Alex Meyer

By Robert Koob

Alex Meyer is a man with everything to lose. When he gets a call from a dear friend, his safe, cut and dry world becomes the one of turmoil and fear. A sudden outbreak of murder thrusts Alex into the darker side of the city, despite every previous successful attempt to avoid it. Now the question is, is it possible to return to what he’s worked so hard for or give it up entirely?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Austin Macauley
• Release date: Oct 31, 2018
• ISBN: 9780463659885

Robert Koob

Robert Koob lives in North America, Pennsylvania. He is the author of Entropy and Alex Meyer.

Book preview

Robert Koob lives in North America, Pennsylvania. He is the author of Entropy and Alex Meyer.

Dedication

For my own family.

Robert Koob

Alex Meyer

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Copyright © Robert Koob (2018)

The right of Robert Koob to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers.

Any person who commits any unauthorized act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

ISBN 9781528906241(Paperback)

ISBN 9781528906258 (E-Book)

www.austinmacauley.com

First Published (2018)

Austin Macauley Publishers Ltd™

25 Canada Square

Canary Wharf

London

E14 5LQ

Part 1: Family Man

Chapter 1: Set Me on Fire

I was only human. I make mistakes like everyone else. Yet, somehow, mine were magnified. By the time I could understand what was happening, I was already too late to stop it.

Rewinding back…I was expecting to return a favor. All day I’ve been told to sit around the phone. Someone wasn’t checking in. My best friend’s girl. Completely against her typical routine. So I waited, tensed. The wait sardonic in nature.

For me, life was good. I sat by an open window smoking a cigar on a crisp, autumn’s evening when the phone rang. I answered; the voice on the other end was unmistakable. The best of my old friends, Luke Wecker.

Alex?

Yes? What is it?

My nerves stung. My palm felt oily against the plastic phone. I could feel my hand begin to slip.

I know you’re on vacation, but I need that favor you promised me. If there ever was a day—this is it.

I felt like cracking a joke, but something held me back. Ask away.

I did owe him…

Hurry to Crimson.

With that, I heard buzzing. Luke had hung up in a heartbeat.

Suddenly, the crisp air felt bitter. I left without telling Rose or Danny—my wife and 4-year-old son.

I hurried into the dying light for the apartment that would change my life.

With the sun now hidden, I used what little light remained in the sky, avoiding street and headlights, in case someone with power didn’t want anyone around. I had to find Luke and understand why he needed me here. I could only hope it wasn’t all bad and that he was hiding in the same shadows.

I came upon an old oak tree. I laid low beneath its red and yellow leaves, which flittered in the wind, to catch my bearings; plan it out this time instead of running in like I almost always do. Looking up, I could see wispy clouds no longer flaggy, appearing to have frozen over.

Why did Luke want me here? It was off-duty work. Otherwise, he would have called the cops. I knew his girlfriend, Maya Day, lived here. She was planning on moving into his house soon. I thought of being bashed on if I ran into them like this: gun in hand, crouching like some secret agent. I’d look like a fool.

I left the tree and hid near the parking lot. The front entrance was barren. I parked a little ways back for precaution. I knew this area well; a semblance that would engrave itself into any man’s mind like a murder scene.

Damn it, my phone…

I silenced my cell phone in case I’d get a call at an improper time and slowly approached the wall of the Crimson apartment.

Should have called the cops, stupid.

Seeing the solid stone steps that lead up to the entrance, reminded me I needed to plan my approach. But I didn’t know what was wrong. Luke had called me for help, made it sound urgent. That was all I could come to terms with right now.

The air was grim and chilly, but there were a few joggers in the park at this hour. Other than a near-empty park across the street and possible window peepers from inside, I didn’t have to worry about being shout at. I still kept my gun low.

Then I heard the door fly open and hit the wall. I couldn’t see the door because it was upward and blocked by a piece of the building that stuck out beside me.

Thinking the worst, I kept myself hidden. A man in a suit walked down in a cocky posture, holding an Uzi. Now my fears had a solid verisimilitude.

What? An Uzi? I thought. How, why?

Yeah, yeah, he said. He was talking on his phone. I did it! All right? They’re all dead.

Dead?

I had an itchy trigger finger.

Yeah, yeah. Look. The boss made it clear. Clean the floors, leave the third one, I got it.

