Illicit Behaviour
Page 3
“I know it’s easy to feel bitter, but keep your head up. The marketplace is a cruel judge. It doesn’t care about how hard you’ve worked, or if this is your passion or not. All it cares about is content, and sometimes it’s not always the best content that gets pushed through.”
“It’s frustrating and discouraging.”
“Just remember, you write because you love it, not because you want to sell a lot of books and make it on some list. Like you said, a hack writer can make it on the bestsellers list, so that’s not a place you should want to share your company.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Let’s just go get something to eat.”
The two took the elevator down to the parkade where Kim had parked her car. They pulled out of the gate and merged onto the street. When they passed by the van that was parked in front of Daniel’s apartment, Daniel tried to get a better look. The car was too low for him to see inside, but he could tell there was no one in there.
They continued to drive for a few blocks until they came up to a red light. The car crawled to a stop and Daniel looked out the side-view mirror. He had to do a double take when he saw the van a few car-lengths behind them.
He was hesitant to say anything at first because he knew Kim would say he was being paranoid. Daniel turned completely around in his seat and rubbernecked through the rear windshield.
“What are you looking at?” Kim asked.
“I think we’re being followed.”
“Followed? Who would follow us?”
“I’m not sure, but there has been a van parked outside of our house for a few weeks and now that same van is behind us. It pulled out as soon as we left.”
“It’s probably somebody who lives in your building who just happened to be leaving the same time as us.”
Kim pulled into the restaurant parking lot and searched for a vacant spot. Meanwhile, Daniel kept lookout for the van, but it was nowhere in sight.
Daniel held open the restaurant door allowing Kim to step through. At the front, they were greeted pleasantly by a young and attractive woman.
“For two?” the woman asked.
“Yes, please,” Kim replied.
“Certainly, right this way please.”
The two were seated in a booth next to the window. The hostess set down two menus, told them the daily specials, then removed the excess cutlery from the table.
“So have you tried to submit your stories to some place where you can get mass distribution, like a major publisher?”
“In order to get published in any of those big publishing firms, you need a literary agent, and those are hard to get.”
“How do you get an agent?”
“You have to send them a query letter, but the chances of them signing you are very slim, especially in this economy where bookstores are closing down. The paperback is becoming obsolete so agents and publishing firms are becoming less relevant.”
“That’s great, right?”
“It’s both good and bad. The barriers to entry allow anyone to publish and distribute a book, but that just saturates the market.”
Just then, two men walk into the restaurant wearing matching black suits and sunglasses. It wasn’t a high-class place in the slightest, so they were definitely overdressed. Daniel took notice and never took his eyes off them.
“What are you looking at?” Kim asked, as she turned around. She made eye contact with the two men and then quickly diverted her gaze.
“Who are those men?” Kim asked.
“Not sure.”
“Have you ever seen them before?”
“No.”
Maybe I am being paranoid, Daniel thought. There was no reason for him to be suspicious of two random men in a restaurant, but like the special agents in his recent tale, he had adopted some of their ways of thinking: scan a room and spot the irregularities.
Nothing ever came of the two men. Daniel and Kim finished their meal, paid the bill, and left.
Later on, Kim reluctantly drove Daniel to the gun store so he could pick up his gun. For some odd reason, he was excited to hold it in his hand.
“I feel so powerful,” he said.
“Too bad you’ll never get to shoot it.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, it’s not like you’ll be going to the gun range.”
“Maybe not, but it’s still good to have in case of an emergency.”
“I think you’ll be more inclined to shoot somebody accidentally with it than to legitimately protect yourself.”
In the store, Daniel became familiar with the gun. He learned how to load it, how to engage and disengage the safety, and how to clean it. The store clerk filled out the necessary paper work and before long, Daniel and Kim headed out the door.
“Oh crap!” Daniel exclaimed.
“What is it?”
“I think the gun is still loaded.”
“So you’re walking around with a loaded weapon?”
“Yeah.”
“We should go back to the store,” Kim protested with uneasiness.
“We’ll be fine, cops walk around with loaded weapons all the time.”
“But you’re not a cop. Daniel, I think we should turn back.”
“We can’t walk into a store and pull out a loaded handgun, we’d be liable to get shot or arrested. I say we just keep moving. When we get to the car, I’ll put it in the trunk.
Chapter Eight
On their way back to the car, two large men in suits approached them – the same two from the restaurant, the same two who were undoubtedly camped in front of his apartment compiling data for the past week.
“Excuse me, sir,” one of the men said grabbing Daniel by the arm. Whether it was a combination of his paranoia and being slightly on edge from holding a concealed weapon, he jumped back and shoved the man’s arm off of him.
“Hey, don’t touch me, man!” Daniel shouted.
“We’re from the government; we’re here to help you.”
“I’ve heard more credible statements from Bernie Madoff,” Daniel spouted back taking notice that they had yet to show him their badges.
In his mind, he saw how the situation would play out. The two men would take him in for questioning, show a mountain of bogus evidence they had illegally obtained, and lock him away in some forgotten cell indefinitely. They would label him a terrorist, pat themselves on the back for a job well done, and completely forget about him.
“Miss, come with me please,” one of the men said as he grabbed her by the arm.
