Death Sentence

by Vandemonium1

I wrote this quickie for a bit of a break. I needed to unleash the inner cunt within me.

Any resemblance to other stories, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

There is no sex in this story.

JOIN THE ARMY. Travel the world. Meet lots of interesting people, then kill them.

With this joke, my best friend Simon talked me into joining the army. He’d been in two years already and said it was a great life. I even joined the same unit he was in, then volunteered for the same special duties outfit he’d joined. The training was gruelling but we helped each other through it.

Our outfit was based in a large regional centre and life was pretty stable. In fact we both fell in love and got married within a month of each other. Myself to a real cutie named Pam. By the time I’d done ten years’ service, I’d been happily married for eight and begat two daughters I adored, Kate 7 and Melissa 5.

Unlike some army units, mine didn’t move around. We did have to go out on jobs for periods of two days to two weeks but not that often. I was home at normal time about 300/365 days a year.

So life was as normal as can be. I had a wife I loved and a family I would gladly die for.  

Then of course Osama Bin Dickhead did his thing and through some convoluted logic thing, Simon and I were invited to holiday in Iraq that year. It was rough parting from the family but that’s what both Pam and I’d signed on for.

We did our job throughout the build-up and invasion and were quietly getting excited about going home. That was dashed when our mob were given a lecture by the regimental political officer. We were to stay and fight to maintain the peace.

Simon, ever the larrikin, couldn’t help giving the politico a hard time.

“Sir, fighting for peace, isn’t that a bit like screwing for virginity?”

It was cathartic to see a room full of burly soldiers laughing their heads off while the lecturer went a bright shade of pissed off.

Well, as history shows, the peace was more violent than the invasion. At least the enemy wore uniforms during the invasion. We lost more guys in that period than ever before. Our outfit was busier than most, deploying for up to four weeks at a time behind enemy lines before going back to base for two weeks. Well, I say enemy lines, no one could mark them on a map though.

No one could tell us when we were likely to go home. Every second night, when in base, I used Skype to talk to Pam, Kate and Mel. That way, at least, they won’t have forgotten what I look like by the time I get back.

Three weeks into our latest mission the shit hit the fan. We were supposed to attack a base of about 100 bad guys but were greeted by about 1,000. There were only the 12 of us so we beat a hasty retreat. It was two days before the Blackhawks dared come in and get us. Only four of us could still walk and three were dead.

Worst of all, Simon, my life support system, had the tendons blown away at the back of his knee. Nothing fatal but his service career was over. He was flown back to a hospital in our home town with the other wounded while the rest of us were kept in country so we could be psychologically returned to a fit state to re-join the human race. It was obvious to all that we no longer had enough guys to keep going.

Cold military planners since the Romans have known that once a force loses more than 10% of its complement, morale takes a tumble. That’s probably why whenever a Roman legion retreated from a fight, their own officers would kill every tenth man in a process called decimation. What bastards. Worked though. Roman legions didn’t run from too many fights.

Seven days after returning from the mission from hell and nine months after deploying, I was sitting in the mess tent using my laptop to email one of the new widows of one of my guys. I’d been corresponding with all three of them since the army confirmed they’d been notified officially their husbands were dead. The army employed a whole bureaucracy to do this but we were a tight knit unit and I knew they would appreciate the personal touch. I knew them all. Unlike me they all lived on base. This third exchange was very difficult for me. With the first two, I’d been truthful when I said their husbands died quickly and well. This time I would have to lie. As the ranking officer in my platoon, I made sure all contact with these bereaved ladies went through me. If they were going to hear lies, then they were going to hear consistent lies, from me.

Suddenly that little Skype box came on the screen of my laptop. ‘Kate Young is online’. Desperate for some human distraction from my emotionally draining task I dialled in. Within seconds the beautiful face of my eldest graced my screen. I could see she was sitting on the couch in our lounge with her laptop that she’d got last Christmas.

