Hotaru: Hope you don't get disappointed.
Chapter 9: "Hush"Barry looked out into the tree line, in his usual rocking chair in the porch. It was raining, and he felt the misty splash of water melt against his equally cold skin. He had a black turtleneck jacket on, unzipped, with a gray shirt underneath. His jacket matched his slacks. The old man should be with his son, by his side, but there he sat alone. Hallie was out again somewhere, possibly crying, possibly screwing other men, probably screwing other women. "How could things planned so well go so wrong?" he thought. There was a newspaper in his hand, headlining the murder of a man and his family while they were in their house. The killer shorted the electricity running through the house to turn off the lights, and then used a handgun to shoot through the window when the mother and the daughter were in plain view, leaving the husband to be bludgeoned to death a little while later. It was more than a coincidence, he thought, that one of the people he hired for the short job ended up dead.
He rested his chin on his right hand, feeling his age kill off any sort of initiative inside of him. In his mind, he would have wanted to make peace with the world before he left. From where his son is now, that didn't seem quite possible. Events were unfolding too quickly, everything was out of control. It was only then that he saw his vision, his dream, come to a startling reality. It made his skin prickle as he closed his eyes and took in a deep breath. His dream in exchange for his son's future.
A good number of miles away was a vigil, a rally on the streets in front of the university, one in revolt of the recent hate crime that occurred just outside campus. There stood in prayer dozens of faces, young and old, united by their revolt of what they deemed as a hate crime. United, just as it was in Barry Burton's dream. He had seen these things happen before, notably when a person was murdered simply because she was a lesbian. It threw the humanitarians into frenzy. Derrick was not dead, yet, but these people acted as if he was. The old man felt as if they were using his son as a means for their voices to once again be heard, and for the first time in the longest time, he was bothered.
A little while longer, a Cadillac made its way through the beaten path, and then emerged Hallie. She only had a brown overcoat and a violet scarf circled like a hood to protect her from the howling current. Like her husband, she did not mind the wind or the cold. "We have a fireplace inside, you know?" she remarked as she walked into the house, with her husband still looking out the tree line. He knew; he just did not mind. The last time he felt anything other than the loss of hope for humanity was back when he lost his leg to the virus. "…"
"You know Barry…you may want to fix the gas lines of this house. You may never know when freak accidents may occur." Hallie told him before closing the door. Her voice was colder than his.
"We don't really know when he'll be waking up."
"What do you mean, you don't know? What are we paying you for?"
"Mrs. Burton, we are really sorry, but there really is nothing more we can do."
The short conversation played out in her head. Hallie's eyes were cold, lifeless. She did not even blink. The fluorescent lights above her flickered as she walked the dirty, gray, halls of the apartment complex. She had her entire body covered by a dark brown overcoat, with brown boots that thudded heavily on the floor even though she seemed to fly through the path like a haze or ghost. The brown doors were all locked, though it looked like a single boot from someone as frail her could have taken it down. A man from the other end of the corridor gave her a glance, and then continued to walk away into where he could not be seen.
Her eyes trailed the blind corner where the man turned, and then she focused on a door to her right. "Hush little baby…don't say a word…" she sung to herself in a voice barely above a whisper. "…Mama's going to buy you a mockingbird…" She took a leather-gloved hand out of her pocket and knocked thrice on the door. A few seconds after, a young blonde woman answered the door, her face radiantly contrasting the darkness of the building. If she knew the right people, then she could definitely have been a movie star. The lady wore a pink top and a pair of faded jeans. She had beautiful blue eyes. "Yes?" she asked, her face open with a warm, welcoming smile.
The elderly woman returned the smile, and then pulled out a small, plastic handgun with a silencer on its barrel, and promptly shot the young lady through the gut. Her little girl cried out her name, and then followed her husband into view. "What…?" he stopped in his tracks, his view shifted from his wife's body on the floor, to the emotionless woman on the doorway. "…And if that mockingbird don't sing…" Hallie stepped into the small apartment, painted beige. To her immediate right was the refrigerator, connected to a well-kept kitchen, and a small table with three chairs. The den and the bedroom was to her right. "…Mama's gonna buy you a diamond ring…"
Closing the door with her left hand, she kept her aim on the husband, who kept his weeping child behind him defensively. There was anger in his eyes, there was also sadness, and the greatest hint of overflowing fear. "Don't hurt my little girl…" the man half-pleaded and half-ordered; his military training did not extend to bargaining for the life of his daughter. He was built, wearing a gray tank top and a pair of black jogging pants. Hallie smiled, and then shot him through the kneecap. With a loud cry, the man fell on one knee, while his daughter once again began to scream.
"…And if that diamond ring turns brass…" With uncharacteristic strength and accuracy, she moved forward and slammed the butt of her gun across his jaw, completely breaking it. The man fell back on his shoulders, his face grimacing with pain that he now could not express. "…Mama's going to buy you a looking glass…" she stepped in front of him, the fluorescent light somewhat highlighting her external features. She raised her gun and aimed it at the father's head. "Run, Janine!" The father wanted to yell, at the very top of his lungs, but his jaw would not permit it. She then repositioned the gun, aimed it at his other knee, and with a trigger, crippled him. Then, all of a sudden, before finishing him off, Hallie turned and made her way to the little girl who was hugging herself against the point where the two walls met.