I gritted, trying to lay low. I couldn’t stand here hiding like a coward. Maya was in there. Maybe Luke. But this goon couldn’t have killed an entire two floors by himself. There had to be others; eager murderers running on adrenaline after a busy day’s work.

I peeked. The goon was facing the street. He turned unexpectedly at me and dropped his phone.

Hey, hey! he shouted in his thick Jersey accent. He didn’t really want to talk as he began shooting at me. Bullets flew into the concrete. I could hear the metal bite the wall. I kept my head against the building as far from the edge as possible.

The goon struggled with his Uzi. It appeared he didn’t know how to properly reload it. I shot him in the chest. Blood splattered on the cement.

Jesus! Mitch is down! Who’s out there? Someone hollered from inside. Give ya’ self up, asshole!

I stayed behind. To say I wasn’t scared would be setting the wrong atmosphere. I was knee-deep in a nest of killers, trying to find a friend who’s likely dead. And the cops should have been here by now.

The other gimp came out. He had an Uzi too, but I could tell he wasn’t comfortable with it. Just who were these people?

I took advantage of his ignorance and shot him. This one, I killed. I took the Uzis away, placing my pistol into a pocket. I could duel wield. I was good like that.

In a way, I suppose, I was like these goons, dumb and foolish. But a trait I had over these chumps was that I knew I was mortal and played it cool. And I could handle an Uzi.

The interior of Crimson was all gloom. Nothing imposing. Peeling wallpaper, rotting wood, lone worn furniture lay about the lobby. It smelled like a wet, dirty mop and there was little lighting.

At the front desk, some poor soul was lying dead with a photo of his family smashed against the floor. It was facing upward. I had to see their faces and think about the moment they heard their father was murdered.

I thought maybe if I hurried, I wouldn’t have to do the same for Luke.

A janitor came out from a room and slowly backed up, holding his hands up. He was a young fellow with thick, black hair. He had a tattoo of a bear on his face.

Take it easy! I was hiding from those guys!

What’s happening here?

I d-don’t know! These thugs showed up and started shooting everyone! Where’s the cops?

That’s what I was wondering, I said, looking down the hall.

As I looked back, the janitor was pulling out an Uzi from his pocket. An expression of murder was written on his face.

I shot him; blood swirled. I took the gun. Now I had three, pockets full.

I couldn’t trust a soul other than Maya and Luke. Two men in janitor uniforms stood below the stairwell. This was a planned gag. I had to find Maya and get her out of this hell.

Go back to the trunk. I’ll wait here. Come on, we don’t have all day. Sooner or later, the cops will show!

Fine. Whatever.

As one of them walked out through the back, I inched my way to the remaining man, placed a muzzle against the back of his head and said, Move. Now.

O-okay!

"Quiet. What’s going on here?" I asked.

What are you, a cop?

Do I look like one? I asked.

No!

"Shut it. Do you know a woman by the name of Maya?"

Maya? No. Who’s got that name? She foreign?

Sure enough, the other guy came back and spoiled the conversation.

Whoa! Jeez! Fellas, we got ourselves a stalker! he shouted.

By instinct, I shoved the man I held hostage to the floor and shot the howling goon. The man on the floor felt like a hero. He went for my leg. I knocked him over the head with one of the guns. His head hit the floor, becoming unconscious. Good. I didn’t need anyone remembering my face. I hoped to God he couldn’t remember much.

I ran up the staircase. If the one clown didn’t signal the others by now, the loud creaking of my footsteps on this old wood did.

At the top, on the second floor, there was no one. At least not yet. Maya lived in room 202 if I remembered correctly. I looked at the first room, assuming for once something would go right in this mess—that her room would be close. However, I was looking at room 220. I had the outline backwards.

Maya—if alive—was down the hallway.

Keeping away from the loose broads, I moved through the chilly hall. Why was it so cold in here? The lobby wasn’t too bad. I saw leaves bundled together outside room 207. Some blew out from the room, deeper into the dim hallway.

There was another, more sinister pile inside the room. Bodies mutilated by bullets and knives. Some cut so extreme that I could see what looked like bone peeking from the human interior.

The window was smashed open. Glass was scattered everywhere. I got my answer as to why the heater wasn’t working upstairs. Nearly, every window was broken. I could see them because strangely, every door to the apartment rooms had been left open so far. These people felt furtive in nature. Even though they’re common-type crooks.