Kim screamed, which caused Daniel to go into a rage.
“Daniel!” she cried, as if to say ‘do something!’
“Hey! Let her go!” Daniel demanded trying his best to sound intimidating. He was feeling a medley of mixed emotions: paranoia, anger, fear, and desperation.
One of the men reached inside his suit jacket. In that second, Daniel saw the leather straps of the gun holster and had tunnel vision. All his other senses were muted and time seemed to slow down. Daniel’s focus narrowed in on the man’s gun. Before Daniel had a chance to think clearly, he was already reaching for his.
Depending on whose version of the story you believe, Daniel pulled out his gun and shot in self-defence. From the agent’s point of view, they had a man who was espousing contentious ideologies, who was acting hostile, and had now pulled a gun. Like the infamous Han Solo and Greedo standoff inside the Mos Eisley Cantina, it wasn’t clear who shot first.
Two shots rang out and one of the men dropped dead. The man holding Kim quickly released her and went for his gun. By this point, Daniel’s adrenaline was pumping and he wasn’t thinking straight. He had just murdered a man, possibly a government agent, and his whole life would be forever changed. He felt he had no choice but to shoot the second man where he stood. If he didn’t, Daniel would undoubtedly be the one lying dead on the cold sidewalk.
As soon as Kim was free, she took off running. She was screaming and crying, definitely in a state
of shock. Everything was moving in slow motion.
Daniel had been hit, but the location was not critical. With his gun still raised in the air he blasted again. The bullet went right through the man’s throat, causing him to drop to the ground. Daniel took off running. He didn’t see where Kim went, and didn’t want to go back to the car. Instead he ran in the opposite direction, staying off the main streets.
Daniel stumbled down a back alley, out of breath and clutching his collar bone. Blood dripped through his fingers. In the distance, he could hear the faint sounds of police sirens wailing in the background.
There was no way Daniel was going to trudge through the streets in broad daylight holding a gun and bleeding. Nor could he waltz into a hospital. He needed to lay low for a few hours and regain his composure. His apartment was too far away and much too obvious of a place to hide. Instead, he walked several blocks until he found an unlocked vehicle. He opened the car door, popped the trunk, and then climbed inside.
Sweat oozed from every pore of Daniel’s body and soaked through his blood-stained clothes. To say he was freaking out was an understatement—he was on the brink of having a full-blown panic attack. In such a short amount of time, his life had completely unraveled.
Turtled up in the trunk of some random car, he knew he was in serious trouble. As he gasped for breath, his brain tried to process the complexity of his current predicament. He took several deep breaths to try to calm himself, but inhaling the stale musky air that occupied the pitch-black trunk did little to settle his nerves. He ran his forearm across his face to wipe away the snot that dripped from his nose. In his other hand, he clutched a small handgun, still warm from being discharged.
When the story broke, Daniel’s face was on every major news outlet. At the centrepiece of the coverage was Daniel’s short story – The Assassination of an American President, which had gathered more than 40 million views.
The media did what they always do, presented some one-sided portrayal of Daniel in order to sensationalize the events. Without knowing the full story, it would be easy to vilify him.
“To those who knew him, Daniel Kingsly seemed like a typical college student. He was social, had a girlfriend, and was active in his creative writing club. But behind the unassuming exterior, lurked a very troubled individual. Kingsly had been the interest of an ongoing terrorist investigation. Not only did he post provocative stories on the internet about assassinating the President, recently he bought a gun, which was used to shoot and kill two federal agents just minutes after the purchase. Kingsly was arrested shortly after and is being detained in police custody. There is still no word on his trial date, but….”
Daniel sat in his cold prison cell absolutely heartbroken. Life, as he knew it, was over — a truly bittersweet moment for him because he would undoubtedly be spending an eternity in jail, but conversely he had received the one thing he desperately wanted.
###
Thank you for reading my short story! If you enjoyed it, I would appreciate it if you could 'like' me on Facebook, follow me on Twitter, share the story on your social media, and tell your friends about me. I thank all those who have already done that!
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Edward Mullen is a novelist and podcaster from Vancouver, Canada. His debut novel, THE ART OF THE HUSTLE was published in July 2012 and is available on Amazon and major eBook stores. Since the release of that novel, the response has been overwhelmingly positive. With a growing fan base thirsty for more, he released a second book DESTINY AND FREE WILL - a non-fiction book exploring the belief that everything happens for a reason. His highly-anticipated second novel was released in November2013 called PRODIGY - a techno-thriller set in the future focusing on the perils of technology.
Born and raised in beautiful British Columbia, Edward developed a love for the wilderness. This love, combined with an innate curiosity about all things, eventually spawned a healthy imagination for storytelling.
Despite spending a lot of his time indoors writing, Edward continues to enjoy the outdoors. He is an avid tennis player, mountain biker, snowboarder, runner, and traveler.
For more information about Edward Mullen, such as his podcast, blog, videos, or upcoming books, please visit:
***
https://www.EdwardMullen.com
https://www.facebook.com/writermullen
https://twitter.com/writermullen
https://itunes.apple.com/ca/podcast/the-edward-mullen-podcast/id534847599
https://www.youtube.com/user/writermullen