The Hangman's Soliloquy

by Jeb Bohn

  At least two hostiles, positioned to flank.

  He lay down on his stomach, peering underneath the car to locate the assailants. There was one on the right, maintaining his position behind the tree and watching with caution.

  In what proved to be a fatal miscalculation, the one on the left was crouch running towards the far side of the house. The Tall Man fired two shots, one striking the figure in the thigh, the second in the chest.

  “Don’t worry, Hoss, I’ll be sure to end your suffering as soon as I can.”

  His train of thought was interrupted by footsteps approaching from behind. He rolled onto his back and leveled his gun just as another dark shape rounded the corner of the house, gun at the ready. He fired a shot, striking the attacker in the arm and dislodging their weapon. A pair of sunglasses clattered to the ground, revealing a pair of glowing, blue eyes.

  “Well, well, well.”

  He fired off another round, which entered the man’s right eye. The shadowy outline dropped to its knees, its eyes flickering like a dying fluorescent tube, before going blank.

  Returning to his prone position, he checked back on the tree hugger, who had yet to move. Taking a breath, he sat up, pressing his back against the car. “Y’all didn’t expect ole Herman to have company, huh? Can’t say I blame you. I didn’t peg him as the type to have many friends myself.”

  He smiled, wishing he’d had time to light up a cigarette before this got started. “I’d tell you to check on your buddy over there, but you guys aren’t big into camaraderie, are ya?” He laughed, relishing the moment and the feeling of being in control.

  “See, the people that made you what you are think that taking away your humanity makes you more effective. Truth be told, there was a time that I would have agreed with them. Not that long ago, either.”

  He paused, listening intently. Slow footsteps were moving towards him from the direction of the tree. His smile widened.

  “The problem is that your humanity gives you the will to fight, even in the face of certain death. When you care about something, be it love, honor, or my personal favorite, vengeance, you become capable of great things, you become more than just a man.”

  He picked up a rock from beside the car and skipped it along the ground to his left. The tree hugger took the bait, turned, and fired.

  The Tall Man popped up like a Jack in the Box, firing two shots into the man’s chest.

  “And you, well, you become less than. All you are is a ham-handed, organic marionette. You can’t even think for yourself, you just do what you’re told.”

  With heightened awareness, he made his way around the yard, watching for any unexpected movement. He made a point to approach each of the fallen men and put two shots into their heads.

  “See, Hoss, I told you I wouldn’t leave you hanging.”

  ◆◆◆

  Herman locked the back door hurriedly before taking off down the hall towards the stairway. Shots rang out from the backyard as he crested the stairs.

  “Ray!” The constant hammering of his pulse made it impossible for him to tell how loudly he had called out. As he ran down the upstairs hallway, his right foot caught the leg of a small bookcase, dropping him unceremoniously to the floor. He swiftly scrambled up to his feet and entered his office.

  Ray, who had sat down on the office couch and promptly dozed off, was roused by the commotion. He sat up and looked at Herman. “You guys back already?”

  Without acknowledging the question, Herman went into the closet, reemerging with a shotgun.

  “What are you doing with that?” Concern was etched across Ray’s face.

  Another brief volley of shots tolled from outside.

  “Where’s the gun I gave you?”

  Ray couldn’t help but marvel at how calm and composed Herman was. His movements were steady and precise, no trace of his earlier instability remained. As he watched, one thought echoed in his head:

  Jesus, he really has been waiting for this.

  Before Ray could answer, Herman saw the gun lying on the windowsill and started towards it. Ray held up a hand to stop him. “I’ll get it. I may be old but I’m not helpless.”

  Ray was up with a grunt and walked over to the window. He placed his hand on the pistol, resting it there as he worked to shake the post-nap cobwebs from his brain. As he gathered his thoughts, movement in the front yard caught his eye. “What the—?”

  Sensing that Ray had cut himself off, Herman turned to see what he friend had intended to say when more shots rang out.

  The mystery man is handling business. At least I hope so.

