JК
Cerulean Sins :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 349 из 352I was working up my nerve to wind my way through the daytime moms and kids, when the teenagers got up, left their trash on the table, and walked away.
Van Anders was as isolated as I was going to get him here in the mall. I wasn't willing to let him escape again. He was too dangerous. I made the decision in that moment that I would endanger all these nice people. That the mother with her yogurt-smeared baby, and the two screaming toddlers were going to have to take their chances. I was fairly certain I could control the situation well enough to keep them out of it, but I wasn't completely certain. All I knew for sure was that I was going to take him, now. I wasn't going to wait.
I had my gun at my side, safety off, round-chambered long before I got to the table with the mother and her children. I had my federal marshal badge hanging out over the pocket of the large T-shirt, just in case some brave civilian decided to try and save Van Anders.
I had the gun up and pointed as I passed the woman's table. I think it was her soft gasp that made him turn. He saw the badge, and he smiled, taking another bite of his sandwich. He talked with his mouth full. "Are you going to warn me not to move, tell me to freeze?" He sounded Dutch.
"No," I said, and I shot him.
The bullet spun him out of his chair, and I fired again before he'd hit the ground. The first one had been rushed; not lethal, but the second one was a solid body shot.
I fired into his body twice more before I got close enough to watch his mouth open and shut. Blood blossomed from his lips, and turned his blue shirt purple.
I circled wide, so I could get a clear head shot. He lay on his back and bled, and managed to cough blood, and clear his throat enough to say, "Police have to give warning. Can't just shoot."
I let out all the breath in my body, and sighted on his forehead just above the eyes. "I'm not the police, Van Anders, I'm the executioner."
His eyes widened, and he said, "No."
I pulled the trigger and watched most of his face explode into an unrecognizable mess. His eyes had been bluer than in the photos.
61
Bradley called me at home that night. Strangely, after blowing a man's brains out in front of a lot of suburban moms and kids I just wasn't in the mood to go into work. I was already tucked into bed with my favorite toy penguin, Sigmund, and Micah curled beside me. Usually Micah's warmth was more comforting than a truckload of stuffed toys, but tonight I needed that choking grip on my favorite toy. Micah's arms were wonderful, but Sigmund never told me I was being silly, or bloodthirsty. Neither had Micah, but I kept waiting for it.
Van Anders was as isolated as I was going to get him here in the mall. I wasn't willing to let him escape again. He was too dangerous. I made the decision in that moment that I would endanger all these nice people. That the mother with her yogurt-smeared baby, and the two screaming toddlers were going to have to take their chances. I was fairly certain I could control the situation well enough to keep them out of it, but I wasn't completely certain. All I knew for sure was that I was going to take him, now. I wasn't going to wait.
I had my gun at my side, safety off, round-chambered long before I got to the table with the mother and her children. I had my federal marshal badge hanging out over the pocket of the large T-shirt, just in case some brave civilian decided to try and save Van Anders.
I had the gun up and pointed as I passed the woman's table. I think it was her soft gasp that made him turn. He saw the badge, and he smiled, taking another bite of his sandwich. He talked with his mouth full. "Are you going to warn me not to move, tell me to freeze?" He sounded Dutch.
"No," I said, and I shot him.
The bullet spun him out of his chair, and I fired again before he'd hit the ground. The first one had been rushed; not lethal, but the second one was a solid body shot.
I fired into his body twice more before I got close enough to watch his mouth open and shut. Blood blossomed from his lips, and turned his blue shirt purple.
I circled wide, so I could get a clear head shot. He lay on his back and bled, and managed to cough blood, and clear his throat enough to say, "Police have to give warning. Can't just shoot."
I let out all the breath in my body, and sighted on his forehead just above the eyes. "I'm not the police, Van Anders, I'm the executioner."
His eyes widened, and he said, "No."
I pulled the trigger and watched most of his face explode into an unrecognizable mess. His eyes had been bluer than in the photos.
61
Bradley called me at home that night. Strangely, after blowing a man's brains out in front of a lot of suburban moms and kids I just wasn't in the mood to go into work. I was already tucked into bed with my favorite toy penguin, Sigmund, and Micah curled beside me. Usually Micah's warmth was more comforting than a truckload of stuffed toys, but tonight I needed that choking grip on my favorite toy. Micah's arms were wonderful, but Sigmund never told me I was being silly, or bloodthirsty. Neither had Micah, but I kept waiting for it.