15 Signs Of Murder (Fifteen thrillers)

by Luis Samways

  Our feet dug into the loose dirt that made up the steep incline. We both ran up the hill at full speed, faster than I had ever run in my life, and, judging by the circumstances, it was probably the fastest Jerry had ever run, too.

  Upon reaching the top of the incline, there was a ditch. We jumped into it head first. The impact of the fall sucked all the wind out of both me and Jerry. We remained with our heads down for a few seconds, trying to adjust to the elevation. Above us, towering trees were dropping leaves and debris. At first, it could have been mistaken for autumn, but the reason the leaves were dropping was because of the machine gun fire that was hitting them. Suddenly my hearing kicked into high gear.

  POW POW POW.

  The bark beside me splintered as some gunfire made its way to Jerry’s and my direction.

  “Shit, man. We are fucked. What are we going to do?” I asked, feeling breathless from the high altitude.

  It was amazing to think that we had been running away from the rebels now for nearly two hours. It was nearly nighttime, and the mountain was getting even harder to traverse. If I were to stick my head out, I could see the truck we had been in a few hours prior. It now had its headlights on. It looked like a toy truck from all the way up the ridge. I stuck my head up again and saw approaching flashlights. The tree line below looked like it had been overrun with poltergeists. Lights with no silhouettes, just shouting voices and the occasional gunshot. In reality I knew they were not poltergeists, but rebels. And I knew that if they got a hold of me and Jerry, we would be living in a horror movie until they put us out of our misery.

  “It’s getting harder for them to see us. I just stuck my head out, and they didn’t fire at me. I don’t know about them, but I can’t see them all that clearly. All I managed to see was their flashlights,” I said, trying to gain some sort of ground on our situation.

  I looked over at Jerry and saw him staring into space.

  “Jerry, you with me?” I asked, concerned about his welfare.

  “Yeah I’m with you. I’m just thinking. Maybe you’re right. It is getting darker. We don’t have lights, but they do. If we slowly make our way up the mountain, keeping to the trees, then maybe we can give them the slip. Or…” said Jerry.

  “Or what?” I asked, feeling like a kid pestering his dad.

  “Or we wait here, and ambush them,” he said.

  “Ambush them how?” I asked.

  “Well, judging by the lights coming up the hill, they are pretty spread out at the minute. All we need is one of them to step into our ditch and we pull him in, disarm him, and bam, we have another weapon, and one fewer bad guy.”

  “But what about the other bad guys?” I asked.

  Jerry smiled. “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.”

  Chapter Twenty

  On a Train, in Germany

  Mary-Lou’s mother Cindy gripped the hand of her as they sat on the speeding train. Her child’s eyes were alight with joy as she gawked out of the window and marveled at the scenery of the moving train. Rolling hills and vast tree lines roared past as they swiveled gently from left to right under the movement of the locomotive.

  “Ducks, Mommy!” Mary-Lou laughed as they went past a lake.

  “Maybe there are some ducks, Mary-Lou. Good job you’re here to spot them, ay?” her mother said with a slight distant tone in her voice.

  She still had the last couple of hours on her mind. She still had the image of her husband lying in the hallway ingrained in her head. She could still see the knife protruding through his chest. It was as if she could still hear his cries. She could feel tears in her eyes accumulating under the immense pressure she felt in her heart. It was just too much. She hadn’t thought of the reality of living with what she had done. Sure, she’d planned ahead of time. She had always fantasized about killing her husband, but never actually put a date on it. It all happened so fast. Too fast for her to take it back. If she could, she would.

  “How long until we get to the new place, Mommy?”

  “Not long, baby, not long.”

  Some time passed, and the day outside quickly turned to night. Mary-Lou lay asleep with her head propped up against the window. Her mother was staring into space.

  A man with a cart passed her and smiled.

  “Drink, madam?” he asked.

  “Scotch, please,” she said.

  He smiled whole-heartedly and poured her a drink. She went into her purse and reached for some change.

