Dead Man

I combined this prompt with Ru's prompt: House is on fire, family runs out the front, you run out the back. When you're not accounted for by rescuers, you're declared dead. You've accidentally faked your own death and you decide to roll with it.

Link to her bio, go check her out!

https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/author/r-k-d2defe/

I smile as I walk out the back with two duffel bags packed full. I truly did appreciate the house fire. It was bad, but it gave me the opportunity to do what I am doing now. I mean, walking out of a bank with another four million dollars as a 17-year old? This was my third hit in a month, obviously with different banks. Thankfully, I have most of my cash deposited into an offshore bank account in Switzerland by a trusted financial advisor that gets 20% of everything that I collect. I pick up my phone and call my advisor. 

“422657,” I tell him. We sit in silence for a second as he decodes the message. 

“480135466,” he says to me.

“Thanks,” I tell him. I write down the meeting spot address where I would deliver the money to him. I head out to the car, throwing the duffel bags into the backseat, and drive off to meet my advisor. 

He was there before me. I pull up next to his truck and look at him. He rolls down both the backseat and the driver’s window, and I roll down mine. I reach back and grab the duffel bags and throw them into his truck. He hands me my account records, which for some reason always accounts for the money in the truck. He told me once that he gets it worked out with the bank ahead of time, transferring money into my account, and paying them back once we actually get the money. I take the account record and take a quick glance at it. 

PAYMENT           DEPOSIT

$1,200,000----- $4,800,000

$1,600,000----- $6,200,000

$800,000------ $3,200,000

TOTAL: $14,200,000

I smile at the numbers. 

“Midnight,” he tells me and drives off. I drive off in the other direction and head to Starbucks. I basically lived there, since I was “dead” and didn’t want my family to know. I order the same cinnamon latte that I usually get. I sip away, enjoying the moment. Being dead was fun. You don’t have to work, don’t have to attend school, you can just enjoy yourself. 

Once I finish my latte, I head back to my car. I drive over to the back of the Starbucks where I usually park for the night because no one will see me. I grab blankets from my trunk and throw them on the backseats. I lie down, and fall asleep, feeling good about today. 

I am awoken to the obnoxious knocking on my window. Still lying down, I look out the window. It was a Starbucks employee. I roll down the window with my foot. 

“Yeah?” I ask her. She looked about 19.

“New employee?” she asks me. I laugh and sit up. 

“Welcome to my home,” I tell her, pointing with both hands at my car. She laughs.

“You don’t actually live here, do you?” she asks me. 

“I definitely do,” I tell her. She nods.

“Well, we don’t open for another two hours, but I have to get things ready. If you need anything, the back door will be unlocked,” she tells me. 

“Thank you,” I tell her, as she walks off into the building. I lie my head back down and pull my phone out. My financial advisor had sent me a link, which I opened, intrigued to see what it was. It was a news article, speaking about last night’s bank robbery. 

“Another bank robbery occurred last night, with a loss of four million dollars. Forensics team has found evidence that all the three robberies in the past month have been executed by the same individual. A right hand thumb fingerprint had been found at all three crime scenes which police re-investigated after last night's incident. Some things don’t add up, but we are still looking at it for further evidence.” 

Below that was a text message from him. Stay safe, it said. I smile and put my phone away and get out of my car, making sure to lock it. I walked into the Starbucks, which was still closed. 

“Hey there!” the girl says, as she sets up machines and turns on the registers. I nod at her and walk around the store. 

“So what’s your name?” she asks me, trying to make conversation with me. I pause for a second.

“Jack,” I say, completely lying to her. She smiles. 

“I’m Jenna! It’s nice to meet you!” she says happily, extending her hand. I nod at her, and continue to walk around the store. My phone vibrates and I look down at it. It was my advisor calling me. I answer, confused on why he would be calling me. 

“Hello?” I ask into the phone. 

“Want to do another hit?” he asks me. I smile to myself.

“Yeah where at?” I ask him. 

“656483218,” he tells me. I decode the message in my head.

“354535,” I tell him, giving him the time to meet me to get the money. 

I look at the T.V screen which was turned on. Jenna was watching the news, and I glance at what she was so intently watching. 

“All that money is gone,” she says to me, pointing at the screen. I nod. She continued to speak, and drown out her voice and the T.V. I was very familiar with the bank and apparently another shipment of money was coming in today. 

“Known as the dead man,” I hear Jenna say over the clanking of the machines. I stop and turn around. 

