Six(9)

“Tell me.”

I shook my head, the only movement I seemed to be able to manage.

The beeping went off again. “Fuck.” His lip curled up into a snarl, and he snatched my arm again.

His grip was severe, bruising. We practically ran down the hall, him walking briskly ahead of me and me being dragged along.

After multiple turns I realized we were headed to the parking garage.

“Simon?”

He looked back at me, his eyes narrowed to slits. “Stop calling me that.”

“W-Why?”

He turned from me, scanning the garage. “Six.”

My head tilted to the side and my brow scrunched. “Six?”

“My name. It’s Six.” He let go of my arm and reached into his pocket for keys as we neared a black sedan.

I continued to follow, knowing if I stopped, he’d shoot. “Why Six?”

Was he a secret agent or something? Like James Bond?

Scratch that. I probably didn’t want to know. He had just murdered everyone I worked with. Innocent people.

He let out a frustrated sigh and pushed me into the side of the car. “Because I’m your motherf*cking Satan. Now, get your ass in the damn car before I throw you in.”

I stared at the car for a brief second, then slid in. The moment the door was closed, he had my wrists in his grip and was spinning a roll of duct tape around them, binding my hands.

He started the engine and pulled out, but not in the speeding rush I anticipated. Slow. The speed limit of the parking garage. Once we’d driven a few blocks in frightening silence, he pulled something from his pocket and pressed it.

A few seconds later an earsplitting explosion rocked us and everything around. I snapped forward, then slammed back into my seat as a shock wave hit. Smoke and flames reflected in the rearview mirror, emanating from the spot where my building resided—there was nothing remaining.

Everything was gone.

All the shock, the pain, the confusion, and the fear built up and I erupted. “What the f*ck is going on?”

He was unfazed by my outburst, absorbed with the I-275 exit in front of him. “Better put your seatbelt on. I don’t care if you live or die, but you may.”

Hands bound, it was hard to maneuver the belt across my body, but after some tugging, it clicked in place.

The words of an ex of mine came back to haunt me as I stared down at the gray around my writsts: never get tied up.

It probably didn’t matter because he could’ve killed me multiple times over, but I knew nothing good would come.





We were ten miles up the road, almost to the I-74 exit, when Six’s grip tightened on the wheel and his foot pressed on the gas. His gaze flickered to the mirrors, but when I looked, there were no red and blue lights like I expected. In fact, there was nothing but other cars.

He began weaving in and out of traffic, but even with everything, we still didn’t stand out. The moment we passed the border into Indiana, he pulled into the inside lane and slammed on the gas, rocketing us forward. It was then I noticed a white sedan behind us doing the same.

We were being followed. Not by law enforcement, which probably meant it was someone as equally dangerous as him.

Six rolled down the windows as the other car gained on us. “Get down on the floor unless you want your bullet now.” He grabbed his gun and a new clip, reloading it.

I frantically unlatched the seatbelt and slid to the carpet, tucking my body as far and deep into the space as I could. The wind whipped my hair around, and when I twisted and reached up to grab it, I brushed against his hand. His arm was outstretched, gun high. He pulled on the trigger in quick succession.

I covered my ears. Even with the silencer it was too loud, being that close. The cool calm from before continued to surround him, but the surprise on his face was noticeable when the other car returned fire. I cringed and squeezed my eyes tight with each bullet that struck us. More than one made it through the layers of the door, missing me by inches.

A sudden movement knocked my head into the center console as the other car sideswiped us. I cried out and grabbed my forehead. Another couple of shots rang out, then tires squealed.

“Damn it.” The engine revved again, and he closed up the windows. “Get up.”

I pulled myself up, noting our speed had passed one hundred and the other car had disappeared.

Again, my heart was pounding, this time in sync with the bump on my head as I attempted to latch the belt again. My teeth chattered as tears flowed down my cheeks.

“Too much. This is too f*cking much.”

He pulled off on the first exit we came upon, somewhere in the middle of nowhere Indiana. “This has only begun.”

Sobs burst from me in waves that rattled my core. It was all happening, not a dream. My coworkers, my friends, were dead. “Why? Why are you doing this? What is going on?”

His gaze never left the road. “None of that matters. You were in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Why did you kill them all?” So many lives, gone.

“Collateral damage, just as you’ll be.” No emotion. A mechanical response.

Who is he?

“You don’t have to kill me, just let me go. I swear I won’t say anything.” It was a feeble plea. One I wanted to believe would work, but after what I’d seen, I knew was a hopeless dream.