Free Excerpt from [RECALL]

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~JM

[RECALL] Excerpt

[RECALL]

ATTENTION ALL CITIZENS

WE HAVE IDENTIFIED A DEFECTIVE GENE

IN APPROXIMATELY ONE MILLION UNITS.

A NATIONWIDE [RECALL] HAS BEEN ISSUED.

PLEASE RETURN YOUR UNITS TO

YOUR NEAREST FDO

AS SOON AS POSSIBLE.

ALL DEFECTIVE UNITS WILL BE

REPLACED FREE OF CHARGE

WITHIN SIX MONTHS.

THANK YOU.

Victor stood and looked at the piece of paper in his hand. 815 Wellington Street. As much as he enjoyed contract work, he hated the slums, and Wellington was smack dab in the middle of them. Sometimes you did what you had to do though, and Victor knew this. He committed the address to memory, and crumpled the paper up, tossing it in the bin to be shredded later. No paper trails. His employers would appreciate his discretion, since they were paying him enough money to purchase a small island should he choose, but he wouldn’t. Victor was not one for solitude. He got off on weaving in and out of crowds, seeing how many people he could fool into thinking he was a balding man in his forties, or a slick businessman with a meeting to get to, or a homeless guy begging for change with nothing but rocks in his belly. He enjoyed the deception, and the hunt. For Victor, this hunt was going to be the biggest of them all, and all just because no one wanted to listen to what the government had to say.

Three years ago, when the first batch of Units had come off the assembly line, everything was fine. People were happy with what they received, and most importantly, they kept their mouths shut. It seemed like the perfect system, and the perfect way to control everything. That is, until the latest batch came out. Only then did they realize that there was a problem. Something had been missed in quality control and now there were millions of defective Units running around. The kind that could cause a hell of a lot of headaches later on.

The decision was easy. Implement a nation wide [RECALL] and hope to hell that people listened. While most did, there were still a select few that resisted, and that’s where Victor fit in. He was hired as a Bringer. Ex-military with twenty years in the private sector made him a perfect candidate. Whatever he believed, or wherever his morals stood, there was nothing that prevented him from fattening his bank account. Especially since the economy hadn’t gotten any better in the last ten years.

Even though things like this happened all the time, it was never on this scale, and never with Units of this caliber. It had gone well at first. People brought their defective Units back to their local FDO (Fetal Dispersement Office), and received new ones. No questions asked, and no answers given if there were. The defective Units were promptly destroyed and that was that. Until a census was taken six months ago and it was realized that there were still more than ten thousand of those Units out on the streets, in peoples homes, waiting for the right trigger to set them off. It may not have been going to happen until years down the road, but by that time it would be too late, and the clean-up would end up costing the government way more than they were paying people like Victor to take care of their mess. It was an easy choice, really.

Victor grabbed his equipment, checked his tie in the full-length mirror that hung off his closet, and brushed his teeth with a thin index finger. The contents in his bag were simple. A modified .40 caliber Glock model 22 pistol with built in silencer (in his line of work, the less noise the better), an 8-inch tactical survival knife with 440 stainless steel and a serrated top blade, and a few extra clips. Just in case. While he had never had to use the Just In Case method, it never hurt to be prepared. Wellington wasn’t exactly Club Med, and as the saying goes, there’s a first time for everything.