The following won second place in the Short Fiction and Creative Nonfiction division of the Walter Spara Writing Contest sponsored by the Department of English and Communications in the spring semester, 2012.
by Xzavyer Whittle
The Price They Pay
It was raining. Not the usual droplets but large, peculiar ones. The darkness of February loomed over the small town of Sierra Falls, putting its residents in a slump. The darkness cast by the clouds seemed pale in comparison to the darkness that loomed over the heads of every resident in every state across the nation. The country was no longer safe, or, as safe as it once was.
Highway 87, 5:36 P.M.
Sam Harrington drove his black, ‘64 Lincoln Continental through the town at a speed that was much too high given the circumstances. Rainwater wisped off the tires as the windshield wipers savagely fought to keep their territory free of water. The orange glow of a cigarette slightly illuminated the interior of the car; each inhale giving more definition to the grief on Sam’s face. The impact of the rain and the explosions of thunder provided him with a calmness he had not felt in years. He was thirty-two years of age but appeared to be in his late forties. The strenuous amount of work he had engaged in over the past five years was to blame for this onset of aging. But he had to do the work. He had to save until he had $25,000.
And that day had finally come.
Government and Citizen Affairs, 5:54 P.M.
Sam stepped out of the car and into the security of his umbrella, protecting his black and white suit from unsightly droplets. The Doppler shift of a siren could be heard in the distance. The sirens always seemed to be coming rather than going these days. The yellowish glow from the streetlights cast his silhouette upon the sidewalk. In the shadow, the umbrella looked like his own personal raincloud, one that he willingly held over his head. His leather shoes made their way up the stairs and into the building.
“Howdy, my name is Dave. How can the GCA help you today, Sir?” said a small man behind the front desk who was entirely too cheerful for this line of work.
“Yeah, I need one of those exemption slips,” said Sam, pointing to the kind of slip he wanted, fedora in hand.
“Oh dear,” said Dave, “well then I’m going to have to ask you to fill out some paperwork, is that alright?”
“You do whatever you need to do,” said Sam, who wasn’t too keen on other people indulging in his personal information.
Sam filled out the paperwork, which asked for basic information: Name, Date of Birth, Social Security Number, etc. When he got to the Desired Person, Crime, and Reasoning sections, he decided to leave them blank. He knew they would still let him do it. He knew they wouldn’t turn down all the money he offered. He gave the form back to the man at the front desk along with his money and waited as his information was put into the system.
“Sir, are you sure you want to leave these sections blank? It really helps us out if you fill them in,” said Dave, in his annoyingly cheerful tone.
“Can we just cut the bullshit?” Sam said as more of a command than a request, “It’s not my job to take care of all the details; it’s yours. I gave you my money; now let me take care of my business.”
Dave simply disregarded Sam’s anger.
“Okay, Sir. We are required to send an agent with you to make sure everything goes smoothly and to make sure you stick to what you paid for, due to you leaving those sections blank. Is that alright?”
“That’s fine,” Sam said, clearly agitated.
“Okay, if you’ll just wait over there someone will be right with you and you can be on your way.”
Sam waited in a small, uncomfortable chair. He hated this place and everything it stood for, but it was his only option now. He felt that he had to do this. “She deserves it,” he repeated to himself. But by the time the agent had come, he was still unsure if he could go through with it.
When Sam raised his head, he found a woman standing before him. She was wearing a white shirt with a blue blazer and a black skirt. Short, black hair, glasses, heavy mascara, and bright-red lipstick complimented her face. Sam looked into her ivy-green eyes and immediately turned away when he found them peering back at him.
“Hello, I’m Julia Darinson. I’ll be assisting you tonight,” she said, thrusting her hand forward to greet him.
“Sam Harrington,” he said, slightly intimidated for some reason.
“You’re quite the looker, aren’t ya?” said Julia as she eyed him up and down intensely.
“Excuse me?”
“I’m kidding! You gotta find some way to keep your spirits up when you work here, you know what I mean? Oh, you should’ve seen the look on your face.”
“Yeah, I guess,” said Sam who wasn’t particularly in the mood for jokes. “Listen, can we go? I just want to get this over with.”
“Sure thing.”
Sam watched Julia as she walked toward the front door of the building and tried to decide whether she was delightful or annoying. There was something about the way she walked, as if she couldn’t be bothered by anything. He was envious of her disposition. Sam’s attention was torn away from Julia’s demeanor by a large sign moments before he exited the building; it depicted an exuberant, cartoon man holding a gun. Next to his head was a large speech bubble that read:
Government and Citizen Affairs:
Where It’s Fine To Kill, If You Pay The Fine To Kill.
Sam thought of how blunt the notion of murder had become…how desensitized society had become, and suddenly felt sick to his stomach.
Salem Street, 6:27 P.M.
Sam drove his car down the desolate road, trying to focus on the yellow lines rather than Julia’s legs that were resting in the passenger seat.
“So who’s the lucky person?” Julia asked to break the silence.
Sam normally wouldn’t answer this question but he felt a strange openness with her, probably because he wouldn’t see her again after tonight. “My ex-wife,” he said.
“Ex-wife, so you’re available, eh? How about we go and get a cup of coffee after this? It’ll help you feel better, and lord knows I need some caffeine,” Julia suggested, trying to lighten Sam’s somber mood.
“Sorry, but now isn’t really a great time.”
“Oh, alright then,” Julia said, slightly embarrassed.
A few seconds passed before Sam’s voiced filled the interior of the car.
“What compelled you to work for this company? Don’t you feel bad for helping people commit murders?” Sam asked, feeling as if he owed her something for denying her request.
