A friend requested that I repost this story. It was originally published at the SoMa Literary Review, but for some reason or another they've pulled down their archives. I'm told that they will eventually be available again but IT IS NOT THIS DAY.
So, anyway, for those of you who are interested, here you go.
By Joe Romano
“Damn, that only leaves me with two kills.”
The body of a middle-aged businessman lay slumped over the wheel of his Lexus, the front end of which had been crushed into a perfect V against a traffic pole. Blood flowed steadily from a marble sized hole at his left temple and quite freely from the grapefruit sized exit wound on his right. The offender’s still squawking cell phone lay at his feet.
“Mark? Mark are you still there?” Mark didn’t answer.
Jesse leaned against a newspaper rack on the corner and lit a cigarette. “Where are those guys?” he said to Hal. “I’m going to be late for work again.” He checked his weapon, a Beretta 9mm, standard issue from the Department of P5K. “Two rounds left. I’ll never make it.” he thought. “I’ll need to buy more from someone.”
As Jessie mentally flipped through the conscientious objectors that he knew, one of the local clean up vans pulled to the curb across the street. Two technicians sat in the van smoking and laughing about something Jessie could not hear. Hal also lit a cigarette and squatting down catcher style scanned the newspaper headlines through the plastic box.