Micky

We were born to kill, the two of us. It was like from the moment we met, we knew there was a reason. Maybe subconsciously we knew we’d be partners in crime, maybe we didn’t have a clue then what we’d be getting into now. Maybe we were crazy, but it didn’t matter anymore.

We were at the end of our ropes. The chain had been locked too tight around us to slip out of. It didn’t matter how tiny we thought we were at this point.

“Where’s Micky?” They ask. Silence.

It was cold and clammy. The low yellow light that was raised only inches above us provided little to no use. The silence was killing me, it rang in my ears like a car crash, the quick bang, the screeching metal and rubber, the after shock. It felt as if I wasn’t event here.

There we were sitting back to back, the OTs-38 pressed against my forehead. He didn’t say a word, just shallow breathing and hollow stares. I could tell he was waiting for his orders, meanwhile I was waiting for a miracle. I was waiting for Micky.

“Where is he damnit? Where’s Micky?” They ask again. Nothing, not a peep.

My heart must have decided it wanted to skip out on this one, since it was trying so hard to jump out of my throat. But not Bronwyn, she was solid as a rock. Calm, even with a OTs-38 Stechkin pressed against her head, ready to blow her to oblivion. She was always calm.

I could never understand it, but in a way I never wanted to. She was the girl with the plan, not me, and it stayed that way.

“Este timpul. Omoară-I”

It’s time. Kill them.

The sound came from the walkie-talkie that sat on the metal table in front of us. Romanian, they were Romanian. I whispered the translation in Bronwyn’s ear.

Click.

They cocked back their revolvers, releasing the pressure on my forehead the gun had left. I took a deep breath.

You know how they say that your life flashes before your eyes right before you’re about to die?

Boom.

They lied.