December 20, 20XX

My hands are shaking as I type. Three more murders. This time, all schoolchildren, ages 11 to 14. They were found in an alley behind the school.

Just like with Mr. Fink, their bodies were incinerated, and there were no reports of suspicious gang activity. It would have taken a large number of people to kill three teenagers so quickly and so thoroughly, but nobody had any leads. The entire school was searched for matches and other incendiary materials.

I have decided not to let Percy go back to that school, at least until the Police found out and apprehended who was responsible. I cannot let my son out of my sight with such despicable murderers on the loose.

December 21, 20XX

A new development in the Fink murder has come to light. The Police have found a bullet on Mr Fink's property. It matches his own rifle-it is believed to have been the shot fired at his assailant. The tip was flat, as if it had struck something hard.

December 23, 21XX

The Police came by my house today. They wanted to talk to Percy. I wouldn't let them. I locked my door.

I haven't left my house since. Somehow, I doubt that they demanded to talk to all the OTHER kids at the school. Why couldn't they leave my son alone? What would he have known about these grisly incidents?

Why couldn't the world leave him alone?

December 24, 21XX

Max and the skinny kid came over today, wondering if Percy was okay. I told them that he was fine, and that they should leave. Percy was anxious. He wanted to see his friends.

December 25, 21XX

I have decided to hide Percy. I broke open my floorboards, dug out a shallow trench, and told him to rest there a while. He was scared, so I hugged him and assured that he had done nothing wrong. I have since bolted the boards back in place and moved my workbench over them.

I can hear him quietly calling "dad" all night.

Please let this end. Please let them stop knocking on my door.

December 26, 21XX

A shocking thing has happened. It has explained much, but raised many more questions.

Late at night, I heard a growling and a scratching. Then there was a chopping noise at my door.

My workbench fell onto its side. By floorboards cracked and were pushed aside.

My door splintered open. I heard a loud voice, and briefly saw the silhouette of a man holding an axe.

Then there was a blinding flash of light and a deafening explosion. Hot air filled the room.

Percy's hand was gone. There was no hand, just a glowing hole resembling a huge gun barrel. Where the officer and his dog stood, there was now only glowing, white-hot ash.

I didn't dare stop him. And then, for some reason I could not fathom, he walked over to the officer's remains and put his left hand on it. His arm began to glow. I then heard the same eerie, robotic woman's voice say "new weapon acquired".

Suddenly, his right forearm transformed from the alien-looking weapon to a large, double-barreled revolver. I looked down to see a similar revolver on the ground; the officer's.

"What are you?" I asked him. He asked me what I meant. I refrained from further questioning.

December 27, 20XX

It is very difficult for me to write this.

It is only a few hours from the last incident.

I am with Percy, and am standing before the Great Western Divide. It is steep, high, and filled with sharp, craggy rocks. Percy does not understand why he is here. I assure him that it is just an exciting late-night hike.

Despite the fact that he is oddly unshaken by the last few days, he knows that something is wrong. Maybe it's the way I'm standing. Maybe it's the tears I'm trying to hold back.

I move with him to the edge. He recognizes the danger it poses to me, and advises me to stop. Wrapping my arms around him in a final hug, I lift him off the ground and hurl him forward. I pray that the huge, dark maw consumes this ancient relic of war.

Farewell, my son.