Cheap Thrills (6 Thrilling reads) (49 page)

Eighty Seven

The train’s metal flooring creaks with every turn of the cabin and Jason looks down at the dark pregnant woman and then at the hooded man next to her. He stares at the hooded man for a few seconds. The man’s fists are clenched, ready for attack.

Jason smiles, raises his hand and lands a backhand firmly on the pregnant woman’s dark face. She hits the floor as the rest of the passengers watch on in horror.

Jason laughs as the hooded man bolts from the floor and tackles Jason. Jason’s head pings against the metal floor. Jason’s eyes widen as a fist hits his face, hammering his head back to the floor.

The hostage’s cheer and jeer as the hooded man reigns down a fury of rights and lefts. He stands and surveys his downed opponent.

Jason focuses; he snaps his leg back and kicks the man’s right knee. The sound of the man’s leg breaking is followed by a tortured scream. Jason eases himself up and stands over the man, reeling in agony.

Jason pulls out his 9mm and aims it at the man’s head.

‘I wondered when you were going to make your move.’ Jason cocks the hammer back and fires one shot into the hooded man’s head. Blood seeps and reddens the fabric of the black hood. The man hits the floor with a thud. 

Jason puts his gun away and turns to the other passengers. ‘Like I said, anyone who doesn’t do as I say, then it’s good night for them.’

The pregnant woman holds her face in pain and he kneels beside the terrified woman. He moves her palm from her cheek, revealing a red bruise. He looks into her brown eyes. ‘You’ll live,’ he says quietly.

He gets back up and grabs his AK47. ‘Now let’s get this party started!’

Eighty Eight

Frank leans against a brick wall and surveys the traffic. The incident building is to his right in the far distance. Boston’s skyline is to his left. He slouches down and sits on the pavement. His hands slide across the coarse pavement. An ant runs across the finger of his right hand.

He watches the cars drive by and reaches into his pocket and pulls out a new pill bottle. He unscrews the child proof top. He pours three of the assorted pills into his palm and chucks them into his mouth. He swallows them dry. His face remains placid as he drifts in and out of consciousness.

Specs of light dance in front of him. He can’t hear a single thing as he watches the white lights dance. The image of his wife appears before him. Her luscious blonde hair drapes over her slender shoulders and she blows him a kiss. A tear rolls down his face and off his chin, hitting the pavement with an imagined sorrowful splash. He swallows hard as the image of his wife evaporates.

A car horn beeps and he realizes it is night time. His watch tells him he has been there for three hours. A woman walks past as he is about to get up. She flicks a nickel on the ground as she walks away. He looks at the nickel in confusion and sticks out his arms to study his dirty and tattered clothes.

He takes another deep breath and wipes the remaining tears from his face. Boston glistens in the moonlight light. He turns to see the incident room on the right. Bending down, he grabs the nickel. He flips it a few times and briskly walks toward the Boston horizon.

Eighty Nine

Chief Shaw looks on as officer’s form a crowd around the TV. The big screen TV flickers from pitch black to a live stream and Connor Chase appears wearing his usual white Tux. His face stares into the camera.

Connor fiddles with a microphone attached to his chest.

‘Hello America. Here I am broadcasting live to you again. My video streams have more unique views than any other video in the history of the internet. You are lucky to be part of this accomplishment. YouTube fame aside, I’m here on important business. I’m talking about the 28th amendment.

Now I know I must sound like a broken record, but surely you understand the importance of this amendment. Take today’s events for instance. The president was assassinated because someone gathered information, or as the CIA likes to put it,
intelligence
. The people who killed him knew when and where he was coming. They knew how to get to him. They knew how to get away. They succeeded. And the authorities are sucking their thumbs trying to find a lead on the assassin. Now, I’m not stupid. I know that the mere fact that I’m mentioning this is enough for them to want to pin this on me. They probably think that I had something to do with it. I’m not going to lie; I did think that the president might deserve to die. I mean all that shit about him being with this girl, then that girl. Cheaters never win, but I have to admit that I had nothing to do with the poor old bastard being shot.’

Chase paces as he thinks with his hands.

