renegade-agent
This is a little yarn I'm working on to chill out, you may read it and comment,
I hope you enjoy it.
He couldn’t even hear himself shouting anymore, couldn’t hear anything for that matter except a dull roaring that reminded him of the sea, the way it raged and spat in a storm, it surrounded him, nearly blinding him to what he was doing, he was sure he was in the right though, how couldn’t he be? Although it had been a long couple of days….how could he be sure of what he was doing? everything seemed suddenly distant and unreal.
The gun is loaded.
The gun is loaded.
For the love of god don’t shoot beca-
He recoiled in horror as a sudden spasm of terror ripped down his arm and his finger pulled at the trigger, the bullet cut a neat hole in her head, just above her eyes, he watched numbly as she collapsed to the ground and a small trickle of blood began to cascade down her forehead forming a small puddle on the floor.
The only thing that made sense was to run, run as far as he possibly could, never stop.
It’s a simple thing to kill someone, but not so simple to deal with the consequences, from within as well as without, guilt can do terrible things to you.
His feet smacked against the rough grainy sand, he could feel his feet start to sting and burn , but he didn’t slow down, quite the opposite, he ran faster and faster as the sun began to climb it’s way into the sky, clouds shadowing it’s ascent.
Wait, the gun!
What to do about the gun? Can’t keep carrying it you idiot!.
He started scrap at the sand, digging his fingers in and tearing chunks of it from the ground.
Don’t be stupid! They’ll find it, they’ll find you, they’ll get you!
Get rid of it later, just run!
As he ran, tears flew out of his eyes, he wiped them aside and kept on running.
Maybe you’ll get lucky, maybe she’ll get washed out to sea,her cold pale blue corpse, her rotting lifeless body, out there, sinking into the depths of the sea.
He nearly laughed as he saw his car, he was going to get away!
Then it hit him, horror, gripping and unescapable, it consumed him whole as he remembered.
She had his keys.
Police sirens!
KEEP RUNNING!
Of course that had been years ago, such things didn’t trouble him anymore, they were trivial, what was one death amongst so very many?
“Hey slick, what can I get you?” The waiteress asked, she was like all the rest, she looked alive, she even looked moderately happy, a small grin spread across her unremarkable face, but in truth, she was dead, as dead as that girl on the beach and as dead as he was.
They all were.
He threw off his over coat to reveal a bullet proof jacket that was covered in guns, he ripped two uzi’s from their straps and began to rain fire down upon the patrons of the bar, bullets tearing through their cheap imitation suits and splintered the old wooden
bar and the glass cabinets behind it, the smell of gunfire overpower the stench of their sweat and booze.
Hell, it was a shitty place anyway.
He disappeared to the place in his head, not to hide from what he was doing, but to try to find something, something better.
He searched for a shread of remorse or sympathy, but there was none, he knew as much, it had all gone with her, to the grave.
As the guns struck empty he realised everyone had died long before.
His feet splashed in puddle of warm blood as he trasped out of the bar.
He emerged out into the city to see the street was empty.
Of course it was.
It had all gone with her.
To the grave.
I hope you enjoy it.
He couldn’t even hear himself shouting anymore, couldn’t hear anything for that matter except a dull roaring that reminded him of the sea, the way it raged and spat in a storm, it surrounded him, nearly blinding him to what he was doing, he was sure he was in the right though, how couldn’t he be? Although it had been a long couple of days….how could he be sure of what he was doing? everything seemed suddenly distant and unreal.
The gun is loaded.
The gun is loaded.
For the love of god don’t shoot beca-
He recoiled in horror as a sudden spasm of terror ripped down his arm and his finger pulled at the trigger, the bullet cut a neat hole in her head, just above her eyes, he watched numbly as she collapsed to the ground and a small trickle of blood began to cascade down her forehead forming a small puddle on the floor.
The only thing that made sense was to run, run as far as he possibly could, never stop.
It’s a simple thing to kill someone, but not so simple to deal with the consequences, from within as well as without, guilt can do terrible things to you.
His feet smacked against the rough grainy sand, he could feel his feet start to sting and burn , but he didn’t slow down, quite the opposite, he ran faster and faster as the sun began to climb it’s way into the sky, clouds shadowing it’s ascent.
Wait, the gun!
What to do about the gun? Can’t keep carrying it you idiot!.
He started scrap at the sand, digging his fingers in and tearing chunks of it from the ground.
Don’t be stupid! They’ll find it, they’ll find you, they’ll get you!
Get rid of it later, just run!
As he ran, tears flew out of his eyes, he wiped them aside and kept on running.
Maybe you’ll get lucky, maybe she’ll get washed out to sea,her cold pale blue corpse, her rotting lifeless body, out there, sinking into the depths of the sea.
He nearly laughed as he saw his car, he was going to get away!
Then it hit him, horror, gripping and unescapable, it consumed him whole as he remembered.
She had his keys.
Police sirens!
KEEP RUNNING!
Of course that had been years ago, such things didn’t trouble him anymore, they were trivial, what was one death amongst so very many?
“Hey slick, what can I get you?” The waiteress asked, she was like all the rest, she looked alive, she even looked moderately happy, a small grin spread across her unremarkable face, but in truth, she was dead, as dead as that girl on the beach and as dead as he was.
They all were.
He threw off his over coat to reveal a bullet proof jacket that was covered in guns, he ripped two uzi’s from their straps and began to rain fire down upon the patrons of the bar, bullets tearing through their cheap imitation suits and splintered the old wooden
bar and the glass cabinets behind it, the smell of gunfire overpower the stench of their sweat and booze.
Hell, it was a shitty place anyway.
He disappeared to the place in his head, not to hide from what he was doing, but to try to find something, something better.
He searched for a shread of remorse or sympathy, but there was none, he knew as much, it had all gone with her, to the grave.
As the guns struck empty he realised everyone had died long before.
His feet splashed in puddle of warm blood as he trasped out of the bar.
He emerged out into the city to see the street was empty.
Of course it was.
It had all gone with her.
To the grave.