15 Signs Of Murder (Fifteen thrillers)

by Luis Samways

  The train came to a rolling stop, and the engines hissed a heavy sigh of compression as the doors opened. Cindy and her daughter got their bags and left. Seconds later, the man who was sitting behind her did the same. He didn’t have any bags, though. The only thing he had on him was his service pistol. It was all he needed.

  This stop was going to be a short one.

  Chapter Four

  The ATV we were on crawled up a winding dirt track. It seemed as if we were getting closer to civilized parts of the mountainside. I noticed a few horses in a field and then some more animals. The deeper we went into the woods, the more isolated buildings I saw, all propped up in the middle of vast fields. It was then that I saw a huge barn in the distance and nothing much else. The small dirt track we were riding on was running out, and as far as I could tell, maybe our time on this planet was coming to an end as well.

  Jerry and I remained hogtied as the ATV came to a screeching stop. The mountain lion running alongside the bike had gotten a little weary and decided to crash land next to the bike. I could see the animal wanted some sort of drink. He looked parched, but I didn’t feel much sorrow toward the savage beast. I knew that the animal didn’t feel much toward me, so I wasn’t going to give it the satisfaction of my inner animal lover.

  The farmer got off the ATV and stretched. I could hear the joy in his tone as he started to whistle under his breath. The tune I noticed him whistling was the execution theme song that played on those television broadcasts that took many men away from this world, including my brother. I didn’t know if he was fully aware of the fact that my brother had been executed, or he was just humming the tune out of boredom. I decided on the first one. The guy must have been trying to get an edge on me, and one way to do that was to make me scared. I guess it was working. He was big, and I was small. Jerry and I were incapable of moving, and we were covered in dirt that had been kicked up by the wheels beneath us on our journey to this place. I wasn’t going to be defeated, though. I wasn’t going to let this guy, or the next, destroy the hope that had been instilled in me by the rebels. Even though I knew I wasn’t a rebel, really, I was ever so grateful for Jerry and Danni and their determination to keep me away from the Germans, even if it was for selfish reasons of their own.

  “Remember not to tell this asshole anything, Abel. Stay quiet. Take whatever you need to take to the grave. We aren’t getting out of this one, buddy,” Jerry said. I could see that he was about done and ready to give up as well, but what surprised me most about this whole situation was Jerry’s willingness to help me, even after the incident that happened in the Jeep when we were on the run from the army. He had literally kidnapped me and taken out half of the people he used to call comrades, but for what?

  “Why did you shoot up the rebels?” I finally asked. I knew it wasn’t the best of situations to be inquiring about such a thing, but I needed to know before we were likely separated. I had a feeling that I wouldn’t be seeing Jerry anymore. So I needed to know.

  “What did I say, Abel? Keep your damn mouth shut.”

  I persisted. “Tell me why you did what you did. Why did you shoot that Sammy guy in the back of the Jeep? He was already in pain from the gunshot wound to his leg. Why did you kill him?”

  The farmer guy-cum-kidnapper wasn’t really paying attention to us. He was busy unbolting a big door to the barn. He was mighty strong. Able to lift the big wooden plank in one fell swoop. He looked like the type of guy to be called a “genetic freak.” He was so big, in fact, that I thought if Jerry and I had a chance at running for it, his bulk could slow him down and help us evade capture. But those were pipe dreams. The whole thing seemed like a dream, and I just wanted to know why in the hell Jerry had to come into my life and turn this dream of mine into a nightmare.

  “Are you gonna answer me or what, Jerry?” I asked. This time I could taste the disdain in my mouth. It coated my tongue and hung onto the crevices of my teeth, like plaque on the gum line.

  “It doesn’t matter why I shot Sammy, does it? All that matters is the current situation at hand. We are trapped, and you’re blabbering at the mouth like an uncontrollable child. Get a grip, would you?”

