Bad Habit

Bad Habit

... some habits last a lifetime.

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Bad Habit

Written by Edward Shaddow

Yeah I got a bad habit,

And it aint going away (Yeah)

-The Offspring: Bad Habit

The cigarette rolled in Sam’s hand as he thought about his life. Technically, he quit smoking last week. In reality it just meant that he cut down from thirty a day to twenty.

“Just this last one” he convinced himself, still moving the cigarette around in his hand. He could taste the flavour of a thousand others from his past. It was more of a comfort thing than anything else; he felt safe when there was a lit cigarette between his fingers; like all of his problems would burn away with it.

Sam brought the silver Zippo out of his pocket and slowly flicked the lid. The cigarette had automatically made its way to his mouth. He struck the flint of the lighter and the flame jumped out and cast a warm glow over his face. Sam closed his eyes as he drew in the first breath. A rush of relief ran all through his body as he exhaled the smoke. “Tomorrow, I’ll quit tomorrow” he reassured himself not wanting the feeling to end. He pocketed the lighter; he still hadn’t decided whether to keep carrying it or just shove it in a drawer and forget about it. “You can always use a good lighter; never know when you may need it”.

Sam lent against the cold hard pylon, bathed in the dim, dirty light of the underground car park. Casually smoking his ‘last’ cigarette, Sam surveyed the cars around him. His partner was waiting in their car, listening to the radio. He could hear the faint sounds of some ‘punk rock’ song; he had heard it before but never paid too much attention to it. Apart from the mild noise from the radio, the car park was quiet. Nobody had come in since the last of the employees had left, and that had been over and hour ago. ‘Body guards: non stop danger and excitement!’ Yeah right! This job was probably why he took up smoking again. It gave him something to do, other then sit on his ass. The job paid well, but he only got to do any ‘body guard’ work for an hour a day; driving behind the boss’s car on his way to and from work. The rest of the time he and his partner just sat in the car until called for. The smoking took his mind off the boredom.

The heat from the cigarette neared his fingers, telling Sam the comfort was about to leave him for good. “Its funny” he thought to him self, “You’re never really aware of you bringing the cigarette to your mouth and back again until the last drag.” Sam, fully aware that this was the ‘last’ breath of nicotine, he would have to wake up to the moment. In the last few seconds of his engineered comfort, Sam fell into his own little world; it was just him and the cigarette. The smoke snaked around his hands as he drew in the last breath. Glowing red hot the cigarette was reduced to ash, a ghostly reminder of the comfort and safety he had felt in the past few minutes. Sam held in the last breath of the sweet, yet harsh air which he had sucked out of the cigarette. In a weird way it reminded him of an old tale he had been told as a child; tales of ‘soul sucking’ demons, breathing in the life of the unlucky, the innocent and the stupid. Sam felt that this last breath filling his lungs was a soul, comforting his mind, complementing his own tired and worn-out body, and completing him. For now, Sam was a demon, and he didn’t want it to end.

A few seconds had stretched into a lifetime. He could have been there forever, trapped by the spell of the smoky soul inside of him. The sharp shrill of the whistle cut through Sam’s world like a knife. “Sam! We’re on!” yelled his partner from the car.

There was no point holding on to the smoke now. The illusion destroyed for good. Sam expelled the air form his lungs hastily. He dropped the remaining butt from his hands, not bothering to stamp it out, he never had, why start now? Sam brushed himself off absently as he walked towards the car. As he brushed his jacket down he patted his gun bulge. This was another form of comfort, not as addictive but just as deadly.

Sam reached the car and opened the door. He took one last look around the car park on reflex. Sliding behind the wheel, Sam adjusted the seat to his height and length. “Dam it Greg! I told you; don’t touch my seat; it takes me ages to get it back.” Sam said. How many times had he said the same thing? It was more of a ritual between the two of them. Sam would yell at Greg for moving his seat and sometimes for changing the radio station. Then Greg would apologise and say it won’t happen again; only to repeat it all tomorrow.

“Sorry Sam won’t happen again” replied Greg. Sam had been working with Greg for quite a few months now. He was slim with short cropped black hair, which gave a ‘tough guy’ look to him; this contrast greatly with his slight ‘baby face’ quality. Greg was young, and in Sam’s eyes – a little too green for this line of work. He was always holding his gun sideways and pretending to shoot things whenever he thought Sam wasn’t around; “Snap your wrist shooting like that, dum-ass” Sam thought to himself. However, he was a dead shot and great under pressure; if it came down to it, Sam would trust his life to Greg. The most action they ever saw though was some idiot cutting them off in traffic. Not the most glamorous job in the world, but it paid well.

“I thought you quit?” Greg said as he looked up at Sam. A look of true concern crossed over Sam’s face. The idiot was worried about him. “It’s my last one, for good this time. I swear.” He wasn’t trying to convince Greg; Sam just wanted to convince himself.

An awkward silence fell between the two. Sam knew how Greg felt about his smoking, but it is his own fault, and there is no one else to blame. Greg had told Sam about how his father passed away a while back of throat cancer. He knew the kid cared more than he should about his health, but it was comforting to know someone out there cared. Sam turned his head to tell Greg he was quitting once and for all when the CB radio crackled to life.

