Free I Kill in Peace by Hunter Shea Page B

in my thoughts. I drove down narrow side streets that were totally unfamiliar to me. I kept expecting AO to speak to me through the car’s speakers again.
    Maybe even AO wanted to distance himself, or itself, from me on this one. Generals rarely rode into battle side by side with their troops.
    I stopped outside the parking lot of a blue-domed building. Just like Bridgton, the state’s largest city was a ghost town. A few people walked the streets, but with wary faces.
    The sun was unencumbered by clouds and the caw of seagulls echoed down tight alleys.
    Staring at the building through the windshield, I thought it was probably empty, just like everyplace else. If it was, I was going to turn around and head home. Screw New Hampshire. The silence of this place would be a sign. A sign to stop this madness. Maybe I would introduce my head to the Uzi.
    There was a smattering of cars in the lot and I saw a light in one of the windows of the mosque.
    I took a deep breath, removing the scimitar and Uzi from their cases.
    Practically running to the front door, I offered a silent prayer for my soul, expecting zero mercy.

Unthinkable

Chapter Sixteen
    There were only a dozen or so people in the mosque. All were men who appeared to be middle-aged and older. I shot nine with the Uzi, beheaded two with the scimitar, and let one run from the building, shrieking as if his mind had come unhinged.
    My nerves were steady during the slaughter, which only added to my disgust. But the part of me screaming to stop was tamped deeper and deeper into the bowels of my soul. It was as if I were working on some kind of sadistic autopilot, only I knew exactly who the pilot was in this case.
    AO.
    When I was done, I casually walked back to the car, packed my weapons in their cases, and drove for New Hampshire, obeying the speed limit, in no particular rush. I didn’t need the navigation system or AO instructing me where to go now. I was operating on pure instinct.
    What I had done was unconscionable. Murdering people while they worshipped in what was supposed to be the sanctity of their faith. I had easily slipped past being a monster. I was a demon. I was the goddamn devil!
    Driving down I-95, I saw tiny tendrils of smoke rising from the steering wheel. My first thought was to pull over and find out what was wrong with the car.
    It wasn’t the car.
    The heat emanating from my palms was burning so hot, they were melting the wheel.
    I cast a glance in the rearview mirror. The whites of my eyes had been replaced by black-veined rubies.
    â€œWhat the fuck is happening to me?”
    I also realized I was harder than a fire hydrant. It felt as if I were becoming something else, transforming into the unearthly creature I had doomed myself to become by my actions.
    The moment I thought of taking an exit and turning back, my brain mushroomed. The Mustang swerved back onto the road. My head keranged off the side window.
    I couldn’t go home. First, because there was more to be done. Second, I couldn’t let Candy and Katie see me like this. I wasn’t their husband and father anymore. How could I be? My cock pulsated when I thought about mowing down innocent people in prayer. My hands could melt glass.
    All I wanted to do was cry, but the tears wouldn’t come—couldn’t come.
    The radio clicked on by itself. A newsman reported on the multiple quarantines being enforced in major cities around the country. What they thought was Ebola was actually some new virus that mimicked the disease but in turn was twice as deadly. It was spreading at an alarming rate. Worse still, it was now confirmed to be an airborne disease. The mortality rate was just under ninety percent. The CDC’s resources were stretched thinner than the finest thread.
    At the current rate of infection, it would jump from metropolitan centers to outlying areas in days, if not hours.
    Was I driving into an infected zone?
    That wouldn’t have been a bad