15 Signs Of Murder (Fifteen thrillers)

by Luis Samways

  ‘You are not being blamed for anything other than YOUR SHORT COMINGS,’ he says

  ‘Well I hardly think you not being able to secure the capture and death of two underground rebel camps is anything to do with me,’ Miss Harriet says calmly

  Mr Conway’s face darkens in a rage as he slams his fist on the table.

  ‘Have you forgotten who you are talking to?’ he asks

  ‘No, but I think you have forgotten who you are talking to,’ she says

  ‘I don’t think I have. You’re just a stupid young woman, who thinks she knows how to get the job done,’

  ‘This stupid young woman happens to be the President’s daughter! I’d watch your tone,’ she says

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ he asks, his rage still consuming his voice like a stiff sore throat.

  ‘If you don’t start treating me with the respect I deserve, then I will take my business elsewhere,’ says Miss Harriet.

  ‘Your business? You want your father dead and you came to me. I want your father dead. We both have the same business Miss Harriet’

  She shakes her head.

  ‘No, you’re forgetting something,’ she says

  ‘What?’

  ‘I want the Whitehouse,’ she says

  Mr Conway laughs.

  ‘And you will get it,’ he says

  ‘No…I want to be the next President,’ she says coldly.

  Twenty One

  ‘My fellow American’s, today is a day of tragedy and triumph, tragedy because we have lost so many innocents. Triumph because we are still standing. An undisclosed number of men attacked over four different strategic locations today spanning the width of our nation. Our Marine Core training facility in Virginia, Henderson Hall was over run. Our streets of New York were torn apart in gunfire. Our sports teams of the New York and New Jersey area were obliterated when a sequence of bombs went off in Met Life stadium. Over thirty trains going to and from New York were set alight and hundreds of people perished. You may ask yourself, how are we still standing? And the answer is simple. Today of all days, we stand and fight. No matter how tired our legs are, we stand tall for freedom and liberty. Some of our enemies we face are human and the others are viral. No matter how many we face, one thing can be certain, death doesn’t care what colour your skin is. It doesn’t discriminate, it just obliterates. But as your commander in chief, I will lead us into battle,’ says President Harriet to a round of applause from the press at the Whitehouse.

  ‘The president will now answer some questions regarding the executive order placed on the US today,’ says a Whitehouse spokeswoman.

  ‘Mr President, you say some of our enemies are viral, can you please elaborate?’ says a reporter.

  ‘Yes I can. The World Health Organisation has confirmed that the self-combustion of certain American’s around our 50 states is most likely a result of bio warfare. All precautions are being taken to make sure the virus doesn’t spread overseas,’ says the president.

  ‘How can you be sure it has nothing to do with satellites?’ asks the same reporter.

  ‘How on earth would satellites be involved in bio warfare?’ asks the president

  ‘Some people have suggested that the reason people are blowing up is because of government chips installed in their arms from birth. Some eye witness reports suggest before the victims die, a sudden and frantic pulsating beacon is seen in their wrists, like an LED watch’s light of some sorts. The faster it flashes, the closer they are to death. Could it be possible that these lights are extra-terrestrial, or could it be a government wide conspiracy to clean the masses?’ asks the reporter to a huge wave of background chatter.

  The President looks at his security in a worrisome stare. He then looks back down to the brave reporter.

  ‘Are you insinuating that the US government are the ones causing people to blow up with satellites and conspiracy chips?’ asks the President

  ‘I also mentioned alien’s sir. It could be either one of those things,’ the reporter says to a reaction of laughter.

  ‘Well I can assure you these so called beacons are nothing but fiction. We are dealing with a terrorist cell located in this country using bio warfare to cripple our economy and people. We will find them and we will kill them,’ says the President.

  ‘One last question sir; you say these beacons do not exist and the people responsible for the thousands of deaths today are neither aliens nor government beings. Do you think these people who are attacking us could be the same people who kidnapped your daughter two years ago?’ says the man.