“Daddy”, she squealed. That brought her sister over and soon I was talking to my two reasons to be and they were talking at me as fast as they could. Both at the same time of course. We chatted merrily for the next half an hour about school, their trip to the zoo that day and anything else that came into our heads. I could feel myself relaxing. The urge to strike out and kill something, anything, slowly receding.

I glanced at my watch and calculated that it was getting on for their bed time so I tried to wind up our chat.

“Where’s your mum,” I asked Mel. Katie had wandered off screen somewhere.

“Oh she’s in the kitchen with Uncle Mick, mum’s new friend. He went to the zoo with us today,” said Mel.

My blood froze. Neither Pam nor I had a brother Mick. I fought the sudden sinking feeling. I’d seen this too many times to be anything like relaxed.

“How long has Uncle Mick been around,” I asked with as much casualness as I could muster. Shit, I kill people for a living, I’m not a bloody actor.

“Since just after Easter daddy.”

Fuck that was two months ago. The fact that Pam hadn’t mentioned any new friend told me all I needed to know.

“Does mum see much of Uncle Mick?   How often is he around?”

“Oh, he’s around most days.”

All of a sudden I heard Kate whispering from off screen. “Mel, you know mum doesn’t want us to talk about Uncle Mick.”

Suspicion became certainty. Rage started to build. Control pushed rage back with great difficulty.

“Kate, come on screen please,” I barked.

Kate appeared looking uncomfortable.

“Kate, does Uncle Mick stay for sleepovers?”

“Yes daddy.”

Shit, shit, shit, shit. With even greater difficulty I controlled the wild hatred that was in danger of consuming my being.

“So do you like Uncle Mick?”

Again, both girls started talking at once. It was impossible to listen to both at the same time. I did catch the words, “slimy”, “he smacked me”, “doesn’t like us”.

“Right, shush girls. Now Kate, you first.”

“No daddy, we don’t like him and he doesn’t like us. He’s mean to us when mum’s not around. I think he hurts mum too. Sometimes I hear screams from her bedroom when he’s having a sleepover.”

Fuck, that hurt.

One thing the army had taught me, was how to plan quickly in a crisis. It was a skill I’d honed in many deadly situations.

 “Does that jacket I see hanging near the front door belong to Mick?”

“Yes daddy.”

“Go and get it please Kate and see if there is a wallet in one of the pockets.”

She did, there was and within five minutes I had Uncle Mick’s full name, address and license number. There was also a security card from his employer. After Kate helped with that she went into the garage and got his car details, make, model and license plate number.

“Right girls, I’m going to make a phone call for a few minutes. Leave your screen on and check when I come back, OK?”

My call took over ten minutes. Thank god Simon’s wife Julia was home and not visiting the hospital. I then returned to my screen and called the girls over.

“Righty oh, my beautiful princesses, how would you like to go to Auntie Julia’s house for a few days?”

This was an ever popular question. Julia and Simon had three kids the same age group as my pair and were good friends with them.

“Daddy we haven’t seen them for ages,” screamed Mel.

So Pam was hiding from our friends was she?

“Well, go to your rooms and pack a few clothes and toys. Enough for a few days and Aunty Julia will pick you up shortly. Now Kate, I want you to do something for me. Pick up your laptop and carry it screen first into the kitchen and set it down with the screen facing mum please. I want to talk to her. Then go and pack.”

“OK daddy.”

I was treated to a guided tour of the house while the laptop was carried into the kitchen. As the kitchen door opened I could see Pam and a man sitting at the table with a bottle of wine between them. They took no notice of Kate as she put the computer on the end of the table. In fact, they were in their own little world until Kate said, “Mum, dad wants to talk to you.”

They both spun around like they’d been smacked and stared at the screen. Pam’s face had a look of fear and the man looked like he wanted to slide under the table out of sight.

“Hi Pam, how are you? This must be your friend Mick.”

Their lips moved but no sounds came out so I continued.

“Come on Pam, you must have known you’d be caught one day. You must have prepared a little speech for me?”