“Car One, this is Guard One. All clear up here, the boss is just chatting up his new secretary. ETA five min, just chill for a…Oh my god! Who the fuck is that?”

Sam quickly grabbed the radio “John, John, come back! What’s happening up there?”

Greg and Sam exchanged a worried look. This is what they had been trained for, the day that never comes.

“We have a security breach! Lone assailant on a motor bike; came out of nowhere. He’s heading for the lift, stop him!”

Sam looked at the radio, waiting for a word, a sound, anything to tell him what to do. The silence lasted for what seamed for an eternity, when John’s voice broke out over the sound of gunfire.

“Sam, he’s headed your way; and he’s armed to the teeth! Don’t let him get away. Stop him at all costs! The lift! Jason, stop him! Ohhh fuck…my leg!” the radio went dead. Sam looked up at the lift at the end of the car park. The numbers where slowly moving down from ground level towards the car park. It would only take a second for it to reach them.

The limo was parked in the middle of the car park directly between the lift and the exit gates, with Sam and Greg’s car in the reserved parking spot, three spaces away from the lift. Sam quickly worked out the numbers. They had to stop the intruder from escaping – that meant shutting the exit gate. Quickly Sam got out of the car and ran towards the limo, where the remote for the gate was kept. Quickly covering the short distance he took out his Glock 17 automatic. The black polymer grip gave a sense of safety in his hand; “All I need is a smoke and I’d be set” Sam whispered under his breath, a faint smile slid onto his face.

He reached the limo and flung open the door just as the lift chimed to say the doors were about to open. Not looking at the lift Sam leapt over the passenger seat and hit the remote. The gate started to slowly close, just as the doors of the lift opened.

Inside the lift, a tall well built figure sat on a slick black Y2K (the MTT built super bike, with at top speed of over 400km/h) the bike screamed power. From the bottom of the wheels to the top of the riders helmet was entirely black. Black leather coat and pants gave an almost foreboding look to the rider, but it was the completely black tinted visor that reminded Sam of the Grim Reaper; a new hard-core Reaper, but Death never the less. The rider took off from inside the lift, at an impossibly fast speed towards the slow shutting gate. Sam pulled himself out of the limo and quickly tried to stand and aim his gun at the intruder. He barely had time to raise the gun when the rider sped straight past him.

“Fuck! He’s going to make it!” Sam yelled in his mind, trying to change his stance for a futile last attempt at the rider. The rider was no less than 30 meters away from the gate when a shot rang out and echoed through the car park. The gate suddenly dropped all of its remaining length in a split second. The intruder attempted to slid the bike through the disappearing space when another shot fired. The bike fell to the ground and spun back around throwing the rider off to the right. The gate crashed to the ground as the bike hit it; digging the back wheel into the metal wall in a huge shower of sparks.

Sam looked behind him to see Greg still standing in a double handed shooting stance with his Sig-Sauer P226 still smoking. His first shot snapped the chain on the gate, making it drop suddenly; and in effect not being able to be raised again. The second shot must have hit the back of the bike making it spin out of control. He liked to muck about but when it came to it he was a fucking good shot.

Greg started to walk over towards the limo. His gun still pointed out in front of him aimed at the now fallen rider. Sam turned, he could see the riders helmet clearly now. The gloss black plastic totally covered the riders head, broken only by the deep tinted visor. ‘Mors tua, vita mea; your death, my life” Sam said looking at the figure. The intruder lay motionless on the ground, facing the limo. Greg reached the limo and came to stand on the unopened driver side, gun still up facing the rider. “Is he dead?” Greg inquired. “Don’t think so, just probably unconscious. That was a huge fall he took” Sam replied.

“You think it’s a guy? I suppose it is, but you can’t tell with all that leather on.”

“Any word from upstairs?” Sam took a step forward, his gun at his side now.

“Yeah, their mostly ok, the boss is fine. You want me to radio it in?” Greg still didn’t waver with his weapon.

“Yeah, I think its ok; he’s not going any where with the gate down.” Sam took another step, his eyes fixated on the fallen figure. The pull to go over and see who it was, that managed to take down all of Guard one without killing anybody was, intoxicating.

“Sam, you stay here I’ll radio upstairs, your not going to do anything stupid are you?”

“Like what?” Sam said, his eyes not moving from the rider.

“Like going over there and poking the body with a stick?” Sam tore his eyes from the rider and locked them on Greg. “You go and radio, I’ll watch the body.” His eyes conveyed a message of age and authority, “you worry about yourself and nobody else.” Greg slowly lowered his gun and turned to walk back to the car.

“Nice shooting, by the way.” Greg turned his head, praise from Sam was rare.

“Thanks old man.” He said as he jogged back towards the car to radio in.

As Greg reached the car he noticed the lift numbers were back on the ground floor. As he watched the numbers slowly began to go down. “They’re coming down!” he yelled to Sam. Sam turned towards the lift to look, Greg was right, the door chime began. Suddenly as the doors opened an enormous explosion erupted from the lift. The blast spewed out from the doors and enveloped the space around it. Greg had been walking over to meet the others just as the explosion began. He didn’t stand a chance just like the people in the lift. The fire enveloped him from head to foot as the doors of the lift flew out from their sockets and smacked into his half burnt body forcing him against the scorched ground.

