Day 32, Chapter 32
A shorty today – it barely covers 2 pieces of paper – but it’s a good one. Well, “good” for my sinister purposes anyway. Pete Gordon, the elusive WCF killer, is on the prowl for another pair of victims. He’s “hunting along the Embarcadero” when he picks out a woman who seems to suit his taste:
…a reed thin blonde wearing a hooded black Windbreaker over her long black skirt, her clothes billowing and snapping in the breeze. Made him think of a woman in a burka.
Alright, a little odd, maybe, to think of a burka, but not enough to raise any alarms, I guess. He follows this woman as she pushes her baby stroller toward the BART station, all the while, he’s clutching his pistol in his pocket. (Not a euphemism.) He shouts out to her, “Miss? Ma’am?” three times before she turns around. He claims to be lost and in need of directions.
The woman stared at him and said, “I can’t help you,” and pushed the stroller out from the arch toward the entrance to the underground.
“Hey, thanks, lady!” Pete yelled out. “I appreciate the fucking time of day.”
Then, the proverbial bomb gets dropped: (not a “smart bomb,” by the way)
It hadn’t been this way in Iraq. And he wouldn’t mess up here.
He was steady. He was focused. He had a mission.
And he would accomplish it.
So there it is. Iraq War vet returns home to kill women and children on the streets of San Francisco. Is this going to be an anti-war theme? Or a pro-war theme? Only time will tell.
Go to Day 33.