Shi: A Dark Adventure into Living Forever Read online

  Twenty hours to confront the grandson of my husband’s mistress.

  A son undoubtedly conceived long before their joyous wedding day. Born early due to some mysterious complication sustained during her pregnancy.

  The upside of eternity is that you could have an epic sulk, instead of days or weeks it could last years. But the time you lost indulging said peevishness didn't feel wasted. After all, you have eternity ahead of you.

  I can now admit that it was nothing more than resentfulness but at the time I felt wounded and tragically wronged. Shrouded in woe, I fancied myself melancholy.

  My first assassination task came as a horrible surprise, and I couldn’t believe that it came up as my task for the day. Back in the day, of course, it wasn’t via technology. A simple index card waited for me in my cubby.

  An innocent looking white card that held the game changer, until then I was innocent, my sins could one day be forgiven in full. Even with eternity on my side, I was still religious enough to have concerns about an afterlife and the effects my actions had.

  I researched the man I was supposed to kill and found his existence distasteful enough that I had no remorse in ending it for him. I fooled myself into believing that the world was a better place with him gone and that his death would be a mark in my favor if Judgment Day ever rolled around.

  Now, of course, I saw my reasoning for what it was; stupidity coupled with naivety, a willingness to believe that I was on the side of good. That anything I was doing was for the benefit of anything other than a group of people bent on ruling the world and bending it to fit their needs and desires. And still I didn't understand what the Man had planned, didn’t know the end game.

  In time I became good at my job, I was ruthless in my execution of the assigned tasks. I took care of the perceived threats neatly and cleanly. Not once was it suspected by local law enforcement that these deaths were anything other than what I dressed it up as.

  Of course, eventually every sulk comes to an end and as the same tasks kept rolling in I started feeling uneasy with my choices. But by then I had a reputation, and it certainly wasn’t for kindness.

  I believe it was then that I fully understood that the tasks weren't first-come-first-served as I had thought.

  There had been theories amongst the few others still speaking to me that the tasks got randomly generated. I now had first-hand evidence that the assignments were, in fact, tailor-made for each person.

  I had made no real friends, twenty years changed, and my despondency had made sure that others avoided me. I had become tough to be around. Of course, at the time, I didn’t care, who the hell needed them.

  Eventually, though I did care. It was rough dealing with the knowledge that all the people you loved and loathed got left behind. Added to that the fact that the people who were the same as you avoided you made it feel like I was back in high school.

  It was a long and hard road to get accepted by the others, and many still didn’t care for me. I had imagined that eternity meant that I had no one to answer to, no one to consider, that my actions would be mine alone.

  Eternity is a bloody minefield, strewn with politics and hierarchical nonsense. We didn’t get together frequently, so it was easy to ignore. But when we did, it was painful and awkward. So making my way back was messy and hard.

  And I thought that I was in good graces again, but I must have been a bit vocal in the wrong company. In our community, it was easy to take slight at the smallest misunderstanding. Many times the perception of wrongdoing was cultivated by the opportunistic.

  We all had competition, although there was no distinct form of ranking among the young ones. I had done nothing to endear myself to any of them, old or young and quite often I mocked them. It appeared that I had managed to get on someone’s radar after all.

  Four

  I sped along the back roads as fast as it and my loaner could handle. The loaner wouldn’t last much longer, and before I reached my destination, it would be time to change vehicles. Boredom would have set in before then.

  I drove fast, which left little concentration for anything else. Bliss after the long hours I spent in the diner. When one had no concerns about death at high speeds one tended to speed often and with reckless abandon.

  Far too soon I reached a point where the engine started protesting at my treatment, and the thrill had worn off. Luckily I was back in more familiar cityscapes and headed for the biggest parking garage I could see.

  Pulling into a mall was always a safe bet for something reliable if not entertaining. My thoughts turned to how far I had come and how much farther my task was. I cleared all I wanted or would need from the car and left the keys in the ignition.

  I didn’t bother with wiping prints. When the cops ran them, they would find nothing. It would lead them nowhere, and most police are too busy to take it further. And even if anyone did they wouldn’t find anything useful.

  Strolling through the garage gave me time to consider what I would be doing that day. This task was personal. Only a few steps removed from being family, after all, If you squinted hard and looked at the situation sideways.

  And after all, these years I have developed a massive squint. He was no actual blood relation to me, and I hated my ex-husband’s guts, but he was a grandson, one of three in fact. I kept tabs on them over the years; morbid curiosity kept winning.

  They had no other children, my husband and his new wife, but, their son had produced four kids. Three boys and one girl, and I was on my way to see the youngest boy.

  The wildest and most rebellious of the lot, never satisfied with just enough. He always strived for more and sometimes got it but more often than not found trouble.

  And today that brought him to my attention, the worst possible trouble of them all. I was to have a talk with him and regardless of the answers the discussion would end him.

  My suspicion was that there wouldn’t be any good answers today. Not for him and undoubtedly not for me, we would both be having a rough day. Of course, I could have refused but then the Man would know that I had balked at something after all.

