#FFFC: PT-3,000

This is a new one for me. This is Fandango’s Flash Fiction Challenge #23. I got in a little late. It’s better late than later. I like challenges and the picture that went along with this one. It took me somewhere dark.

Courtesy Johannes Plenio@pexels.com

PT-3,000

The sun peeking through the trees caught his attention. It was going into hiding as he made his way in. He was breathing heavily and sweating. He was almost done. A couple more shovels full and whew, done. Only half an hour until he had to be to work. Sleep was overrated. He was still too amped up to sleep, anyway. He had a great night, and the bodies were buried.

He thanked God for the personal teleporter. A night like last would not have been possible without the PT-3,000. If someone saw him walking out of the woods dirty and sweaty with his tools, it could raise some questions. He still had to go home and shower before work. There’s no way he could do that and be to work on time if he had to do something barbaric like drive. The thought made him chuckle. Nobody had driven for years.

He teleported home, showered, synthesized some coffee and made it to work with three minutes to spare. He gave himself an adrenaline injection and was ready to go for the day.

No one suspected a thing. They never did. One would have to be quite dull, indeed, mentally speaking, to get caught doing a crime since the advent of the PT-3,000. If it weren’t for the thrill of the kill, murder would actually be pretty boring.

It finally happened. He slipped up. He got careless. It was too many nights with too little sleep. Coffee and adrenaline injections could only carry one so far.

It didn’t matter. When the cops came knocking, he simply transported out of there. That night, he watched the sunset from a mountain in Fiji. He laughed a shrill cackle of a laugh.

His laughter was muted by the padded walls of his room.