Saturday's Short Story - Emery

Hello my dear friends, Dillfinger is back with another story! I have to apologize that I will not be able to post the finale of NAIA...It turns out I am going to need some more time to finish it. In the mean time, I hope you will enjoy a story written by my nephew, Hosea, and my other nephew, Luke.

Emery Drickson hastily slung his bow over his shoulder and hit the rough gravel on the town library’s rooftop. Across the asphalt on Main Street below were the front doors of the Collins’ Jewelry store, a common venue for illicit dealings amongst the city’s Mafia members. Ten stories above those front doors, John Collins’ body was falling to the floor with an arrow through his chest. From the library’s roof, Emery could hear the frightened cries of John’s associates in the meeting room. Emery had hit his mark again, and as he sprinted for the roof access doors he grinned at the prospect of being 2.5 million dollars richer than he had been when he first came through the access an hour earlier. Emery would never have to work another day in his life, thanks to his current employer’s desperate need to kill John.

The library had closed at nine o’clock PM, three hours ago, but Emery’s employer―the Collins family’s only worthy competition―may as well have had the keys to the city. Emery darted down the spiralling stairs, through the front lobby and out into the night. His black Ford Raptor F-150 sat waiting for him by the sidewalk. Before climbing in the driver’s door, Emery gazed up at the Collins’ Building, searching for the tenth story’s shattered window. In the darkness, he couldn’t find it, but that was fine with him; his target was dead, and that’s all that mattered.

One week ago exactly, Emery had received a phone call on his business phone from a disguised number. The man who spoke on the other end never revealed his name, but he seemed to know a great deal about Emery. “I admire your ambition to keep your acts discreet,” he said. “Your custom arrows are a brilliant aspect of your business.” The man went on to explain that he was the head of a very powerful gang known to most as the Blitz Gang. No one knew this man’s true identity, but Emery remembered the chills he felt upon learning who he was speaking with. The man said to meet him at the end of Drew Street by nine AM Friday morning, which was in nine hours from now. “I’ll pay you the bounty there,” the man said. “I look forward to working with you, Emery.”

When Emery asked how the man knew his name, he received no more than a dial tone.

The end of Drew Street was no meager journey―it stretched to the city’s border and beyond, nearly eight hundred kilometers from where Emery was now. His heart pounded as he sped off from the Collins’ Building. Emery had been working as a professional hitman for six years and rarely got nervous about a job, but this was different. He had just murdered the head of arguably the most powerful Mafia in the world. If anyone noticed him driving away…

Emery knew what this meant: he’d have to leave his life here behind and never come back. Even if the Blitz Gang chose to take him in as a fulltime member, he’d live the rest of his life no longer beyond the law, but on the verge of death.

“Come on, Emery,” he said, blowing out a long puff of air. “Calm down. Just calm down.”

In the backseat was a stack of duffle bags, each stuffed with his clothes, money, toiletries, and weapons. Before he set out to kill John, Emery had packed up all his valuables from the small apartment he lived in and lugged them out to the truck. Some of his neighbors gave him odd stares, but he didn’t care. He was a multimillionaire now.

“No more apartments for me,” he said as he turned onto the highway. “No point in being discreet if I’m with the Blitz Gang.”

His phone buzzed in his pocket, startling him. The screen read Unknown Number.

“Is it done?”

“Yes, I’m on my way to Drew Street.”

“Good. Thank you, Emery.”

The call ended and Emery drove on, his bow in the passenger seat.

At six AM, when dawn was but a murmur on the horizon, Emery’s phone rang again. He smiled at the words Tessa Wingles and happily answered the call.

“Hey, Tess.”

“Hi, where are you?”

“I’m about two hours away.”

“Okay, and there’s no cops chasing you?”

“Not yet,” Emery said with a laugh only Tessa could bring out of him.

“Good. I’m on my way to the airport, I’ll see you in Nassau, Em.”

“Alright. Hey, Tess.”

“Yeah?”

“I love you, okay? I’m doing this for you.”

“I know that, Emery. Just hurry up and get here in one piece, got it?”

“Yeah, got it. I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Emery placed his phone on the center console, smiling at the rising sun. Tessa Wingles had been one of the most important women in his life since the eighth grade, and he had planned on marrying her since the ninth, despite her telling him on multiple occasions that she didn’t feel the same.

