15 Signs Of Murder (Fifteen thrillers)

by Luis Samways

  ‘You have misunderstood me. I meant that in the sincerest way possible. You are my people like everyone else in the city of New York. It’s my duty to look after the citizens of New York.’

  ‘Oh, so all the gun fire above is your way of looking after the city?’ asks David

  ‘I’m afraid that has nothing to do with me. Above ground is a mess. I can’t do anything about it. It’s in the government’s hands now,’ says the Mayor.

  ‘What about the people who came and shot us up? Some sort of New World Order bullshit I say,’ says Ray

  The Mayor looks around the underground basecamp the survivors have set up. He can see the shadows of battle in the camp as he surveys the various bullet holes in the walls.

  ‘What happened down here?’ he asks

  ‘Those bastards that are tearing the city apart came down here to take us out! How do we know you aren’t responsible?’ asks Ray

  ‘Me? How could I be responsible? I’m just the Mayor! I’m here to help you,’ he says.

  ‘How are you going to do that?’

  ‘You guys can come with me to my bunker. There’s enough room, plus plenty of supplies,’ says the Mayor.

  The group look shocked at the gesture as they gaze at each other in pure disbelief.

  Seven

  ‘We are going to make a move on them as soon as we can sir. We can’t rush these things. We just can’t risk losing our lead. After that, it will be full steam ahead,’ says the advisor.

  ‘Full steam ahead? What do you take this for? A fucking choo choo train? I want results, not fucking choo choo trains you prick!’ says the President.

  The room full of constituents put a brave face on at the sound of the President’s discord. No one dares say a word as President Harriet scans his vision around the crowded meeting room.

  ‘Yes Mr President,’ says the advisor.

  The President’s facial expression deepens as he sits down on his chair at the head of the table. He starts to fiddle around with some lose cloth on his sleeve. He smiles as he thinks about the times in which he would die of embarrassment if his garments were not proper and without defect.

  ‘Look, I know I can be an asshole. I know I can be hot-headed. But one thing I will not be is defeated. I will not apologise for my faults, for they are what they are. But I will tell you when I have been rude. You are not a prick. None of you are pricks. You are the line that stands between us and them. You are the line that stands between getting my daughter back alive or seeing her off at her funeral. You are the real heroes. Sometimes heroes fall, but not you. We will beat this, and when we do, then we can celebrate. Believe me when I tell you, we will fucking celebrate!’ says the President.

  ‘Yes Sir!’ says one of the other constituents.

  ‘Back to the drawing board then. When will we strike?’ asks the President, still fiddling with one of his lose strands on his cuff.

  ‘In the next three hours Sir,’ says the advisor.

  ‘Wont we risk an attack if we prolong our initiative?’

  ‘I don’t know Sir, but we will get these bastards.’

  The President smiles.

  ‘We will,’ he says.

  ‘We have had some news on the failed nuke that landed in Nebraska,’ says the advisor, flipping through some documents.

  ‘And?’

  ‘Well, it was EMP’d sir,’ he says.

  ‘EMP’d?’

  ‘Electrical magnetic pulse,’ says one of the other advisors.

  ‘I know what it means,’ says the President, his patience beginning to run thin once more. ‘Who could have done such a thing and why?’ he asks.

  ‘We don’t know. But we could have a friendly in there,’ says the advisor.

  The President’s eyes widen.

  ‘You mean we have a plant?’

  ‘It’s possible,’ says the advisor.

  ‘Could it be Wayne?’ asks the President

  ‘Your son is off the grid. He has been for a while now. We don’t know where he is. The CIA has told us that he is on a secret recon mission in Japan,’ says the advisor.

  ‘Fuck the CIA. They won’t even tell me where the hell my son is.’

  ‘It’s for your own good sir. Wayne decided to go into the CIA himself,’ says the advisor.

  ‘Still, I should know where he is at all times,’ says the President.

  ‘He’s an agent sir. No one knows where he is,’ says the advisor.

  Eight

  London, England

  Steven’s hearing pops into calibration as the sound of explosions rupture at his ear drums.

  ‘Gosh,’ he says as he tries to lift himself up from the dirty motorway tarmac.

