Page 150 of Shhh…It’s A Killer Story

Click.

Every knife stood in a perfectly straight row exactly where they belonged. I rested my fingertips lightly against the polished wood. Outside, the last of the evening light had disappeared behind the pines, leaving the kitchen wrapped in soft blue shadow.

I've always believed well-looked-after tools last the longest. Wasn’t that an old saying or something. The little things matter.

I smiled.

People usually don't notice them...

Until it's too late.

I switched off the kitchen light.

Anyway...

I'll see you again.

Goodnight.

Elias

The radio never screamed, it crackled.

Static.

"Reed! Reed! We've got a man down!"

The voice wasn't coming through the headset anymore it was inside my skull the valley disappeared, the pines disappeared. I was back in Afghanistan in the heat and sand. The air tasted like metal and diesel. Gunfire tore through the narrow village street in sharp, violent bursts, ricocheting off broken concrete walls.

Move.

Fucking Move Reed.

Move.

My boots slammed against the packed dirt as I sprinted between collapsed buildings, rifle tight against my shoulder. King was somewhere to my left.

Dawson...

Dawson was behind me. He was supposed to be behind me. Another explosion ripped through the alley and the ground jumped, dust swallowed everything. I hit the dirt hard enough to crack my chin against the stock of my rifle.

For three long seconds… there was nothing. Only ringing.

Then the screaming started.

Not civilians, soldiers. One voice was raw and desperate.

"Elias!"

I knew that voice.

"Dawson!"

I shoved myself up, stumbling through smoke thick enough to choke on the world that had turned grey concrete dust ash blood every breath burned.

"Dawson!"

Another cry answered me.