It was obvious she hadn’t. She tried a bluff, not realising she was the world’s worst liar. I mean, it couldn’t have been more obvious if she wore a flashing light on her head that went off every time she tried.

“He’s just a friend Davey.”

“Bullshit Pam! The girls have already told me that shithead here has been sleeping over the last few weeks.”

At last Pam decided to come clean. Her heroic boyfriend tried to get up and leave but she grabbed his arm and pulled him back to the table. I waited while various possible responses flashed across her face like I was watching a movie.

“I’m sorry Dave but I got so lonely while you were away. I got to know Mick and we fell in love.”

She fell silent.

I wanted to rage at them but realised that would achieve nothing. I forced a calm tone as I continued.

“Bullshit Pam, this is the first time I have been away for more than two weeks in the nine years we have been married. Before we married I warned you what our life could be like. You accepted it.”

She didn’t acknowledge that I’d even spoken. So I continued.

“For the record dear, the correct sequence should have been to wait till I got home. Wait until I wasn’t in a country where being distracted can cause death in an instant. Then, when I was home, tell me you wanted to separate and give me a chance to change your mind. Then after we separated you could have gone and fucked Shithead here.”

Looking at the table Pam mumbled, “Sorry Dave, it just happened.”

“So what now Pam? You’re just going to ditch me and sail off into the sunset with shithead here are you?”

She didn’t even have the guts to look up, she just nodded.

“And in this little fantasy world of yours, you would just take my kids away from me would you?”

Something in my tone made her head jerk up. It was obvious the possibility of that not happening had never occurred to her.

“Listen Pam, you know I’m keen on Psychology. Can you remember all the discussions we had about what influences children? Nature or nurture? Heredity or the environment? Well if the kids go with you then they will have your cheating slut genes and be brought up in a cheating slut environment. Believe me bitch, it isn’t going to happen.”

Pam reeled back in her chair as if slapped. She’d just heard the first, second and third abusive words from my mouth ever and they were in one sentence.

Finally shithead rallied to her defence. “Now wait a minute…”

“Shut the fuck up shithead!”

Another thing the army teaches you is how to get the instant obedience of people on the other side of a parade ground. He shut up.

At that point there was a distraction off screen and Pam said she was going to answer the door. I told her to wait.

“That will be Julia come to pick up the kids. She’s going to take them to her place tonight and get them off to school tomorrow. They should have packed some stuff already. Make sure they have everything they need then come back so we can talk in peace.”

Pam got up and Uncle Mick got up to join her.

“Sit down shithead!”

Again he bruised his ass sitting down quickly. I just stared at him for the eight or so minutes it took Pam to come back. The stupid prick even tried to start a conversation about how life was in Iraq.

One of the mess stewards came over and replaced my drink. I asked him to make sure I got some privacy. I didn’t want any witnesses to the next bit.

Finally Pam re-joined.  She started to speak, “Look Dave, this isn’t how I wanted this to go…”

I shut her down.

“I just have two questions for you Mickey boy. The first is, did you know she was married?”

“I’m sorry man, I just fell for her…”

“I’ll take that as a yes then. The second question is, do you know what I do for a living?’

“Pam says you are in the air force in Iraq.”

Pam interrupted, “No he’s in the army.”

“I thought you said he was in the air something…”

“Ah, I can see where the confusion is here, I am in the army but in a regiment called the Special Air Service.”

I could see this hadn’t registered with him so I continued.

“You probably know us by an acronym, the SAS.”

The instant look of terror that hit his face showed me he finally understood. Shit, every bloke in the world knew the SAS. Everyone knew that they wrote the book that every Special Forces unit in the world learnt from. Everyone knew that if you were killed by the SAS you didn’t even know until Lucifer showed you the action replay. Shithead now knew with crystal clarity that he was in deep, deep trouble.

The microphone picked up no noise but his lips clearly formed the words, “Oh fuck.”

So Mr Michael Brown of 12 Pender Court, Borderdale. The answer to the question of what I do for a living is that I kill people.

I leaned in until my face was filling the screen. His face was in a pathetic pale rictus.

