absence of light, far below the freezing point in temperature and still vaguely hand-shaped.
He could see the kid’s breathing accelerate. He gave him credit. That was normally the point where they screamed.
“There isn’t any hope, is there?”
Sam shook his head.
There were things in the world people did not get better from. There was AIDS, stage four leukemia, there were bullets to the head, plane crashes and napalm. And death warrants from the Powers That Be. In other words, him.
“Up against the wall and I make it quick.”
The boy shook his head. Slowly.
“I’m fine where I am.”
“Very well.”
Sam pushed his hand on the boy’s chest and it sunk right in. There were gaps in every piece of matter, even diamonds. Between the air molecules that people breathed was nothingness, an invisible abyss. That was what most of Sam’s body was made of and that was the reason why he could slowly wrap his fingers around the boy’s still beating heart, The truth was, the glass was always going to be half-empty, no matter how much water you poured into it.
“It’s OK anyway,” said Sam. “I was lying when I said I was going to make it quick.”
The boy’s body cringed. He was holding his breath now.
“This is a special occasion, you see. It’s the big one-triple-zero.”
The boy was thrashing now, hitting Sam’s arm. He stopped when he realized what Sam held on to. He held on to Sam’s coat instead.
“My one-thousandth kill. You can take comfort in that. No matter how crappy your life was, at least you were special to somebody.”
“One last request?” the boy coughed.
For the first time Sam’s eyes connected with the boy’s. The boy hadn’t cried. Sam could tell. And even now, at the moment of his death, there was no trace of fear in those eyes. He saw nothing but anger, hate and cold-blooded defiance.
Sam’s fingers tightened. He was savoring the moment. Let the kid’s heart die slowly.
“Tell my father I didn’t beg.”
It was time to finish this. Sam knew it. He gave the boy a curt nod. Why not tell his father? This was a special occasion after all! He pictured how he would tell it to the old man’s face. Putting a warrant on his own son, that geezer didn’t deserve the satisfaction. Sam collected his strength for the final, glorious grab.
Then he did something he hadn’t done in almost a century.
He hesitated.
***
Camden, New Jersey looked like the asshole of the universe. Houses that weren’t broken down or burned to the ground, were covered in graffiti with the windows boarded up and crack-addicted scarecrows were roaming the streets. It smelled as bad as it looked. Sewage, smog and rotten meat.
Sam’s Mercedes vibrated, making its way over the garbage-riddled road. Somewhere in the distance, Sam could hear gunfire. There were Morrigan birds sitting in the trees. Black raven-like creatures with fuzzy, shadowy edges and red eyes. Somebody had died here recently. In this very street. A warning to everyone with the mental flexibility to see them.
Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.
Letting the boy go. Not like he would survive out there on his own. And for what? One last giant fuck you to a man who died a long time ago?
It was the homeless man, standing in the middle of the street that pulled him out of his thoughts. Sam’s back ached. So did every flesh-part his body still had. Normally, after a drive of seventeen hours, he would have been angry at the man. Maybe even killed him. This time however...
There was no guarantee that they weren’t already after him. To some of his colleagues a death called out. It made a physical noise they could hear. Even blood had produced what had been described to him as an eerie melody. Singing to the sensitive...and the hungry.
He hit the horn, startling the man, but he still didn’t move. Probably stoned out of his mind. The noise attracted one of the other denizens of Camden however. A shirtless man with a revolver tucked into his