"…And if that looking glass gets broke…" She closed in, while the father desperately tried to claw his way behind her. He was too slow. Janine's eyes were puffy and red from all her crying, while her throat was sore from shouting. Like her mother, she was beautiful. With perfect blonde hair and a small, yellow dress. Without a word, Hallie used the butt of her handgun, and knocked it hard across the little girl's head. She cried. Her father did too. Hallie raised the gun, and slammed it down hard, from right to left, then left to right, over and over again. The sickening sound of hard plastic against the soft cranium filled the father's ears, and he broke down. "…And if that Billy Goat won't pull, Mama is going to buy you a cart and bull…" with one final pound, the child crumpled to the floor, her eyes still wide open.
Hallie turned around, her expression now changed, showing signs of fatigue, and at the same time, a devilish satisfaction at the horror that she put the father through. She hid her gun, and walked to the kitchen, finding a small barrel of gas set aside just by a dryer. There was a dead silence now, hush, save for the man's broken tears. He did not even realize that Hallie was pouring the gas all over the place, in a concentric circle from the man's body. "…" When it was empty, she threw the barrel away, and then proceeded to walk outside. "…And if that cart and bull fall over…" Hallie took out a match, lighted it against the rough end of its container, and then threw it on the floor. "I'm going to buy you a dog named Rover…"
The following afternoon did not show any sunlight, only a tired splatter of gloom that seemed to remark on the weariness of the sky. Alex took a cup of coffee from the vending machine, still fatigued from both schoolwork, varsity, and having Derrick left beaten. He had on a gray jacket with black outlines over a black shirt, and a pair of blue jeans. A group of people sitting on plastic chairs lined on a wall stared at him in silence. He didn't want to think or know why. It was already a week since they found Derrick's bloody body on the pavement.
Only four days ago, he found out that Derrick wasn't only unconscious; he was in a coma. Neither Barry nor Hallie informed him, it was from a nurse that he grew to know. Three days ago, an entire family in the area was slaughtered, with half the building catching fire. Alex didn't understand why neither one Hallie or her husband seemed to get lost in hysteria the moment they found out that their son's consciousness could be in a few days, or in a couple of years. He figured that they had their own ways of mourning; they were adults after all.
Barry felt the fire crackle by his feet as he watched the mantle of his works. Awards given, prey hunted, caught, and stuffed. There was a small, framed picture of him with Chris right after a marksmanship contest that the Nevada Rifle Association held. Chris won first place as usual, while his wife scored in second. Barry was third. He kept his hands behind him, wondering if his actions were right after all. Two men were already dead because of him, and he was already expecting the third.
"Barry!" cried a young man that practically tripped to get to him. Right on cue. He had fear etched in his eyes, and he had every right to feel so. The young man had a hooded black jacket on, as well as a pair of black jogging pants. He had short brown hair. "What's happening? Jack and Forrester, they've both been…" his voice was cracked from fatigue. "I know, Allan." Barry responded, his hands behind him. He was covered in deep red, making the young man conjure images of bloody corpses in his head.
There was a terrifying calm in the elder man's voice, as if he already thought about this scenario from before. "You're terrified." He then remarked, much to the younger man's chagrin. "I bow to your superior wisdom." The young man responded, rekindling the kind of attitude that Barry saw in him years ago when he was training in the military. "Listen, you put me up to this, and I want you to make sure that I live to enjoy our deal!" he then shouted.
"Do not raise your voice, soldier." Barry sternly snapped back, hushing the young man into quick compliance. Old as he was, Barry was still intimidating. "…You will leave town tonight, and do not return until things have cooled down." He then ordered, turning to face the fireplace once more. "…But…sir…"
"There is a ticket to Cleveland on the dining table. Two in fact, so take your girlfriend with you. Now leave." The old man informed him. Still heaving from his run, the young man silently nodded, and then walked away. "Good luck." Barry whispered nonchalantly as he heard the door creak to a close.
Allan sprinted across the massive lawn, but stopped in his tracks when he saw Hallie carrying a black umbrella, staring right at him. "Your girlfriend wanted me to tell you…" she whispered as she drew closer, the man's heart beating faster and faster as she did. "…that she would have made a wonderful mother." Without another word, Hallie took out a handgun, and shot him through the eye. "Maybe you can raise your filthy family in hell." She stepped over his body and continued walking towards the house. Barry was already outside, watching them, smiling as well.
"You could have killed them yourself." Hallie remarked as she got to the door, with Barry letting out his hand to hold hers. "And not let my dear wife get the satisfaction? What better birthday present?" he responded, letting her into the house. "Things are going so well."
Author's note: Next chapter, questions are answered, and more importantly, I kill off people.