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P5K
By
Joe Romano
“Damn, that only leaves me with two kills.”
The body of a middle-aged businessman lay slumped over the wheel of his Lexus, the front end of which had been crushed into a perfect
V against a traffic pole. Blood flowed steadily from a marble sized hole at his left temple and quite freely from the grapefruit sized exit wound on his right. The offender’s still squawking cell phone lay at his feet.
“Mark? Mark are you still there?” Mark didn’t answer.
Jesse leaned against a newspaper rack on the corner and lit a cigarette. “Where are those guys?” he said to Hal. “I’m going to be late for work again.” He checked his weapon, a Beretta 9mm, standard issue from the Department of P5K. “Two rounds left. I’ll never make it.” he thought. “I’ll need to buy more from someone.”
As Jessie mentally flipped through the conscientious objectors that he knew, one of the local clean up vans pulled to the curb across the street. Two technicians sat in the van smoking and laughing about something Jessie could not hear. Hal also lit a cigarette and squatting down catcher style scanned the newspaper headlines through the plastic box.
“I see the local kill rate has hit an all time low this month” he said.
“Hmmm” Jessie muttered non-committal. He drew deep on his cigarette, held it briefly and exhaled a long stream of smoke. Both men leaned against the news rack and watched the clean up crew unpack their gear. They too were waiting for the LKVS official to arrive.
“Son of bitch almost ran me down.” Jessie muttered more to himself than to Hal. “Fucking cell phones. Hang up and drive, maybe you’ll notice things like pedestrians and red lights.” Jessie looked at his watch again, then up and down the street. No sign of the LKVS. He let out a sigh and resigned himself to waiting.
“Who was your first kill?” Hal asked, bringing Jessie out of his daydream.
Jessie hesitated a moment. “Some homeless guy.” He answered. “I feel bad about it now. He hadn’t done anything but ask for change. Legitimate kill or not, it wasn’t necessary. But it was my first day, you know?” Jessie thought back to the day of his 21st birthday. He was so eager to join P5K that he was at the door the moment the bureau opened that morning.
P5K had been born during the last months of the 20th century. The decline in civility had reached a point where it was almost non-existent. With the stock market booming and Silicon Valley’s millionaire teenagers, society had become a modern day Sodom and Gomorrah. Screw before you get screwed. There was Road Rage, Air Rage, even Fan Rage, with parental spectators at youth sporting events literally killing each other over disputes on the playing field. Then one day a preacher turned politician came up with a bombshell of an idea. If people would not be courteous and altruistic for its own rewards, perhaps they would so out of fear. The result: Project 5 Kills, where any eligible member of society would be allowed five “free” kills—free from prosecution and punishment. The concept was simple. If everyone had the ability to legally kill any other person, people would, out of fear, be courteous and hospitable toward their fellow man in hopes of avoiding extermination. It worked like a charm. Of course at the beginning, most cities resembled the Old West, bullets flying and bodies dropping as people settled old scores or simply tested the waters. But as time went by and people realized that five kills really didn’t go very far and the realization dawned that they too could be terminated, the number of killings dropped and the level of courtesy soared. This rise in civility was most apparent among the 16 to 20 year olds, not known for their politeness. Exempt from participation, but old enough to be targeted, they quickly learned “respect” for their elders. Baseball caps turned forward and proper fitting pants became the uniform of the day. Obnoxious behavior and swearing loudly in public places also stopped. Teenage gangs, a major public fear in the latter 20th Century, ceased to be a problem as armed citizens legally fought back and reclaimed their neighborhoods. Unable to retaliate without prosecution, or more likely instant termination, their numbers dwindled. Across the nation, towns everywhere became paragons of civility.
“How about you?” Jessie asked. “Who was your first kill?”
“My step-father.” Hal answered. “Son of a bitch had been slapping my mom and me around for years. The day I became eligible I was in the hospital recovering from three busted ribs. As soon as I was released I went straight to the bureau, even before I went home. I gut shot the fucker in his Lay-Z Boy. Rule Five be damned, I wanted the bastard to suffer first.”
A revving motorcycle announced the arrival of the Legitimate Kill Verification Squad. A woman dismounted and adjusted her belt on which hung various objects; camera, scanner, pistol; the tools of the LKVS. “Who’s kill is this?” she asked.
“Mine.” Jessie replied as he lit a fresh cigarette.
The woman checked the offender for signs of life and took her photos. She verified the cartridge casing; standard issue P5K 9mm. It was a legitimate kill.
“Your card sir?” She said to Jessie. Jessie handed over his ID card and she quickly swiped it through her scanner. It emitted a series of beeps and spit out a receipt, which she handed to Jessie.
“Have a courteous day sir.” She said and climbed on to her motorcycle. The clean up crew was in the process of removing the offender and towing his car.
Jessie looked at the receipt before stuffing it in his pocket and heading on his way. It read:
One (1) legitimate kill
Date: June 16, 2017
Time: 8:45 AM
Location: 1st and Market. San Francisco California
Kills Remaining: 2
Have a courteous day.
☺
Copyright © 2005 Joseph Romano
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