  Even though we were both hog-tied next to each other, hanging parallel to the side, I felt the uncontrollable urge to smack the prick in the face. Not only was he talking to me like I was a child, he was calling me a damn child. Enough was enough, in my opinion, and I needed to let him have it. Like it or not, I was angry.

  “Listen here, you asshole. I didn’t ask for any of this. You’re the one who showed up at my trench and decided to take me on a noble quest of promises kept to my damn dead brother. And look where that got me. On the back of a damn quad bike, hog-tied like some sort of animal, about to get fed to some burly farmer’s big cat. Thanks a lot, Jerry. Real smooth. You literally could be the most thick-headed, inconsiderate asswipe to ever grace this godforsaken land. Go fuck yourself, and thanks for the damn rescue, you dick,” I said, steaming at the gills as I tried to wriggle my way out of my restraints. It was no use, really. Jerry and I weren’t going anywhere, and all that was happening was me venting at the top of my lungs while wriggling on my front like a fish flapping out of water.

  “Easy, fellas,” I heard a voice say. It was that damn farmer. He was smiling from ear to ear. “Don’t kill each other, now. Let me do the honors.”

  I spat on the floor, trying to hit his foot, but I was miles off.

  “And fuck you!” I yelled.

  “You got spunk. I like it. I’m going to move both of you into my barn now. I was going to leave you separated, like prisoners of war, but I think seeing you two cooped up in a cage will bring me hours of entertainment while I wait for my check from the Nazis. In the meantime, try to not kill each other just yet. I wouldn’t want to see any of those checks bouncing, now, would I?”

  Both Jerry and I fell silent as we looked into each other’s eyes. Jerry got pulled off the back of the quad first. He was carried into the barn. The farmer was gone for a few minutes. It was long enough for me to conceal the razor Jerry had handed to me before we got captured. It was still in my hand when I knocked myself out on that tree. It had remained there since, and the look Jerry gave me was one I recognized. He was telling me to hide the damn thing better. If he could see it, the farmer could as well. Good job the plan was coming together.

  And then the farmer returned for me. I clenched my fists and could feel the rope around them loosen a little.

  Chapter Five

  The meeting room had a large round table in the center of it. The blinds were pulled and the synthetic light kicked in, drenching the table in a bright white light that made a sheen-like reflection occur on the granite surface. Around the table sat ten well-fed, well-paid German leaders of government. They wore black attire stylized in the fashion of 1940s Nazi clothing. The thing was, the Nazis hadn’t gone out of fashion, and the clothing was a symbol of the greatness that they achieved since the Second World War ended with them winning. The world had bowed down to them and all their superiority.

  At the head of the table was Commander Klaus. He was a highly decorated veteran of the New Germania army and headed the operations out of Section 8, formerly known as Washington, D.C. The German officials had made the trip across to New Germania to talk about the opposing rebel forces in the now debunked United States of America. They were growing ever more worried over the possibility of losing the States to the rebels, and that caused a great ulcer to form in the collective gut of the German Empire.

  At the other end of the table was the German first officer, Sebastian Faber. He was a ruthless man of immaculate dress sense. He had black colors mixed in with red, covering his whole attire. His cufflinks were made from the bones of the Jews he had killed on a few occasions in the past. He had a square face and an even broader gait. He didn’t like being in New Germania, and if it was up to him, he would have sent one of the Reich to deal with the meeting, but the Council in Germany had insisted that h
is opinion and presence were needed in the capital of their second country. So there he was, representing the war machine and looking for answers.

  “Tell me this, Commander Klaus. How can you be so sure that the Yank Reich’s man, Jerry, won’t assist the rebels with the knowledge he holds close to his heart? Tell me how we aren’t in immediate danger of an attack?” Sebastian Faber asked as he twisted his human bone cufflinks to an angle, waiting for a response.

