Isolated (Jason King, #1)

by Matt Rogers

conversation, blissfully unaware. Then again, King often saw what others did not. He’d learnt to notice small details. This time of year the temperature dropped to almost zero in these parts. He zipped his jacket up to the collar. It would be a cold walk up

into an outdoor dining area housing empty tables and full ashtrays. All coated in a thin layer of frost. Ahead, a deserted mountain road twisted around a bend,

the wood pressed into his back, but he didn’t care. He decided he would spend a moment resting, observing his surroundings.

road. He knew he was invisible to them. He watched the vehicle approach until it drew parallel with him, moving fast, heading for Jameson.

watched as the pickup slowed to avoid a collision. Its headlights lit up the figure. A man dressed in simple clothing. He wore a plain blue windbreaker and a pair of

emerged from the trees, dressed similarly.

tone now firm and authoritative. Demanding an instantaneous response.

around to hear. Except Jason King. He watched the pair of killers move with calculated efficiency, each sliding a corpse out of the respective

remained motionless, resting against the tree trunk. To most men, he would be invisible. Not this time. 'Hey!' the man screamed to his friend, immediately producing

shooting at?' 'A … a man. He was sitting against that tree.' 'You’re sure?' 'Yeah, I’m sure. Scared the shit out of me.'

when they were the ones with power, but now he had made them uncomfortable. They would make mistakes. They would die. He heard noises. Footsteps on the asphalt. Inaudible to the

were unable to walk quietly on the dirt surface. Leaves crunched underneath their heels. They quickened their pace. The panicked man passed the tree first, moving fast. In his haste, he failed to take a look at the

fired a single shot through the base of his skull. It sliced through the guy’s brain and exploded out the top of his head. He dropped like a rag doll. Death was instantaneous.

Wild luck. Completely unintentional. Nevertheless, the man was smarter and faster than his dead partner.

would be a sign of movement up ahead. Nothing more than a fleeting glimpse of a limb, but it was enough. He flew past pine trees with decaying branches,

long run King would catch him. He could keep this pace up for hours. He doubted Buzzcut could.

breath. Panicked. Rookie mistake. King could see him now. He made out the silhouette just ahead, darting between trunks and tripping on obstacles. He could hear King

of the forest, constructed in the centre of the clearing. It was a behemoth of a facility, easily surpassing the tops of the tallest surrounding trees. Twisting rusted

sensation in his left arm. He reeled away. The shot had taken him completely by surprise,

difficult to make out in the soft moonlight. There was no time to focus on it. He was still on open ground, with no idea whether Buzzcut still had a round in the chamber. As if on cue, a hollow click echoed across the clearing. King recognised the

and stopped to listen. Crickets in the grass. The occasional creak of a rusty pipe. No sound of the man he was chasing. Buzzcut had done well to disappear.

was no moonlight. He couldn’t see anything. He

ran his hand over a hollow metal tank, fixing its position in his mind. Buzzcut had just scraped against it. King recognised the

hundred-and-twenty pounds of muscle, yet even stronger than he appeared. His strength had been something of legend in his former life. Now, he used it to

His blood boiled and his skin tingled. An unavoidable reaction after killing

certainly tarnish his reputation in a courtroom. He much preferred natural law in situations such as these.

any traffic had passed by, no-one had stopped. He crossed to the opposite side of the woods and headed deep into the scrub. It didn’t take long to find

the road. These men had lived simplistic urban lives. Work hard, eat a full meal, rest, repeat. Sometimes King wished his own life had been so straightforward.

that the road was unsurfaced. He dropped the GPS back to the muddy floor of the cabin and drove off.

grimaced.

broken machines scattered across the floor. Near the centre of the floorspace, lying limp next to a dirty puddle of water, was Buzzcut. Unquestionably dead.

bodies. Due to excess weight, David Lee proved a little more cumbersome to manhandle than Miles Price, but King got the job done. Next, the hitmen. He

Despite the cold night, lifting deadweight proved tiresome. But the corpses were out of sight and it would take an inquisitive

resounding clang as they struck home. Then he turned and headed out of the factory, determined to forget that the ordeal had ever happened.

morning. He came up the road into the main street. Murky halogen streetlights lit the way. There was a big brand supermarket

enshrouded in darkness. The other had a small front light glowing above the entrance to its office. That was enough for

plasterboard walls and a desk piled high with loose sheets of paper. The woman scurried around behind the counter and fished a document out of the mess. She placed it in front of him along with

paper back across the counter, along with a fifty-dollar note. She took it and handed over a key. As he reached for it, she let out a gasp. 'Oh my god!' she cried. 'You’re cut real bad.’

some of the farm boys around here,’ she said. ‘They all play the tough guy until it’s too late. Last year Terrence dropped dead of a fever. Doctors said

to hear that.’ ‘So you have it,’ she said, composing herself and looking back up with a warm smile. ‘I’d rather it

A thin double bed in the corner, a small television opposite a set of plush chairs and a kitchenette. The door set in the far wall led to an adjoining bathroom and

trickled a stream of the antiseptic down his arm. It dripped into the wound, flaring his nerve endings. He let out a soft grunt to manage the burning sensation.