  “On the house, madam. Courtesy of New-Germania Trains. You look like you need it anyway,” he said, still smiling.

  “Thank you, sir,” she said.

  He nodded his head candidly and pushed the cart forward to the next row of chairs just in front.

  She could hear him ask the other passengers if they wanted drinks. Some said yes; others declined. All the drinks he served were being paid for, apart from the one she’d just gotten. Why was that? Was it that obvious? Did she really look like she needed a handout? She started to feel frustrated and paranoid. Why would a man just give out drinks for free? Did he want something for it? Even if he did, she wasn’t going to give him anything. If he wanted the money, he should have just settled for that.

  “What’s wrong with me?” she said out loud. “Just relax. No one is trying to outsmart you. Kind people exist, ya know?” She smiled to herself.

  It was forced, but she felt better. Saying stuff out loud always did. It was a practice that maybe more people should attempt. It helped her deal with the anxiety she felt; maybe it would help others.

  “Everything is fine,” she said quietly as tears ran down her face. “Everything is fine.”

  Suddenly the train’s brakes locked, and the locomotive started to crawl to a stop. A bell went off and some men jumped onto the train, blowing whistles. They had black hats on and looked official. One of the men walked up to the middle of the carriage in which Cindy found herself. He stood there with his chest pushed out, oozing authority and control.

  “This train is being stopped and searched. We believe a fugitive is on board. Everyone, please remain calm and seated. We will be as quick as possible. Once we apprehend the fugitive, you will be allowed on your way,” the man said, blowing his whistle a few more times.

  Following his speech, a few more men boarded the train with rifles and flashlights. They were looking for somebody, and judging by how many of them there were, the person they were looking for was going to get found.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Section 8, New-Germania

  There was a certain eeriness to the evening that made the Commander of Section 8, Klaus, feel unnerved and overheated.

  He was seated at the bar in Downtown 8, between the factories and the command center. It was a military bar. Only the top army guys went there. No civilians were allowed. That was how he liked it. That was how he wanted the whole world to be, but unfortunately, defeating all the nations on earth leaves you with one big nation to please. He knew that the real people in charge were the government of New-Germania, but ruling over four billion souls meant that at any moment they could grow wise, and they could fight.

  That was why he hated the rebels. They were smart, and they were dangerous. He knew they meant business. He tried to keep news of their attacks under the wraps. He didn’t let the news stations broadcast the terror and freedom fighting they brought to the military every single day.

  German propaganda stated to the public that there were only a handful of rebels in Section 8, but Klaus knew that there were many many more than just a handful. He predicted that there were more than ten million active rebels, and a few million people on the fence. All that was needed to put him and his men out of power was one demonstration of power, one demonstration of force, and New-Germania would crumble.

  That was why they had the super weapons. That was why Klaus had just commissioned turrets on every street corner, unmanned and fully automatic. If panic ensued on the streets, the turrets wouldn’t show prejud
ice. They would attack anyone. That was a deterrent enough. Since the turrets had been put in place, not one single crime against the Reich had been committed on the streets of the capital. And that was how Klaus liked it even more.

  Steven Hammersmith had just walked in. He was the man Klaus had been waiting to see. Steven had news that was important, or so he had told the commander when he asked for a private meeting at the bar, away from the prying eyes of the Germania government. Away from the enemy within.

  “You made it, Steven,” Klaus said as he tried to hide his disdain at Steven’s tardiness.

  “I’m sorry, Commander. Traffic was abysmal.”

  “Well, you’re here now. What was so important that you dragged me down to the bar? You know how hard it is for me to not drink myself to death when in here. Cheap alcohol is my weakness.”

  “I do apologize, sir,” Steven said, sitting down at the table, placing his suitcase on the floor next to him.

  The bar was nearly empty. Most of the regular patrons were still on duty. It was as if the place was deserted for the presence of the Commander. Not one single grunt in sight.

