Revenge Is Cold

[Ethan Scott]

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  He lay on the ground in front of me. He was dead, I could tell by the accusing stare across his face. The distant crying that plagued my mind faded as I stepped out of the shadows. This was the end. I glanced down at the empty shell of a man and made my way out into the night. My head was silent. There was nothing left to avenge. To make any sense of it all I had to go back to this morning, back to when this madness first began.
  The day began as so many had done before. Only, this day would be different, this day would be lethal.
My alarm was set to 6:45 am. I woke up at 6:34 and with a heavy hand switched off the alarm before it issued its irritating wake up blare. I had no need to open my eyes since the amount of times I had switched off my alarm had almost made it a tradition. Until I placed my foot on the icy floor my eyelids stayed at rest. My wife, Samantha, lay asleep on the bed with the plain quilt cover draped over her. Still half asleep, I stepped carefully over beside her and brought the quilt up over her shoulders. As she slept peacefully my gaze rested on her. She had a smile on her face and, with the sun beaming gently through the window upon her skin, she appeared almost angelic. I promptly clothed myself and left the sleeping beauty until I would see her later. I eased the door behind me and started walking along the landing to the room opposite. The door to the room had a small light blue plaque on it containing a picture of a rainbow and the name Emily in white letters. The door sighed opened as I pressed on the handle. I manoeuvred my head around the door and gazed down on the slumbering infant. She resembled her mother even at 11 weeks old. I reluctantly pulled myself away and walked to the door.
  Skipping breakfast I left the house and went out into the street. We lived in a friendly neighbourhood with houses similar to ours on either side of the quiet road. The street was picturesque. The road was separated by a single row of trees on a long embankment. Autumn was in the air and on the ground. Leaves of brown, yellow and orange whisked across the ground, occasionally swirling up into miniature whirlwinds. A breeze came across my face reminding me I had work to go to.
  I arrived at work 20 minutes after closing the door from home. This was a large building block in the centre of San Francisco. The front of the building had imposing letters in blue reading “San Francisco Police Department”. I was an “officer of the law” on the 23rd floor where I shared an office with my colleague, Alex Nueman. Today I didn’t even manage to get inside the building before my mobile went off. The display read Sam. ”What could she want so early?”. Instinctively I answered the call then stopped dead in my tracks. Sam was quivering down the phone. She sounded terrified. As she spoke I could hear the sound of little Emily crying, doors slamming. I was scared. I pushed the device closer to my ear struggling to hear everything Sam was saying. She was now screaming down the phone. She kept repeating herself. There were men in the house, destroying things. Suddenly a heavy quiet... I could hear the men in the background, shouting
“I won’t be kicked out. No. Never. Never!”.
It made no sense. Sam was sobbing. I strained to hear the details. I heard Sam screaming at the men. They had Emily. A piercing screech sliced into me down the phone… then 3 gun shots. I fell to my knees. My eyes were scalding with tears of despair and fury. I was helpless.

[Ethan Scott]

