any retirement. Not when you’ve seen what they’ve seen or done what they’ve done. There’s no pause button, no end game, no winning this thing.

Men like me die all the time. They die on a job, or they die from complications from a job. Sometimes they get so injured they become useless to the Guild, and then the Guild uses you however it wants. You become one of their analysts, or maybe a guard at one of their incarceration facilities. The Guild never lets you walk away.

I’m thirty-eight fucking years old. No kids. No family. Never had a girlfriend for more than a month. Couldn’t let myself get truly attached to anything or anyone that would hamper my judgment. I gave everything I had to every single job, and what did it get me?

A nice place, yeah. More money than I could care for, sure. It would be enough for most people to shut themselves off and not care. I was like that for a while, for years, but now that I’m getting older, I can’t shake the nagging feelings away.

I’m tired.

This thing’s been planned for eight or so months. I rented a cabin in the mountains for two weeks around Christmas. Figured it’d be a good place to do it.

Why a cabin in the mountains? What can I say besides some jobs just stick with you more than others?

The morning it’s time to leave, I grab all the cash I’ll need along with my car keys and a small suitcase. Nothing but the clothes on my back and a jacket. The rest is hard liquor. It’ll be enough. Before I leave, I abandon my wallet, ID, and phone on the island in the kitchen. Don’t need ‘em where I’m going.

The drive feels slow even though I speed and make the trip in record time. I arrive at my destination before two in the afternoon. The smallest, cheapest cabin I could find. Its nearest neighbor is miles upon miles away. It’s so far removed from civilization it doesn’t have electricity.

The key to the cabin is in a lockbox on the doorknob. After I input the code and pull the key out, I step inside the cabin with my lone suitcase and breathe in the woodsy, stale scent. Outside is a world of winter and snow; last Iheard this area’s supposed to be nailed with a storm in the next few days. The perfect kind of weather to get lost in.

Being in this cabin feels… both right and wrong. Right in that this is where I ought to be, and wrong in that my surroundings induce a flashback to a certain job I’d rather forget.

In my line of work, you have to be mentally stable, steadfast in what you’re doing. Whether that means turning off your emotions completely or learning to enjoy what you do; it’s up to the individual. My problem is I never learned, could never switch anything off. I tried. God, I tried. Maybe I’m a weaker man than I thought.

I lug my suitcase to the only bedroom in the cabin and set it on the bed. I unzip it, grab the first bottle I see, and then set out to start a fire.

It ain’t time for my final curtain just yet. Freezing in this cabin ain’t how I want to go.

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