  He sees the devastation caused by the flying lights prior to him being knocked out. The tarmac he is standing on has a massive crack in the middle of it. Between his legs he can see the blackness in-between the cracked road. He can feel air gushing out from the mysterious hole in the road. He can hear the whooshing wind wrap around his face and bounce off his shoulder. He turns his head slightly to the left and then to the right, trying to shake the cobwebs out from his rattled skull. A handful of cars are planted on the motorway. Some are upside down, others are on their sides. A lot of motionless people lie on the ground. Blood oozing from their bodies. Screams echoing off the sunset. Smoke makes its way up Steven’s nasal cavity and makes him sneeze. Steven turns around to see the car he was in toppled over on its side. He rushes over to it. He can hear the petrol hitting the tarmac. He fears the car could explode. He frantically looks around the immediate area of his decommissioned car. He’s trying to find his wife Sharron.

  ‘Sharron? Can you hear me?’ he shouts.

  He tries to compensate for the tremendous amount of screaming that he can hear from other drivers on the motorway.

  ‘Sharron?’

  Suddenly he can see a foot sticking out of the driver’s door. It’s not moving. He bends down and tries to open the door. It’s jammed. He tries to rip it off its hinges. He can’t seem to budge it.

  ‘Shit!’ he screams.

  He tires budging it again. Still no movement.

  ‘Come on you fucking piece of shit!’

  Finally the door seems to fly off its hinges, making him land on his back, cradling the now lose door. He throws it to one side and quickly leaps over to the driver’s door. He sees a lot of blood. He then sees his wife’s head. Her eyes are wide open, not moving. He touches her, she feels cold. He sees her white complexion, it’s a little off her usual healthy glow. He panics.

  ‘Fucking hell Sharron. Don’t die! I need you baby! Please don’t die!’ he screams, shaking her furiously.

  She doesn’t move. He checks for her pulse. He can’t locate it.

  ‘Oh god, please god’

  He shakes her some more. She still isn’t moving. He goes in for some CPR. He bangs on her chest with his fist. He breaths into her mouth. Her lips stick to his. He continues to thump at her chest for what seems like an eternity.

  Nine

  Albany, New York

  Clare and Angelina Novik are making their way inside the baron looking mall. Clare is leading the way as she holds a flashlight firmly to her chest, trying to minimise the ray of light, keeping them under the radar as they move through the deserted lower level of the mall.

  ‘Dark in here,’ she says.

  ‘Yep,’ says Mrs Novik

  ‘You reckon we will find anything?’

  ‘It’s possible,’ says Clare.

  They continue on towards a set of escalators that are non-functioning. Nothing in the mall is functioning. The electric is out and the place has a slight deafening silence to it. Mrs Novik catches herself in a panic as she looks around the deserted and blacked out surroundings she wallows in. She keeps looking at Clare in front of her, making sure she doesn’t lose track of her. She feels as if Clare is the most qualified person compared to her when it comes to killing off the bad guys. She had already proven it when it came to killin
g undesirables when she shot the man that held Mrs Novik at gun point a few hours prior.

  Clare fishes into her pocket with her right hand and pulls something out. It’s the note from the dead man that she had found. She reads the note once more, trying to gage and understand it.

  “Top floor, to the left. Albany Mall.” It read.

  ‘What do you think it means,’ asks Mrs Novik as she catches a glimpse of the scrunched up note.

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe it’s a hideout,’ she says.

  ‘A hideout for what exactly?’

  ‘People….weapons….food….medical supplies, could be anything,’ says Clare.

  ‘I guess there is only one way to find out right?’ smiles Mrs Novik

  ‘Yeah, let’s go up the escalators, you take the right, I’ll take the left. Watch out for booby traps or tripwires. We don’t want anyone to find out we are here,’ says Clare.

  ‘What if they do find out that we are here?’

  ‘Well, if the people in the mall are anything like the guy who held a gun to you, then that may not be the only gun pointed at us today,’ she says.

  Ten

  ‘I’m here sis, don’t worry, you’ll be safe with me,’ says Wayne as he unties Miss Harriet.

