Friday, November 23, 2012

FFF: Term Life Protection Squad

Every Friday, Kurt posts a new piece of flash fiction. This week...

Term Life Protection Squad
Word Count: 585


Bill Brandt had no idea how much danger he was in. To him, it was another lovely night at the theater and a leisurely walk home. He whistled as he strolled, blissfully unaware of the gunman stalking him.

He took his usual shortcut through the park, and when there was no one else in sight, his attacker spoke.

“Hands where I can see ‘em,” said the gunman from behind. Bill heard the click of a gun being cocked. He slowly raised his hands into the air.

“That’s right,” said the assailant. “Now turn around.”

Bill did as instructed. The gunman was a short Latino man with a chiseled jaw and a dark jacket.

“Wallet,” said the assailant.

“I don’t have much money,” said Bill.

“Shut up, old man.”

“Okay, okay,” said Bill. He slowly reached into his pocket, not his back pocket, where he kept his wallet, but his jacket pocket where he kept his pepper spray.

“Don’t do that,” said a voice from above.

Bill and the assailant both looked up. Bill could barely make out the outline of a black helicopter hovering noiselessly against the starlit sky. Four commandoes were descending to the ground. One of them landed directly on the would-be mugger and knocked him to the ground. The assailant’s gun was taken and his hands were zip-tied behind his back.

“Target secure!”

“Perimeter secure!”

“Package secure!”

One of the soldiers pulled the dark mask off his face and addressed Bill directly. “Is your name William Thomas Brandt?” he asked.

“Yes,” said Bill.

“You live on Park West?”

“That’s right,” said Bill.

“Okay,” said the soldier--who appeared to be in command. He addressed the other soldiers. “We’re good. Wrap this one up for the police,” he said, kicking the assailant. Then he turned back to Bill. “If you don’t mind, we’ll walk you back to your building, Sir.”

“Don’t mind… What is the meaning of this?” asked Bill. He looked back up in the air, but the black helicopter had vanished.

“Sir, we can’t return from this mission until you are secure with your security system armed,” said the commander.

“Who are you people?” Bill demanded.

“It doesn’t matter, Sir.”

“The hell it doesn’t, I’m not moving an inch—“

“Tell him, Sarge,” said one of the soldiers.

“Okay,” said the commander—the Sergeant, apparently. “You have to promise me that you won’t exploit this knowledge.”

“Fine,” said Bill, “just tell me what the hell is going on here.”

“We’ve had you under surveillance, Sir, and we will continue to monitor you for threats.”

“But why?” asked Bill. “Who are you people?”

“You have a term life insurance policy in the amount of $2.6 million, is that correct?”

“Yes,” said Bill.

“And that policy expires in two and a half months, correct?”

“Right,” said Bill.

“After which time your family will not receive a payout in the event of your accidental death, is that correct?”

“Yes,” said Bill, “but what does that have to do with—“

“You’re in good hands, Sir,” said one of the soldiers.

“Just to clarify, Sir,” said the Sergeant, “you should not expect this sort of treatment two and a half months from now.”

Bill shook his head. “I… I see,” he said.

“Now, Sir, I must insist that we escort you home.”

Bill and the four soldiers walked through the park without incident, and when Bill got home, he armed his security system, and as quickly as they had appeared, the four soldiers were gone.

Edited by Carolyn Abram.

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1 comment:

Chappy said...

damn Obama and his non-death panels.