mirror of https://github.com/nealey/Horrors2
116 lines
2.5 KiB
TeX
116 lines
2.5 KiB
TeX
\chapauth{Smeef}
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\chapter{The Old Child}
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The chill of the night crept through the streets. I wasn't
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even in the Big Apple anymore. I was way uptown.
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``I ain't goin' nowhere tonight, Bavarious,''
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my partner had said back in the car, stuffing a donut in his mouth.
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``That ain't even our jurisdiction.''
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If the creeps out there don't follow jurisdiction, then
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neither do I. And I'd been tracking this creep for hours,
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following on foot block my block.
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He was one of those rich creeps. The worst kind. Nice suit but
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grey, fat, and scummy. He had a cold sweat running on his
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face.
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At about 110th Street a kid had stopped me and said ``Don't go after
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her. She's weird, man!'' Sometimes kids have the blackest
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hearts.
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When he turned and waddled into an alleyway, I could see that the
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girl was still alright. She was right in front of him, his stiff
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hands touching right at her shoulder blades. She was wearing a
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schoolgirl outfit. It didn't take a judge and a jury to know
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that he was guilty. It sure wasn't gonna take an executioner
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to finish the rest.
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I stepped into the alley and could see the silhouette of her feet
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between his.
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``Dead end, pal! No way out! Let her go!'' I drew my
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Beretta, and the tactical flashlight illuminated his face as he
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swung around.
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``It's not me!'' he screamed. ``Thank god{\ldots}
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Help me!''
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``You have the right to remain silent, and I suggest you do
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it! Let the girl go!'' I shouted.
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``Get out of here!'' he grabbed the girl and started
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flinging her violently.
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``Let her go, scumbag!''
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He crashed into a dumpster with her, and I saw his head clearly for
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a millisecond. I might not get another chance. I might not get
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another clear shot.
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The flash of my Beretta lit up the alley, red blood sprayed into
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the air, and the fat man flopped down like he was deflating.
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I ran over to check his vitals. Dead. I looked over to see if the
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girl was fine. She was cowered in the corner, crying. I put the
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flashlight back on the dead man{\ldots} his guts were torn open like his
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torso had vomited all over the place like.
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I didn't shoot him in the guts.
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No, she wasn't crying. She was laughing. Her awful laugh
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sounded like styrofoam on styrofoam. I put the flashlight on her
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face. I backed up. She had a face like a ninety-year-old old woman,
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a few jagged teeth and black eyes. She had big, bloody hands with
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long fingernails. Blood and guts were coming out of her mouth. She
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kept laughing.
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I shoulda listened to that damn kid.
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I aimed again, and she came at me like a spider.
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