  “Someone’s in the front yard,” Ray said as he turned towards Herman.

  “Get away from the window!” A single shot cut him short, this one much closer. The air in the room had taken on some sort of negative charge. He looked to Ray, whose eyes had become fixed on some distant point. “Ray?”

  Dread was blooming in Herman’s gut.

  Ray dropped the gun and moved his hands slowly to his chest. Herman’s eyes followed the movement with mounting horror. As his hands approached his torso, a rapidly growing red splotch appeared.

  “Ray!”

  Herman dropped the shotgun and ran to his friend, who collapsed into his arms. His eyes fixed upon the darkness beyond the window as he waited for a shot to come and split his head open. There, dead center, was a single hole surrounded by a web of cracks.

  “No, no, no, no, no, no, no.”

  The words poured out of Herman’s mouth and the shaking returned, running rampant through his body. He checked for a pulse and felt nothing. His face contorted into an awful mask, though no tears came. The pain that he felt was so overwhelming that his brain had yet to figure out how to process it.

  “Breathe you son of a bitch.”

  A dry sob hitched in his chest.

  “GODDAMNIT BREATHE!”

  As the last ounce of life departed Ray’s body, Herman remembered what he had told him. It had been no more that 15 minutes ago, though it seemed like a lifetime.

  This won’t break you. They can’t beat you because you are walking the path of the righteous and honorable.

  With this replaying in Herman’s mind, a fusillade of sounds played out: a car starting and peeling out, a burst of gunfire, the squealing of tires fighting for traction. Finally came the unmistakable sound of a car smashing into some unyielding object.

  Herman laid Ray down gently onto the floor, using two fingers to close his eyes before covering him with a sheet from the couch. When he stood up, a coldness that was sudden, dark, and absolute washed over him.

  Picking up the shotgun, he walked out of the office. He wasn’t sure if any unwanted guests were in the house but, if they were, they wouldn’t get him without losing a pound of flesh.

  As he made his way down the stairs, he could hear the Tall Man in the yard, calling out to see if he and Ray were all right. He exited the front door just as the Tall Man had reached the porch.

  “You okay Herman?”

  Herman walked past without uttering a sound, his eyes fixed on the red glow of taillights 100 yards down the road.

  The Tall Man fell in line a few feet behind Herman. “Where’s Ray?”

  They took a few more steps before the Tall Man reached out and placed his hand on Herman’s shoulder. “Herman, where’s Ray?”

  Herman stopped, turning abruptly to face his friend. When he spoke, his words came slowly and deliberately. “Take your hand off me.”

  There was something in his eyes that brought instant compliance from the Tall Man. The sadness that had lived there since he had pulled Herman from that car was gone, set on fire and replaced by pain and anger. No, anger wasn’t the right word.

  This was pure rage.

  A man in a black suit was staggering from the driver’s door of the stricken vehicle. Both of his arms were badly broken and they swung limply at his sides with every movement he made. At another time, Herman might have found this whimsical, in
a sad sort of way.

  Now, all he saw was prey.

  He raised the shotgun, aiming squarely at the injured man’s knee. The Tall Man started to call out to him but was cut off by the boom of the gun. The first shot almost blew the man’s leg off midway down. Before he could fall, Herman fired again, striking the other leg and spilling the man to the jagged asphalt.

  He went to shoot a third time and was greeted by a click. In his effort to make sure that the assassin didn’t escape, he had forgotten to grab more shells. A fresh flash of anger jolted Herman as the Tall Man grabbed his shoulder again and spun him around.

  “Think about what you’re doing here Herman. Is this who you want to be? There’s no going back from killing a man. It stains you.”

  “Don’t you fucking moralize.” Herman face was pulling in several directions, twisted into some insane mask. “Go take a look at what that piece of shit did to Ray, go see for yourself. Then you come look me in the eye and see if you feel like preaching.”

  The Tall Man dropped his head, removing his hand from Herman’s shoulder as he did so.