If Maya wasn’t in room 202 I would leave, call the cops, and never drive by here again. It’s hard to forget murders. Just a simple smell…metallic—like blood—could drive me insane.

But you learn to deal with memories. Something new comes along and burns you with a fresh dose; keeping you busy.

I examined the room. In its magenta-soaked glow, I uncovered a sheet of paper laying on the floor, almost hidden by the desk. The only reason I picked it up was because it was colored gold.

The handwriting was professional. I found it hard to imagine someone in this town had wrote this.

I want all of it.

No name? The paper and style of writing must have been all this person needed to reveal. The goons got the idea.

I left the sheet, seeing no use to tag it along and entered the gloomy hallway. I heard faint sobbing since I reached this room. Like I said, I would only check room 202, then leave. However, as I’ve learned over the years, I tend to have contradictions in tense situations.

The weeping called out to me.

It was as if winter was beginning to freeze the world from inside this room; slowly festering into the chill of autumn. White curtains blew wildly in the wind. This window had been destroyed too.

A baby wrapped in a wet, red cloth lay in a woman’s arms, unmoving. Red clothing didn’t drip red liquid. The baby was dead. Even still, the woman—mother, maybe, hugged the child as if it were alive below the window. This is when I learned to fear the smell of blood. Because whenever I come upon that scent, I remembered the sobbing, the baby drenched in blood, and the hopelessness that mingled with the gray appearance of the room.

I tried to say something. I think the woman did too.

But there were others who could actually speak. And they made sure to do so.

"In there!" someone hollered.

Just when I thought I could bring them out of there…

I saw a grenade fly into the room. It bounced behind me, landing in the corner.

I jumped out as the woman and her baby went up in flames. I shot blindly at the murderers. They didn’t expect me to make it out. They left their guard down as much as I had.

All three of them dropped dead. I had enough. I hurried into room 202. My head was burning, still pretending I could save the woman. I couldn’t bear to look at the direction of the explosion.

The window wasn’t broken. The lights were off. I whispered, Maya? You here? It’s Alex.

Alex!

She was alive.

She ran up to me, after some hesitation, and then hugged me. We were engulfed in the pale light from outside that had been shredded by window blinds. Her tangled black hair signaled she may have been through a struggle.

Where’s Luke? she asked.

You expected him here?

I saw him…

She let go of me and stared up into my eyes. Maya was a cute girl; Luke knew how to pick them. Her eyes were hazel and she had smooth, nearly flawless skin. She wasn’t very short. Me being six foot, she was about 5’6". Maya always hugged on her tippy toes. It was one of her features, as Luke would have said it.

Why are you here? she asked.

I came on request from your boyfriend. If he’s not in here, he might be outside.

I blanked out for a moment, looking at a gap in the blinds. My eyes felt heavy. I’ve seen too much today. I could feel future troubles because of that fact alone. I was the contrary of forgetful when tragedy unraveled itself.

Follow my lead, I said, walking to the door and peeking out.

Okay.

The hallway was still clear of the living. Now all I had to do was get Maya out of here and I’d finish my job. I know Luke never told me what he needed, but I couldn’t think of anything more important than bringing his woman home safely from a swarm of hungry murderers.

We were out in the hall. This building felt like it was closing in on me. I thought the worst was over as we made our way to the staircase.

You hear that? Maya whispered.

Yup…

I listened harder, trying to pry out something important. A few goons were talking among themselves below.

He’s freakin’ huge man. I’d pay a surgeon to make me that big. I hear he gets all the women a man could ask for.

"Only he doesn’t ask, wise guy!"

Whatever, all right? You knows what I’m sayin’.

The voices grew louder. I singled Maya to retreat into the room across from me. I followed behind her.

It didn’t take long for the two guys to reach the top of the staircase. I readied my guns—still using Uzis—when one of them shouted, Oh shit, I forgot! Get downstairs!

Wha—oh yeah!

They ran back to the first floor. I looked back at Maya, puzzled. She shrugged her shoulders.

What made them run off like that?

After about a minute, we decided to go downstairs ourselves.

Along with that mindset, a burst of light and intense heat flared inside the hallway. The noise given off was ear-piercing, like tiny needles had poked holes into my eardrum. It was brief but the pain was great. And, so was the damage to the building.

I heard a crash beside me. A rattling shook what was left of Crimson and Maya fell down a floor.

I shouted her name. An explosion went off behind me where more than half the hallway was already missing. I would collapse at any moment if I placed my foot on a bad board.