  “I can’t tell you that Jerry won’t divulge what he knows regarding our war efforts, but, that being said, I still think we can reason with him. He was a good solider — is a good soldier. He shouldn’t come to any harm. We don’t want him to think we are gunning for him, or he might think he hasn’t got anything to lose. And if that occurs, then you can be sure he will do everything in his power to make us pay,” Commander Klaus said, he, too, fiddling with his cufflinks. His were not made from human bone, but still resembled the sheer brutality of the regime he was involved with.

  “I don’t think we can barter with a traitor as you propose. That would be going against everything that the New Germania Empire stands for. Do we want to send out the message that we allow people to do such things to our great cause?” Faber interjected to a mumble of approval from the other men seated around the table. The light fixture that shone the bright light above their head flickered a few times. Power surges were common in New Germania. Such a big country demanded such a big grid. Something else First Officer Faber disliked about the country.

  “I’m not suggesting we barter with the Reich’s man. I am suggesting we gain his confidence and then shatter his skull. That’s what I am suggesting,” Klaus replied. He, too, got a mumble of agreement, albeit a bit more bloodthirsty than Faber’s response.

  Sebastian sat at the other end and nodded his head in agreement. He stopped twiddling around with his cufflinks and jotted something down on a piece of paper in front of him.

  “I have signed the Action Document you handed me before this meeting. I trust you will use this power for the greater good of the Empire. Shall you fail, Commander Klaus, then the bloodshed that will occur will be kept on your record, and you will be stripped of both your title and your head. Do I make myself clear?”

  Klaus smiled. It wasn’t a forced one; it was one that projected confidence in his own abilities. He wasn’t worried one bit. And it showed.

  “Of course, Mr. First Officer. I will do the Empire of New Germania and the motherland of Germany proud. Jerry and all opposing forces of the Reich will regret the day they ever crossed us.”

  Chapter Six

  Danni Mendez and her men marched down the weaving road that lead to the village they were planning on hunkering down in. The road consisted of brittle cobblestone and dusty mud that blanketed the dry surface they walked on. The sound of scraping boots and tired men could be heard as they soldiered on toward their planned safe haven. Danni herself wasn’t in much of a mood for cheery resolve, seeing she had lost six men at the hands of Jerry. It was still playing on her mind. She couldn’t get the sound of gunshots out of her head. The recent memory of witnessing one of her men get a bullet to the neck played in the forefront of her mind. She could still see the blood, caked all over the dead soldier’s face. She looked down at her hands as she led the pack from the front and saw the state of them. She saw dried blood hiding under her fingernails. She picked at them as she walked. She wanted to get rid of all evidence of the day’s events. She wouldn’t be happy until she could take a shower and forget about the bloodshed of the day. Even when the likelihood of more bloodshed awaited her, she felt as if she had seen enough for a day. She was over-tired and didn’t want to see another round of ammunition wasted on petty killing.

  “We’re just a few clicks off our target, Danni,” Baston said from behind her. She could hear his uneven breathing as he walked. She could tell most of her men were drained. They usually stood much taller and exerted less effort, but it seemed as if the day had done more than its fair share of strain to all of them. Weary heads never prevailed, so it was her mission to get them all rested up before the inevitable run-in with more hostiles occurred.

  “It couldn’t come at a better time. I don’t know about you fellas, but I’m about ready to sleep for twelve hours or so,” she said. The half dozen men behind her laughed a little. She could tell they were frazzled, so she attempted to alleviate the atmosphere by telling a joke.

  “What do you call a blind German? Anyone?” she said.

  A few hushed voices started to contemplate the answer. Even though most people had heard the joke she was about to say, it was a welcome distraction from the grim surroundings that they were enduring. “A ‘Not See,’” someone blurted out from the back to a roar of laughter.

  “Good, glad you remembered,” she said.

  Baston gave himself a little chuckle from the back. The big, red-skinned mammoth of a man decided he wanted some of that action. He wanted to tell a joke, and to the surprise of the rest of them, the normally quiet South African native piped up with a stinker.