  “So this news you speak of, how does it concern me?” asked the Commander.

  “It’s the rebels, sir. They have evaded capture,” Steven said as he lit a cigarette in fear of the Commander’s reaction.

  An unaffected look of placidity spread over Klaus’s face. He had expected such news. Why else would Steven, a spy employed personally by Klaus, arrange to meet in such unsanctioned premises as a bar?

  “Wasn’t it obvious that they would get away? There are plenty of them, and only a few of us.”

  “That’s not all, sir,” said Steven.

  “What, then? Did Jerry and Jonas die? Have they been captured?” asked the Commander, now donning a much more obvious expression of impatience on his face.

  “That’s the thing, sir. Jonas is dead. Jerry is AWOL. We have it on good authority that Jerry is now working with the rebels…for real this time.”

  “WHAT? What do you mean? Jerry has gone rebel?” Klaus’s face had gone red with anger; his hand had reached for his cheap drink and downed it in one before Steven could even finish what he was saying.

  “That’s not all, sir. He refused to give the Jew to us. He is now in possession of the real last Jew, and he killed a few of our men to secure him,” said Steven.

  “How many are dead?”

  “Fifteen, sir.”

  Klaus slammed his drink down on the table and stood up.

  “For fuck’s sake. This is all I need. A member of the Reich is working with the rebels. Do you know what sort of information Jerry has been exposed to? That man holds some of the most classified information of this administration. We need to locate him and terminate him. We need to do it fast, and we need to do it silently. If the Section 8 council hears about this, you and I could be done for!” said Klaus as he pointed his finger at Steven.

  “So what are we going to do?” asked Steven.

  “We’ll figure something out. Don’t you worry about that.”

  Both men walked out of the bar and went their separate ways. Klaus got his cell phone out and called somebody. The phone rang a few times. Someone answered.

  “Hey, you owe me a favor. I need help tracking somebody. Yeah…. That would be great. A scent? What do you mean? I may have some clothes of his…. Yeah, his apartment would be a good bet. Are you sure about this?.... Mountain lions? Okay…your call.”

  Klaus hung up, smiling to himself.

  “Fucking mountain lions,” he chuckled.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Somewhere on the Mountainside, New-Germania

  “We’re fucked, then, good and fucked,” I said as I sat slumped against the mound of dirt in the trench that I’d found myself in.

  Next to me, Jerry was humming a tune that I wasn’t too familiar with. I thought it was stupid, really, humming a tune when we were in so much danger. I mean, how were we supposed to survive this thing if Jerry was having a sing-song?

  “Da da da,” he continued to hum.

  “So you’re just going to sit there in the pitch dark, singing, when we have a squad of rebels after our asses?” I asked, feeling a little impatient and a little in danger.

  “Show tunes help me think,” Jerry muttered as he stared into space.

  The darkness had crept in, and all we could see was each other’s eye whites in the blackness. The dirt in the trench was brown in the daylight and near black in the current darkness of the early night sky. The trees above us whistled and swayed slightly. I could hear the breeze strike the bark and rattle the leaves as time seemed to tick away slowly.

  In the meantime, I could hear the rebels advancing on our position. They were making slow progress at best, but it was progress, and I feared they were making a lot more than us two, because we had been stationary now for what seemed like hours.

  “When do we make our move, then?” I asked.

  “As soon as one of these bastards comes over the hill and falls into the trench,” he said.

  “But what if they don’t fall in? What if they spot us?”

  “Then we pull them in, disarm them, and take the rest out,” Jerry said, lowering his voice as he tried to whisper.

  A few minutes passed and nothing happened. The wind was picking up a little, and then we heard some footsteps. They were crunching up the hill just over our trench. We were seated in the hole in the ground, expecting the worst. Jerry had already clocked on to the sound long before I needed to alert him of the danger approaching. I decided to stick my head above the trench line for a better look, much to the disapproval of Jerry, who yanked at my collar before I could get a better look.