“So shithead, for the crime of fucking my wife, for destroying my marriage, for putting my daughters possible happy future at risk, I sentence you to death. “

“Wha, wha, what!”

“You heard me fuckwit, I am going to kill you.”

He just sat there with his mouth opening and closing like a goldfish that had jumped out of the bowl.

Pam cut in with, “Come now Dave, cut the macho shit. I know you’re in the army and all but how many people have you actually killed?”

Her light tone surprised me. I turned away from staring at Mick’s image on the screen to hers. I was further surprised by the slightly challenging expression on her face. I suddenly realised she’d no idea what I spent my days doing. As with most Special Forces members I hadn’t advertised what I did. No-one outside our close circle of friends knew I was even in the SAS. I certainly didn’t tell her what I did in Iraq, mainly because I didn’t want her to worry. Keeping my voice level, I replied.

“Well dear I’ve been in base for the last week so I haven’t killed anyone. But the week before that I killed 10 or 12, it was a bit of a slow week. Sorry, I didn’t really count, it didn’t seem important at the time. Most of them I shot but one of them jumped me as I was changing clips and I stabbed him. I stuck my knife in his belly, angled up through his diaphragm until I got his heart, Surely Pam, your mum must have told you that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.”

Through the magic of Skype, we were intently staring at each other from across the world. What she saw was a stranger who she now knew with a deadly certainty was very dangerous and very, very angry. What I saw was someone that was suddenly very, very afraid.

“What you should know dear is that I didn’t hate any of those guys. They were just doing their job. I felt absolutely nothing for the guy I knifed even as I watched his lights going out. Now imagine what I would do to people I hate.”

I heard a gurgling noise from Mick the shit so I turned my attention back to him.

“Are you still here shithead? The further you get away from my house the longer you live. My knife has an appointment with your throat and that is a promise you can take to the bank.”

With an audible moan, he bolted from his chair and off the screen. I heard the door slam.

Now it was her doing the goldfish impersonation. I let her collect her thoughts which, judging from the facial expressions, weren’t good.

Finally she whispered.

“Are you going to kill me too?”

This brought me to a standstill. I hadn’t decided on her sentence.

“Pam, I’m sorry, I haven’t decided yet. One thing I do know is that after you brought a third party into my house and fucked him where the girls could hear, you are not a fitting mother for my children. Oh yes, Kate told me all about how you scream while he is with you at night. She thinks he is hurting you.”

I didn’t think Pam’s expression could get more horrified but she surprised me.  

“One thing for certain is that my girls will grow up knowing exactly what I think of cheaters.”

Another pause allowed my thoughts to go from my emotional front brain to my rational centre. They were both in agreement.

“You know that there is much research to suggest that having one parent die can be less damaging to kids than a messy divorce?”

Not surprisingly, Pam didn’t respond to this. She was smart enough to know that simple statement contained two options for her and neither one was good.

“No Pam, I think I would find it ………..difficult to kill you. I loved you once and until now I’ve had no reason to think you weren’t a good mother.”

Before she got too excited about this I continued.

“So here’s the deal Pam. If, when I find Mickey boy, you are with him, then I will kill you as well. If you go to the police, I will kill you. If you don’t have divorce paperwork ready for me to sign when I get home shortly, I will kill you.  Do your homework Pam. Look up how many times murderers are convicted when no body is found. I can assure you that yours won’t be.”

I let this sink in. She looked close to collapse.

“Will you really kill Mick?”

“Pam, this country has changed me. I have seen so many friends die and have killed so many men that I only have a shred of humanity left. Killing Mick will cause me no qualms at all. Oh Pam, if only you had done this the decent way, I would have understood.”

For the first time, Pam had tears gushing from her eyes. I wanted this over with.  

“You’d better write this down Pam. The divorce settlement will give me the house and full custody of the kids. Your visitation will be totally at my discretion and will be what I think is in the best interests of the kids. By the time I get back you will need to have organised yourself somewhere to live. I will pay for your living expenses for a reasonable time until you are on your feet. I’ll send you details of an army lawyer. The civilian judges seem to listen to them pretty well.”

