A Tale Reversed

A Tale Reversed

         The dead man rose smoothly from the floor, setting the table carefully upright again as he stood. The blood poured back into his chest, and color returned to his face.
         A strange crack of sound rent the air, and something zipped across the room.
         “Please…” he whispered desperately, stepping towards the two men in the doorway.
         “Good-bye, Phil,” said the short, black-haired one - the one with the gun.
         “No, wait,” croaked Phil, terrified, “you don’t have to…I’ll have it in another week…”
         The tall, fair-haired one in dark sunglasses nodded.
         “This is the end, Phil,” said the short one. “I’m sorry. It’s not my choice.”
         He slipped his gun silently back into its leather holster and stepped back to stand side by side with the tall man.
         “Why are you really here?” asked Phil, eyeing the window to his left apprehensively. He stepped a little closer to the men. “What are you going to do, then?”
         “This is the third time,” said the short one. “You can’t chalk it all up to bad luck.”
         “There was a storm! A storm over the gulf. There was nothing to be done. One week, they told me! That can’t be too late. One week!” Phil let out a high, worried laugh.
         “I doubt that matters very much,” said the short one. “Orders is orders, after all.”
         “It wasn’t my fault!” Phil exclaimed, almost violently. He went pale.
         “You’re being replaced, Phil,” said the short one. “Orders come through. It’s over for you. Incompetent, they said.”
         “The load didn’t come yet – it wasn’t my fault, I just –”
         Phil forced a chuckle. His eyes darted between the two men.
         “It’s always the money,” grunted the tall one with a mirthless laugh.
         “Well, the money. Yes, of course.” Phil glanced around nervously
         “You know why we’re here, don’t you?” asked the short one briskly.
         The two men stepped backwards almost in lockstep, so that the tall one was obscured by the doorframe and the short one was nearly in the hallway. They tucked their hands into the pockets of their trench-coats.
         “You –” said Phil, surprised, suddenly worried.
         The short one grinned like a crocodile.
         “Hello,” he said, and stepping out the door quietly shut it behind him.