  The chains around her torso fall slack and tumble to the floor. The sound clangs off the atmosphere and makes the sense of urgency surrounding them feel more apparent.

  ‘Hurry up. They will kill me, and you!’ she says

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he says once more.

  Finally he manages to free her from her restrains. He grabs her by the arm and hoists her up onto her feet. She feels a little unstable as she balances herself out.

  ‘How the hell did you get here? Is there a rescue team?’ she asks.

  ‘Nope. The CIA sent me in. we’ve been monitoring this base for three years. We have been preparing for something like this, but not quite on this scale. Ever since you went missing, the CIA has been working day and night trying to secure your return to safety. It was just pure luck that these guys so happen to be the ones responsible for the beacons,’ he says.

  Miss Harriet nods her head.

  ‘Yeah, they kidnaped me and forced me to help them with the beacons. I’m responsible for everything Wayne!’ says Miss Harriet, nearly breaking down in tears.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ he says, comforting her with a firm but gentle touch of her hand.

  She smiles at her brother. The joy she feels is unexplainable. She hasn’t seen a member of her family for a very long time. She had started to forget what they looked like. But now she remembers. And for that she is happy.

  ‘I love you Wayne,’ she says, looking deep into her siblings frosty blue eyes.

  ‘I love you too,’ he says.

  ‘What’s the plan?’ asks Miss Harriet.

  Wayne smiles at his battered and bruised sister.

  ‘We get out of here before the US army ransacks the place,’ he says.

  Miss Harriet looks confused.

  ‘Ransack? What do you mean?’

  ‘The army have a lock on this place. They are coming in hot. This thing will be over fairly quick’

  Eleven

  ‘We can’t just up and leave our camp. We don’t know whether it’s safe in the bunker. What about the beacons?’ asks Ray as he sits down on a stack of newspapers they had been using to fuel the dwindling oil drum fire.

  ‘We have to risk it. It isn’t ideal but it’s better than this,’ says David, rubbing his hands together for warmth.

  Donner remains silent as she watches the Mayor in the distance waiting impatiently looking at his watch.

  ‘He gave us a few minutes to make a decision that could affect our lives here on out!’ says David.

  ‘Yeah, pretty much. I mean, he’s the Mayor of New York, surly we can trust him?’ says Ray.

  ‘I say only a few of us go. How about you and Donner?’ says David.

  ‘Me?’ asks Ray.

  ‘Yeah, is there a problem?’

  ‘No, just funny how you offer me up without even running it by me,’ says Ray.

  ‘I’ll go if you don’t want to,’ says David.

  ‘Don’t worry about it. I’ll sacrifice myself for the team David. If I die, don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll do just fine.’

  ‘Who said anything about dying?’ asks David

  ‘Don’t you think it’s a little dangerous what you are asking me and Donner to do?’

  ‘Not really. He’s the Mayor, and he said he has a bunker. You and Donner go check it out and come back and tell us whether or not its feasible to vacate to their,’ says David.

  ‘What if we don’t come back?’ asks Ray.

  ‘I’ll assume the worst. Don’t worry. I’ll tail you from behind. He won’t know I’m following you. If things go wrong, I’ll know where you are,’ says David.

  ‘But what if the covert army are in the bunker?’ asks Donner

  ‘Then you two are fucked. Look, someone has to do this. It’s the price we pay for survival. I know you can handle yourself Ray, I know if any trouble goes down, you can protect Donner.’

  ‘What about the girls?’ asks Donner.

  A frustrated look washes over David’s face.

  ‘Shit, your right. Maybe it’s best if you stay behind Donner,’ says David.

  ‘So I go in alone? Are you trying to get me killed?’ asks Ray.

  ‘Take Tyrell with you. It will be a chance for him to prove himself’

  Ray turns his head slightly to the left and see’s Tyrell playing with Abigail and Tristan.

  ‘You sure he’s ready for something like this? I mean, I need someone I can trust around me,’ says Ray.

