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- {fon:homFF0000}
- Summer Holidays
- {fon:tri}
-
- The room was small and cramped, but the view was perfect. From the
- room's single open window you could see the high street with its shops
- and crowds spreading into near infinity. The bright summer sun shone
- down. He walked into the room through the open door and looked
- around. It was empty apart from a wardrobe and a chair. Sunshine came
- in through the window, heating the bare floor boards and illuminating
- the room. The dust that his footsteps had kicked up bathed in the
- yellow beam. The scene was a contradiction in itself. The beauty of
- that golden shaft of light and the sounds of the people outside
- provided stark contrast to the dilapidation of the room he stood in.
- He sighed, took off his jacket and placed the large bag that he had
- been carrying in the floor in front of the chair, disturbing even
- more dust. He sat heavily on the chair and opened the bag. Inside was
- a Desert Eagle large calibre pistol, an Ingram sub-machine gun, a
- sawn-off pump action shot gun (an English version that only held
- three rounds) and many cases of ammunition; Bullets and shotgun
- shells of various sizes. He stood again, put the chair and the bag by
- the window, laying the weapons down by the side of the chair and went
- over to the cupboard. He opened it to reveal his crowning glory, A
- high-calibre rifle with silencer, scope and laser-sight. By its side
- was a box of hollow-point bullets. He laid it down next to the other
- guns and sat down again, the window in front, the weapons below.
-
- After a quiet moment of reflection he loaded the rifle,
- deliberately taking his time, enjoying the process. Savouring it. He
- had made it into a ritual.
-
- He got himself comfortable by wriggling around in the chair, picked
- up the rifle and aimed it out of the window. Through the scope he
- could pick out individual members of the previously amorphous shape
- of the crowd. A man dressed in biker leathers with shoulder length
- hair emerged from Woolworth's with a small box of chocolates. He
- walked casually towards a large motorcycle, he was in his sights the
- whole time. He squeezed the trigger gently. There was a swift "phut!"
- and a large section of the man's skull simply disintegrated. The
- woman behind him looked down to see her pretty white blouse
- splattered with a deep scarlet mix of blood and brain. The biker
- collapsed and continued to decorate the pavement with shredded brain
- tissue and a large helping of unusually thick blood. The
- Gore-spattered woman was the next to die via a single silenced shot
- that passed straight through her chest and smashed the window behind
- her. He smiled broadly and readjusted the rifle's position against
- his shoulder. The crowd's reaction was as uniform as he had expected;
- There was confusion, a moment of stunned silence, then blind panic.
- It was amazing. He got back to work. People were going crazy, running
- this way and that, tripping of each other, desperate to make it to
- cover. No one looked up. Shots rained down on the crowd as it tripped
- over itself in waves, becoming an amorphous mass again in its fear.
- Here and there appeared large red explosions, heralded by the little
- "phut!" sounds. The sun shone down on all of this, completely
- oblivious. Few that he hit were afforded the luxury of being merely
- wounded, and were ignored by most of the healthy, who were trying to
- get into the shops which were already jammed with desperate,
- thrashing people. Sirens...The pigs were coming. He was doing well
- but it was time to go. When the police arrived he had everything
- concealed in holsters except the rifle, which he had placed with the
- bag in the wardrobe. He shut the door behind him when he left. At
- street level he got a good idea of how well he had done. At least
- twenty corpses and a few of the wounded lay on the street adding
- their congealing plasma to the pavement and gutter. No one had
- worked out where the bullets had come from, the crowd had totally
- dispersed. Some were speaking to a small number of armed police who
- were interrogating someone with a wounded arm, an ambulance had not
- arrived yet. The blooded desolation spread before him. He walked
- silently passed the police, who hadn't noticed him. Once he was a few
- metres behind them he turned to look at them. They were in a tight
- group with their backs to him. He quietly pulled out the Ingram.
- There was a roar of gunfire and they all collapsed into little
- bloodied red and black heaps. He walked away free, unidentified and
- feeling whole a lot better. One month later he did it again a few
- miles away; From the roof of a DIY store in some cultural wasteland.
- He got away then, too.
-
- {spr:l07}
- {end}
-