Karma

The chirping of the birds and steady thrum of the ax was all I heard as I rhythmically swung it down, chopping the firewood into small pieces. It was a beautiful morning, the cool, brisk air brushing my face as I focused on the menial task, the constant motion almost therapy to me.

I lived a life of solitude, save for my short trips into the fishing villages set up along the lake. My small house was built on the opposite side of the riverbank, away from civilization; not ideal, but I realized that the older I got the less tolerance I had for human beings. After taking lives for so long, I felt guilty looking into the faces of those that would consider me a friend.

Most people knew me as Mick, the lake house-dweller on the other side of the water who came to town more often than not for supplies, a couple drinks and some laughs. The people of my little fishing village were always kind to me despite my strange, lonely lifestyle and my battle-scarred body, constantly dragging me into bars for a meal, some drink and conversation. They knew better than to come to the other side of the lake; they knew that was my territory, and I didn’t enjoy visitors. 

Despite the kindness and friendship in the village, every time I’d come home after a long evening of drinks and laughter and see the empty cabin awaiting me, the visions of my past deeds would come back to haunt me, threatening to destroy the life of lies I had built for myself. This life of fake happiness had been built on the backs of the thousands of skeletons I had locked away in my closet. 

My time as a hired mercenary was enough for me. I poured everything I had into that life for years, decades; I’d killed thousands of people and collected rewards and bounties the likes of which no one’s ever seen. I’ve never failed a bounty except for one, late in my career, right before I vanished off the face of the Earth to build a semi-peaceful life based on lies and deception.

It should’ve been simple, clean. Two adults and a child, all with bounties on their heads. Somebody wanted an entire family dead, and I didn’t ask questions, only took the case. I saw it as something like an insult, that people out there would test my mettle and morality by giving me a defenseless family to eliminate. 

So I showed no mercy. I barged into the house and filled the two adults with bullets, one male and one female. They were dead in their bed before they had any time to react. 

The child is where I failed.

A little boy, no older than ten or eleven, sitting on the floor of the small, pristine home playing with toys. He stood there, frozen with fear, looking like a deer caught in headlights. He made no sound, no movement, but I could tell he was terrified.

So I ignored him, grabbed the bodies of his parents, and went on my way.

Something was special about that boy. When I looked into his eyes that day, I couldn’t bring myself to kill him. To this day, I have no idea what became of him; I tried not to remember too many of my victims, lest it drive me mad.

I stacked the firewood up high and thrust the ax into the wet dirt beneath me, the cool mist of the morning brushing over me, dampening my short hair. I looked out across the lake at the village and back to my house, knowing I needed to spare a trip over there tonight for some supplies. 

I wanted to see those I called my friends.

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The village was brighter and livelier than ever; the fishermen had just come back from an enormous catch, and the slowly setting sun showered the festive decorations in golden light. I shoved my hands in my pockets and walked through the cobbled main street, glancing left and right at the small wooden houses practically crammed next to each other. The liquor store and the bar were towards the south side of the village, at the end of the main road, so I had a long walk to go.

One of the younger fishermen walked towards me vigorously. “Mick!” he shouted, embracing me in a hug which I didn’t return. “Did you see my catch today? I swear, the fish were out in swarms! Let’s go get a drink to celebrate.”

I smiled and shook my head, knowing this guy wouldn’t take no for an answer. His name was Liam, a not-so-humble young fisherman coming into his own, always bragging to others about the type of fish he’d caught. Word on the street was that he’d even caught a blue lingcod, and he’d roasted it by the fire and shared it with the whole village. 

Liam dragged me away from the liquor store, which was my true objective tonight, and towards the bar, a gaggle of other fishermen chattering happily behind us. 

I said nothing, only walked beside Liam and nodded as he chattered happily about his catches. I pushed my way into the bar, which was already teeming with other fishermen and merchants coming back from a hard day’s work, ready for a full night of drinks and fun. I shoved my way past the swarm of loud drunkards and sat myself in front of the bartender, who knew me well.

“Mick!” he exclaimed, rushing quickly to me and setting down the glass he had been cleaning. “What can I get you?”

“An Old Fashioned, just the usual,” I muttered, glancing around nervously. I never liked crowds; too much unpredictability, too many variables. The bartender laughed and fiddled with the bottles below the bar, looking for the right ones. 

“Never anything different. You’re a man of simplicity, Mick,” he replied, turning his back to me. He slid a small glass towards me, filled with whiskey and a few other things. I was never able to see what specifically he put in my drink, but I’d been to this bar long enough and often enough for the bartender to know exactly what I wanted. 