  And I wasn't ready for the risk of Dose Denial, something that terrified me. Far more than the concern of the afterlife, and whether or not I still had a soul.

  There were facilities across the world that dealt with dose administration along with other necessities. The Dose Admins not only gave us our doses but also kept track of how well our chips functioned.

  I made sure to stay on my dose admin’s good side. It didn’t pay to mess with the person who could ensure that you felt that last hour.

  There was no need to wait the full 24 hours before administering a dose. Given in the first few minutes of the twenty-fourth hour or the last few. Depending on how your dose admin felt about you that day made all the difference.

  In the beginning they made you feel most of that last hour as a lesson; never show up late. Make sure you were on time, or this would be the beginning of unimaginable pain followed by death.

  Overkill and a whole hell of a lot dramatic, the first time I experienced the twenty-fourth hour I got the message. But I did cultivate a good relationship with my dose admin, a friendly mild-mannered man luckily.

  Even during my sulk I never once directed my mood his way, which he appreciated by administering my dose early. And eventually, he trusted me enough that we spent time together, lots of time. I learned many interesting things during that time.

  For one, the existence and location of his dose-skim. He let it slip; inebriation dismantled his caution. And his trust in me, the belief that because I had shared his bed with an abandon that I was like-minded.

  Our time together ran its course, but a friendship remained in its wake. And I knew one of his prized secrets; he had built up a secret cache of Shi. Although I never could tell if he was aware of letting it slip. It was a crazy night, and at first, I thought it was part of some hallucination brought on by the drugs and booze.

  Eventually,
it bugged me so much that I went and checked it out. It turned out to be true; he had a storage location. I’m still not certain how he skimmed doses; perhaps the facility had breakage calculated in the dose numbers. Or maybe he was removing a tiny bit from each vial before injecting the remainder.

  I could steal his stored dose for myself; it was entirely possible that he wouldn’t report the theft. To report it would mean he had to acknowledge that he was skimming in the first place. But it would be strange if I just disappeared, and maybe he only had two months worth saved up, or even less.

  The obvious result would be that I would spend two months running and hiding. And I wouldn’t be any closer to finding the manufacturing facility. There was an outside chance that things could go my way, and I could slip out of the country; if I were lucky.

  But luck had more than likely left the building, and I would instead deal with a shit storm. And make no mistake, a storm of epic proportions it would be.

  The other problem was that I would effectively condemn him to death. It didn’t sit well that I would let someone I counted as a friend and a relatively decent human being die in that manner. It wasn’t a secret either that he and I had spent a fair amount of time together in the past.

  I could of course outright kill him, but that felt wrong too. I would kill many and probably, at least, one more before the day was over, but it always seemed easier when it was a stranger. Facing someone you knew and had friendly banter stored up with was something else.

  It was useless, and I already knew I wouldn't kill Ben. No matter how I tried to rationalise it. Today was probably the most horrible in a very long time. I left the mall parking lot with a dull but reliable car. No more stalling, I had to get to work.

  Five

  The building I stopped at was like all the others around it. Situated in the older part of a business area, it was well maintained, if a bit austere. No modern art here. Simple planters with cheery hyacinths stood to either side of the entrance. It probably put people at ease as they stepped into the foyer of this conman’s headquarters.

  I sat in my loaner reading the PDF I received via encrypted email. The boy had been dipping his fingers into many pies, and he had done well for himself. I could have applauded his cunning if only he hadn’t managed it so shoddily.

  The one thing a good con artist should have learned almost immediately was to research his mark thoroughly before approaching. This kid was very haphazard in his analysis and approach. Charming got you very far admittedly, and it appeared that he was very charming indeed.

  But if your mark suspected you earlier than intended trouble appeared sooner than the con man expected. He had managed to keep ahead of the constant problem that involved police, but his lack of research brought me to his door today.

  His latest mark turned out to be a young immortal apparently inexperienced at dealing with his life. Unacceptable at his age, but still it happened.

  A bit of research showed him what he wanted, but he ignored the warning represented by what he couldn’t find. Our personal information got filtered very carefully so that we didn’t stand out. Things stood up to a hefty amount of scrutiny, but he took it further and probably rejoiced at the lack of information.

  So his con turned into a side order of blackmail, the poor idiot of an immortal tattled to his sponsor who took it up the chain of command. My job today was to find out how much the stupid boy knew and took care of the situation.

  In general, that would mean killing him when I got what I needed. But it was possible that I could mash the meaning into scaring him onto the straight and narrow path of virtue. I had little faith he would comply, however.

  After thirty minutes I got out and approached the building; he would have been aware of me sitting in his parking lot.

  My hope was that it would build some apprehension, a readiness to be frightened. Regardless of what the task entailed, I wouldn’t kill him, but I had no problem kicking his sorry ass. It could only do him some good to be humbled, and especially at the hands of a woman, his ego might not recover. Exactly what I needed from him.

