Amok: An Anthology of Asia-Pacific Speculative Fiction by Dominica Malcolm Page A

signs were off, and the sign on the door said, “Sorry We’re Closed”. The trees and bushes surrounding the parking lot hid them.

    “You were tossing and turning again,” Umer said. “Better get that ‘recurring dream’ checked. Iñigo says he’s good with interpreting dreams.”

    “I don’t need anyone to interpret my dreams,” Damian said.

    The beer filled his stomach and woke his spirits. They arrived an hour earlier, so there was time for beer and dinner (fish balls, quail eggs, grilled blood, chicken intestines and barbecue).

    “You can tell me what to eat, but you can’t tell me what to believe,” Damian said.

    “We dream things we want to happen,” Sunet said. “Dreams incorporate the past. Dreams can be confused as memories and vice versa. When you start having problems deciding which is which, you should already ask for help. In my opinion, the need is aggravated when you start denying truth as nothing but fantasy.”

    Sunet’s eyes looked at Damian as if he knew the agent’s secret. The old man recruited Damian to the agency, so he expected the old man did a thorough profile check. When one joined the agency, one gave-up privacy and personal relationships.

    “But that’s only my suggestion, Sir,” Sunet added.

    “And a good suggestion it is,” Umer winked at the driver. “Go see Iñigo. He wants some action, or anything interesting. It’s been a while since high profiled cases were assigned to him. Your dream may cure him of his boredom.”

    “I don’t want anyone interpreting my dreams,” Damian said. “For all I know, it’s the only thing the agency can’t mess.”

    “Okay man, suit yourself,” Umer raised his hands in surrender. “Five minutes to hit time. Can you see our client yet? She should be here already. Else, we can’t go on.”

    “She’s here,” Damian saw the client emerging from the underpass. “She’s looking at the coffee shop.”

    “Is that in the plan?”

    “Not that she mentioned it. Maybe she just wants to make sure that it’s the right guy on the shift. She’ll leave if she wants to call the hit off.”

    “That would be bad. There are no refunds.”

    “Okay. She’s in position now, better take mine too.”

    “Hide us, Sunet. Make sure nobody notices Damian pointing his slingshot.”

    Damian focused his senses on the client and the target. Everything dimmed and hid in the shadows. Only the light from the cafeteria and from the streetlight entered his eyes. Three minutes to hit, his heart was pounding, and adrenalin rushed all over his body.

    During Damian’s first few weeks in the agency, the excitement would always make him miss thrice before he hit the target. That was four years ago. Everything became natural to him, as normal as breathing. The anticipation of fulfilling the task only enhanced his focus and determination to finish it in one shot.

    Damian took one pebble from his jacket’s side pocket. He kissed the pebble and kept it close to his lips while whispering an incantation. The stone’s colour was ivory, but it glowed red after he kissed it. With every word he uttered, the stone’s light intensified.

    “In the name of love, I command you,” Damian ended his prayer. The stone turned into a burning ball, red light escaping through the spaces between his fingers. Two minutes to hit, the target was closing shop; the client, acting innocent, was still in position.

    Damian, tilting his head to get a better angle and better snipe, was ready to shoot at will. He waited for the opportune moment. One minute to hit, the target finished closing the shop and started to walk towards the streetlight about a meter from the client.

    Just give the signal , Damian thought. Just ask for it and I’ll do it for you. Or call it off, I don’t care, just don’t make me wait.

    Thirty seconds to hit, the target was in the right position, his heart unguarded and unaware. The client took her eyeglasses from her shoulder bag, wore