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He could die but not my little brother Johnny.Crouching behind a fallen ATM machine, I brought up the M16 rifle and aimed at the possible exit the boy might take. I was a good shot thanks to my father who trained both his sons to use guns at an early age. My hand didn’t shake as I saw the boy crash into the hard plexi-glass doors with them right behind him. His eyes bulged out of their sockets when he felt their teeth sink into his shoulders and thighs. I took the safety off. There was no point in killing them but at least I could grant mercy to the poor child writhing in agony and terror in front of me.Besides, I couldn’t risk him becoming a monster. Shit, the world didn’t need more of them. There were too many already. So I squeezed the trigger and the life went out of those brown, innocent eyes.Later I went to where Johnny was waiting. The kid was practically jumping up and down in joy at my arrival. I motioned for him to quit it but secretly I was happy to see him, too. Since our. It beggars belief when you see the murderer didn’t have his phone locked. ‘Good way to get caught,’ you chide him silently as you clean your fingers. You can see the first message, which simply reads “Are you coming or what?”A sinister chuckle ripples from your throat, and you wince a little. It’s funny, but you can’t laugh anymore, not without it being that echoey, haunting rasp. It seems inappropriate for simple irony. Though, you know. Murder irony. Could be less apropos.Alex: Seriously, you’ve got ten minutes, then I’m going to bed.“Don’t think he’ll make it, Alex,” you whisper to yourself as you collect up your burlap sack of pieces worth taking home. You set the phone down to do it, and once satisfied, check his phone one more time before you began the trek back to your lair.Alex: And this is what you’re missing, misterAlex: Alex Has Sent A PhotoNow, that’s interesting … you can’t exactly pay for internet anymore, though you’re very adept at finding places people naturally.
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