“It’s our destiny,” he used to say. “I can feel it, Tessa. Just wait and see.”

His career as a hitman changed her mind one year previous to him killing John Collins when she came over for dinner one night and mistakenly saw his bags of money.

“Emery, where did you get all of this?” she asked.

He figured he had no choice but to tell her the truth, and so he did, stealing her heart in the process. He didn’t really care if she was marrying him for the money, just as long as they completed their destiny.

By nine AM, the sun was masked by clouds and the world was cast in dull shadows. In the distance, Emery saw an opening in the treeline on the left. At this opening, Drew Street ended and turned onto an old dirt road with no name. A narrow path barely wide enough to fit Emery’s truck led through the forest. He followed it slowly, until it brought him to a circular driveway decorated with a fountain and several parked limousines. Beyond the driveway was a mansion of such grandeur Emery’s jaw dropped.

A tap on the rear window brought his attention from the mansion. He was shocked to notice six men standing around his truck, each dressed in lavish black suits and armed with assault rifles. Emery unlocked the doors and raised his hands above his head. One of the men opened the driver’s door and Emery stepped out into the cool autumn air.

“Are you Emery Drickson?” the man asked.

“Yes, I have a deal to work out with… uh, your boss, I suppose.”

“I understand.” The man patted Emery down, searching for any weapons. After confirming Emery was unarmed, the man led him through the mansion’s front doors, which were decorated with elegant golden patterns. Inside, Emery was led down a labyrinth of winding hallways with ceilings higher than those of a gymnasium. Chandeliers lit the house, hanging from chains of gold.

By the time they reached their destination, Emery had only a faint idea of how to get back out. Two men stood outside a steel door, hands folded at their waists.

“This is Emery,” the man who had been leading Emery said. One of the men opened the door and Emery was led inside. The door shut behind him.

The room he had stepped into was vast, with a lounging area down below, gigantic windows looking out over the forest below, a shiny black piano, and a long desk at the far wall. Behind this desk sat a man dressed not nearly as fancily as his workers, choosing to wear a white robe rather than a suit. He stood when Emery entered the room and gave him a polite wave.

“Emery!” he said. “I’ve been waiting for you. Come, join me down here.” He started for the lounge, and Emery followed. The man in the suit remained by the door. “I must tell you, I am beyond grateful for the work you’ve done for me. I understand killing John Collins is no measly task―I should know, I offered 2.5 million for someone else to do it.”

Emery was taken aback by the man’s pleasant charisma and shifted awkwardly on the couch across from him. “Yes, well, having access to the library sure helped.”

“I figured it would. Anyhow, where are my manners? I’m Simon Blitz.” Simon held his hand out and Emery shook it.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.”

“Yes, I know it is.” Simon stared out the windows, apparently finished speaking. Emery isat in uncomfortable silence for nearly a minute before Simon spoke again. “So, Emery, you must be wondering what I brought you all the way out here for.

Emery frowned. “Well, sir, I thought it was so you could pay me.”

Simon pursed his lips and nodded his head a few times, like someone who’s just been told their dog died. “That is what I told you, yes. Unfortunately, Emery, I have some bad news to share with you.”

“Is that right?”

“It is. So, I’ve been up all night thinking, awaiting your arrival, and I’ve decided it would be smarter for me to keep my 2.5 million.”

Emery’s heart dropped. Of course, he had thought this might happen, but he’d dismissed it as a farfetched fantasy. “I’m sorry, you decided… but why? I’ve done you a great service, Simon.”

“That may be true, Mr. Drickson, but imagine if I could live on with this favor done and with my 2.5 million dollars still in the bank. It’s a matter of taking three steps forward instead of one, Emery.”

Emery felt blood rushing to his face as he turned his eyes to the floor. “I think a phone call might have sufficed, Simon.”

“It would have, but you were already on your way, and besides, I have a proposition for you, Emery.” Simon stood, walked over to his piano, plopped down on the short bench and began playing a somber pattern of keys.

“Well, then, stop playing your piano and get on with it. I must admit I’m a little irritated at you bringing me all the way out here not to be paid.” As a matter of fact, Emery was furious at Simon.

“This is no piano, my friend. This is the finest harpsichord in the world, Emery.”

“I don’t care what it is, Simon. What’s your proposition?”

The opening of the steel door interrupted them. A waiter entered with a platter of bacon and eggs. “I have your breakfast, Mr. Blitz.”