‘Why would I kill the guy I need alive to pass the 28th amendment? I guess I could have had him killed for wasting my time and not complying with my demands, but I did not. Now the guy is dead and I’m left with no one to bargain with. So here’s what I propose. If Washington doesn’t start taking me seriously, I will do away with twenty five hostages live on this stream in a matter of minutes. The people in charge need to call me now so we can arrange a means of me getting away from this building alive and safe to some third world country. You know the drill. Most of all though, I want Washington to know  if they do not pass my 28th amendment I shall do away with those twenty five hostages in a firing line live on TV. Now to make sure everyone understands my willingness to act with such brutality I would like to take you to live CCTV footage of the train station downtown. I’ve helpfully placed cameras in strategic positions to catch this moment in history. Roll the footage, as they say.’

An image of four separate shots overlooking the train station appear on the TV. Nothing happens for a moment and then a train makes its way into shot. It slows to a crawl and finally stops. Four different camera angles capture the front of the train, the side, the rear and a wide angle of the whole train.

The ticker on the bottom right of the TV reads the exact time and date. Shaw picks up his mobile and dials as he watches the idle train. Someone answers.

‘I need some units at the train station. Something is about to…’ A massive explosion at the front end of the train engulfs it in flames. A mushroom cloud of smoke bellows out and debris floats to the ground. The impact of the explosion knocks out the front camera and rear camera shots. The long angle shot and middle angle are all that remain as smoke and fire fill the platform.

‘Make that rescue units,’ Shaw says, ‘We have an explosion at the train station, probably casualties.’ Shaw flips the phone shut and puts it in his pocket, staring in shock at the TV image.

Ninety

Frank opens the door to his apartment and rests his head against the firm wooden grain of it as it closes him in. He hears the hum of the light fixtures in the hall on the other side. He slouches against it for a while.

He reaches in for his pill container, unscrews the top and pours a few dozen pills into his mouth. He rattles the container. It’s nearly empty. He listens at the door again. The hallway is silent.

He turns and surveys his apartment. Scattered folders and clothes define the decor. The empty bottle of Jack he so willingly guzzled a few days ago clutters the open plan living area. He makes his way to the fridge and peers in.

The cold refrigerator warms his face as he rummages through it. His hand finds a long neck cold bottle and he pulls it out. He smiles as he unscrews the chilled whiskey.

‘I wondered where you got to.’ He lifts the heavy brown bottle to his lips and lets the liquid gush down his throat, down his front in true McKenzie style. His face drips as he finishes the bottle off and chucks the empty container on the floor. The thud sounds right in the dark room. He stumbles to his couch and plonks himself down. The familiar cushions welcome him. He grabs the remote and flicks on the TV. The first channel it is on shows the carnage at the downtown Boston train station. Frank quickly sits and watches the disturbing images.

The TV then flicks to a live picture of Connor Chase, standing firm and proud in his white tuxedo.  Frank shakes his head and hurls the remote towards the television. It cracks the widescreen. Frank grabs his keys and walks out the door, slamming it firmly behind him.

Ninety One

‘I hope I have made myself clear.’ Chase looks scornfully at the camera. ‘I am serious about this.’

Chief Shaw stares at Chase and turns to see Eddie with an empty glass in his hands. Chase’s tirade continues in the background. Shaw turns to the screen as he grips the desk in front of him. His fingers dig into the wood as the horror of what he just saw washes across his face.

‘So now that I have your attention again, I’m up for a little game. I did, in fact, blow up the train you just saw. If this was a game of poker, we would all be on the flop. Three cards down, two to go. I will reveal two things now. Obviously, the train is card one. Card two is about to be turned. Bang, it’s a good one!

Half of the passengers were taken off the train and to safety before the other half blew to hell. That’s right. One hundred gone, one hundred saved. Now let’s move to card three.

I have a special V.I.P guest on that train. That person will play an integral part as card three. The person is Crystal Smith. Boya!

