Dead Man Running by Jack Heath Read Free Book Online

once more.
    If Jack’s computer hadn’t malfunctioned, Six knew, the recording would have stopped, the message would have been sent to King, and the video would end here. Instead, it was going to go for another three hours and fifty-eight minutes, when the recording would reach maximum length and cut out. Deck technicians had pronounced the video to be undoctored. And somewhere in those three hours and fifty-eight minutes, Jack was going to be murdered.
    Jack opened the study door and walked out. Six got a glimpse of Jack’s lounge room – a plush armchair, a framed movie poster on the wall – before Jack switched out the light, plunging the room into blackness.
    Moments later, a TV was switched on. The glow revealed Jack sitting in the armchair, remote control in hand, watching some comedy talk show.
    Six had been told that the murder didn’t take place until thirty-one minutes and forty-six seconds into the video. Between now and then, nothing was going to happen. Jack was going to watch the talk show to the end and catch the start of the same medical drama that Six had seen on the ChaoSonic billboard without incident. He thought about fast-forwarding to the crime, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Jack’s life had been cut brutally short. Six didn’t want to make it any shorter.
    He spent half an hour scanning the darkness around Jack for signs of the intruder, but didn’t find anything. Excluding the flickering light from the television, nothing was moving.
    As the clock ticked over from 30:59 to 31:00, Six realised he was squeezing the arms of his chair so hard that the metal was twisting in his grip. His friend was about to die, and there was nothing he could do but watch.
    â€˜No, no, no,’ someone on the TV said. ‘ “Impossible” is not in my vocabulary. You’re going to save my brother.’
    â€˜I’m sorry,’ someone else said. ‘But there’s no known cure for this condition.’
    Jack looked bored. Part of Six thought about how sad it was that Jack’s final moments had been spent watching such a dull show. And then he saw the gun.
    It was a pistol. Small, dark. The muzzle was only inches behind Jack’s skull, descending slowly as Double Tap took aim.
    â€˜No!’ Six whispered, unable to control himself.
    Jack remained oblivious, staring at the TV. The gun stopped moving for a moment.
    BLAM! A spray of blood exploded out the front of Jack’s face and he jerked forward in the chair. A gloved hand slipped out of the darkness, pushing him until he fell face down to the floor. The gun flashed again and the back of Jack’s shirt twitched as the bullet punched through his heart.
    Six was staring at the screen with such intensity that he could see the gaps between the pixels. But Double Tap’s face was shrouded in darkness. Six waited for the killer to pick up Jack’s body. Maybe once he was closer to the TV, the light would expose his features. But he just stepped back into the gloom.
    Six waited.
    Double Tap never returned.
    Six fast-forwarded through the remaining three hours and twenty-seven minutes of the video. Jack’s body lay as still as roadkill in front of the TV. It was still there when the video cut out.
    Six went back to the murder and watched it again. His jaw ached from clenching. He paused, skipped back, freeze-framed. But he didn’t see anything he’d missed the first time.
    The body wasn’t there when the Deck agents came looking, he thought. So did Double Tap wait around for four hours before taking it? Did he leave and then come back? Unlikely. Which meant the killer and the body snatcher were two different people.
    Six wondered about his own murder, his own missing body. Had that also been two separate crimes?
    Not enough information, he thought. I need information.
    He got up and paced around the room, hands bunched in his pockets. He’d been resurrected in a