FicWad

It was very dark. A pinprick of neon light shone in the secluded woods. The glow was from Cal's watch, one of those glow in the dark digital models. New-fangled junk was all that was. Victor preferred the old gold wind up pocket watch. It had been his father's and his father's father, and now it was his. It worked well, too, right down to the minuscule second hand.
But with the modern trend of wanting to make everything easy and thoughtless, digital watches had become the thing to have. No standing around trying to read the minute and hour hands on a watch when you can just read off numbers. Pff! New fangled junk, indeed.
It was now half past midnight. Detective Collins had headed home almost two hours ago now. By now, he was most likely asleep in his bed, snuggled up with his wife, with his dog at the foot of the bed. Suburban paradise.
The night guard was patrolling the grounds with one very old looking mutt. Victor understood now why Frankie had delegated this job to Cal. It was beyond easy. There was an open window around the back of the small building. It was big enough for Cal to slip through.
Cal and Victor had already discussed what was about to happen. It was planned out to the last detail. Victor would provide a distraction on the other side of the lot to draw the night guard away from the building. Cal would slip though the window and grab the papers. He would meet Victor back at this spot in the woods and they would walk back to Victor's car, which was parked beyond the woods, about a mile or two away from the building.
The night guard, a small, geeky looking young man with very bad skin, walked past them. Cal and Victor looked at each other. They understood. It was time. Victor burst out of the woods and started running away from the building. He heard the guard yell and take out after him. That was right. Everything was going according to plan. By now, Cal would be slipping through the window into the building.
Victor looked behind him. The dog was still way behind him, but the guard was close to him. Man, this boy could run. Victor picked up his pace, already starting to gasp for breath. He couldn't keep this up much longer. He couldn't seem to breathe enough, his sides ached, and the pain in his chest was excruciating. It felt like an anaconda had gotten hold of his lungs and was squeezing them for all it was worth. He should really think about quitting smoking, he told himself for the hundredth time. It really wasn't worth it.
The guard yelled again, but the sound seemed disoriented, blurred, in Victor's ears. Victor turned around again, twisting at his torso, to see where the guard was. The guard was standing still, holding a gun in a two-handed death hold. Everything seemed in slow motion to Victor. He screamed but the sound seemed muffled and surreal. He saw the guard's finger move inwards on the trigger. Wind whistled through his ears, everything blurred.
Victor heard the roar of the gun being fired, listened to the whistle of the bullet speeding towards him, felt the impact of the bullet as he fell. There was no pain. In fact, he wasn't even sure where he had been hit. He didn't know whether that was a good sign or not.
The guard fell, kneeling beside Victor. He looked shocked. This was obviously the first time he had ever shot a man. Victor looked up at him and felt real sympathy. He wanted to tell the boy that it was all right, it got easier. The boy should know. He should know that he had done the world a favour, getting rid of Victor. Victor had never done anything good.
Victor went to tell the guard this, but all that came out was a gurgling sound. Blood came up to Victor's mouth, dribbling out the side of his mouth in sound. Blood came up to Victor's mouth, dribbling out the side of his mouth in a slow moving stream. The bullet had hit Victor in the hollow of the neck and blood poured from the wound in a torrent, staining his clothes and the rosary around his neck, and dripping inside his shirt, giving Victor a most unpleasant feeling.
Oh my god, what about Cal? The thought flashed into Victor's head like a blinking neon bar sign. Was Cal still in the building? Had he heard the shot?
Victor, running on pure panic, tugged off his rosary and pushed it at the guard.
"Give Cal," he whispered, starting to pass into semi-consciousness. Victor hadn't prayed in ten years, but he silently began his last prayer.
/Blessed Mary, mother of us all. Father God, most great creator. Son Jesus, savior. There are many thing that I have done that I am not proud of. Atrocious, disgusting crimes against humanity. I do not expect to be forgiven or redeemed. I would not save myself. But Cal is a good kid. He deserves a decent life. Please let him be safe. Patron mother, please do not let my son die. Do not blame my brother. Life has made him the way he is. Tell my mother I love her and I hope she's enjoying heaven. I wish I could see her again, but my travel package calls for someplace more hot. In the name of the Holy Trinity, blessed be it./
Victor gave a hollow laugh as a tear slid down his right cheek, mingling with the congealing blood around his mouth. His body lurched, jerking upright for a second. A gurgling cough came out and then he lay still. Rain started to fall. A small smile lay on Victor's bloodied lips and his eyes were widened, staring up at the sky, unseeing.