Killer Reality

"No mass taps. No children. No law enforcement. Other contestants are off-limits. Those are the only rules. Your body cam must be on for each event, or it doesn't count. If you are caught, we don't know you and you don't know us. The risk is yours.”

There were ten of us, no easily distinguishable difference aside from the physical aspects of our being. Looking around, I wondered how we all got here. I mean, I know how I ended up here. I was desperate. I'd been living in my car for the past eight months and trying to go to classes, pretending like all was fine and I was just another college student who didn't bother to iron his clothes.

Then, the man appeared beside me in the mirror, watching as I shaved and tried to trim my own hair in the sparsely attended early morning hours at the college gym where I feigned working out so I could shower.

"Here's my card. Just come to the meeting and we can help you. No strings attached. Just one shot. Take it or leave it."

I finished dressing and went to work, the card on fire in my pocket. On my break, I took it out and looked at it. It was a cheap printer card. The kind you print on an inkjet and break apart. One side was blank. The other side had only an address, date, and time.

I almost tossed it, but my curiosity got the better of me. The man had said they could help me if I was willing to do anything to change my situation. So, I turned up to listen to what they had to say.

"The ten of you were selected based on information we've obtained from outside sources and personal monitoring of your situation. What we are offering you here is a chance to make your lives significantly better and, in the process, ours."

So far, so good, but then he explained what they wanted us to do. I began looking for an exit. His next words made me reconsider.

"For those of you willing to participate in this little event of ours, we offer a one-time, flat payment of twenty million U.S. dollars to the winner."

"I'm sorry. Did you say twenty million?" I gasped.

"Yes. That is correct."

"For killing folks on a list you give us," a middle-aged woman who seemed more like a soccer mom than a killer asked.

"Yes, though you are free to add people of your own, as long as they aren't against the rules. In fact, there can be only one winner, so you will likely want to add more to bolster your count."

"This is some crazy bullshit. I'm out of here," an older man grumbled, standing, and making a hasty exit.

The speaker didn't miss a beat or try to stop him, but I did notice one of the men in dark suits at the back of the room slipping out behind him. I had a feeling that this might not be as optional as it sounded now that we were here and none of the men standing around were disguised in any way.

We were given a choice as to whether we wanted to show up and hear them out, but now things were different. It wasn't just a weird little card, we'd been made an offer, a highly illegal one. Men willing to give you twenty million to kill people weren't going to just let you go out and talk about it.

"How many people are on the list?" the soccer mom asked.

"Twenty. One million each. You'll have four weeks, so that's one per day with an extra day tossed in for good measure and a week to plan. Four weeks of work to be set up for the rest of your life."

"What if we can't kill all twenty?"

"It's an all-or-nothing deal. You must kill all twenty to qualify and the participant with the most kills wins the money."

"What if we tie?" a man on the other end of my row asked.

"We've never had a tie, but in the event that we did, we would offer a tiebreaker."

"What sort of tiebreaker? Another kill session?" the man asked.

"The tiebreaker would be at the discretion of our council. They would only determine that if it became necessary. What I can tell you that is there would never be an instance where the money would be split, which I suspect is what you really want to know."

"Yes," the man replied, seeming to be okay with the otherwise vague answer.

A few questions later, we were instructed to accept or decline. Three more people did the latter and were followed out by one of the men at the back of the room. Only six of us remained. There was me, the soccer mom, the man who had asked about the tie, and three people who had asked nothing. Two were menacing-looking middle-aged men and the last one was a girl who looked like an amateur porn star.

"Alright, for the rest of you, we just need a signed contract agreeing to our terms, and then you can be issued a list, a body camera, and an untraceable weapon if you need one.”

There was a flurry of activity as we signed our documents and obtained our equipment. Only one of the six did not ask to be issued a weapon of any kind – the porn star.

"That's it.”

"How will we contact you once we're done?" the soccer mom asked.

"You won't. We'll contact you."

"Wait. You want us to just go out there and kill folks with no guarantee of payment? What if we do this and never hear from you again?" one of the silent men finally asked.

"You'll just have to trust us, just like we have to trust that you won't leave here and talk about what you are doing or go to the police. This is a mutual endeavor, ladies and gentlemen, and we are honest people. If you won't take the chance, you'll not reap the rewards."

