Die Next - Jonathan Stone Page 0,2

forever when he hands the phone back to this guy. And no one will ever believe him. And the guy will never be caught. And when and if anything happens to Zack after he returns it, no one will ever know why.

Zack’s no hero.

But he knows what he’s got in his hands.

He looks at the phone. He sees his own hand holding it actually start to tremble.

The trusty little black device he knows so well. Suddenly transformed. Suddenly something entirely different.

It’s not an iPhone.

It’s a diePhone.

2.

As Joey rides the subway back to the GreenGirl, the fury in him is so explosive, so uncontained, he feels like shooting someone.

Anyone.

That stupid-looking cow of a nurse across from him with all her blue veins mapping her fat white legs. Those two skinny kids with glasses and buck teeth coming from some fancy school uptown. That gray-bearded black janitor, sweating like a pig.

Pop. Pop. Pull the Glock with the Evolution suppressor out from under his coat, a couple of pops, and hop off at the next stop, feeling much better, calmer, more relaxed. Joey is surprised at how close he feels to doing it. How out of control he feels. And that makes him even madder. Even more pissed at the world and at himself.

You’re supposed to be in control in this job. And he always has been. But look how easily he gets out of control. Look what it takes. Just one smart-alecky phone call from one smart-alecky kid. Hey, dude, you left your phone.

Yeah, he feels like killing someone right here.

Someone else, that is. Someone additional.

He is so pissed at himself. How could he leave the goddamn phone at the coffee shop? What was he thinking? Well, he was thinking about some big stuff. Important stuff. Job stuff. It makes sense that he was a little distracted. But still, part of doing this is the care, the planning, with every step.

He’s pissed at himself. But he’s more pissed at this kid. Why couldn’t the kid notice it a minute or two sooner? Catch up to him before he got in the subway? A kid who saw Joey enter his code—his dumbass code. He knows how dumbass it is but what can he do? Couldn’t the kid see it was the wrong phone just a little sooner? Or did the kid not come running out on purpose? He saw Joey enter the code, right? So did he wait a few minutes just so he could look around in Joey’s phone? Have a little fun. Not knowing what kind of “fun” he would discover.

If the kid hadn’t seen the code, that would have been a lot better, of course. Just a useless piece of hardware. Tossed into a landfill somewhere. The phone would be forever dead. Instead of it now having to make more people dead.

And even though Joey’s pissed—pissed at and focused on this kid—he also knows the deeper reality of the problem. And the deeper reality is that he’s a fuckup. He’s always been a fuckup. Whenever he has everything going right, running smoothly, that’s when he throws something in to fuck it up. That’s the pattern he’s noticed about himself. How he always undercuts himself at the worst moment. Something in him wants to fuck it up. Likes to fuck it up. Something in him, some weird, dumb, fuckup part of him, didn’t turn his phone away from some kid sitting right next to him, just a second or two sooner, when he entered his code.

As he rides the subway back to the GreenGirl, Joey starts to cruise around the kid’s cell phone. It’s exactly what he knew he would find from the kid’s happy, upbeat voice. He didn’t even need to look in the phone to know. Lots of photos of friends. Fun parties. There’s the kid in these selfies, obviously. Big smile. Curly red hair. Zack, he said his name was, Zack something or other. Good-looking. Surrounded by people. Look at all these text conversations. Let’s meet here. Let’s meet there. Not a care in the world. Until now, thinks Joey. Until now.

Let’s see, got a girlfriend? That’s got to be her, right there, in the most recent photos. Pretty cute. I wouldn’t mind a piece of that. Maybe I might get me a piece of that.

And this kid here. This little runt. Lots of pictures of him too. Must be a best friend.

Joey doesn’t have a best friend. Or a worst friend. Or any friend, really.

Joey feels the