  ‘I’m sure you’ll be okay. Look, I’ll be right behind you guys. If it’s a trap, I’ll nail the Mayor with a few shotgun shells and get you out of there. Who knows, maybe it isn’t. Maybe the bunker really is there and maybe it’s big enough for as many people he says it’s big enough for’

  ‘Maybe,’ says Ray

  Donner shakes her head in disbelief.

  ‘Maybe we are out of our fucking minds doing something like this,’ she says.

  ‘It doesn’t matter about if’s and maybe’s. The only thing that matters is survival, by any means necessary,’ says David, tapping his fingers on the barrel of his shotgun.

  Twelve

  Jesse Manteo and Ricky Pastori, along with Gianna have turned up outside the police precinct. The building looks worn and rugged. Police cruisers sitting outside of the building are destroyed. Some are still a blaze while others smoulder quietly in the corner of the car park. The place looks like it has been ransacked, and by the look of horror on both Ricky and Jesse’s face, they are thinking the same thing. The glass doors to the precinct are rendered useless with gaping holes where the glass once stood. Bullet holes pepper the surrounding walls as the sign of a struggle plays out in front of them. Rows of dead police officers lie on the floor. None of them burnt, all of them shot.

  ‘Fuck happened here?’ says Gianna.

  ‘That stupid wannabe army, that’s what happened here,’ says Ricky.

  ‘You recognise anyone?’ asks Gianna.

  ‘No, not yet,’ says Jesse.

  The three of them are careful not to step on any of the dead. Jesse cranes his head to the side, trying to see the dead men’s faces without turning them over. None of the dead at the front of the building look familiar.

  ‘No one I know yet,’ says Jesse.

  ‘Let’s go inside then,’ says Ricky.

  Jesse rolls his eyes, looking a tad nervous.

  ‘You mean in there?’ he says.

  ‘Of course. Where the hell else would I mean?’

  ‘It just doesn’t look safe that’s all,’ says Jesse.

  ‘This whole fucking city isn’t safe,’ says Gianna.

  Ricky nods his head, grabbing at his chest as he does so.

  ‘We owe it to every man and woman in that building to go inside. We need to
identify them,’ he says.

  ‘Why? You expect us to send letters to the deceased’s family?’

  ‘No, but we need to know what we are dealing with. A bit of recon won’t hurt you know,’ says Ricky.

  ‘What?’

  ‘If we know how they died, then we can prepare for what weapons we will need to take these fuckers out!’

  ‘They have a tank! That’s all we need to know,’ says Jesse.

  ‘And we have the art of surprise, and big balls. Real big balls’

  Thirteen

  London, England

  Steven is sitting on the hard tarmac next to his turned over family estate car on the M5. He’s sobbing into his hands, his knees raised up to his chest. He’s grabbing at his legs as if his life depended on it. He grips at them with every sob, tears running down his cheek. He isn’t even aware of the commotion on the motorway. He hasn’t forgotten what happened. He saw those lights like everyone else. He saw the tarmac split into two when one of the lights in the sky rushed downwards and exploded on impact against the road. He saw countless cars flip into the air. He witnessed plenty of dead people on the road. He just didn’t care about them. He didn’t have the time or the inclination to care about those people. For while they were dying, the only person he ever cared about was dying too. She lay motionless in the back of the car now for two hours. That’s how long Steven had stayed there, and that’s how long he had been crying.

  He knew his wife was dead. That’s why he was crying after all. He just couldn’t believe she was gone. He didn’t want her to be gone. It pained him inside. It hurt when he breathed, so crying was an act of torture for him.

  ‘Please God, bring her back,’ he says, crying into his hands.

  He remains in that position for a few more minutes. His crying can be heard from a few hundred feet away. A family of three are watching on as the devastation unfolds. A man is unpacking some belongings from his trunk. A woman is seeing to some possessions in the front. A little boy is watching from a distance. He stares at Steven from afar. A slight but full tear runs down his prim cheek. He rubs his tiny hand on his face, wiping away the emotion. He decides to walk. After a few minutes he reaches Steven and now stands in front of him. Steven doesn’t realise anyone is there. He carries on crying when suddenly he hears the little boy burst into tears. Steven looks up and see’s the freckle faced little boy, his eyes moist under the dim light from the destruction around them.