A Coat For Any Weather – KILLtober Short Story

“Whimsical thinking’s of a world gone mad, that’s what she said before she ran out of the door. Crazy bitch must’ve been totally off her tree, it was minus six and she didn’t even take her coat,” Carl exclaims with eyes wide and dry as he darts a quick glance over to the coat that hangs over a chair sitting a few feet from where they stand.

Conner clears his throat and fights the smile he feels slowly growing on his face. “So let me get this straight, just so I know we’re both on the same page. You think she left some type of ‘explosive device’ within the pockets of her coat, and her little off hand remark was a call sign of some fictional assassin you’ve been reading stories about from the internet. Sound right?”

Carl smiles nervously, “W-When you say it out loud, it makes it sound crazy.”

Conner smiles broadly and grabs Carl by the shoulder, massaging it firmly. “Thank fucking Christ, I was beginning to think I was the only one. But now you’ve confirmed it for me, can you see how hard it is for me to take any of what you’ve said as the truth?”

“But don’t you GET IT!” Carl says exasperated. “That’s what she wants you to believe, that’s her thing. She goes in and ruins her targets life, makes them seem unhinged, then kills them.”

“I get it, I really do. We all want our lives to be something more, to be honest that’s why I wanted to be a cop. But reality ain’t Bruce Willis movies Carl, it’s boring and sometimes empty. You just have to love it and live through it regardless, but shit like this ain’t part of it buddy. Now you go back to your books and forget,” Conner says as he grabs the coat from the seat and strides out of the bar.

Carl turns nervously around and meets the blank stares of those still within the bar.

“WHAT ARE YOU ALL STARING AT!” He yells. “BARS CLOSED, SO YOU CAN ALL GET LOST!” It takes less than a minute for the once bustling bar to become a quite and empty. “I’ll show them they’re the crazy ones. I’ll show them I’m not making this up. I’ll sh…” his words are cut short as she stands at the end of the bar staring at him.

“Y-Y-You’re really h-h-her, aren’t y-y-you?” He asked through shaking lips.

“Her?”

“Her, the killer of killers. The assassin of assassins. The Silhouette.”

“The what?” She asks, her faced screwed up with confusion. “I don’t know what glue you’ve been sniffing buddy, but I was here earlier with some girlfriends enjoy and drink until my shit of a husband called up demanding I go pick his sorry arse up from work, it wasn’t until I was on the highway that I realised I’d forgot my damn coat , which is why I’m here. Now I was sitting over here and I can see that it’s gone, so I can only guess that you being the owner that you know where it is?”

“S-S-So your not here to kill me?”

“Say the fuck what?” She asks surprised. “Honey the only fucker who I want to kill is asleep in the back seat of my car outside. Now my coat, do you have it?”

“Well…”

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