Quick Fiction No. 14: Devil’s Due

 Here’s a quick story I wrote using a story prompt shared on our Cypress Knee MUSH forums:  

“It’s been too long since then.”

“Oh, it feels just like yesterday to me,” Calumet said, his back to the concrete wall, clutching the Colt in both hands, aiming the barrel at me. “On your knees, Perry.”

Late at night in the downtown parking garage. Fifth floor. Nearly empty, except for my Prius and whatever piece of shit Chevy my old friend had parked in the shadows beneath the MONTHLY PERMIT HOLDERS ONLY sign.

Security guard might make the rounds soon. Might not.

“You would’ve done the same thing,” I assured him as I dropped to my knees and folded my hands behind my head.

“The whole scheme was your idea,” he growled. “You left us!”

“Yeah,” I agreed. The heist went south fast that day. Blame it on Twitter. Bozeman shot the woman with the iPhone. The bullet went through the screen and into her face. I shoved Bozeman’s ass out of the Mustang and sped away. No way I’d go down for that asshole’s murder habit. “Some bad choices that day.”

“Ten years,” Calumet said, keeping the gun’s barrel aimed between my eyes.

I shrugged with my elbows. “Cops killed Bozeman and Tannehill. Lloyd rolls around in a wheelchair and pees with a rubber hose. We got off pretty lucky.”

“Ever been in prison, Perry?”

“Never been much for walls.” I sighed.

“Devil needs his due.”

“Reminds me I need to pay my monthly permit fee,” I said.

He shook his head. “This debt first.” Calumet squeezed the trigger.

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Wes Platt

Lead storyteller. Game designer and journalist. Recovering Floridian.

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