The silent man grumbled but didn't back down. We filed out and went our separate ways. I didn't know what the strategy of the others was, but I liked to have my ducks in a row. I was on a break between semesters for summer, so there was no reason I couldn't knock this out and still have time left over before my return to school in the fall.

I imagined what that might look like with twenty million dollars. I could buy a house and stop sleeping in my car. I could quit working my shitty job at the bookstore. I could quit school altogether if I wanted. My choices would increase dramatically with that sort of money.

I looked at the list I had been given. Like the card, it was printed on cheap paper with an inkjet. It could easily be the contents of someone's address book to the casual onlooker, but that would change once names on the list started to die. We had been cautioned to guard it well.

I decided my best bet was to use my first week checking out the people on the list while simultaneously picking off people in random places. I told myself I would only kill additional people that I found deserving, but with twenty million and the new life it offered at stake, I knew I might not be so selective.

On day one, I staked out a doctor in a small suburb. He was going to be easy. He jogged in the middle of the night after his shift ended. All I had to do was hang out in one of the darker places he ran and cap him as he passed by.

With that information tucked away, I went to a small church on the other side of town, thinking I might pray about what I was doing. Perhaps some divine guidance would be afforded me. Instead, I found myself shooting the old priest who crept out from some dark recess of the church to pray at the altar.

It sounds horrible, I know, but I justified it to myself by saying I was doing him a favor. He looked like he was ready to drop anyway. I had sent him home to be with his God with one swift shot. I felt an odd sense of Godliness myself.

I picked off the doctor later that same night and added a bonus kill by popping a drug dealer down by the docks. One day and I was already down three kills. I was off to a good start.

By the end of the week, I had killed five of the people on my list and six randoms. I was feeling surprisingly good about things, but all of that went out the window with the drop of a card into my letterbox. It was the same as the one the man had given me, but this time with a different address, today's date, and a time, which was in two hours.

Short notice.

I grabbed a shower at the gym and turned up to find myself standing with only two others. A man I had not seen before moved out of the shadows at the designated time.

"All I need is the total you’ve killed, followed by how many of those were on your list, and then you can leave."

The porn star started to speak, but he held up a finger to stop her.

"Nothing else. Just a number. No other words. No questions."

The man beside me said "six, five."

I felt great.

"Eighteen, eight," the girl said.

And I was back down off my cloud. I muttered my number and we all left. The man turned to the left while pornstar Barbie and I went right.

"You wanna get a drink?" she asked.

I didn't, but I wanted to know how she had racked up eighteen kills in one week.

"Sure.”

"Come with me.”

I followed her to what looked like an old warehouse and watched as she unlocked the padlock slapped over the double doors. Inside, she pulled them closed again and locked it from the inside. Maybe this hadn't been a great idea.

"Here we go," she said, flipping a switch nearby and flooding the large studio with light.

"Wow. This is quite the place.”

I couldn't say it was nice, but it was spacious and the artwork on the walls was amazing.

"Thanks. It's my dad’s old art studio. It's the only thing I managed to save of his estate."

"You live here?" I asked, noting a small daybed tucked neatly against one wall.

"Yep. It's this or the sidewalks."

"I didn't think they allowed living quarters in this district."

"They don't. You gonna rat me out for living in a non-living district?" she said with a smirk.

"Probably not."

"I didn't think so."

"Alright. I've got wine, vodka, rum, and gin. No mixers, but I do have some ice. What's your poison?"

"How about just the wine?"

"Red, okay?"

"Sure."

I watched as she uncorked the wine and pulled two incredibly expensive-looking wine glasses from beneath a makeshift counter. Nearby sat a mini-fridge, a hot plate, and a bowl of assorted fruit.

"Come on and we'll sit up on the balcony," she said, grabbing the bottle of wine. "Bring the glasses."

I grabbed the gold ribboned glasses and followed her up a small flight of stairs to the upper level. There was a makeshift bedroom area and a bathroom at the top. The bedroom opened out onto a large balcony that overlooked the docks and river below, but I saw no way down onto them from it.

"I removed the stairs that lead up here. Safety. You know, there's some crazy people in this town,” she said, uncorking the wine and filling both of our glasses.

"You mean like people who go around killing strangers for a chance to win money?" I asked, taking a sip of wine.