“Yes, that is right. This man is now being named the dead man. Reports say that he was killed in a house fire and even have his death certificate. His funeral has already been planned, but his body was burned in the house fire.” 

I smile. I really did enjoy that nickname though. 

“Jack? Are you smiling?” Jenna asks me and laughs. 

“This isn’t funny,” she says to me. I walked over to the counter, where she was doing some cleaning. Knowing that I had to go, I put my hand in my pocket and pull out a hundred dollar bill and set it on the counter. 

“Thanks for the hospitality,” I tell her. She looks at it, clearly shocked, as I start to walk out.

“I can’t take this,” she says. I look back at her with my sunglasses on. 

“I wasn’t offering,” I say and walk out the door, back to my car.

We were to intercept the shipment of who knows how much money. I was excited and so was my advisor apparently, because he was sending me a smiley emoji every ten minutes. I get loaded up, making sure to carry extra ammunition. My goal was to take the truck and drive it to my meeting with my advisor. 

I tell my advisor that I was heading out, and he wishes me good luck. 

I drive over to the halfway point on the route and wait for the truck. I was a little nervous for this, but I should be able to pull it off. The truck turns around the corner onto the street that I was on. I let the truck pass me and I kick my car into gear and follow it. It leads me to the expressway. As I follow it, I throw my suppressor onto my pistol. I ride around to the passenger side of the truck and see the guy smoking a cigarette. I aim my pistol at him, lining up a shot. He looks at me, and his eyes go wide. I let a round off, a red splatter splashing all over the windshield. The driver swerves at me, and I fall back behind the truck. Being me, the dead man, I set my car on autopilot. I open my door and stand on the side of it, still going at sixty miles per hour. My car slowly gets closer to the truck. Within seconds, my car is within a foot of the back of the truck. I grab the truck and kick off the autopilot from the steering wheel with my foot. My car immediately starts to slow, causing people to stop behind it. I climb to the top of the truck, barely able to hold on. 

Kicking my feet and swinging my arms, I make it to the top of the truck. I crawl over the top of the truck, inching my way to the front of it. The driver reduces his speed, probably thinking that I was gone. I continue to crawl until I’m at the front of it, inches away from being seen by the driver. I hold the truck at the left side of it, right next to the driver, yet I was still on top of it. I swing out, using my hands as a rubber band and bring myself back, kicking the window apart on the truck. My feet hit the driver, knocking him over to the passenger side. I let my hands go and use my momentum to fly into the truck. I whip out my gun and send a few rounds off, leaving the driver motionless. I take over, taking the nearest exit, where I would meet my advisor to deal with the money. 

A long drive later, and I see his truck parked at a gas station, and I pull in. I park the truck next to his and he looks up at me. He smiles, gives me a thumbs up and gets out of his vehicle. I hop out my window and meet him outside the truck. 

“How much is it?” he asks me.

“The bank needs to know,” he says. I shrug my shoulders. 

“Not really sure, but let’s see,” I respond to him. He takes out a scanner looking thing. 

“What’s that?” I ask him. He holds it up.

“This is able to scan the barcode on the package of money and tell us how much is in it,” he tells me. I pump my fist in the air. 

“Less counting for us!” I tell him, as we high five each other. We open the back of the truck and gasp. 

“Okay,” my advisor says to me. The truck was packed nearly full with money. I jump into the truck followed by him. I close the doors on the back of the truck so we aren’t seen and turn on a flashlight. My advisor scans the first package off to the right of us. It beeps, and he shows me the numbers.

“Twelve million in this one package,” he says, almost as shocked as I am. There were a countless amount of packages stretching all the way to the front of the truck.

After we finished counting, my advisor shows me the total amount that was in there on the scanner.

$648,000,000

I look at him. He looks at me. 

“Yes!” I shout. He laughs cheerfully and gives me a hug. 

“I know we should stay in this moment forever,” he says, “but I need to get this money to Switzerland,” he tells me. I nod. 

“Take 30%,” I tell him. 

“Really?” he says. I shake my head yes. We jump out of the truck. 

“Wait, so you want me to take 194 million dollars?” he asks me as he gets into the truck. 

“Hell yeah,” I tell him. 

“Thanks!” he shouts to me, backing out the truck. 

“See ya soon!” I tell him. He nods and puts his sunglasses on. 

Whoever had this money shipped is most likely mad. But I didn’t care, because I’m the Dead Man.