Sarah Killian: The Marching Tides

Sarah Killian: The Marching Tides

By:  Crystal Lake Publishing  Completed
Language: English
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As Jason and I try to stay one step ahead of the Marching Tides and their nefarious associates, we draw ever closer to the shocking truth of who the mastermind behind the Marching Tides really is. Something tells me I’ll regret learning the answers at the end of my journey.©️ Crystal Lake Publishing

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25 Chapters
1Do we have to do this Julie Andrews Getting To Know You bullshit again? I have to bury my mother today—well . . . there isn’t really anything to bury, but it’s her fucking funeral and I’m not here to argue semantics, you get the point—and I am so not in the mood for this. Okay. Fine. Let’s just get this over with. Previously on The Universe Shits On Sarah Killian:My name is Sarah, and I work for a super-secret organization called the Trusted Hierarchy of Everyday Murderers (T.H.E.M.) that employs Professional Serial Killers (P.S.K.’s) and assassins. I hate, hate, hate assassins—so I find it particularly appropriate that their title starts with two asses.T.H.E.M. is contracted by various entities—a few wealthy private citizens and corporations who can afford us, but most of our work comes from the government. Completely off the books, of course.Assassins’ work is pretty boring and straightforward, so I won’t waste my time on them. The P.S.K.’s is wher
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2To say that my mother and I had a difficult relationship would be the understatement of the millennium. Obviously, a big part of that had to do with the whole ‘spending almost half of my life in jail for the murder of my dipshit father’ thing, but if I were completely honest it went much deeper than just that. I admit I resented her for being with my father in the first place. They were a case of that age-old high school romance story. You know the one. Two horny teenagers get drunk at Grad Night Disneyland and get kicked out of the park for having sex on the It’s A Small World ride, nine months later: ta-da! I’m pretty sure the fact I know so many specific details about my conception is a big part of the reason why I’m so fucked up. Well, that and just the simple fact I was conceived on possibly the most annoying theme park attraction in the entire world . . .So, suffice to say, were it not for surprise li’l me, my mother probably would not have ended up with my
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3My Lyft driver drops me off at the T.H.E.M. headquarters—a warehouse in Chatsworth that fronts as a porn distribution warehouse. As I get out of the car and walk towards the warehouse, I can feel the driver’s eyes on my ass, no doubt imagining me performing in one of the movies stored within the building. Pig. He’s lucky I’m still—at the moment, at least—under contract with T.H.E.M., otherwise, I very likely would have killed him then and there just to work off some of my stress from mother’s funeral. Maybe if Zeke fires me, I’ll get lucky on my return home and get the same driver . . .  A girl can dream. I flash my I.D. badge at the desk security guard, who no doubt believes he actually works for a porn warehouse, and make my way to the back of the building, past aisles and aisles of storage boxes of smut. At the very back of the warehouse is a standard bookshelf lined with DVD’s. I look for the current secret video—Jurassic Puss, tagline: ‘Life finds a way .&
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4Hi, Jason here. Figured I’d take this opportunity to clear some things up while Sarah’s unconscious. Don’t worry, she’s fine. I managed to get her into my car and to a safe location. Well . . . as safe a location as there is in our current circumstance . . .  She’s been out for a couple of hours, but I expect she’ll be waking up soon, so let’s get this over with while we can. First and foremost, I’m going to assume Sarah has told you I cheated on her, probably with Mary Sue. I never cheated on her. I might be a heartless, work-for-hire killer, but I ain’t a cheating pig. Even assassins have morals, you know.You may have picked up on the fact that Sarah has a few commitment issues, so when things started to get serious between us, she started looking for any excuse she could find to break things off. One day she saw me hugging one of my assassin trainees—and yes, that trainee just so happened to be Mary Sue, long before she and Sarah became acqu
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5What the fuck did Jason say to you while I was out? Did he say I don’t have Tourette’s? He said I don’t have Tourette’s, didn’t he? I have Tourette’s, Porcupinedamnit!Ugh. Whatever. As long as he didn’t tell you about Pinny. Wait . . . he told you about Pinny, didn’t he? Son-of-a-crotch-cuddling-lemur-loving-carpet-cooking-turd-licking-bastard-I’m-going-to-motherfucking-kill-him-and-no-I-don’t-mean-that-figuratively!Whatever Jason told you, it’s complete bullshit. The man is a lying, cheating, bastard. You’ve known him for one chapter. You’ve gotten through two whole books with me, and have I ever led you astray? Don’t answer that. I realize I shot myself in the foot with that argument.I can’t believe that son-of-a-cricket-choker took over a chapter of my story. Who the fuck does he think he is inserting himself into my narrative? Typical, arrogant man.Fuck it. We’ll deal with this bullshit later. But don’t think this is over. You and I have som