"Yes. Those."

"Speaking of that. How have you managed to kill so many?"

"Partly luck, mostly tits."

"What?"

"My tits. They're nice. It's not hard to pick up guys and lure them to their death if you have a big rack."

My eyes fell to her cleavage, which hadn't gone unnoticed before, but now felt like a seal on my fate. How had I allowed a woman I knew to be a killer to lead me here alone?

"Relax. I can't kill you."

"Would you, if you could?"

"I don't know. Probably."

"Well, at least I know where I stand and it sure as fuck ain't with my back turned to you."

"Nah. It's against the rules to kill you and I won't have any reason to do it after the contest is over."

"How did you do it?"

"How did I do what?"

"The kills. You didn’t pick a weapon."

"Slow poison. I put it in their drinks at the bar. We're usually alone before it kicks in, but I did have this one lightweight that died in the front lobby of the hotel."

I looked at my wine glass suspiciously. She laughed.

"Relax. I told you that I can't kill you."

"How do I know that? You could kill me and them not know about it."

"You really think so? Don't be stupid. They're watching everything we do."

"You think so?"

"I know so. I've caught them a couple of times. My father was an artist, but he was also a drug dealer. Art doesn't pay, but drugs do. That's how I lost everything. Feds nailed him for trafficking and took it all, everything but this place. It was bought a long time ago by my mother and left to me when she died."

"What happened to your mother?"

"Cocaine overdose. She was my father's best customer. Fucked up, huh? What about you?"

"Parents had an accident and had to sell it all to pay their bills. They owed out the ass. I'm living in my car now."

"Damn. And I thought my life was shit. Well, here's a toast to us. May the best killer win."

"I thought that was me until now. Guess I don't have the tits for this contest," I groaned.

"Why don't you stay with me tonight? I could use the company and it'll give you a break from your car."

"That sounds great, but I think I need to get back home."

"Your car? Come on. You got any hits planned for the night?"

"No, but I have to take care of at least one first thing in the morning before class."

"Well, we'll set the alarm. Come on. We'll get drunk and fuck like bunnies. It'll be fun."

My brain told me to say no, but everything about getting shitfaced, getting laid, and sleeping in a real bed was just too inviting to pass up. If she fucking killed me anyway, at least I'd die happy.

***

I walked out of her place the following morning feeling like I was on top of the world. I was energized by having enjoyed a bit of human contact, though it had been more primal and kinkier than anything meaningful. I also knew that I had to seriously step up my game to catch up with her on kills. What I hadn't planned on was getting grabbed off the street and hauled into a black sedan by some rough-looking fucker in a dark suit.

"Calm down now. I just need to have a word," a man said as I attempted to kick the guy forcing me inside. I recognized the voice, shifting my weight to sit back in the seat while still giving my attacker a shit look. I turned to look at the man who had gotten our latest kill numbers last night.

"You could have just asked politely," I grunted.

"I could have, but where's the fun in that?"

"What do you want?"

"I need to talk to you about your list."

"What about it."

"You've not killed Jessica Eisenhower."

"No. Not yet."

"I need her moved up in your priorities."

"That wasn't a part of the game. You said I could kill them in whatever order I pleased."

"Yes, I know, but I need her dead by the end of the week, before Friday morning, to be exact."

"Why?"

"Not your concern, but you'll be afforded a bonus for your troubles. How does ten thousand sound? Regardless of whether you win the contest or not. It's yours as soon as the kill is confirmed."

"I'll figure it out," I said.

It threw off my game. I had each kill lined up for research and execution and she was one of the last, mostly because she was the only female on my list, and I had to wrap my stomach around killing a woman.

Ten thousand would afford me a lot. That meant that not only would Mrs. Eisenhower be dead by Friday—she would be dead as soon as I could arrange it, woman or not. Funny how all sense of morality flies out the window if enough cash is offered.

I got out of the car and ran for the bus. I just missed it. Shit. He wasn't stopping and that was gonna put me late getting to my destination. I couldn't afford to take a cab. I’d just have to hoof it to my car to get my weapon and bus it from there. Hopefully, I'd still hit the available window I had set out for the professor on my list.

Luckily, a young brunette had him cornered near the end of his building and was leaning into him. It was obvious that they knew each other intimately. It made me feel less awful about making his wife a widow.