Now if you don’t know who Crystal Smith is, let me enlighten you. She is the Boston District Attorney’s daughter and a wild card. Before you assume I killed her to make a statement, please Mr DA, give me a call. He knows my number. It’s that eight digit number he ignores. Contact me, Mr DA, in the next minute so we can further discuss this most fascinating game. Do you think I killed your daughter in the explosion? Or did I save her sweet ass. To make things even more enthralling, I’m going to bring on a female to the stage, so to speak. Her identity will be concealed, but I’m hoping that her presence will sway the DA in the right direction. If the DA answers wrong, this girl gets a bullet in her head. If he gets the answer right, she lives. Time starts now. You better get dialling, Eddie.’

Eddie watches Chase drag a girl into the shot. Her head is concealed under a white knapsack like the previous hostages. She is visibly shaking as Chase whispers something into her ear. Eddie’s hands tremble as he drops his empty glass on the floor.

Shaw faces him. ‘Look you need to ring him or the girl will die.’ Shaw holds out a phone.

‘I…Don’t know his number.’ ‘The number is in this Phone. I put Frank’s SIM card into it so we could hit redial and call Chase back. You’ll get through.’

Chase’s image fills the room from the ominous TV screen.

‘I…I…I,’ ‘Ring him!’  Shaw commands and hands the phone to Eddie.

Eddie’s fingers stumble as he attempts to press the green button. Shaw mashes the button and holds the phone close to Eddie’s ear. The dial tone starts as a ringing sound echoes from the TV. Chase smiles as he looks down at the ringing phone on the stool next to him. The girl starts to cry as Chase picks up the phone.

‘I’m glad you did not fold, Eddie,’ says Chase in a chilling tone.

Eddie watches the TV in shock and horror. His blood like ice coursing through his veins.

‘Speak up, Eddie, I could swear you’re not talking. That doesn’t bode well for this foxy lady.’ Chase grabs the girl’s arm. She lets out a terrifying scream.

‘Crystal?’  Eddie shouts.

Chase laughs and red raw mark shines on her arm in the dim light. Connor squeezes harder.

‘The bitch can’t hear you, Mr DA. I’d play my hand if I was you. Or all bets are off. Did I kill your daughter on the train or is she standing here next to me?’

Eddie stutters. ‘I don’t believe you ever had her,’ he finally says.

Chase laughs and lets the girl go. He scratches his face with the shiny metallic barrel of his Desert Eagle.

‘I had a feeling you would play your cards like that. You have a terrible poker face. I’ll see you to that bet. Roll the footage,’ Connor orders.

Crystal stands in the middle of the train’s cabin holding a newspaper. The camera zooms into her face and then down to the newspaper. The date is today’s morning’s issue.

Chase’s face replaces the clip. ‘Did you like the little video of your daughter on board the train? Now, I want to know, was she placed at the front of the train with those unlucky souls or did she get a second chance and is she standing next to me? What’s your answer? Make it snappy, DA Smith.’

Eddie freezes and studies the girl on the screen. ‘You killed her, didn’t you, you son of a bitch?’ Eddie clenches his fist in anger.

Ninety Two

Sandra’s ears ring as she lies flat on her back, looking up at the sky. White clouds disappear as black smoke bellows
 out into the crisp air. She turns her head slightly and sees Mike lying unconscious nearby. She heaves herself up, the ringing in her ear still gnawing at her. She finally manages to balance on her feet and looks at the devastation around her.

Debris floats in the air like pollen. Smoke fogs the air. She struggles to breath and coughs violently. She moves away from the searing inferno. The train in front of her is in pieces. Fire chars the sides of the platform and engulfs the tracks.

People are screaming in pain and Sandra spots someone trapped between the train and platform. She rushes over and finds a woman in distress. She bends to try and help.

The dark woman looks at Sandra with pleading eyes. ‘Please help me.’ ‘Everything is going to be alright,’ Sandra assures her.

‘Hurry. I’m pregnant.’

Sandra sees a pair of disembodied legs and realises who they belong to.

Sandra grabs her hand. ‘I’m here,’ she says softly.

The woman chokes on blood oozing from her mouth. Her eyes roll back in her head. Sandra grips her hand harder.

‘Stay with me.’ Sandra pleads.

The woman’s grip loosens and her hand drops to her side.

Sandra lets go as the woman’s breathing ceases.