I peered down the hole Maya fell through. She was rubbing her back.

I slid down, really! I’m okay! Hurry down!

Lucky girl. I tried to say something but smoke was leeching down into my lungs. Coughing, I made my way to the edge of where the hallway meets the room. I leaned against the wall, only a few inches from a fall I believed would kill me.

Once I made it across to the staircase, I heard familiar voices amidst a horrific cry of pain.

Just shoot him! He ain’t gonna live through that!

I began to feel dizzy. A gunshot snapped me out of my daze. I heard a rush of footsteps and more screaming. Hell, the whole place was a scream fest on the first floor.

Someone was running up to greet me. Too bad, he was engulfed in fire. By shooting him, I did him a favor.

You hear that? Someone shot Kenny! Who’s up there, huh? Come down here! a goon said.

Whoa, whoa, bud. How’d you know it was Kenny who was shot? asked another.

The smell of burning…everything, was beginning to bother me. I needed to reach Maya and get out of here before I roasted. I rather be shot in the head than cooked slowly in some slummy apartment where I had just witnessed true horror any day, any time.

With all I had left in my voice, I hollered, Why don’t you come up and find out!

The words came out loud and clear.

With a yell, some fool with a gun ran up to shoot me. It did him no good as I was behind cover and had a good view of the staircase.

After shooting him, the others found it best to run off in another direction: outside.

My clothes were dirty, my lungs felt dirtier. Was this how your body feels when you smoke a cigar? I wondered. I would quit smoking if I made it out of here alive.

I held on to the railing as I struggled down to meet with Maya. I heard sirens. The cops came a tad too late. Their arrival must have been what really scared the goons away; not my growing killstreak.

Alex! Maya shouted as she ran out from the room she had slid into.

I hugged her tightly.

Come on, we gotta get out of here, I said.

You don’t look so well, she said softly.

I’m feeling dizzy.

Well don’t die on me now, the exit’s straight ahead.

We made it outside before any firehouse spit water at the crumbling apartment. Behind us, I’d seen too much. Someone had tried to burn the building away, but all they had done was burn it into my soul.

Maya! Alex!

Luke? I asked.

It was him. He was wearing that brown coat I never saw anyone else wear. He had a certain taste no one else we worked for, or with, cared to mimic. He looked more like a professor than a detective sometimes.

You managed to get in there? Luke asked. There were so many of them…I thought the worst.

Before I could reply, one of the paramedics (there were three ambulance vehicles present) approached me.

Do you need any attention? the man asked.

No. I’m okay.

He ran off. Sadly for him, and the others, there wouldn’t be many customers this evening.

As Maya and Luke chatted, I spaced out. The flashing lights and shouting around me was beginning to take its toll. I walked away.

Holy Blossom was our community’s church. I found myself sitting next to Rose and Danny the following morning after the massacre in Crimson, surrounded by people who actually attained Mass every Sunday like we were supposed to. I felt like an alien.

God’s love is like an infinite star, the priest said. The rays never cease to shine through the universe. He gives us warmth all on his own, the rays never ask for anything. They simply shine like that of our sun.

I could smell the sweet, red candles that flickered around the statue of the Virgin Mary beside our pew. Rose sat beside me in her violet dress that revealed only her arms and legs…tender, white skin from her knees down, and, of course, her body’s curves. I could see Danny’s little black shoes tapping each other. He was behaving well.

Rose really was sensuous. Her hair was bright blonde, curly, and carefully combed. The priest would talk—I would drift off to Rose—but then my mind thought about other things. I saw a long hallway…

Let the rays shine into your life, said the priest.

…saw fire and heard a woman sobbing. Then the voices of Jersey accents and a cold draft of autumn-evening wind. The vague figures who spoke were smiling, winning. And they made sure to gloat. An antiseptic concept of pain inside my head, turning like a wheel.

God only wishes for you to love and forgive.

I wanted to kill every last one of them.

I felt a bump on my right side. Rose hit me with her elbow pretty hard.

Stop thinking about dirty things, she said with a smile. You’re in church. We can do that stuff when we get home.

I only smiled and peered downward, embarrassed. She knew how to get me.

The priest continued. After his speech, the air was coated with strong incense and the Mass soon reached its end.

Jeez, I forgot how long Masses can be, Rose said. Ready to go, sweetie?

Yes mommy, replied Danny.

"You’ve been