A collection of stories to thrill, entertain, and enlighten . Thought provoking tales of fantasy, mystery, murder, love, sci-fi, and war. Within the mind and around the globe and universe, journey with the heroes and fools, the victims and the villa...
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They called him Jimmy the Rocket and he was scared. He hadn't been scared often in his life and he hated how it felt. The people he worked for took pride in the fear they instilled and he was one of their instruments of that fear. Jimmy held his hand at eye level and tried to hold it still to test his nerve. It quivered like the street when a subway passed below it. Jimmy had a job to do. He would wait until night. He sat back and closed his eyes, drifting into sleep.
Jimmy Collins wasn't a well-educated man, but he wasn't stupid either. He learned many things in his four decades of life and it was upon one of those epiphanies that he focused now; when the people who care about you reassure you that you are not a bad man it means you are in danger of becoming one. When you tell yourself the same thing, it is already too late.
When he awoke, it was dark; city dark. Street lamps and lights left on in empty office buildings bathed the avenue in a surreal glow. Jimmy started his car and began the drive to Paddy's. They'd known each other forever. It was Paddy who gave him his nickname in high school after he had won the 100 meter sprint at the all-city track meet. They were like brothers. Jimmy the Rocket was going to kill his best friend.
Jimmy parked in an alley next to Paddy's cottage and looked around. He saw a dark-colored car parked across the street with two figures inside it, watching. Jimmy shook his head and cursed silently, then walked to Paddy's door and knocked. To his surprise, it opened immediately. A smiling face greeted him. Paddy Brennan was every inch an Irishman, from his freckled face surrounded by a corona of frazzled red hair to his stocky barrel-chested body. "Jimmy, I'm glad it's you," Paddy said still smiling.
"Not when you know why I'm here," Collins said grimly.
"I know you're here to kill me, I may be stupid, but not that stupid. Let's sit." They walked to the tattered plaid couch in the center of a dreary room covered with faded green wallpaper. "I'm sorry, Jim," Paddy began, "I didn't mean to get you into this."
"You stupid Mick bastard!" Jimmy exploded. "You can't steal from these people! They think I'm involved! The only way I may live is if I waste you!"
"I wanted a piece," Paddy tried to explain, "... one lousy ounce out of ten kilos. Shit, it's less than they lose to the low-lifes who cut it"
Jimmy felt queasy. He sat down and any of the anger he felt toward his friend left him, "Stop whinin', I ain't gonna kill you."
Paddy shook his head adamantly, "You gotta, you got no choice. They're watching. I'm dead no matter what."
"They don't want me to just kill you. They want an example." The knotting in Jimmy's stomach became almost painful. He looked into his friend's eyes desperately, his mind and body fighting each other. He saw Paddy's face break into a sad smile.
"It figures. It's gotta be you, please! Kill me first, then do the other shit. Let's get it over with. We both know they're out there. They'll be getting anxious. Don't let them do me, please!"