  The President looks down at his pre speech notes. He isn’t prepared for personal questions. He looks at the Whitehouse spokeswoman and signals her to wrap things up. He walks off of the podium and backstage to the sound of a ruckus crowd of reporters and flashing bulbs from cameras.

  ‘The President will not be taking any more questions at this time,’ she says.

  Twenty Two

  Mrs Novik’s feet are starting to tear up under her worn out sandals. The prison officials only gave her thin plastic soles when she was locked up. It didn’t cross her mind to get some supplies from the inventory section of county lockup. Truth is, all she wanted to do was get out of there in one piece, and now that she has, she can figure out her next move. When she was arrested, she lived in New Jersey. She expected that maybe the nice folks at NJ would have taken her to New Jersey lockup but low and behold she finds herself in Albany County, just a while outside of Albany city, and over a hundred and fifty miles outside of New York City. She isn’t too familiar with Albany nor does she care for the place. Its similarities to New Jersey are obvious, with its geographical location and urban feel, but Mrs Novik would have much preferred to be in the city and county she knows best. At least there she could arrange to meet up with friends and survive this thing together.

  It’s been two hours since her cell door was blown off its hinges due to two correctional officer’s self-combusting and inevitably breaking her out. She’s cold and hungry. She finds herself toddling down The New York State Thruway. It’s surprisingly empty. Usually on a normal day, this limited access road is used to haul masses of cars and trucks through New York State. Today it’s empty. She can see the horizon scatter in the distance and not one single car is in sight. It makes her feel scared and panicked. How can one of the busiest roads in the state be empty? Judging by the sun in the sky, it isn’t much past twelve o clock, so surly there should be some cars around.

  She knows that she’s been in prison for ten days. She also knows that the likelihood of people self-combusting on the outside much like the two guard’s in prison did is quite probable. She hoped that the self-combustion was just a one off thing, much like when she used to hear about select cases of self-combustion on the news. The thing is, those news stories were always so far apart in years, it seems ludicrous to think that witnessing two men blow up in front of her is unique, especially judging by the lack of any signs of life since she had busted out.

  She stops dead in the middle of the road as she looks up at the intersection sign above her head. “Albany – Ten Miles” it reads.

  She sighs in relief. She looks back down at the floor and then decides to roll her sleeve up. She had covered it earlier on, trying not to pay attention to her fate. She figured that if she was going to blow up like the rest of them, then she would prefer not to know when it was going to happen. To her dismay, the flashing light in her wrist was a solid red. It had stopped flashing! She couldn’t quite believe her eyes. She cracks a smile as she continues to walk down the isolated Thruway towards Albany. The only thing on her mind is getting to safety. She needs to find food and shelter. But above all she needs to find out what the light in her wrist means. Is it a good thing that the flashing had stopped? Or does a solid red light mean an even more brutal fate?

  Twenty Three

  David punches the captured covert Militia man one more time. The force of the punch cracks in the atmosphere as th
e sound of the beating ripples in the air. Donner looks on in horror.

  ‘Please David, not in front of the girls,’ she says

  David turns around and looks at Donner from afar. He gives her an unapologetic look.

  He swings for the army guy one more time. The man’s head snaps back and forth with every landed punch.

  Donner takes the two girls Abigail and Tristan and disappears around the corner, away from the vicinity of the beating. Ray stays and looks on while keeping an eye on the knocked out Mitch who is still unconscious after receiving a dose of Ketamine to the neck through a syringe. Ray finally takes his eyes off the beat down in front of him and notices the man who collapsed while running away from the militia man. He can’t believe he forgot about the other man. He feels ashamed that no one in the group had gone and checked up on him yet. Could the humanity that they once had be escaping them? Since the start of the flashing lights, Ray has noticed how humanity has changed around him. Not too long ago, a man collapsing in front of you would warrant a call to 911, now all it warrants is the presumption that the man is dead. Sure he hasn’t moved since, and it’s understandable that a gun fight will divide your attention, but the sheer fact that the only medically qualified person in the underground camp has disappeared, forgetting about a possible patient shows a lot to Ray. Maybe Humanity never had compassion, but one thing’s for certain, they certainly don’t have it in this sewer.