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6I swear to everything that is Evil and Unholy in the world, if Jason hijacked my narrative again while I was asleep, I am going to castrate that no-good-son-of-a-bagpipe-player and make him wear his testicles as a necklace. No? Hmm. Fine. I guess I believe you. He can keep his nuts. For now . . .It seems Jason was right that I needed to rest because when I wake up it’s the next morning. I rarely sleep more than six hours at a time, so for me to have slept through almost an entire day, that definitely says something—and no, I’m not happy about the fact that the ‘something’ said essentially proves Jason right. Fucker.The back of my head is still tender where I hit it, but I no longer feel like every move I make is going to cause my entire being to implode in a spectacular display of fireworks so I guess that’s an improvement.Jason is nowhere to be seen, so I decide to take advantage of the opportunity to see how much I can move around without him mollycoddling m
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7The first thing I notice on stepping outside is the sky. It’s not the usual sickly gray smog that Los Angeleans take for granted on a day-to-day basis, but rather the apocalyptic orangish-gray haze of death that signifies a nearby brushfire; you can even taste the toxicity in the air. Sure enough, a glance at the news on my smartphone confirms that some embers from the bombing in the valley got caught on the wind and started a raging fire in the Simi Hills. Now I’m no tree hugger, though I suppose I’ll admit I’m more likely to hug a tree than another human being, but the fact that these assholes are wantonly causing such chaotic destruction all for the sake of tormenting me really, really pisses me the fuck off.The trip to Jason’s fourth safe room in North Hollywood goes smoothly. However, that makes me concerned our luck will probably run out when we get to my place. We get in; Jason retrieves his hidden stash of supplies, I.D.s, and cash from underneath a loose floor
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8As we walk the block to my house, our senses are on overdrive, searching for even the slightest sense of danger. “We’ll need to be careful going in,” Jason whispers. “We didn’t see anyone go in while we were here, but they may have already gotten in before we showed up.”“Jason, please,” I reply with my most derisive snort. “I may not be as organized or fiscally responsible as you, but that doesn’t mean I’m an idiot.”I pull out my smartphone and open up the app which connects to my house’s security system. A quick check of the house’s sensors confirms no one has even put a foot on the front lawn since I left the house yesterday morning for my mother’s funeral.As we approach my driveway, I use the app once more to unlock the alarm system, then return the phone to my purse, thinking I can’t wait to get out of this damn dress and into some clothes with pockets.Despite my confidence in my alarm system, we still proceed cautiously into the house—better safe than sorry right
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9“You pack quickly, I’ll go check it out and try to buy you some more time,” Jason whispers, as he deftly ducks out of the bedroom. I must confess it’s handy having a trained assassin on hand. P.S.K.’s are great at killing large numbers of people covertly and under the radar, but when it comes to hand-to-hand combat, the assassins are much better equipped.I grab my suitcase from under the bed and carelessly hurl as much clothing and essentials as I can fit into it in the few seconds I have to spare. I really want to get the fuck out of this dress and into some real clothes, but that will have to wait . . . again.I slam the suitcase shut and head for the door, when I remember my most important possession: my knife, who I affectionately call Borden. It was the knife I used to kill my first thirteen victims before T.H.E.M. recruited me—and several of the plush stuffies after said recruitment—and is without a doubt the closest thing I have to any sort of sentime
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10We rush to Jason’s car and take off into the night. I want to get out of L.A. as fast as possible and head straight for Vegas, but Jason points out we should probably switch vehicles, just in case Agent Kern was able to figure out which car was ours and report it to the rest of Nick’s Minions. I really hate it when he makes a valid point. Fortunately, Jason—as always—is prepared. Not only does he have numerous safe rooms around the city under various fake identities, but he also has numerous cars stashed around the city registered under various fake identities. I hate how organized the son-of-a-hamster humper is.We visit a long-term parking garage in downtown L.A. where we switch out the blue Honda Civic for a gray Toyota Corolla. I swear, the man has a major hard-on for Japanese cars . . .  We also take the opportunity to ditch our current disguises and switch out. Even with Agent Kern dead, we can’t assume that somehow Nick’s minions didn’t see o
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