I hurried into the small garden built by agricultural students. It sat at a distance behind where his class had just let out. He always took a shortcut through it and it was never crowded this time of morning with the wintry weather coming in.

I waited behind the small tool shed that sat in the back corner and stepped out as he approached, not giving him time to beg or run. Pop. Pop. He was down. I checked his pulse and turned off the small camera I had been given for upstreaming my kills. I took the case from his wallet and walked away as if nothing had happened.

Now, off to find out what I could about Mrs. Eisenhower. If it worked out, I’d be sleeping soundly on a comfortable bed for the second night in a row.

"Can I help you?"

"Just a hot chocolate," I said, noting the steep prices on the menu of the coffee shop I had entered. I couldn't even really afford that. There had only been ten bucks in the professor’s wallet. I just need to have an excuse to sit and watch for a bit.

"Ah, Judge Harmon!" a woman asked an older man who entered as she exited the back of the shop.

"How are you, Jessica?" he asked.

Ah, confirmation that she was my target. The photos didn't always match up to the person and I didn't have time for mistakes. I would say that I didn't want to kill innocent people, but that would be a lie. I didn’t care. I needed the money.

"I'm good. You coming to the party tonight?"

"I hope so. It depends on what time I get done in the courthouse."

Something clicked in my brain, and I glanced toward the man and then back down so my gaze didn’t linger on him too long. I glanced at the list tucked into my notebook and found him. Timothy Harmon, District Judge.

I thought none of my victims were related. It threw me for a moment, but I decided it didn’t matter to me. Still, I'd already tried to piece together how the targets were selected and had produced nothing. They were from mostly different professions, income levels, and neighborhoods.

I decided to kill her after the party. From what I could gather, it was at her house. I didn't foresee any security and if I arrived late and managed to creep in unnoticed, I could probably just pick her off once the crowd went home. If I got lucky, I'd learn enough about Judge Harmon in the process and make quick work of him soon after.

Later that night, I slipped into her house through the patio door, I moved unnoticed through the crowd of party-goers and assumed a position in her bedroom closet. As everything died down, I could hear goodbyes and doors opening and closing.

Finally, she was alone. I had expected her to come in and change out of her party clothes to clean up or maybe leave it until morning and just come to bed. Instead, I heard a male voice saying something in a low tone and a responding giggle. She had a male friend still in the house.

Fuck.

As they tripped and tumbled into the bedroom, I realized that perhaps I wasn't unlucky, after all. Though the light was out, there was enough light spilling in from the hallway to make out that her visitor was none other than Timothy Harmon.

Waiting until they were naked and frolicking without notice of anything other than one another, I stepped out of the closet, clicking my camera on as I went. I capped him first and she screamed, but it was short-lived as I popped her next. Two more shots for good measure and I flipped on the light switch to get a good shot of their faces for my contest masters.

I flipped off the camera and left. My phone rang almost immediately.

"Pick up your cash at the EZ Bar & Grill on Covington Street. Ask for Deke's booth and you'll find it in a manila envelope under the cushion there. Buy yourself a decent meal while you're there. They have fantastic steaks and you've earned one."

There was no waiting for an answer. The call ended. How had they known about the kill so fast? I dropped the phone back onto my car seat before pulling away and making my way to the 24/7 Bar & Grill. I followed his instructions and retrieved the money.

I was antsy and wanted to leave, but the thought of a nice hot meal was too much to ignore. I ordered the steak and a beer to wash it down. He was right about them being fantastic, even at this late hour. The large order of fries that accompanied them had been equally good. I felt stuffed after having lived off such small, sporadic meals for so long.

By the next check-in, I had killed almost forty people and all but one on my list. I was relieved to learn that the porn star had only killed thirty-seven and was still five short on her list. The third guy was not there. I could only assume he had given up or gotten caught.

As we left, the porn star once again stopped me and asked if I wanted to come over. We'd not repeated our first encounter and it was tempting, but I was too close, and I had plans for the night. I was too close to let her slow me down. I did not doubt that she intended to do just that.

"Nah, I'm good," I said, walking away from her.

One more week and we'd be at our final check-in. Hopefully, I'd still be ahead, and the money would be mine, but I didn't plan on taking any chances. I planned on taking out my last mark and then going on a killing spree to bulk up my numbers well beyond what she might accomplish.