  ‘David, what happened to the guy who ran in here being chased by the guy you’re beating up, is he still alive?’

  David turns around is confusion.

  ‘What guy?’ he asks

  ‘That guy,’ says Ray as he points to the man half submersed in sewage a few meters from David.

  ‘Shit!’ says David as he rushes over to the idle man.

  He can see exit wounds on the man’s back. He turns him over and see’s the man’s face. His eyes are wide open, but still, as if they are in shock. The man’s mouth is also open, but judging from the fact that the man was lying face down in the sludge, David quickly realises that he either died from the two gunshot wounds to his chest, or from drowning in faecal matter.

  ‘He’s dead,’ says David as he looks up at Ray.

  ‘Check him for any ID,’ says Ray

  The Militia man remains on the floor, half awake, half unconscious from the beating David had given him. Ray keeps an eye on the Militia guy, just in case he tries to escape. Just the sheer fact that Ray is thinking about tackling the guy himself and making him pay for murdering the man on his back, makes Ray think that his Humanity at least has disappeared.

  ‘The guy’s name is Dwayne….Dwayne Seaton,’ says David as he examines the man’s driver’s license.

  ‘Okay,’ says Ray

  ‘Do you know him?’ asks David

  Ray shakes his head

  ‘No, not every black person in New York knows every other black person David,’ says Ray coldly.

  ‘I didn’t mean that. You know what I meant Ray, come on now’

  ‘Whatever man,’ says Ray as he walks over to the reeling Militia man they have prisoner. Ray lands a kick to the man’s groin. The militia man screams in pain.

  ‘Fucking tell us why you’re down here, or I swear I’ll kick your nuts until they fall off!’ says Ray as he rips the man’s ski mask off revealing a bloodied and battered face.

  The man looks up at Ray with pleading eyes.

  ‘I can’t tell you anything! They will kill me!’ says the Militia guy as he wipes the blood off his nose.

  ‘No…You will tell me what I want to know, or I WILL KILL YOU,’ says Ray as he kicks the man in the nuts one more time to the sound of more screaming from the Militia man.

  Twenty Four

  ‘So you suspect it’s an attack on the President?’ Asks Ricky Pastori as he bites into his lunch at the diner.

  Jesse just looks through the window at a woman carrying her groceries into her car. A group of teens are hanging around the car park, standing a few meters away from the young woman. The woman looks rattled and scared. The police instincts of Jesse pick that up pretty quickly as his partner continues to devour his pancakes. Jesse doesn’t blame Ricky for his lack of spatial awareness, but it does grate on him sometimes.

  ‘Hello, Earth to Mars, any intelligent beings on the surface?’ says Ricky, still trying to get the attention of his partner.

  Jesse finally turns to face his impatient partner and points out of the window in the direction of the teens and the woman loading her car.

  ‘In about three to five seconds that group of teenagers are going to hassle that woman,’ he says

  Ricky looks on in intrigue, maple syrup drizzling down his face as he chews on his pancake. At that very second, a few seconds short of the prediction, one of the teen’s in the car park sucker punches the woman so hard she falls into her trunk. The rest of the group quickly rush up to join their companion in crime and slam the trunk down while the woman is still inside. Ricky and Jesse quickly get up from their seats and rush out of the diner, drawing their weapons as they do so. They can hear the woman pounding on the trunk from the inside. The teens haven’t noticed the two police officers approaching as they howl into the mid-day sun in laughter and glee.

  ‘Freeze, NYPD,’ screams Jesse as he clenches his Berretta.

  A few of the teens run away immediately, leaving just two in front of both law enforcement officers. Both young men turn around slowly with their hands raised.

  ‘No sudden movements, and everything will be okay,’ says Ricky, backing his partner up thoroughly.

  ‘You heard the man. You move and I’ll blow your ass to the third world!’ says Jesse.

