The Time Has Come

THE TIME HAS COME

"Elijah! Move it, you son of a b***h. Get back to work! Do you want to get fired?" That was my boss. His constant nagging presence amplifying the need to fuel my fire. "No, sir". "Then get moving! You are 26 cars behind. My head is on the line, not yours."

The time has come.

My name is Elijah smith. I'm a 22 year old bachelor currently working in the s**t hole called Edgar's mechanics at 190 street, Miami. I'm a high school dropout. I'm no Einstein, but I know what strings to pull to get what I want. My father left me a fortune when he died. I live in a three bedroom apartment, alone. That man was completely useless. Worked his way to success, drank his way out of it. Luckily for me, he kicked the bucket before it was too late, much before. My mama left him when I was 7. Piece of s**t slept around. Had no regard for her. That obnoxious man. God, I hated him.

"Elijah!! You lazy dog, I said move it!" I'll kill him one day. "Yes,sir." 

The time had come.

Don't misjudge me. I like working. At my own pace. Hell, I do this only because I want to. My father left me a fortune. Remember? I'm not stupid either. I live off the interest from the huge principle my 'beloved' father has left me with. I'm secure. Financially at least. So, yeah I like working. Because it keeps me sane. Trust me.
Yes, I'm a 22 year old bachelor. Why? I don't know. But I do know that this is how I want to live the rest of my life.

"What is wrong with you today Elijah? You're inconsistency is tipping me off!" Yes, that can only mean one thing. The time has come.

Friday evenings. Friday evenings, are when I add fuel to my fire. I have waited for this the whole week. What I do, requires a certain degree of expertise. Well, unless you want to make front page news. But the reason why what I do, can only be done by very few people, is that most people lack this attribute required for this 'job'-apathy. Well, my family and friends have accused me of this, but I've always taken it as a complement. It makes me strong. The weak people are so deluded aren't they.
So what is this 'job' that I do? I just remove the weaker people from the face of the earth. Why? I don't know. But, yes, mankind should thank me.

How do I do it? Well, it's easy. Drive along the interstate, pick a hitchhiker, drive him to a secluded place along the interstate, strangulate him with an electric cord, dispose of his body, return home, have a burger and watch tv. No, not that easy. I have some rules I abide by. 1) always carry a knife. 2) always carry a pair of gloves. 3) don't forget the cord. 4) look presentable and benign- I'm blessed with a friendly looking face. All I need to do is look after myself. 5) pick a person you know you can overpower even if things go wrong. 6) don't seem interested to the hitchhiker. Make it seem you're late for a meeting and you're doing them a favor. Wear a watch. Use it. Make sure the victim knows you're using it. Regularly.
And that works like a charm. The people are so stupid. Just read the news for god's sake! 'Killer on the loose. Interstate. Florida.' Anyways, I'm not complaining. The media are calling me the 'interstate killer'. They could have come up with a better name. Surely.
Will I get caught? Maybe. Do I think I'll get caught? Well, all the FBI needs to do is narrow the list of thousands of suspects to 1. I wish them all the luck they need.

After about half an hour of scanning the interstate for my price, one captivated my senses. And ticked all the boxes. The target was about 5'6", neatly dressed, hair combed to one side. Very innocent looking. Wore a thick pair of glasses, denim jeans and a yellow t shirt which was tucked in. He wore Brown dusty boots. He carried a bag on his shoulders.
I slowly pulled my car over, lowered my windows. " Jacksonville" he said. I quickly glanced at my watch and pretended to ponder over the request, but said, "well, I'm heading to St Augustine, I could drop you off there." He got in.

Usually, the person I pick up starts asking me questions about me. Where I'm from, what I do, blah blah blah. I usually killed them early into the drive. I wish. But this guy, wore a mask like face and kept mum. With a lot of traffic around me, I had to wait. But something about the silence was putting me off. I forced myself to start a conversation(weird).
"So what's your name?". "James" was the prompt, disinterested reply. He never looked me in the eye. "So who's in Jacksonville ?" I asked. After a long pause, "I live there". "So you came here for work? What do you do?" God, I couldn't believe I was actually asking these questions. Why was I asking these questions? To break the ice? Since when did I care about breaking the ice? "Yeah. Construction worker" what? Him? This guy? He looks like a kid! He was lean alright, but barely any muscle strength. It seemed. "How long have you been working here for?" No response. He let out a sigh. He seemed quite irritated. I stopped bothering him. It was just a matter of time. I'm going to find an ideal spot and kill him.
As I was scanning for the right place, I noticed, that this guy here was doing the same. No, he was not simply looking out through the window. There was this sense of purpose. Only people like me could understand what that was. For the first time, I started feeling uncomfortable. Could he be....?
He hadn't looked at me throughout the drive. Not once after he had gotten inside. A sense of panic started flooding inside me. Why am I panicking? I'm supposed to kill this guy. This harmless looking person, who perfectly fulfilled my criteria. No. He cannot be. He is not.
As I was pondering and analysing, I had lost my focus. I completely forgot the purpose of my 'job'. I didn't realise I was driving in a secluded stretch in the interstate. Just then, in a swift motion, my companion took a gun out of his bag and pointed it to my temple. What?? Is this happening........ to me? In a cold, apathetic voice, he said " get out the vehicle or I'll blow your head". Several thoughts were rushing into my head at this instant. Is he FBI? Is he like me? Is he a vigilante who has been following me? Should I retaliate? Should I be patient and wait for my turn? Will I get my turn? Will I be caught? Will I be alive tomorrow?
I couldn't believe this was happening to me. I'm supposed to be him!!
I got out the car. He led me into the forested area. It was dark! I asked to my amazement and disbelief, something I thought I will never ask. And something I thought was a stupid question to be asked. "Why are you doing this? What do you want?" And in one sentence, he dashed all my hopes of living to see tomorrow-"I'm going to count to three, and you'll hear a loud sound." In those three seconds, my life flashed before me. I thought, the time has come. 

My time has come.

Reviews

[Nigel Newman]

Hi. You sent a friend request, so I have taken a look. I think it has some strengths. However, I might wait for a 2nd or 3rd piece before responding to the friend request as I found this incredibly dark and depressing!!! More than anything it reminded me of the well-written but deeply deeply depressing BBC daily soap 'Eastenders'. I have no desire to read about people who steal, kill, abuse, bully, etc etc.

Still, putting all of that to one side, I think you have written this with great pace and a sense of energy. It really moves along. You stay, rightly in my view, in the present tense (only a couple of past tense bits probably from an earlier draft) and indeed it feels very 'present' as the reader lives it with 'you'. I also like the way the 'time has come' turns at the end. And the whole 'biter bitten' theme is very attractive.

You have several grammar and spelling errors, so I would recommend a really thorough proof check. But the pace and tension in the story come through in spite of these.

Regards
Nigel

[manojdev]

Hi Nigel. Thanks a million for your comments. I'm an avid reader of the Ann Rules and the Ruth Rendells of the world, thus said theme. This is also my first attempt at writing, and i take any comments, positive or negative, positively. I will definitely let you know when i put out my next story.
Regards,
Manoj