  “How does every German joke start?” Baston said. The group behind him and Danni grimaced a little but put brave faces on. “By looking over your shoulder,” he replied to a few sympathetic laughs. It was more of a fact than a joke.

  “I guess you could always be a stand-up comedian if this whole rebel/bad-ass killer thing doesn’t work out,” one of the men in the back heckled.

  “Or I could punch your face in, ay, prick?” Baston replied. No one laughed this time. Only him. “I’m joking. God, you guys are so sensitive it’s actually worrying,” Baston said, chuckling some more to himself.

  Suddenly a crack in the wind made the marching rebels stop dead in their tracks. Danni turned her head slightly and got to the ground fast.

  “Enemy attack!” she bellowed. “Get to cover,” she cried.

  Everyone did as she said; she remained on the ground as the rest of the group dispersed. Baston stayed at her side, kneeling on the ground, aiming his weapon in the opposite direction. The other rebels fanned out and got into position. And then three Germans came screaming out of the bushes, firing their Lugers. They were down within a few seconds. None of the rebels were shot. They hadn’t had the opportunity to get shot. Not with the fast reactions of Baston. He capped three shots into each of the approaching Germans. All nine shots were head shots. Their attackers were dead the very second they stepped out of the bushes.

  “Jesus Christ, Baston. What a shot,” one of the rebel men said in awe.

  Baston snorted and put his pistol back into its holster.

  “Fucking ran out of bullets, ay. Let’s hope there’s a damn ammo cache at this village.”

  “Take my last mag,” Danni said.

  “Nah, you keep it. We don’t want our captain to run out of shooting power when we get into trouble next. I’ll be all right. I got my bare hands, ay.”

  The group laughed at Baston’s response. Most of them were in complete awe of the big, bad gentleman. And then someone decided to make another joke. “Why is it ill-advised to be a German in New Germania?” someone said. No one replied — they awaited the punch line. “Because Baston will shoot your fucking head off, ay,” the guy said to a roar of applause.

  The group continued to march on. They didn’t know the Germans were following them. And they wouldn’t know until it was too late.

  Chapter Seven

  Cindy Goldstein and her daughter Mary-Lou got off the train and walked on in a straight line. They moved through the heavy pedestrian congestion that was normal for a train station. Some people were selling clothes on makeshift stands next to benches. Others were selling books and travel items, like cases and bags. Cindy didn’t pay attention to any of the people trying to sell her stuff. She was way too interested in escaping the shadows of the dirty station and getting away from the man she suspected was trying to killer her — or worse, do something to her daughter. She had recognized the man on the train, but it was no use
crying for help. That was her problem, you see — help would be hard to get if she was to remain undetected by the law enforcement that would surely be after her. She’d murdered her husband, and that doesn’t come with a light sentence, no matter the circumstances. He was an officer of the law, and now she had one of her dead husband’s fellow officers chasing after her. For what purpose? She didn’t know, but if it was in an official capacity, then he would have made himself known as a police officer; he wouldn’t be stalking her in the shadows. She knew that for certain. That wasn’t how the police worked. Even the corrupt, violent, German police that seemed to be everywhere these days.

  She even passed a few on her way out of the station. Did the man behind her shout out that she was a fugitive of the law and needed to be arrested? No, he didn’t. He had no intentions of getting her arrested. The intentions he had were much more unsavory. He didn’t want her to rot in jail. He wanted her to suffer at his hands.

  “Mommy, why are we walking so fast? Are the duckies going to fly away? Is that why we need to hurry?” Mary-Lou asked as she glanced up at her mom. Her tiny legs could hardly stand all the walking she was doing. But the excitement of this new place she was in overshadowed her childlike need to whimper under such stress.

  “We just need to walk fast, that is all. It will rain soon, and I don’t want either of us to catch a cold,” Cindy said as she clasped her daughter’s hand tightly with one of hers and gripped the suitcase with the other.