  My cries had gathered a nervous crowd. The phone went dead and fell from my open hand. The phone hit the pavement slabs I curled up like my own sleeping child. My arms were resting on the ground with my head between them. I banged my clenched fists on the slabs aimlessly. The watchers were relieved when a friend of Alex Nueman stepped in. He tried to help me up by lifting my shoulder, I shook him off and fled to the sanctuary of my car. I paused only a second to race the engine; radio blaring to block out my thoughts; my foot thrust down on the accelerator; the black Corvette roared in defiance of the speed limit. I was oblivious  to the other cars on the road. Only luck saved me from crashing. I crunched on to the curb, and leapt from the car towards my family. FIRE!!!!
  A raging inferno! The house was on fire. Concerned neighbours were milling around my house and the distant wail of sirens could be heard afar. A line had been formed and buckets of water were sploshing hurriedly along it. I couldn’t stand by and do nothing. Where were Sam and Emily? I couldn’t waste time trying to put out the fire that seemed to have sprung from hell itself. Pulling my long leather jacket over my head for protection, I ran towards the house. The voices calling me back faded as my hopes and fears drove me on. The door crashed open as my shoulder overpowered it. The flames burst out to devour the oxygen, throwing me back. The heat inside the inferno was intense but my anger was hotter. I didn’t care any more. Below me there was an upturned table and a picture of Sam, Emily and I. Even as I watched, the flames were snatching the images of Sam and Emily from me. In panic I tore myself away to continue the search. Flames licked at my face. Smoke choked my lungs as a blaze knocked me to the floor. There, through a flare of light, I saw my Emily, silent and still. I brought my arms up to reach her but recoiled as I glimpsed the blood, 3 bullet holes in her tiny body. each glittering in the light of the fire like rubies. I couldn’t stand it any more.
  Staggering to my feet I ran through the gaping door that led to the living room. Sam would have phoned from here. Could she be alive? My stinging eyes raked the room. I heard glass breaking and the constant roar of the fire closing in on me. The sensation of something on my ankle startled me but as I jerked away I saw Sam lying under a table. Her arm was out stretched, fingers grasping. She was still alive. Joyfully I started to pull her out just as the ceiling collapsed in the hallway behind us. We couldn’t leave the way I had come in. I frantically looked around or another way. The window. It was the only way. I clutched Sam in my arms and carried her over to the wall near the window. I snatched up a burning chair and, holding the back rest, thrust it at the glass. Splinters and shards showered to the ground, leaving our escape clear. I climbed through the window, turned around and leaned in again to get Sam. The ceiling creaked and cracked above our heads. We had to get out fast. Sam’s light frame was easy to haul out of the window, using my coat for protection.
  We lay on the grass exhausted just as the ceiling came crashing down inside. We cowered under my coat again, unable to drag ourselves the greater safety. The fire fighters raced in and took control, whisking Sam away as my eyes blurred and the world went black around me.

[Ethan Scott]

  It seemed like only a few seconds before I opened my eyes again. All I could see was a white blur, but, as I watched, a pink and yellow blur moved in front my eyes. I heard someone speak but my ears were full of the sound of fire and the house collapsing. My eyes closed again. This time when I opened them I was lying on a pure white hospital bed in a room with 3 other empty beds. The walls were an overwhelming cream and there was the insidious smell of disinfectant in the air. Ever since I was young, I had never liked hospitals. I was about to drift back to sleep when 2 nurses wheeled someone in. One of the nurses was obscuring my view so I couldn’t see who it was. The person was put in the bed on the opposite side of the room. My head was pounding and my skin stung every time I moved it. When the nurses moved I was disappointed that it wasn’t my Sam. Memories bombarded me and I called to a nurse for reassurance. She smiled kindly in her sterile, efficient manner and told me Sam would be “released shortly”. That wasn’t good enough for me. Would she come out in a few hours or wouldn’t she come out at all?. I knew where I was. This was the same hospital where I nearly lost Sam 4 years ago. Back then, she was knocked down by a drunk driver while crossing the road. He was never caught. The nurses had said the same to me then, but then she nearly died! I knew this could be no different. What if I lost Sam? I had already lost my little Emily. I wanted revenge this time, and NOW.
  I eased myself out of bed to find I was wearing one of those embarrassing long green sheets with arm holes that they call Surgical gowns. Not the best wear for hunting killers. As I climbed back into the bed I could hear the squeaking of wheels coming my way. I wasn’t optimistic but I was still curious. Another patient was wheeled in, and placed in the bed to my left. I glanced over at the person. It was Samantha. I jumped up and rushed to the side of her bed. One of the nurses spoke to me in a quiet voice. She said “You must be the husband, well, you’ll be happy to know she is just fine and will probably wake up in about half an hour”. She was right, I was happy. I pulled my bed over so it was closer to my love. I climbed back into bed and reached my left hand out and placed it on top of Sam’s. My mind was a mess. For half an hour I relived the day’s events and tortured myself with hundreds of different ways I could have saved Emily, each one faster and more heroic than the last. Suddenly Sam’s hand began to move beneath mine. I turned my head to look at her. She jerked up quickly and then looked at me with tears running down her face.
“He killed Emily. He killed our daughter.”<br>She obviously knew who she was talking about. So I asked
“Who Sam? Who killed Emily? I must know”<br>Her reply was quick but quiet as the horrifying events returned to her mind.
“Alex Nueman, your colleague at work. It was him and some other guy who just stood around”<br>“I couldn’t stop them. I couldn’t stop them”
“Don’t worry Sam I’ll take care of him”.
Just as I finished speaking 2 police officers walked in. One was a big guy and the other was Alex Nueman. I went cold. The chill of hate flooded through me. Samantha recoiled and spat out the words
“Murderer! Murderer!”<br>Alex seemed to be playing the same game as me, cool and calm. He took off his hat to reveal his exceedingly short ginger hair and pulled back his coat to place his hands in his pockets, to purposely reveal his holstered Desert Eagle. He started asking Sam stupid questions as if to investigate the fire. The only answer he got was,
“Keep away from me”<br>Alex got bored with torturing her mind and left. I glanced at Sam and she looked at me. Without any conversation she knew where I was going and what I was going to do. I kissed Sam and then walked out, slowly losing touch with her.
“Come back to me” she whispered.
I was out in the hallways before I realised I was still only wearing a green gown. Ignoring the words “Staff Only”, I went into the storage room and changed into my slightly charred clothes. I then let myself quickly and quietly out of the room and out of the hospital.