“When I get back I’ll take an instructors job at the base so I can be home every night with the girls. We’ll get by fine without you. One things for sure.  I’m not coming back here. Before I got here I worried that I wouldn’t be able to handle being shot at. That wasn’t a problem. What does worry me is how much of a soul I will have left if I have to kill many more mother’s sons. It eats you.

“Good night Pam. Don’t bother to mention any of this by email or phone until I get back. I’ll not be set up to take a fall when I get home. Just do everything I said and you should have a long and happy life. Not one that is anywhere near what could have been but you made your choice.  Now it’s time to pay the piper.”

With that I closed the connection.

I got home three weeks later and had an emotional reunion with Kate and Mel. I tried to explain that their mum wouldn’t be living with us anymore. They didn’t understand but copious distractions from Julia, Simon and their kids helped. Every time they met him they asked Simon why he walked funny. Every time he gave them a different story more fantastic than the last.

I was met by the police when I got off the plane. El shitheado must have been desperate. They admitted they’d spoken to my wife and she failed to corroborate his story. I didn’t try any fancy evasive tactics but I didn’t admit anything either. There was nothing they could do except warn me they would be watching.

The divorce went through with only small modifications on my part. I decided to leave it up to my girls how often they saw their mother. I was surprised how their young minds attributed so much blame to her over causing us such pain. They hardly ever chose to see her. Of course I didn’t find out till much later that Julia had a hand in that. Julia was picking them up from school every day and the fun they were having reconnecting with their old friends, Julia and Simon’s children, left little time for a distraught, no fun, mother.

Pam did ask me if there was any chance of reconciliation. I just allowed the ruthless killer that now lives within me to stare at her. It was never mentioned again. In fact she made sure we were never alone after that, I obviously terrified her.

I did get the base instructors job and was home every night. The girls were getting the best upbringing possible but divorcing parents always have an emotional impact whatever you do. That’s why Psychologists recommend parents always stay together unless abuse is involved.

Yes, life is good.

4 years and 2 months later

Percy Newmont was relaxed. He was bow hunting with his friends out in the wilds. After all this time, sometimes whole hours would go by without him thinking of his former troubles.

He looked back at his friend Peter. He and the other two all worked with Percy and they hung around a lot these days. Peter caught his eye and smiled. Yes thought Percy, life was good. The only activity he skipped with them was Wednesday night poker. That was when Percy fucked Peter’s wife.

Moving two states and finding a new identity had been hard and had wiped Percy out financially but it worked.

He knew that going back to Borderdale last month for his mother’s funeral was risky. He’d felt a bit silly in disguise at the back of the church trying to avoid any contact with his relatives. But she was his mother for fucks sake.

There was a sensation of frontal impact then Percy was flat on his back. He looked down at the arrow sticking out of his chest just below his heart. He was momentarily confused. His three friends were behind him, how come he’d been hit from the front?

He passed out but came to sometime later. He was alone with Peter, the others had gone for help.  

Suddenly the pain that’d brought him round in the first place was repeated. What the fuck was Peter doing grabbing the feathers of the arrow and yanking them sideways? And why the fuck was he smiling?

The pain was too much and Mick passed out again. He drowned in his own blood ten minutes later without having regained consciousness.

The coroner’s officer looked down at the body. “Every year I get my ass dragged out here when some stupid fucker accidentally shoots one of their friends. Dickwad hunters.”

And 2 weeks after that

Pam sat in her 12^th floor apartment crying. She had been at it for the last three hours ever since John, her latest boyfriend had left. “What is wrong with me”, she thought?

She reviewed her life for the last four years.

She had really thought that Michael had been the one. She had married Dave because she knew her biological clock was ticking and it was a way of getting the children she really wanted. So when Michael came along and she saw the opportunity to have her children and a soul mate, she hadn’t hesitated.