  “What the hell are you playing at, man? Are you trying to get us killed?” he said in as much of a whisper as he could manage, considering how pissed off he was.

  “I thought I’d check out the surroundings, see how many were approaching us,” I said.

  “Well…did you see anything?” he asked.

  “No, you pulled me back, remember?”

  “Okay, cool it. Have a peek. Don’t expose yourself too much, Abel, or we could give our position away,” he said.

  I nodded. It was useless, really, considering the fact that he probably couldn’t see me properly.

  I slowly moved forward and braced my sweaty palms against the coarse dirt wall that stood between me and whoever was approaching the incline. I took a deep breath in and exhaled.

  “Come on already, Jesus,” Jerry hissed from behind me.

  I decided to do it. I bolted my head up and took a look. I saw someone standing above the trench. Their silhouette glowed in the otherwise dark surroundings. The beam from the flashlight that the shadowy figure was carrying hit my eyes, and I squinted in pain. I could see the shadow immediately tilt his head in my direction. Before I could do anything, the shadow grabbed at his gun and pointed it at my head.

  I froze. My heart pounded in my ear.

  BOOM BOOM BOOM BOOM.

  And then I head a muffled gunshot. The shadow fell forward and landed hard a mere inch away from my face. The flashlight landed next to my head and illuminated the once shadowy face of the man now on the ground. Blood trickled out of a neat little hole just above the man’s eye. I restrained myself from screaming. That, and Jerry had grabbed me and yanked me back down.

  “You see anyone else approaching the incline? Any more flashlights?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  “Abel, you gonna answer me?” he asked.

  “No, just that guy. I think he’s dead,” I said, trying to catch my breath, which felt like it was competing with my now rapid pulse.

  “Yep, the guy’s dead. Shot him in the eye. I found a discarded plastic soda bottle in the trench. We must be near a town or some sort of tip. I used it to muffle the gunshot. I was working on the silencer for an hour,” said Jerry.

  I smiled.

  “That could come in handy.” I laughed. />
  Jerry sprang to his feet and made it over to where I had been standing seconds ago. He hoisted himself a tad higher, and grabbed the dead man he had just shot. Both Jerry and the corpse fell into the trench with an audible thud. The man had two weapons on him: a handgun, which was what he’d been pointing at me earlier, and some sort of long-range rifle. Jerry chuckled as he went through the dead rebel’s possessions. He then got back up and scrambled back up the trench wall, and grabbed the flashlight, which was still lit. He clunked it a few times against his open palm and then switched it off.

  “Quite a find here, I think,” he said with an almost gleeful tone.

  “What have we found, exactly?” I asked.

  “We have a long-range rifle with a scope on it. A 32X optical scope with infrared heat-seeking optics.”

  “Is that a good thing?” I asked.

  Jerry patted me on the shoulder playfully.

  “It’s the best thing, my boy. We’ll be picking these guys off from atop this hill, and we will have the advantage. Boom, headshot,” said Jerry.

  I smiled, but felt as if Jerry was missing something that I had picked up on.

  “But if that guy had a sniper rifle with heat seekers on his scope, who’s to say the rebels haven’t got a few snipers set up and waiting to find us?” I asked.

  “Nothing, but I’ll be damned if they shoot at me first.”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  The Very Top of the Mountainside, New-Germania

  The man with the briefcase walked into the farmyard. He had just been dropped off by the convoy that intercepted the rebels a few hours ago. He was given the briefcase by some high-ranking officer. They had flown the briefcase in from Section 8. Something important must be in it, or they wouldn’t waste fuel flying it in.

  He didn’t open the briefcase; he wouldn’t dare do such a thing. It was the Reich’s property, and if the man grew curious, he could be sure that his curiosity would most likely end up killing him. He himself was a high-ranking military grunt. He commanded the platoon tasked with today’s mission. It was his duty to make sure the mission succeeded, even if its success was overdue. That was why he offered himself up for delivering the mission-important briefcase he held in his firm grip.