[Ethan Scott]

  I needed time to think. I turned down the street towards our house. The fire fighters were still trying to put out the flames but I looked around for my car and sure enough it was still there. I walked over to my black Chevrolet Corvette, opened the door, and sat inside. Without hesitation I moved my hand inside the glove compartment and touched the cold steel. I pulled out my single Berette 9F. I stayed immobile just looking at the gun and thinking over what I had decided. It was simple. No guilty conscience. Just find Alex Nueman; give him a lead injection; and then rebuild our lives. The keys clinked as I took them out of my pocket and placed them in the ignition. I turned the keys without resistance and the engine roared with approval. I knew where and when I could find Alex. The alleyway behind Joe’s Tavern at 8. That’s where he gets his supply of the illegal drug Vorlon. I had only just found out Alex’s “dealings” recently and had been due to report my findings to our superior today. Could this be what it was all about?
  It was 19:56. I parked the car 3 minutes away from the alleyway. I felt the reassuring weight of my Berette 9F in my pocket. Alex’s supplier was already there, from my car I could see him clearly in his black jacket. There was one minute for me to take him out before Alex got there. I walked toward the supplier, eyes cast down. Quietly I stepped toward the supplier and got out my gun. He turned but it was too late. My arm was already in full swing and he was soon unconscious on the floor. I heard Alex’s car pull up some distance away but I knew he would be here swiftly. I dragged the human debris back into the shadows of the back ally and when I looked up I saw a human shadow slide over the entrance. Alex came round the corner and stood there in his over sized raincoat and tipped hat, waiting for his dose of insanity. My fingers caressed the Berette as stood up. Alex spun around and scanned my blank face. Raising my gun, my finger squeezed the trigger almost instantly. The bullets ripped through the air, each shot seeming to ease my pain.
  One, two. I eased my finger off the trigger and approached Alex. He was trembling on the floor.
“Why Alex?”<br>His answer was broken up as more violent convulsions wracked him.
“You were onto me…. It was nec-n-necessary.”<br>Alex could tell I wasn’t satisfied by his answer but he carried on.
“Remember the drunk who knocked down that wife of yours?… h..he was me”<br>The bile gathered in my throat and a red mist came across my eyes. My rage consumed me as I stuttered huskily,
“Remember how many shots it took for you to kill a innocent child? Remember…? Three shots… and you’ve only paid for two!”<br>The last shot fired down into his chest. He was dead, I could tell by the accusing stare across his face. The distant crying that plagued my mind faded as I stepped out of the shadows. This was the end. I glanced down at the empty shell of a man and made my way out into the night. My head was silent. There was nothing left to do but return to Sam. I walked out of the alleyway and back towards my car. I looked up to the stars and thought of Emily. The sounds of sirens from police cars alerted by people who heard the shots fell upon deaf ears. I placed my hand on the car door and looked back to Alex’s corpse. Empty crisp packets caught the wind and blew over him. I got in the car and, just as I pulled out round the corner, police cars pulled up in front of Joe’s Tavern.

By Zak Fox