“Thank you, Kevin. Just set it on the desk, please.” Kevin complied and left with a curt nod. “I would like you to join my operation, Emery. You could do great work for us here.”

“Unless you have the 2.5, I’ll have to decline.”

Of course, Simon refused to offer up the money. The man who had led Emery inside (Xavier) led him back out. As they made their way through the halls, Emery realized what was about to happen. He knew who ran the Blitz Gang now, and the names of several members―to believe Simon would let him walk away scot-free would make him a fool.

When they got to Emery’s truck, the five other armed men were lined up outside the front doors. They remained there while Xavier walked to the truck with Emery.

At the sound of a click, Emery spun around and forced Xavier’s assault rifle to the sky. Five shots broke the air, bringing an agonizing ring to Emery’s ears. Emery punched Xavier in the nose, wrenched the rifle from his hands and ducked behind the truck. The five guards began shooting, shattering the windshield and windows on the truck. Emery lay on the asphalt, aiming from below the truck. He shot one of the suited men in the face, then another in the stomach. As Xavier came around the truck, Emery rolled onto his back and shot him twice in the chest. Xavier then fell to the ground dead. The three men remaining tried to shoot Emery from the porch, but he swung into the bed of the truck and aimed through the shattered rear window. Two of the men fell dead to his impeccable aim and the last man retreated into the mansion.

Emery ran after him towards the mansion, hoping that he could make it through the door before it closed. However, it slammed shut and he heard a deadbolt slide, locking it. He sent a storm of bullets through the glass and when the doorframe was hollow, the man lay dead in the entryway. Emery found a waiter and held his rifle up to his face.

“Woah, woah, woah! Who are you?”

“Show me where Simon is!”

“No way, man! He’ll kill me!”

“So will I.”

The waiter led Emery the same way Xavier had brought him, whimpering every time Emery touched the rifle to his back. When they got to the steel door, Emery killed the two men outside and barged through.

“Emery,” Simon said, spitting his bacon out. “What on earth is going on?”

“I want my money, Simon. Give it to me, or I’ll kill you.”

Simon laughed. “Emery, you can’t kill me. You’re a fool for coming back in here.”

“I just killed eight of your men, what makes you think you’re any different?”

Simon drew a pistol from the depths of his robe and fired two shots at Emery, who dove down the stairs and took cover behind Simon’s desk. “Every cop in this city works for me, Emery―your only choice is to die.”

Emery was filled with rage, but his rifle was empty. Holding it by the barrel, he leaped over the desk and whipped it at Simon’s head. Simon fired a shot and Emery collapsed to the ground with a bullet in his shoulder. Simon was on the ground with a bloody gash on his skull. Emery clutched at his shoulder and hobbled over to Simon.

“You’re going to transfer me that money,” he demanded, kicking Simon’s pistol across the floor. “Get up, now.” Simon refused to get up, so Emery dragged him to the desk and threw him over it.

“I hope you know your life is over,” Simon spat, reluctantly pulling his phone from his pocket.

“Actually, it’s just beginning.” Emery watched as Simon transferred the money, then punched him across the face. He left him there at his desk while he piled a stack of papers into the harpsichord and lit them on fire with Simon’s own lighter. “Goodbye, Simon,” Emery said, meeting the man’s dark eyes for the last time.

Outside, Emery climbed into his bullet-riddled truck and watched as a cloud of black smoke rose from the rear of the mansion, swirling in the light breeze. The truck took a few tries to get going, and then he sped off for the airport. On the way, he called Tessa.

“Did you get the money?”

“Yeah, I’m on my way to the airport.”

“Good, I’m about to be on my plane.”

Emery boarded his own plane three hours later and landed in Nassau at eight o’clock, when the sun was lowering itself slowly behind the horizon. He hailed a taxi and got out in the driveway of a house not far below Simon’s in terms of luxury. Inside, his bride-to-be was waiting.

“Em, what happened to you? Did you get shot?”

“There was a bit of a misunderstanding with Simon, but it’s okay. I have the money, and I’m here.”

“Who’s Simon? The Blitz guy?”

“Yeah, him. He wasn’t exactly willing to hand over the bounty.”

“I see. Well, I have dinner waiting for you. Come eat.”

Emery followed her into the kitchen where she had prepared a meal of steak and roasted potatoes. They ate together as the sun set, and Emery felt he was finally at peace.