Greg Szepanski - Demon of Death

Demon of Death

Greg Szepanski

This is a work of fiction meaning the people and places discussed within are purely the product of the authors imagination or used in a fictional manner. Any resemblance to anyone living or dead or and actual events is pure coincidence.

Copyright 2018 Greg Szepanski

All rights reserved. This book is protected by Federal Law. No reuse in whole or in part without the express written consent of the author. This includes reproduction or transmission of this book in any form or by any means electronic or mechanical. No photocopying, recording, or electronic information storage and retrieval systems may be used.

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The Day They Died

What if you knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the day you were going to die? How about if you knew the exact moment and the method of your demise? Would you party like its 1999? Or would depression and fear take over causing you to try to hide from your divine appointment?

My choices led me to this dirty convenience store facing down an armed gunman. It wasnt my day or time, but it was for a little girl. Thats why I was here. My plan was the same as every time before and quite simple. First, confront the thug and get his focus on me. That keeps him away from the intended victim. Next, make sure the victim and any potential secondary victims are safe. Third, kill the punk so he doesnt get a return engagement murder spree. Then in the confusion of the aftermath, melt into the night.

The machine told me a nine-year-old girl named Bella would take her last breath at 8:17 PM in this crappy store. It was the same machine that told me the exact moment of my death. You may think I am nuts listening to some machine, but it has never been wrong. It has given me winning lottery numbers three times and has sent me on thousands of missions like this one. Each time the situation matches exactly to what the machine told me beforehand.

Where did the machine come from? My father ran his own business before the incident called Johnnies Junk and Treasure. His choice of name was odd since his name wasnt Johnnie. Today you would call him a picker, and he might even have his own show. One day he came home with a Gypsy Fortune Telling Machine. It was the type you put your nickel in, and your fortune comes out on a small card. The problem was, he couldnt get it to work, so it sat in our garage. I put my first nickel in when I was 10, and that started my adventure. For whatever reason, the machine only worked for me.

I dont know about you but, I cant stand the thought of a little girls life snuffed out for $73.47. Thats how much is in the till. I didnt count it, but I know the amount. Anger drives me to action. I need to serve up justice. Not the standard justice the systems supplies. That justice puts the criminal back on the streets to repeat his crimes all over again. The police, lawyers, and judges all get job security. Then the public feels good about crime being fought. My justice is real and permanent justice!

A gruff voice brings me back to the present, Back off hero before I blow your brains out! What a moron! I hold my ground with my right hand held up in a non-threatening manner. At least thats what he thinks! My left hand grips my walking stick which I dont need for walking. I can fake an awesome limp to make people think I do need it!

Just put the gun away, and we all can go home alive tonight, I say in a calm voice. Everything I do is calm since I know he wont shoot me. Its not my time yet. He stands there with an expression on his face that says, Yup, Im a stupid caveman! He doesnt actually say that thought, but his eyes do. Bullies expect everyone to back down and cower in fear and are stumped when someone doesnt.

It would be fun to know what these scumbags think when they see me. On these missions, I always dress in black. Black Fedora on my head, black gloves, black trench coat, black shirt, black jeans, and black boots. Even my walking stick is black. The only thing not black is the white angel wings on the back of my coat. Theatrics? Yes, but a confused enemy doesnt lash out and kill the people around him. The confusion allows me to do my work. I never carry a gun or a knife because I dont need either.

That stupid voice again, Do you want to die tonight?
We all want things we never get and get things we didnt want. His head turns like a dogs will when they know you are talking to them but dont understand what you are saying to them. I think the average dog is smarter than this guy. Maybe the dumbest dog too?

Now you might think to kill this mental midget is extreme, but, I look at it as a trade. He came here to kill a little girl, premeditated or not, and instead of the girl, he will die. This girl could die tomorrow in an accident or become the most prolific serial killer ever known. I wasnt meant to know the outcome of tomorrow, yet, only tonight.

His death means the universe stays in balance. If this wasnt true then why did the machine keep giving me these missions?

I could have stayed serving my country instead. That would have been a worthwhile life. Uncle Sam taught me new ways to kill, but then he said I couldnt follow orders and took to many risks. One night a Major wanted to kill a wanted enemy combatant. Being career military he wanted to become a Colonel. He was willing to sacrifice two innocent families to get his kill. I wasnt willing to make that sacrifice, so my military career ended. His did too!

You must be hard of hearing old man! Man, I am getting sick of this voice.

My current or future health shouldnt concern you. What should concern you is putting the gun away before you get hurt.

Im the one with the gun, not you fool. So you should be worried about dying tonight.

Wow, he was able to string two sentences together at one time! Im impressed. We were reaching the end of this confrontation. If anyone called 911 the police would interrupt my work and justice needed to be served. I didnt want anyone to grow up the way I did.

The incident happened when I was 12. My mom left for work like any other day. She was the gentlest and kindest woman I ever knew. Turns out a gang of criminals came to town that day. We lived in a small town with a local sheriff. He was a good man but wasnt very bright. This gang decided the bank in our town was easy pickings. They entered during my mothers shift demanding all the money in the bank. The old slow security guard decided to play hero and confronted the criminals. A one-sided gunfight broke out, and moms life ended in the gunfire.

It drove my dad to the bottle but drove me to fight. A crazy old vet took me under his wing and taught me things a young boy shouldnt know. If your mind goes into the gutter, it shouldnt. He was a good man who taught me how to kill. He wasnt a pervert. One of our first missions together was taking out a child pornography ring. We completed many more missions together before his time came due. The machine told him when but he still continued to fight.

Unlike him, my dad drank himself to death. The incident ended his life the same day as my mothers. He continued to breathe (I wouldnt call it live) a little longer before the alcohol took him.