All Sam could do was watch in horror as his partner and work mates were caught in the explosion. A noise filled his ears, a long painful scream of “NO!” It was a few seconds before he realised it was from his lips. Suddenly he was turned around with his Glock in his hands aimed at the rider. His face twisted in horror of one who has seen the flames of Hell open up and swallow his friend. When his eyes registered what he was seeing, the rider had awoken and was now attempting to remove his bike from the gate.

The rider had lifted his bike up and was now revving the engine to spin the rear tyre loose from its metal bond. Sam’s eyes opened in horror. “There is no fucking way you are getting away from me now you bastard!” He opened fire on the rider, shooting blindly at him. Bullets ricocheted all around the bike, several hitting it and the rider’s jacket. With a look up at Sam, the rider’s bike worked free from the gate and in a shower of smoke and rubber, took off at an incredible speed headed right for Sam.

Sam emptied his clip “Fuck!” Ten shots a mag just isn’t enough! He reloaded and took aim again, just in time to see the rider now heading towards him at easily 80 km/h. Sam did the only thing he could do; he stood his ground, took aim and fired. “You stupid dumb-shit, god-dammed mother fucker!” He yelled as the bike roared towards him. Suddenly the rider lent back and pulled the front wheel up off the ground. Within a few seconds he managed to reach the front of the limo and planted the front wheel on the bonnet. The bike lifted off the ground and scraping the underside managed to climb up and over the limo. Flying off the back he screamed towards what was left of the lifts and completed the run with a smoking 360.

Sam had stopped firing when the bike had leapt onto the limo. He just watched this mad man, for surely he was for all he had done, no sane person would even attempt such a feat as him. The two looked at each other, the rider now facing Sam; a mind game had begun between them. Sam looked at the rider, pushing past the helmet and into his mind. What was the sick bastard up to now? There was no way out, both gates are shut and he can’t pass through them. No, he had something up his sleeve, but what?

Sam didn’t have time for mind games. “Fuck this for a laugh” he said to himself, as he drew his Glock and aimed at the riders head. As if on cue the sprinkler system kicked in. The car park was suddenly the focus of a severe rain storm. The water soaked Sam in an instant, while the water bounced off the rider’s clothing as if afraid to touch him, creating a watery aura around him. Sam slowly took aim at the visor, a weak spot. Blocking out the noise of the bike’s engine and the sound of the water he pushed all of his energy into one shot. “Die mother…”

He never got to finish the thought. The rider suddenly pulled out of nowhere, two matt black HK MP5Ks. The rider didn’t even hesitate and pulled both triggers and unleashed a devastating stream of bullets at Sam. With the door of the limo to his back Sam had no where to take cover before the bullets hit him. His body was thrown up against the door as a dozen bullets entered him. The searing pain filled his mind and body, sending shock and adrenalin throughout him. The bullets that didn’t hit him destroyed the side of the limo; large silver holes appeared in the side of the car, not caring that it was bullet proof.

Sam fell to the floor of the car park with a wet thud as the rain of bullets stopped. With his face flat against the cold hard concrete, he could smell the water falling around him. Have you ever smelt rain on the road? It has its own special smell, secretly Sam kinda liked it. It reminded him of days spent playing with his mates in the road on warm summer days in the rain; summer showers. He summoned all the energy left in his body to pull himself up to sit against the limo. His blood flowed in the water washing away any signs he was ever hit, apart from the holes in his clothes.

The rider had by this time pulled up next to Sam and stepped off his bike. The engine ticked as the water cooled it. Casually, he reached inside the limo and pressed the remote for the doors, and slowly the entrance gate began to lift up. The police won’t be here for a few more minutes, even if the guards up stairs did call. The explosion was three floors under ground, a mild tremor in a business district; the rider was in no hurry this time. He walked around to stand in front of Sam. The rider watched as Sam struggled for a cigarette from his pocket. Spilling the packet, he managed to get one to his mouth. His right arm seared with pain as he tried to reach his lighter.

The rider looked down at Sam and produced a silver Zippo from nowhere. Lighting it he held it to the cigarette. Sam drew in a breath. “I’ll quit tomorrow” he thought to himself, and a smile spread across his face. He looked up at the rider, it was like looking death in the face, and in reality it was pretty close. The water still producing that aura around him, Sam looked at the riders visor and said his final words “Who knew tomorrow would come?” Sam’s smile erupted into a huge grin as the pain took over his body. He did what he felt was right in the situation, he laughed.

He was still laughing as the rider sped off through the open gate and out of his life forever.

Fin.

Artist

The Offspring

Song

Bad Habit

Reason

I used to have a forty minute drive to work every day. Down the highway at 100km/h every time this song came on I would begin to write in my head, it took two years before it found its way to paper.

Sam drew in a breath. “I’ll quit tomorrow” he thought to himself, and a smile spread across his face