It took a month after Michael disappeared for it to dawn on her that maybe her love for him had been one sided. Without a glance at her, he had gone forever. Even leaving his jacket and wallet behind. Seeking some sort of closure, she’d gone to his apartment and workplace two days after he’d fled but he was gone. What hurt her the most was that he obviously didn’t give a shit how she had fared after he bolted.

A big source of her depression for the first year or so had been her children. She’d just started the legal process of forcing Julia to return Kate and Mel when David returned from Iraq and quashed that. After that whenever she rang the girls, their conversation was stilted as if they blamed her for something. She did see them every week or so until that bitch had moved in with Dave nine months after Pam had moved out. Apparently she’d been the journalist that covered the story of David and his guys getting their medals. After that the girls hardly seemed interested in even speaking to her on the phone.

She had taken to parking outside the school at the end of the day. Even that stopped when she saw both girls running up and hugging the bitch like she were their mother. That year, they hadn’t even rung on her birthday.

The pain lessened somewhat when she met Pat. He was a few years older than her but shared her dream of having a family. Eight months later, she moved in with him and they were talking marriage and children. Two weeks later, he devastated her by saying he’d met someone else and asked her to leave.

A similar thing happened the next year with Randy. They had connected right away and within two weeks were inseparable. Four months later, they moved in together. Three weeks after that, he dumped her saying he was getting back together with his ex-wife. Following that Pam started a series of one night stands, thinking it would boost her confidence. It had the opposite effect.

 She really thought that John had been the one. Despite the fact she knew if she didn’t have children very soon, it would be too late, she forced herself to move slowly with him. It took over 12 months before she bowed to his gentle pressure and allowed him to move into her apartment. With a small amount of regret she realised it was the best sex she’d had since Dave.

Three hours ago John met her at the door of her apartment when she came home from work. She saw his packed bags near the door. He gave no excuse, just said he was leaving. He never once made eye contact as he picked up his bags and left. Why had he muttered, “Slut” as he carried his last bag out the door? She hadn’t so much as looked at another man since she’d met him.

Pam dried her eyes and looked at the mail lying unopened on the coffee table. There was one blank envelope and two bills. She had resisted the temptation to open the enigmatic blank one in her excitement at getting home to John. She picked it up now.

It contained a newspaper clipping. She was confused. Why would someone hand deliver a story about some stupid hunter that had died horribly after being accidentally shot with an arrow. Her face fell as she reached the bottom of the article where it explained that the victim had been formally known as Michael Brown who had lived right here in Borderdale. The paper fell from her numb fingers.

She thought of Michael, she thought of Pat and Randy. Finally she thought of Dave.

Surely not she thought.

Surely yes she KNEW.

Four years ago she’d had almost everything. In her quest for the last missing piece she’d ended up with nothing.

In a daze, she opened the balcony sliding door and looked at the long but inviting drop down to the car park 12 floors below.

The end

Yeah, I know that Skype wasn’t invented until 2003. It’s called artistic license.

When I first published this on Literotica, I received many comments along the line of , “It has the SAS in it, so it must be set in Britain but refers to ‘states’, which is American”. The story is set in Australia which has both an SAS and states.

Some commentators have said they appreciate my pathetic attempts at humour. Below is one of the cleverest funnies I have ever heard.

The defence counsel is delivering his concluding address in a murder case. In this case the body of the victim has never been found.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the jury. I have a surprise for you. In 30 seconds time the alleged victim in this case will be walking in that door over there.”

As one man/woman, the entire jury turn to look at the door.

45 seconds later the lawyer says triumphantly. “You see ladies and gentlemen, there is doubt in your mind that the alleged victim is actually dead. Therefore you must find my client not guilty. The defence rests.”

The jury retires to deliberate but are back less than 30 minutes later. The foreman delivers the verdict of guilty.

The defence counsel is stunned. “But you all turned to look at the door when I said the victim was going to walk in.”

“We most certainly did sir,” said the foreman, “however we all noticed that your client didn’t.”

Don’t take life to seriously.

The author.