released from the suffering, finally at peace.
CHAPTER SIX
Gunner raced out onto the grounds, gun high and visible. He wasn't taking any chances. Alarms were sounding but all the people were gone. A quick glimpse to the right told the whole story. A man with glasses in a designer suit peaked up from behind the glass windows of the office buildings to get a better look. Gunner locked eyes with him and the man dropped back to the ground and closed the blinds.
Cowards , thought Gunner. They deserve what's coming for them.
Gunner picked up speed as he headed to where he last saw movement on his monitor. He saw the bodies from a distance laying in a puddle of growing blood. He sprinted over and knelt down next to Ramirez, soiling his uniform in the coagulating mess. The body was already getting cold. Rigor mortis was setting in as it went stiff. His eyes were wide open and devoid of signs of life. The wound in his neck looked like something an animal would make. It was a shredded, pulpy mess of ragged, twisted skin and muscles with the remaining remnants of blood trickling out. He'd hit the main artery, whoever had done this. Nothing could have saved him. The only consolation for Ramirez was that death had come quickly, and that he had been lucky enough not to feel much after the shock sent in. He didn't even have time to draw his weapon.
“I'm sorry buddy,” Gunner said, reaching over and closing his eyes. “You may not have been much of a security guard but you were once a soldier. That makes us brothers. You deserved better than this. I promise you I will get him.”
Gunner was starting to drift back off towards that place in his mind where he went when he saw death, the place that kept him alive during the war when the shit went down. A whimper shook him out of his haze. He looked over to see Torres was shaking all over, trembling like a birch tree in a strong gale. It was hard to look at him. Gunner had just assumed he was dead.
For fuck's sake , he thought, half his damn face has been bitten off! How the fuck is he still alive?
Torres tried to speak but it was like his teeth were welded shut from all the adrenaline his body was pumping in to keep him alive, like they were fused bone to bone. It was just as well since he was missing the lower part of his lips. A curious white foam dribbled out of the wound, like fizzing soap. Gunner leaned in to get a better look at it. The fluid looked almost, well, alive - like it was filled with millions of microscopic wriggling worms writhing over each other. Torres eyes were filled with fear. His weapon lay jammed by his side, the clip half out and useless.
“Stay still,” Gunner told him, instinctively pulling back from Torres. “Help is one the way. I'm pretty sure they've called it in by now.”
No sooner were the words out of his mouth then he heard sirens in the distance heading their way. Gunner stood up. Zymetech was his turf and this had gone down on his watch. Now the cops were coming. They would lock down everything and take over. They would ask him a million questions and want to know why he hadn't done more to prevent it. They would delight in humiliating him. They would gladly take all the credit for securing the grounds, for taking in the perp. Worst of all they would do everything in their power to take in the suspect alive. No! That couldn't happen! He had to find the guy first and he had to dispense justice. Some maniac had come into his house, into his place of business, and had brought chaos and death. Worse still he'd killed his men, his soldiers, his brothers. There was only one way for this to end as far as Gunner was concerned - with another body heading to the morgue.
“I've got to get him before they get here,” Gunner said to Torres. “I'm sorry to leave you buddy but it's just for a minute. I promise I will come back.”
Torres began to whimper louder but Gunner stood up and began looking around. With everyone locked up in their
CHAPTER SIX
Gunner raced out onto the grounds, gun high and visible. He wasn't taking any chances. Alarms were sounding but all the people were gone. A quick glimpse to the right told the whole story. A man with glasses in a designer suit peaked up from behind the glass windows of the office buildings to get a better look. Gunner locked eyes with him and the man dropped back to the ground and closed the blinds.
Cowards , thought Gunner. They deserve what's coming for them.
Gunner picked up speed as he headed to where he last saw movement on his monitor. He saw the bodies from a distance laying in a puddle of growing blood. He sprinted over and knelt down next to Ramirez, soiling his uniform in the coagulating mess. The body was already getting cold. Rigor mortis was setting in as it went stiff. His eyes were wide open and devoid of signs of life. The wound in his neck looked like something an animal would make. It was a shredded, pulpy mess of ragged, twisted skin and muscles with the remaining remnants of blood trickling out. He'd hit the main artery, whoever had done this. Nothing could have saved him. The only consolation for Ramirez was that death had come quickly, and that he had been lucky enough not to feel much after the shock sent in. He didn't even have time to draw his weapon.
“I'm sorry buddy,” Gunner said, reaching over and closing his eyes. “You may not have been much of a security guard but you were once a soldier. That makes us brothers. You deserved better than this. I promise you I will get him.”
Gunner was starting to drift back off towards that place in his mind where he went when he saw death, the place that kept him alive during the war when the shit went down. A whimper shook him out of his haze. He looked over to see Torres was shaking all over, trembling like a birch tree in a strong gale. It was hard to look at him. Gunner had just assumed he was dead.
For fuck's sake , he thought, half his damn face has been bitten off! How the fuck is he still alive?
Torres tried to speak but it was like his teeth were welded shut from all the adrenaline his body was pumping in to keep him alive, like they were fused bone to bone. It was just as well since he was missing the lower part of his lips. A curious white foam dribbled out of the wound, like fizzing soap. Gunner leaned in to get a better look at it. The fluid looked almost, well, alive - like it was filled with millions of microscopic wriggling worms writhing over each other. Torres eyes were filled with fear. His weapon lay jammed by his side, the clip half out and useless.
“Stay still,” Gunner told him, instinctively pulling back from Torres. “Help is one the way. I'm pretty sure they've called it in by now.”
No sooner were the words out of his mouth then he heard sirens in the distance heading their way. Gunner stood up. Zymetech was his turf and this had gone down on his watch. Now the cops were coming. They would lock down everything and take over. They would ask him a million questions and want to know why he hadn't done more to prevent it. They would delight in humiliating him. They would gladly take all the credit for securing the grounds, for taking in the perp. Worst of all they would do everything in their power to take in the suspect alive. No! That couldn't happen! He had to find the guy first and he had to dispense justice. Some maniac had come into his house, into his place of business, and had brought chaos and death. Worse still he'd killed his men, his soldiers, his brothers. There was only one way for this to end as far as Gunner was concerned - with another body heading to the morgue.
“I've got to get him before they get here,” Gunner said to Torres. “I'm sorry to leave you buddy but it's just for a minute. I promise I will come back.”
Torres began to whimper louder but Gunner stood up and began looking around. With everyone locked up in their
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