Info about this story
by Samantha
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I pulled the chain through the door handles and secured it with a padlock. It was a nice, sturdy padlock, a Yale, I think. I glanced up the stairwell and motioned with my gun towards my captives, making one of the girls gasp and put her hands over her eyes. I smiled at her reaction and tossed a coil of rope at them. One of the guys caught it and I said, "Tie each other up. Hand and foot." They just stood there. "NOW!" I yelled, and finally they started tying each other up.
I took advantage of the lull in the activities to do a quick head count. Judging from the previous few days studies of the flow of traffic in this particular stairwell, there should be exactly 18 people, none of them over the age of 17, and I didn’t really know any of them. I had locked the doors to outside, the doors to the hallway, and the doors to upstairs after I herded them into a corner. No one had screamed or run when I pulled my gun, but the shock visible on their faces was enough to make me happy. For now. I really had hoped for screams, maybe even a chance to shoot a few as they tried to run away. Oh, well, there would be plenty of screams later, I'm sure.
When everyone except 6 people were tied up I told them to stop. My head count came up with 19. There was an extra person in here somewhere! I scanned the faces of the kids, trying to find the one that was out of place.
'Damn', I thought. Of course with my luck, it was someone I knew.
“Tim! You aren't s'posed to be here!" , I said, surprised.
“Whoops. Sorry.", Tim replied, looking very nervously at my gun.
“Oh well," I sighed, "Pity I gotta kill you, you were kinda cool, but I can't leave any witnesses."
I turned the gun on one of the still standing kids, and shot him in the head. He went down in a heap, without even a cry. I quickly aimed and shot the 4 remaining standing people, leaving Tim standing. They were such easy targets, being as they were in shock. I looked over at Tim to see if he was going to blubber or plead for his life. To my surprise, he was smiling, looking down at the bloody bodies on the floor.
He looked up and asked, "Can I shoot some?"
"Sure" I answered, handing him the gun after removing and palming the one remaining bullet without him seeing. He took the gun and placed it at the temple of one of the tied-up guys on the floor. He pulled the trigger and a dry click sounded. I handed him the bullet, impressed by the directness of his aim and lack of hesitation. Even I don't put the gun so close like that. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't going to try anything funny.", I said.
He took the bullet, loaded the gun, placed it again at the temple of the now-in-tears guy on the floor, and pulled the trigger. Instead of the dry click there was a loud gun-shot, slightly muffled by the boys head, and a splat as the bullet tore a hole out the back of his skull. Hot, dark blood and bits of brains smacked the floor, splashing on the nearest captive and causing him to gag uncontrollably.
Tim grinned and handed the gun back to me reluctantly. I reloaded, aimed atthe gagging guy, fired, and there was one less life in the world. I handed the gun back to Tim, and we went down the line that way, taking turns killing.
When we were done, I took out of my bag a little kids plastic stencil of the alphabet. I dipped a paintbrush into the blood that had seeped out of the head of the corpse nearest my foot. On the wall I positioned the stencil to "F" and started painting, spelling out, "FOR ERIC AND DYLAN". I figured that this, my first kill, should be dedicated to the 2 boys that went on a small-scale killing spree in Littleton, Colorado. It was them who that made me realize that it was time for Central Square to hit the news.
Halfway through the message, I needed more blood, so I stuck the paintbrush directly into the skull cavity of one of the dead girls lying on the floor. As I swirled the paintbrush around in her brains, I heard a slight whimper from off to my left. I walked over and saw that one of the girls was alive, barely. I took the gun from Tim, who had been holding it while I made my sign, and shot the girl in her stomach, neck, chest, and leg. I thought that she'd be too weak to scream, but scream she did as her guts started to ooze out of the hole in her stomach. The scream sent splatters of blood from her mouth, nose, and throat against the wall, almost obliterating my dedication. I dipped the brush in the new blood and continued stenciling. I glanced over at Tim and explained, "Fresh blood is easier to work with." He nodded and motioned to the bloody mess on the ground, "She's still breathing." I looked at her closely and saw he was right. He took the gun from me and placed it over her right eyelid. Even through a haze of blood and pain, she could still see him and the gun. Her ruined throat convulsed once, and she whispered, "Please...." As she spoke, more blood ran out of her mouth and down her chin, falling in little droplets down to the floor.
For a second, I thought Tim was hesitating in killing her, but when I saw his face, I knew he was just savoring this moment, this last kill. The shot rang out, impossibly loud, and her neck snapped back with the force of the bullet. Her body slumped against the floor once again, completely lifeless. Just to be sure we checked the rest of the bodies, but that’s all they were--bodies, not a single one of them breathing.
I turned back to my message, and when it was completed, I dug the padlock keys out of my pocket, and unlocked the doors. I saw that the padlocks were brand name "Master" and for some reason, this disturbed me. I shook the feeling off and stepped out into the bright sunshine. Tim followed me out, smiling widely. I could understand how he felt. I took a deep breath and grinned at the beauty of the day. I'd never felt so good in my life! Killing had fulfilled me somehow, and the pleasure of knowing that my little killing spree had claimed more lives than in Colorado was beyond compare.
As Tim and I walked slowly towards the parking lot, I could picture the world, a glowing ball of light made up of each tiny point of light that was a human life. I could imagine one by one, those lights going out. I placed the gun in the waistband of my jeans, and tightened my belt to keep it from slipping. I pulled my shirt down over it, continuing on toward the car, secure in my knowledge I could turn off those lights, and the switch was held comfortably in my belt.
Ever since I was little I had wanted to darken those blinding lights. I soon discovered that by turning off one light, it darkened the lights around it as friends and families mourned for their lost ones. After the Colorado shootings there was a wonderfully dark patch of misery and death over Littleton, and I knew then that it was my destiny to darken the world. I only hoped there would be enough bullets.