  “Okay Herman,” he said somberly, holding up his hands and backing away. “Okay.”

  Herman dropped the shotgun and walked up to the bleeding man, grabbing him by the collar and punching him in the face with full force. As his knuckles broke several of the man’s teeth, Herman began to scream. The sound was equal parts despair and derangement, a discordant soundtrack to insanity.

  The man’s sunglasses, jostled by the landing blows, fell to the ground. The bluish glow that radiated from his eyes flickered with every strike and each time that light disappeared, Herman saw confusion and fear.

  He saw humanity.

  Dropping the man to the ground, Herman stood up and turned to punch the car. The Tall Man was standing in his way. Herman flinched. “Jesus Christ.”

  “Old habits. Take a look at this.” He began rapping his fingers against the window of the rear door, a nasty smile crossing his face. “Look what we have here.” He opened the door, exposing a semiconscious man; his legs crushed into the frame of the front seat.

  “Wake up dipshit.” He issued a hard slap across the man’s face. “I’d tell you not to run off, but I suppose that’d just be cruel.”

  “Who the hell is that?”

  “This, Hermano, is the puppet master of this particular outfit.”

  Herman tried to lunge at the injured man, spittle flying from his lips as he tried to fight his way in.

  “Hey, hey, hey!” The Tall Man grabbed Herman by the arm, fighting to restrain his friend. “We need him.”

  “Need him? That fucking piece of shit killed Ray.”

  “And he’ll be dealt with, but for now he has information that we need.”

  “To hell with this.” Herman turned away briefly before swinging back around, leading with his fist and striking the Tall Man flush on his cheek.

  In one swift motion the Tall Man pivoted, pinning Herman against the car. “Listen to me, god damnit.” He leaned in until his nose nearly bumped Herman’s. “Do you want Ray’s death to be for nothing?”

  Herman grunted, struggling against the larger man’s weight, an uncontrolled fire burning in his eyes.

  “Because if we don’t take advantage of this, that’s exactly what it’ll mean. Nothing. If we can salvage this situation, we may just be able to level the playing field. We can take the fight to them and use their technology against them and they’ll never see it coming.”

  “What if you’re wrong?”

  “Then we’re right back where we were. If you don’t want to help that’s fine, but if you really want to take these assholes down, this is our chance.”

  “How, exactly, is he going to help us do that?”

  “Pop the trunk and I’ll show you.”

  ◆◆◆

  “Un-fucking-believable.”

  Herman stood, mouth agape, as he got a taste of what they were up against. In the center of his workshop sat the injured passenger, tied to a chair behind a makeshift desk. An open laptop sat in front of him; the Tall Man stood behind him, a pistol pointed at the captive’s head. To their left was something that looked a rolling equipment case that you’d find backstage at a Metallica concert, albeit slightly smaller. It was heavy, that much was obvious, and he was convinced that he had fucked over his back while helping move it from the wrecked car’s trunk.

  Five feet in front of them, splayed out on the earthen floor, was the driver that Herman had shot and nearly beaten to death. He was breathing, but just barely.

  “Okay,” the Tall Man said nonchalantly, pressing the gun into the back of the operator’s head. “Light him up.”

  “Please, just let me go.”

  The Tall Man flipped his pistol in the air, grabbing it by the barrel and bringing the butt down hard on the man’s skull.

  “Please.” Panic was radiating off of him like heat off a desert road. “They’ll kill me if I do this.”

  Wearing a grotesque smirk, the Tall Man knelt down beside him; the look on his face was enough to make Herman’s blood turn to ice. He may have found his conscience but the man’s still a cold-blooded son of a bitch.

  “Just what do you think I’m going to do? Now light him up, okay?”

  The operator’s entire body was trembling so intensely that the movement was barely perceptible. Terrified or not, the Tall Man showed no pity. He stood up slowly before delivering a vicious kick to one of the man’s injured legs. The operator screamed, presenting an opportunity that the Tall Man wasn’t about to waste. In one swift motion he jammed the barrel of his sidearm into the man’s mouth, shattering a tooth as he did.

