Ernie Luis - Alternate

The Complete Omnibus Edition

By Ernie Luis

Copyright 2015 by Ernie Luis

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any electronic or mechanical means including photocopying, recording, or information storage and retrieval without permission in writing from the author.

Cover art by Mike Corley

Edited by Crystal Watanabe

Interior design by Polgarus Studio

www.ernieluis.com

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Twitter: @frikkercus

First Edition

For Oscar and Sebastian

Shed be eighteen today.

Thats all I can think about as Im washing those dangerous thoughts and feelings down with my warm whiskey. I look at this half-empty glass and start to wonder how this used to taste, all those years ago when I first started drinking. I wonder how that bitter, burning bite used to feel against my throat. Its strange really, how all these things can become so different after so much time, yet remain the same. We call them the same things knowing full well that theyre anything but. Maybe its nostalgia. Maybe its consistency. I think its just clingy.

I finish the last gulp of whiskey and tap my napkin on the bar, making sure Ronnie sees me. He promptly comes over and pours me another glass. I like Ronnie. He never asks questions. Just gives me my whiskey. The world needs more people like him. Less talking. More doing. Ill make sure to leave an extra generous tip for the doer today.

Phone vibrates. Text message from my boss.

Kill Order: 1 Target.

Report to briefing at Dock 3. Noon.

I put the phone back in my pocket and take a small sip from my glass. I make sure to really suck the flavor from the whiskey this time. I smack my face lightly, assessing my numbness. Im more drunk than I thought. I chuckle a dumb laugh and assess the rest of my senses.

I look up into the bar through a slight blur. I blink hard and focus my eyes on a slim, clear bottle behind the bar, with big blue letters hovering above the finer print. I squint my eyes against the light and can read every word, differentiate every letter. Good, I think. Im not seeing double.

I finish my drink and put the glass on the table. I reach into my back pocket and sift through a neat stack of cash, kept together by a steel money-clip. I slide a $100 bill onto the bar, and give Ronnie a wink.

I get up from my stool, keeping a hand on the bar to minimize my wobble. I shake my head and focus on my balance. I look up and see the entire hotel lobby laid out in front of me. The morning sun peeks through the large windows to the side. An assortment of men and women enter through the revolving doors all the way at the end. I narrow my eyes on the private elevators, to the right of the regular ones, and begin to walk over there.

I think about all the bottles of toxic relief Ive drank at that bar over the years. Its a wonder my senses are still as functional as they are. It seems no matter how hard I try, they wont abandon me. What is it about the human body that makes it so resistant to its owners disregard?

I take my ID badge out of my coat pocket and flash it to the new guard I havent bothered to introduce myself to. He barely glances at me and lets me walk through the white double doors. I enter into a dim room with a couch in front of a television, and an assortment of fruits, bagels, and coffee on a table near the wall. I walk past it all to a set of steel elevator doors standing next to a fingerprint scanner. I press my thumb against it, and the doors separate to the sound of a womans voice welcoming me. I step inside and run my fingers down the five buttons on the wall, then press the one next to Dock 3. The elevator flinches, then begins its long descent into the underground.

I breathe in a deep gulp of that lonely elevator air. I close my eyes and soak in the quietness of that small box. Is this what death is like? A quiet, slow elevator ride. Maybe it takes you up. Maybe it takes you down. Maybe nowhere, if thats your sort of thing. I can see my daughter in one of these elevators, riding it up to a place I dearly want to believe in. I wonder if theyd make an exception and let me ride with her when my elevator comes. If only for a few moments.

I start to picture her short, blonde hair and her small, round face. I hear her voice as shes running outside, playing in the yard. I can even smell her strawberry shampoo and her mother-scented skin. I see her more clearly than the world around me.

Shit. I didnt drink enough.

I reach into my coat and pull out a silver chain holding a pocket-watch at the end. Dont do this to yourself, my conscience warns me. But I cant resist. Not today.

I open up its shell and look on as the seconds roll by on top of the watchs white face. Theres a round picture on the inside of the top shell. A black and white photo of my wife, Elizabeth, holding our daughter as an infant. She never saw this picture of her mother. I had always wanted to give her this watch as a special gift for some special day. But little did I realize, every day she lived was a special day.

I feel a cool chill run up my spine. Bumps trickle down my arms. I wonder if its her ghost inside this elevator with me. Perhaps wonder is the wrong word. Maybe hope is the more truthful one. I leave my hand out at my side. Just in case it is her.

The elevator flinches again, coming to a stop and ending the descent. I stare at the pocket watch dangling from my palm for just a few more moments. I bring it up to my chest and run my finger down their faces. I even manage a smile. And then, as delicately and as softly as the voice in my head can whisper, Im reminded

Shed be eighteen today.

Grey?

I snap out of my daydream to the sound of his voice.

Grey. Look at me. Go to your room and get some sleep, Ill get someone else.

No. I get up from the chair and stand at the doorway. Target is six feet tall, Caucasian male, small build, considered armed and dangerous. Last known location is Thelmas Pub on 7th and Green. Window to eliminate is two hours. Anything else?

He doesnt answer. Just stands there and gives me an amused glare.

Look, Joe, I say. Im fine, seriously. Stay off my ass.

Grey, I need you to be sharp for this. Do not drink tonight.

I smirk and close the door behind me.

I step outside and into the wide expanse of Dock 3. Colorful tiles line the floor in a blue and somber room, its dim lighting coming mostly from computer screens in front of sleep-deprived techs. They all sit at their desks, punching away at keyboards and prepping the time machine, the cleaner side to this dirty job.

I spot Lenny on the other side of the room.

Grey! he shouts, waving me over.

I walk over to his desk, passing a bundle of techs inspecting the time dock. Black and blue wires run all along the floor and converge at its feet. The overhead lights dim and the outer row of computers are about to shut off to prepare for the energy itll demand. Itll be ready for me soon.

Joe told you about Billingham? Lenny asks.

Only the window and the location. Same old, same old. Whos he working for?

Arix, maybe. Or Linus.

Those guys? We stopped their traveling activities years ago.

Maybe hes independent. He shrugs.

Hed have to have a Dock.

Easy to get access to one if you have time to prepare. And who has more time than you guys, right? Powers the real trick. Anyway, youll be fine. Just dont let him sweet-talk you. And try not to get shot. Again.

No promises. I wink.

He spits out a laugh. Well go check your locker. Theres a gift waitin there for you.