“Ummm…well, I needed money and they were the only place hiring at the time. Plus, all employees have immunity from legal murder without having to pay the two-hundred dollars a month for it, which is a pretty good perk if you ask me,” she replied.
Sam wasn’t sure what to say so he just focused on getting to Laurie’s house.
“So, let me guess…your wife was unfaithful?” Julia asked a few uncomfortable minutes later.
“Yeah,” Sam replied, in a breathy tone.
“Yeah, we get at least one of those a week. Although they usually pay it off in installments after the fact. This must’ve happened to you quite some time ago.”
“Five years,” Sam said, in the same tone.
“I’m sorry.” said Julia, and she really meant it. After seeing how broken he was, she decided to speak again. “You know, I’ve found that when one person falls out of love, the other is left to endure the fallout of love lost, and the only way to break free is to start anew. You have to move on and focus on yourself. You need to stop living in the past; you’ll never find yourself back there.”
Sam thought about what she said and felt an odd sensation swell in his chest. He replied with a simple, “Thanks.”
5728 Morningside Lane, 6:44 P.M.
The house looked beautiful, even in such disheartening weather; a simple, two-story building with brown stucco and white-bordered windows. Reddish-orange ceramic tiles were spread atop the structure and palm trees filled the front lawn, dripping with rainwater and gently swaying in the wind. Sam took the long way home from work every day, just so he could see the house and get the feeling that he was going back to the life he once led, even if only for a moment. He longed for a sense of belonging somewhere…anywhere.
Sam and Julia made their way toward the front door.
“You sure you wanna go through with this?” Julia asked.
Sam just kept walking, ignoring her question. He found it strange that no light was beaming through the windows, especially because two cars were parked in the driveway. When they reached the front door, they discovered it was slightly ajar. Sam reached into his coat and pulled out a Smith and Wesson Military and Police Revolver.
“Whoa, did you rent that out from the GCA?”
“No, this is mine,” Sam replied. He remembered when the gun once lay dormant in the end table next to his and Laurie’s bed. He thought of the irony of killing her with the weapon that was always meant to protect her. “There’s no use knocking anyway,” Sam thought as he made his way inside the house.
The two found themselves shrouded in darkness and blanketed in crippling anxiety. They trudged through the dark house until they reached the master bedroom on the second floor. Muffled yells and incoherent sobs disrupted the cadence.
“What do you think’s going on?” Julia asked in a whisper.
Sam just remained quiet and wished she would stop asking so many questions.
Sam barged into the room, giving no thought to stealth or secrecy. The only light was provided by a small table lamp that lay on the floor. Sam found Laurie in the corner, tears streaming down her face. A large man’s shadow was cast on the wall. It belonged to Cole, Laurie’s husband. The man she left Sam for. He was a large man with short hair and brown stubble littering his face. Cole was wielding a gun, the barrel staring right into Laurie’s eyes.
“What the hell is going on here?!” Sam shouted.
“Whoa now, don’t go and get yourself all worked up. I paid for this; it’s all perfectly legal. But what’re you doin’ here?” Cole replied calmly.
“I actually came to…uh…” Sam couldn’t say the rest, but the gun in his hand spoke for him. Laurie started sobbing heavily and Cole began laughing.
“You came to kill her too! Great minds think alike, huh?” said Cole.
Sam felt disappointed in himself. He didn’t want to be anything like Cole.
“Why would you want to kill her?” Sam asked.
“Man, you know how marriage is, it kills ya on the inside and, well, I’m just bringin’ a little of that inside out.” Cole said as he began laughing “Now why don’t you run along and get yer money back, I owe it to ya for stealin’ your woman.”
Laurie kept crying in the corner and Sam just stood still. Sam thought of the money and what he could do with it. He could get it all back, all twenty-five thousand dollars. He thought of rebuilding his life and focusing on himself. Cole had actually expressed his guilt and shown Sam respect and, for the first time, Sam felt close to Cole for that.
“Alright, you wanna stay and watch, fine by me. I understand,” said Cole after Sam had failed to leave.
The sound of two gunshots resonated within the room and ended Laurie’s cries. Blood painted the white walls and began to seep into the fibers of the carpet.
Sam lowered his gun and examined Cole’s body. Two gunshot wounds hollowed out the back of his head.
“Why’d you save me?” asked Laurie.
Sam just remained quiet, refusing to look her in the eye.
“Well, I never stopped loving you…and maybe you could move back in or we can just go out sometime. I’d really like that. Plus, Cole took the money to kill me out of our account and I could really use help getting back on my feet,” Laurie blurted frantically, in a desperate attempt to win Sam over.
“No,” Sam simply stated.
“No?! Then why’d you save me? Why’d you waste all of your money just so I could live?” Laurie shouted.
“Because,” started Sam, “you may deserve to live…but you don’t deserve to live with me.”
Laurie began to sob again and Sam felt an odd sense of joy growing within him. He enjoyed seeing her broken, he reveled in her pain. For the first time, he was the one causing the pain; for once he was the victor. A crazed look overtook his face.
“Hey, maybe we should go; I‘ll get someone to take care of everything here,” said Julia, breaking her long silence.
Sam snapped out of his delirium, nodded to Julia, and walked out the door. Laurie’s cries grew more and more faint as Sam and Julia exited the house, leaving the whole ordeal behind them. The pair entered Sam’s car and sat in silence for a few minutes. Julia wondered if Sam was okay, but was too afraid to ask. Right before Julia was about to speak, Sam broke the silence.
“So, how about that cup of coffee?” he asked.
Julia was thrown off by his question but quickly recovered. “You’re not gonna kill me if I say no, are you?” she retorted, a wide smile slowly forming on her face.
Sam grinned back at her and gave a slight chuckle as he started the car, feeling happy for the first time in a long time.