  “Light him up.” The volume and tone of his voice was just shy of yelling. “Now.”

  Herman started to move towards them. The Tall Man reached across his chest, holding up one finger. Herman stopped.

  The operator nodded his head and the pistol was withdrawn.

  “Smart move.” The Tall Man lightly slapped the man’s face before returning to his previous post.

  The clacking of keystrokes filled the air, slowly at first before picking up speed. There was a shuffling in the dirt, the driver’s body beginning to spasm as that familiar blue glow returned to his eyes.

  “Fuck me running.” Herman was so stunned that he was barely aware he had spoken aloud.

  More keystrokes led to more movement, the driver pulling himself up to a sitting position, dragging his ruined legs with no sign of pain.

  “Make him talk,” the Tall Man said.

  There was another flurry of typing which abruptly stopped with one word.

  “Hello.” The driver spoke, his gaze fixed on an empty corner. His robotic monotone sent a chill down Herman’s spine.

  The Tall Man tapped his gun against the operator’s head.

  “He’s supposed to make a call, right? Let someone know that the job’s been completed.”

  The operator nodded with a whimper.

  “Herman.” The Tall man nodded to a flip phone that lay on the earthen floor.

  With a sigh, Herman picked the phone up and cautiously walked towards the driver. As he approached, the prone man reached out. The sudden movement caused Herman to flinch.

  “Goddamn every bit of this.” He handed the phone over and quickly scurried off.

  “Alrighty, make sure you get this right. If he sounds any different from what’s anticipated, if the asshole he calls senses that anything is off, me and Herman will be spending the next hour or so shoveling up bits of skull and brain.”

  The operator set to work, tears dropping from his eyes. Herman almost felt sorry for the bastard until he thought of Ray’s lifeless body sprawled out on the floor of his office.

  Once the input was initiated, the driver opened the phone and dialed before holding the device up to his ear. The screen of the laptop displayed a live-updating transcription of the conversation.

  -Line ringing.

  -Everything good?

/>   “Yes, the target has been eliminated.” The driver sounded as synthetic as before, no audible sign of distress.

  -Good. I’m going to make a mess for our friends in Louisiana, so they’ll be scrambling. They’re gonna make a beeline for Texas, and I’m gonna be there waiting. Torch the house and head to the Pennsylvania site, make sure that it’s secure.

  -Line disconnects

  The Tall Man grabbed the operator’s head, turning it to face him. “What kind of range does this setup have?”

  “Five miles”—he stammered, almost choking on the words—“but only for sending or terminating a command. Once they’re locked in, they stay locked in unless someone overrides them.”

  The Tall Man nodded and shot the operator in the head without hesitation. Once the man slumped to the ground he was shot a second time.

  “Jesus Christ!”

  “Relax Herman, this was always the plan.” The Tall Man walked over to the driver, who was still entranced, and shot him twice.

  “What plan? Why the hell did we go through all that if you were just going to shoot them?”

  “We had to know how the system works, now we do.”

  “And you shot the only man that can run it!”

  “Nah, it’s a simple enough interface. I saw how he got it up and running, at least I think so.”

  “You think so?”

  The Tall Man grinned, this one lacking the malice from earlier. To Herman it looked almost playful. He knelt down and picked up a binder, holding it up for Herman to see. “All the basics are in here, everything we’ll need.”

  With that, he turned and headed towards the door of the workshop.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I need to make a call. Schultz wanted us to meet him in Louisiana. Best case, I can let him know that they’re onto him.”

  “Yeah, well, what’s the worst case?”

  The Tall Man shot him a knowing look and walked outside.

  “What the hell am I supposed to do?”

  Ten minutes later, the Tall Man reentered the workshop, finding Herman sitting cross-legged with a cigarette in his mouth.

  “So,” Herman said as he exhaled a large plume of smoke, “what are we looking at?”