It was a typical morning for Derek Keys. He shuffled out of his bedroom and into his kitchen. He made himself some coffee and lit a cigarette. He took a drag and let the buzz wash over him. The radio from his bedroom was playing a Chili Pepper’s tune. As he was about to pour himself some coffee, his cell phone rang.
“Hello?” Derek said.
“Nephilim, I got a new job for you.”
“What’s the job?”
“The governor of Utah wants Jeremy Benson taken out.”
“The mayor of that backwater town who was arrested for coke possession?”
“Yeah. The governor and the mayor both attended the same church.”
“Those Mormons really take those infractions seriously, no?”
“Yeah, whatever. Mr. Benson isn’t guarded, so it’ll be an easy five hundred thousand.”
“Hmm.”
“You want the job?”
“I’m in.” The mysterious caller gave Derek the details. Then, Derek hung up the phone and put out his cigarette. Three days later Derek was at the ranch home of Jeremy Benson who was recently out on bail for coke possession. It was about six in the evening and after surveying the acre ranch, Derek decided to take advantage of the layout and set up a few traps. He wasn’t going to take any chances. He wasn’t going to let Benson get away.
As Benson sat in his living room, drinking a Heineken and watching re-runs of the A-Team on cable, Derek got to work. On Benson’s front porch, he rigged an axe with a “hair trigger” response if someone opened the front door. The axe would swing into Benson’s face if he dared go outside. Derek placed nearly half a pound of C-4 under Benson’s convertible. It was a crude car bomb that was rigged to go off if Benson opened his car door. On Benson’s back porch, Derek carefully placed cyanide spiked nails. If Benson tried to exit that way he would step on them and die within minutes.
After Derek laid all his traps, he ducked down behind some trashcans set out next to the front porch steps. He then picked up a small pebble and threw it at Benson’s front door. Inside, Benson thought he hear a knock and got up from his comfy chair to investigate. He turned the knob on his front door and opened it. An axe fell straight down and landed at his feet. “Oh my, how did this get here?” Benson asked. He reached down, picked up the axe and leaned it against his house.
Derek became infuriated. He pulled his Berretta with silencer and was ready to pop up from behind the garbage cans and shoot Benson. As Derek stood up, he stepped back on a beer can that slid on the loose gravel. Derek fell back and hit his head on a rock, passing out.
“Is someone there?” Benson asked. He walked down the front steps and although it was dark out, he could make out Derek lying on his back. “Oh no, hang on guy, I’ll go and get help.” Benson made his way to his car, but he stepped in a gofer hole and broke his leg. As Benson lay struggling, he reached out for his car door, but he was in too much pain and couldn’t move. His leg bled and attracted Coyotes that came and ate him.
The next morning, Derek came to and found Benson’s mutilated corpse lying on the ground. It was obvious that animals had gotten to him. There was nothing Derek could do but dismantle the rest of his traps and leave. Later back in Philadelphia, Derek got his payment with the usual compliments. It was so embarrassing. For the rest of the weekend, Derek didn’t want to do anything but relax, take a shower and go to bed.
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