It was easy work. The last mark was a reporter who did the same thing every single morning. He left his house in a shiny red BMW, went to breakfast, and then visited a mosque to pray. I wasn't about to go shoot someone in the middle of a prayer. I had already pushed my luck by killing the old priest in a church.

Instead, I waited for my mark to exit and walk to his car, which he always parked at the far end of the parking lot to avoid scratches. Two shots to the head. It was quick and painless. I left him lying beside his car and walked away, feeling good about my odds to win.

On the final day, I was up to sixty-two kills with all my primary targets completed. I arrived at the destination feeling hopeful only to find myself alone in the middle of the empty location. On the table in front of me was an envelope with my name on it. I opened it and found a key, taped to a note.

Congratulations. You're the last man standing. You can pick up your money at Grant's Gym. Locker 73. Have a great life.

I had just won twenty million dollars and it felt fucking anti-climactic. Where was the porn star? I didn't even get to give my final count. How could they know that I had won? Unless . . . something had happened to her.

Now, I felt even more determined to talk to her. I went back by where she lived and saw that it was still locked. I left again and went to the gym to retrieve the two bags with my payment. I took it home and pulled it out to inspect it. Stacks and stacks of hundred-dollar bills surrounded me. I was rich!

Still, something was off here. I just couldn't figure out what it was. I had to consider that I might never know. I told myself that it didn’t matter and decided to just get on with the new life I had afforded myself.

***

A year later, I was living in a penthouse apartment, going to school, and doing whatever the fuck I wanted to do. It was quite the lifestyle. Still, I lived every day wondering when someone would show up at my door to arrest me or worse, kill me.

I kept the gun with me everywhere I went. I knew it could seal my fate for multiple homicides if I was caught with it but I felt oddly comforted by it.

Then, one day, I saw her. She was smiling and walking down the sidewalk, arm in arm with a much older man. He looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place him. I considered whether I should approach her, decided against it, and then decided to do it anyway.

"Hi," I said, walking directly up to them.

"Oh, um, hey," she replied, seeming surprised to see me, but not unnerved.

"Can we talk for a moment?"

"Sure. What do you want to talk about?"

"Uh, alone?"

"Anything you have to say, you can say in front of my father."

"Father?"

"Yes. Father."

"I don't understand."

"Of course, you don't. You have no idea what happened or who hired you to take care of folks.”

"Well, no. You did it too, for one."

She laughed.

"No. I didn't. You just think I did. I was only in charge of the game."

"What? I . . . I don't follow."

"When you deal with criminals, you have to play their game. I needed my father back and, to do that, certain people had to be taken out. So, we started a game with random people willing to take out those who could still identify my father. With them all gone, he can live a new life."

"But the money. You said you were broke."

"I was. Men who like to play games paid you to take out those people, not me. They made bets on which of you would win and fronted the prize money. They had a front seat to the action with the live stream camera you used."

"And you? What do you get out of this?" I gasped, now realizing why they’d known about my kills so quickly.

"I get my father out of the shadows. He never died in prison. He was put into protective custody for his testimony."

"I killed doctors, lawyers, judges—a freaking coffee lady! I didn't kill any drug dealers."

"No. Someone else did that. They just didn’t win the game.”

I was angrier than I'd been in a long time. I had killed innocent people just because they could recognize a drug trafficker who had ratted out his crew. Without thinking, I pulled the gun from my coat and shot them both before disappearing into the bushes nearby.

For some reason, I finally felt safe. I cleaned any prints off the gun that might still linger, broke it down, and threw it into the river from behind the warehouse the pornstar had once taken me to for the night.

***

Ten years later, I'm a corporate attorney at a very lucrative firm. With everything behind me, I met a girl and settled down on the opposite coast. I was on top of the world.

Then it happened.

"Honey?"

"Yes?"

"Someone slid a small card under the door today. I don't know what it means."

I felt a chill as she handed it to me.

Tomorrow

7 p.m.

The Babylon Baptist Church on Sandstone Road

I didn’t know what it meant either, but I knew it wasn’t an invitation. It was an offer I couldn’t refuse. I sighed and lay it down on the counter.

“Honey, I have to tell you something,” I began.