Night Moves

Author's Note: This story was originally written and submitted for the first round of the NYC Midnight 500-Word Fiction Challenge 2024. The genre/action/object assignments were suspense and/or thriller/deleting/an engine.

-

Headlights scatter across the office and Tyler pivots in his chair. No one should be here; the marina closed an hour ago.

A dark SUV has parked at the far end of the gravel lot, closest to the dock, and two large men jump out.

Tyler unlocks the office door and steps out into the muggy July night. The crickets and katydids chirp in a deafening cacophony.

“Hey, guys. Sorry but the marina’s closed until –”

The words die on Tyler’s tongue as the trunk lifts. The scant lighting reveals dark tangles of ink climbing the muscular forearms of the two large men grappling with a mass covered in crimson-stained blankets. Adrenaline rushes through his limbs, yet Tyler is rooted in place. His eyes are locked on the mass.

A third man emerges from the driver’s side and greets Tyler with a click of a loaded magazine.

“Get us a boat, Mr. McNamara.”

That familiar husky voice kickstarts Tyler’s heart, jolting him from a state of fear into one of anger. Tyler’s hands clench into fists at his sides as images of his helpless father puncture his mind. The broken glass, the blood, the airbag dust. It was meant to look like an accident.

A switch flips and Tyler complies. He raises his hands as he stumbles towards the dock.

“What…Whatever you need…”

He mumbles and fumbles with the key to the dock gate. Tyler eyes the small boat rocking in the gentle waves of the bay. It shines under the full moon like a beacon.

Shaking, he motions to the small boat and the men lumber towards him. Tyler ignores their human-shaped cargo as he clears his throat.

“Let me check her fuel…”

He jumps onboard, adeptly opening the engine compartment. The engine looks no different than it had this afternoon; fuel lines nicked in subtle places. Tyler tugs on a line with a jerk.

The men reach the boat as he slams the compartment closed. Tyler wipes his sweaty palms on his jeans and then places the key to the boat into the gloved hand of the third man.

“All yours.”

“Good man.” The third man grins. “I trust you’ll erase whatever security footage here?”

Tyler nods and steps off the boat as it rumbles to life. Streaks of red mar a once pristine deck. The third man salutes Tyler with his pistol as they jet off into the bay.

Once the boat is out of sight, Tyler runs into the office and pounds on the computer’s keyboard. He clicks furiously until the video appears on the screen. Heart pounding in his ear, he watches the last few minutes on the dock play out and his fingers hover over the “Delete” button. Tyler pushes the button, deleting the footage. The screen goes black as a boom rocks the office and a plume of fire rises in the distance.

His idea was a shot in the dark, and now it’s lighting up the sky.