  The comment surprises Ricky, seeing the two men look African American. Ricky had never heard his partner being racist before; especially since both of them aren’t even white themselves.

  ‘Chill man. Don’t say anything that will get you busted,’ says Ricky quietly into his partners ear.

  ‘Man we aint doing shit officers! You just caught us chilling that’s all,’ says one of the youths.

  ‘Is that so? So what about the lady you punched in the face? She just fell on your fist?’ asks Jesse

  The other quieter youth laughs.

  ‘What’s so funny?’ says Jesse

  ‘Man, if she was going to fall anywhere, it would be on my dick,’ the youth says unapologetically

  Ricky looks on in shock as his partner walks up to the disrespectful youth and catches him with a stiff uppercut, making the youth land hard on his back.

  ‘Man, that’s my homie! You just assaulted my dude! What the fuck’s wrong with you? You’re a cop, you can’t do that?’ says the other youth.

  ‘He just admitted that both of you were planning on raping her,’ says Jesse

  Ricky, still in shock tries to defuse the situation.

  ‘Whatever it is, we need to take them downtown and deal with them properly,’ says Ricky as he pulls out his radio for backup.

  ‘Don’t touch that radio officer Pastori, that’s an order,’ says Jesse

  Ricky complies and holds his gun steady. The woman in the trunk has stopped making noise. Jesse opens the trunk to help her. He sees a beautiful blonde with everlasting blue eyes piercing through him like a dagger through his heart. She doesn’t say anything; she just sits up and watches in dismay. She has a slight bloodied nose. Jesse runs his hand across the woman’s face trying to be comforting.

  ‘Is everything okay mam?’ he says

  Ricky looks on in dismay, not believing what he is seeing.

  ‘Yes officer,’ she says softly, still looking at him in awe.

  Jesse turns his attention to the youth who is still standing.

  ‘Now I could haul your ass in for attempted rape but I feel a little street justice is in need. What I’m going to do next is drag your ass into the bushes and give you a kicking. Then I’m going to grab your friend and fuck him up too. I’m going to make sure that neither of you can walk for t
he next six months, and after that I can assure you that if I catch you around these parts again, I won’t be putting the boot to you, I’ll be shoving my gun down your throat and pulling the trigger,’ says Jesse as he grabs the kid by the collar of his T-Shirt.

  ‘What the hell are you doing Jesse? This isn’t right,’ says Pastori as he keeps his aim on the teen on the floor.

  ‘Hold onto my gun,’ says Jesse as he cuffs the petrified youth and tosses his firearm on to the floor next to Ricky.

  ‘Don’t do it Jesse,’ screams Pastori as he kicks the gun under the woman’s car.

  The Blonde woman watches on in amazement as Jesse drags the pleading teen off into the bushes. The crackling of the twigs on the floor as Jesse and the young man enter the brush is loud and deafening at the same time. What follows is a beating that is audible for a few seconds. The teen’s cries turn into gargles as the sound of blood in his throat accompany the sound of coughing. A few more seconds go by, and the sound of the beating continues until nothing but silence surrounds the air. There are no more screams from the teen in the bush, just the sound of heavy breathing. Some more rustling is heard as Jesse comes back from the brush, covered in dirt and oozing with sweat. He has an unapologetic grin on his face as comes for the second teen.

  ‘Dude, come on. You’ve taught them a lesson. They know their actions have consequences. Don’t get yourself into trouble Jesse,’ says Ricky, slightly shaken up by what he is witnessing.

  ‘Do you honestly think these fuckers are going to say one word? I knocked the other guy’s teeth out, I’m going to do the same to this prick,’ he says while dragging the groggy teen by the scruff of his neck.

  The woman continues to watch as the same scene unfolds once more. Another few minutes pass by. The bushes move some more, and Jesse comes back out, this time a little dirtier than before. He approaches the woman who is still sitting in the trunk, dismayed but appreciative of the fact that both officers were in the vicinity.