horrors2

Zahgaegun.The_Pus_St.tex

 1\chapauth{Zahgaegun}
 2\chapter{The Pus-Stained Email from Hell}
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 5The sweat dripped off my forehead, running down my face and forming
 6salty pools on the ground. Pools like the pools of blood that
 7always form after I kill someone. I have seen a lot of blood pools
 8in my lifetime for I have killed a lot of people in a lot of very
 9messy ways.
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13It's what I do. My name is Luke Bavarious; hitman, soldier,
14{\em killer}.
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18I had been called to this sweaty place, Arabia, to kill some guys.
19This was an honorable job, a soldier's mission. ``We need some guys
20killed, so we called you'', they said on the phone. So here I was,
21in this Godforsaken hellhole, hunched over this screen, hoping for
22a morsel of communication from Home, something to feed my rotting
23brain, to let me know that there was a Reason To Fight, To
24Live.
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28Suddenly, the machine screamed out a bing-bong. New mail. It made
29me smile because it reminded me of the time that I told that hooker
30``You've got Male!'' while we did the sex. Now she's dead. That wiped
31the smile off my face.
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35``I'm from the Internet'', the letter moaned onto the screen. ``We
36have found your Hidden Stash of Writings from Long Ago.'' Dang, I
37thought, I had hoped that no one would find that. The sweat drips
38came faster now, the pools getting bigger like a child vomiting
39blood{\ldots}-red cherry slurpees from the fear of riding the Viking
40Ship at the county fair.
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44``Hurry'', it continued to moan, ``there are already many people here
45pretending to be you.'' I typed fast as I could, pus-filled blisters
46rising from the friction of the keyboard on my gnarled fingertips.
47``I am coming'', I typed, ``Prepare the way.'' I tried to log in, but
48the passwords they used were too long, too complicated for my
49gnarled brain. I may only be thirteen, but my soul is almost 100
50years old, due to all the killing.
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54Before I could get there, the sergeant bellowed my name. ``It is
55time to kill'', he said while handing me a beretta and a knife.
56``This is all we have left. Are you a bad enough dude to kill
57everyone with just this?'' ``Yes'', said I, the cold steel of the
58knife blade glinting off my eyeballs. ``Did you warn them?'', I
59asked. ``Yes'', the sergeant burped. ``We flew over them and dropped
60fliers warning them in whatever language they speak.'' ``Good. Then
61it is fair.'', I said and walked off towards the gate of the
62compound, the gate of my future and their destiny.
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66As he walked away, a private leaned towards the sergeant and said
67``Warn them of what?''
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71``I warned them that The Writer is coming.'', he said. ``God have
72mercy on their souls.'' 
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