Chapter 10
As the red haired boy sat there holding his deceased friend in his arms, he never heard the footsteps moving closer to him. Kyle stared up when he heard the click of a gun and was surprised to see Stan's father holding a gun and was pointing it at him.
"You," he said.
"What are you going to do," Kyle asked nervously.
"If I lose my son then so should Jerald."
"Wait you don't have to do this."
"Oh yes I do."
Just after Randy said that he was shot in the chest and went down. Kyle quickly turned around and saw a group of armed men.
"Who are you," Kyle questioned.
"I am Lt. Johnson of the National Guard," the leader of the group answered.
"I am Kyle Broflovski."
"Are you okay?"
"Yes."
"Do you know where we could offer any assistance?"
"Our forces are spread all over South Park, so if I were you I would spread out."
"Thanks."
The men then started to spread all over South Park. Kyle then turned his attention back to his friend. Looking over his friends bod he started to become teary eyed and again let the tears flow freely down his cheeks.
"I'm so sorry Stan," Kyle quietly said to himself.
By the end of the day, all of the fighting in South Park had ceased and bodies were being collected. The red hared boy watched in tears as his best friend was put into a body bag and was zipped up and put away. There was a big celebration that night but Kyle did not feel like going so instead he locked himself up in his room.
"What is wrong Kyle," his father called.
"You wouldn't understand," Kyle answered.
"We should be celebrating our victory over Randy and his men."
"I don't feel very well."
"Oh why didn't you just say so in the first place."
Kyle just laid there on his bed staring up at the ceiling wondering how was he going to get over this. I cannot believe that he is gone, Kyle thought. Before he knew it, he had fallen fast asleep. He did not know how long he slept there but was certain it was morning when he heard his father calling his name.
"Kyle wake up," his father called.
"What is it dad," Kyle asked.
"Will you unlock the door," Jerald asked.
"Just hold on a minute."
Kyle got off his bed, walked toward the door, and unlocked it. He took a couple of steps back as his father entered the room.
"How are you feeling," Jerald asked.
"Not much better," Kyle answered.
"I got a call that said they had just got done performing an autopsy on Stan."
"What did they figure out?"
"They found the bullet that they say hit him in the liver."
"Have they been able to identify it."
"No, not yet."
"Oh."
"They want to take a look at all the weapons used and I know that Stan gave you a gun to protect yourself with, and they would like to take a look at it as well as the type of bullets it used."
"Okay."
He handed it over to Jerald and as he gave it to him, he could almost remember what it was like when he got the thing from Stan.
"They say that they will be done with this by tomorrow," Jerald said.
It was a grueling 24 hours until the call came the next day.
"Kyle," Jerald called.
"What is it," Kyle asked.
"Come into the kitchen for a little bit."
"Okay."
He walked down into the kitchen and saw his father sitting at the table with a very serious look on his face.
"Please have a seat," Jerald said motioning to a chair.
"Sure," Kyle said.
"Kyle I am sure that Stan's passing has been very difficult for you."
"You have no idea."
"Kyle, I just got a call from the examiners office."
"Yes."
"They have identified the bullet that caused the death of Stan."
"And?"
"It matches the type of bullets that were in the gun that Stan gave you."