Liam had wandered off somewhere, no doubt finding other people to brag to about today’s findings. “Busy tonight,” I managed to say before the bartender ran away to attend to other patrons.

“Yeah, the men think something big chased the fish our way,” he chuckled. “If you ask me, I think it’s a bad omen, like something’s coming. Something bad.”

“Any new patrons?”

“There was one strange fella. Stranger than you, if that’s even possible. Seemed a little off his rocker, if you know what I mean.”

I leaned closer, eyebrows furrowed. “What did he look like?”

“Couldn’t see too well, fella made sure to hide his face. Didn’t seem like he wanted any trouble, but… He asked about you, Mick. All I told him was you lived across the lake.”

My blood froze. I stared at the bartender, eyes wide. “You know… You realize my house is the only one on the other side of the lake, right?”

The bartender only shrugged and stepped away, haggled by other patrons.

I launched out of my chair, drink forgotten about. Who was it? An old colleague, bitter about a job? An old client, unsatisfied with my work? I shoved past the crowd again towards the door, but found someone standing in my way.

“Where you off to, Mick?” Liam shouted, a grin on his face. “You just got here!”

“Move!” I shouted, barreling past him to the door. I threw myself out of the bar, and I could hear Liam shouting behind me, but I didn’t care. I couldn’t let this life go; albeit fake, built on lies, it was the closest I’d had to normalcy since my decades-long stint as a mercenary. 

I sprinted back down the cobbled street and headed away from the village, towards my home, hoping and praying it would be in the same state I left it. 

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      I arrived home drenched in sweat and out of breath; I saw that the front door was wide open, practically hanging off its hinges, and I could already glimpse the damage inside. I walked shakily up the wooden steps onto the porch and through the doorway, hand drifting to my waist, looking for the pistol that wasn’t there.

Keeping myself unarmed for so long was a mistake. This slice of peaceful life had made me soft, and now I was paying the price.

“Finally, you’re here. I thought I’d have to wait forever.”

A shadowed figure detached itself from my armchair in the corner of the room and drew itself up to its full height, carrying a shotgun in its hands, which it promptly pointed at me. “Sit down. We have a lot to catch up on.”

The figure removed its hood to reveal a young man, around his mid-twenties or early thirties, lanky but built. The face was vaguely familiar, but it was tainted with years of hate and rage. A dark complexion, dark hair and dark eyes, the man practically blended into the shadows in which he stood; although young, younger than myself, his voice had a gruff tone to it that told you he meant nothing but business.

I slowly sat into the couch across the armchair, the only two things that still stood in the small, trashed living room. I studied the man’s face closely, trying to figure out where I knew it from. I’d done hundreds of jobs, and yet this face stood out to me; why?

“What, don’t remember me?” he asked, grinning as he pumped the shotgun in his hands and strolled over to me, kneeling down in front of me. “Look real close, Ace. I’m sure you know me from somewhere.”

My mercenary name. So it was from a previous job. I pressed my lips together in frustration and fear, things I hadn’t felt in a long time. “Doesn’t matter if I know you or not, what the hell did you do to my house?”

“I just… Redecorated. You’re welcome to fix it, but I’d advise against that,” he chuckled, aiming the shotgun at me. At this close distance, I’d be blown away before I could move a finger. 

“What do you want?” I growled, grinding my teeth together, wishing for the pistol I always kept by my side in the old days. 

 “You. You’re a hard man to find, Ace. I search for decades and this is what I find? A lonely man, living in a lonely house, fraternizing with people who don’t even know who you are?” He nudged my head with the barrel of the shotgun and leaned in closer, studying my face, his lips pressed in a firm smile. “A life of lies. Even after you retire, you’re still living a life of lies. And I’m going to be the one to bring it all down.”

“Who are you?” 

“You can call me your karma. Of course, I’m sure I look different now from that ten year old boy shaking in the middle of an empty living room.”

It came back to me then, the single worst mistake of my life, the only job I didn’t truly finish. I sat back, shocked. 

The man stood up and started pacing the room, relishing in his chance to explain himself. “I’ve hunted you for years, wasted my youth on you; I’m going to deliver you from your sins, Ace. All those lives that you took? I’m going to make you pay for them.”

I could hear the man stop suddenly behind me and a laugh came from him, something that sounded almost inhuman.

“This is going to be so much fun, don’tcha think?”

There was a sharp pain to the back of my head, and then nothing but darkness.