  The receptionist looked young and impressionable. Had he hired her or had he conned her into working for him? She appeared eager to help and was waiting for me with a happy smile. It even appeared genuine, a novelty in her line of work. Almost all receptionists I dealt with seemed disgruntled; it was possible that she hadn’t been working here for long.

  “Good morning and welcome to Blake and Son, how may I assist you today?”

  “I need to speak with Mister Blake Junior. I don’t have an appointment but please tell him it is in regards to Denny Taylor.”

  Sweet Young Thing quirked an eyebrow, “Your name, please?”

  “Miss Dawson.”

  “Please take a seat, Miss Dawson, I will let Mister Blake know you are here.”

  “Thank you.”

  I moved away from her desk and found a couch that appeared comfortable. It was all so well put together, entirely believable. Very carefully boring and reassuring, dull enough to be convincing as the offices of a reputable insurance broker.

  I browsed slightly out of date magazines, all the while observing the girl behind the desk. She was attractive in a girl next-door sort of way and apparently friendly, an exceptional blend of familiar and trustworthy.

  Was she part of the scam? She came across as pretty enough to draw a man’s attention and friendly enough to not be difficult to approach but not so beautiful that she would make a young wife concerned. The most dangerous sort of girl if she knew herself and the effect she had on the world.

  She glanced my way occasionally with a friendly smile and appeared for all the world to be very busy with her documents.

  A door to the left of the reception desk opened, and a youngish man entered. Tie askew, suit ever so slightly rumpled. Just enough to seem that he was very busy making life better for those lucky enough to entrust their worldly wealth to him.

  I had to smile; he was good at this part of the con. He rolled with it and started his spiel immediately. He reached over and firmly grasped my hand and poured a reassuring smile on me.

  I leaned forward ever so slightly when we shook hands; ostensibly it was to see if he would stare down my top if given the opportunity. He didn’t fall for it and kept his eyes firmly in place, kudos to the pup. Today might be entertaining after all.

  “Good day, Miss Dawson.”

  “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice Mister Blake.”

  The slight emphasis I placed on Mister Blake caused a slight shift of emotions in his eyes. Doubt and anger surfaced, but he quickly brought back his chipper but tired salesman glaze. He knew I knew, but he was uncertain as to how much I knew and what my plans were.

  “Would you please follow me to my office? We will be more comfortable there.”

  He turned to his receptionist without waiting for my response. A small bid for the upper hand, which I allowed. It would be the last of his victories today.

  “Vicky, could you please arrange some coffee?”

  To her he gave a friendly smile, and I sensed that this was his weakness. He had a soft spot for this girl, something I could use.

  “Right away Mister Blake,” Vicky said and practically skipped away. She was a very cheerful girl.

  I followed him to an office at the end of the passageway. He ushered me in and once the door was closed he transformed. Gone was the comforting frazzled-looking man. He was a rather tall man now that he had straightened, with a scowl in place of the likeable, easy going smile.

  I smiled and slowly turned to take in the office. He let me look around, probably thought it was harmless.

  “Nice place Denny, you have done well for yourself.”

  I turned and made myself comfortable on his couch. It was prime real estate, against a wall and off to the side of the only entrance to the room. He would have a clear view of anyone entering, and it seemed like he spent most of his actual time there.

 
The office was immaculate, but the sofa had a different feel to it, the desk chair looked new and unused in comparison. The couch showed signs of regular use, the spot I chose had already given way to his form. I noted his displeasure at my intrusion upon his territory.

  “Please; sit, make yourself comfortable. Miss Dawson.”

  I smiled brightly at him, the sarcasm heavy in his voice. He knew I was no more Miss Dawson than he was Mister Blake.

  “Thank you, Denny, I will. I haven’t had a coffee in hours, tell me, does Vicky make a good...cup?” I asked, quirking an eyebrow.

  “Leave her out of this!”

  Ah, so she wasn’t necessarily part of the con, he just had a soft spot for the girl. I raised my hands in a placating fashion.

  “No need to get worked up, just asking a not so innocent question.”

  “Keep your questions away from Vicky, she is my receptionist and nothing more,” he said.

  Obviously not just his receptionist, I wondered if the girl was aware of his feelings. A major weakness in his line of business, he must have realized it, or he wouldn’t have lost his cool so quickly.

  “I can’t promise anything Denny, and it depends on you and what happens here today.”

  He stepped forward, left fist raised. A knock at the door left his threat unfulfilled, and I would never know what his plan was for that fist.

  I was an absolute bitch when I smiled and gestured for him to get it. Things had gone downhill quickly for him, poor boy; he suffered a setback when he didn’t offer me a seat in front of the desk right away.

  A cheery smile greeted us when he opened the door for her. A breeze from nowhere ruffled her skirt ever so slightly as she stood, tray carefully balanced.

  The cynical, dark side of me, which may be the only side to me these days, wondered if she had a portable fan underneath her skirt somewhere. There were no open doors or windows down that passageway, and nothing from the intersecting one.