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The Covid Killer – Part II

Miles watched from his kitchen window. Red and blue lights flashed. Paramedics lifted the battered corpse onto a gurney. The head had been blown clean off, only random pieces of it remained. Miles took a long sip of black coffee as he kept his full attention on the body outside. He chuckled to himself. He could still hear it all. The crunch when his bullet impacted the mans head. The sploshy sound that followed, as if his victims head were a watermelon. The way the blood pelted against the pavement. He chuckled once more, and closed the curtains. The sirens whirred once more, and off the EMT went. A few moments passed by, and there was a knock at his door. Miles put on a latex glove and a surgical face mask. He opened the door, but stood behind the screen part.

“Sorry, to bother you sir,” said a tall cop with a Richard Gere mustache.” We have a few questions about this evenings shooting.”

“Wild isn’t it,” said Miles. “With all that’s going on right now.”

The cop gave Miles a nod. “Would you be willing to file a police report, this happened on your street after all.”

“Well not sure how much help I could be, but sure,” said Miles. “Does any one know what happened.”

“Too early to tell,” said the officer. “Can you tell me your side.”

“Well…,” said Miles. “I really don’t have much to say.” He repositioned his facemask with his hook “I didn’t even hear any gunshots,”

“Yes, that is what everyone else has said. Whoever shot the man, must have had a silencer.”

“I heard the screams though, feminine screams. I didn’t want to open the door, you know with this virus we’re having and everything so I looked out my window. I noticed the lady four doors down screaming, and running.”

“Helen Reeves,” stated the officer

“Yes, Helen Reeves”, said Miles.

“Do you know Miss, Reeves well,” asked the cop

“Not really, I don’t talk to my neighbors often. I like to keep to myself.”

“I guess you have no problem with this social distancing thing then, hey,” said the officer with a smirk.

“Yeah, you got that right,” said Miles.

The officers walkie started to crackle.

“Walker, the detective wants a word, ” said the voice on the other side. “He believes the shot came from Mrs. Fosters treehouse. Do you have a minute. Over”

“I will go talk to him shortly, just questioning some of the neighbors now,” said Officer Walker back into his walkie. “Over.”

“You know Mrs. Foster?” he asked Miles

“A little bit, she has lived in that house for as long as I could remember. She lived here even before I moved up here.”

“Where you from,” questioned officer Walker.

“Out of town, a few dozen clicks. I was a country boy,” said Miles

“Ahh,” said the cop. “So Mrs. Foster. Is she capable of murder?”

“Heaven’s no,” said Miles. ” She couldn’t even swat a mosquito without getting upset about it. Womans as sweet as sugar.”

“Hmm…,” said officer Walker. “Do you suppose she has a son, or grandson, maybe a brother.”

“I doubt it,” said Miles. “I can’t say for sure, but I doubt it.”

“Ok,” said the cop. “Sorry to bother you…”

“Miles Pestigrowe,” said Miles

“Ok, well thanks for the report Miles.”

Officer Walker left, and Miles shut the door briskly behind him.

He really had no idea.

Miles turned on the news for the latest reports on Covid-19. The numbers were still slowly increasing. Two new deaths, and thirty-three new cases. His finger found the off button on his remote, and he sat up. He looked out the window once more. The streets were isolated. Good. He went up to his closet, and found his costume hanging. His hand rubbed at the material before he put it on. The clock on his wall read a quarter to six. The night sky will come soon. Miles sat himself on the couch once more, putting on his leather gloves one. He left out the back door, keeping his distance from anyone, keeping himself out of sight.

The secluded streets calmed him, as he walked through some shrubbery. He came to a stop, at the top of a hill. From beyond he could see the local grocery store. A few vehicles came and went through the parking lot. A woman in blue scrubs wearing a mask pushed a cart out through the sliding doors. His hand met his brow, and he scanned the area some more. He then saw a man come out the back door, the employee door. Another man came up to him with a shopping cart. Miles could not hear what they were talking about, but he noticed that they were standing too close to each other. The first man went back in, but propped the door open with a small plank of wood. Miles watched on.

The man returned with a palate of toilet paper. The one waiting payed him, filled his cart and took off towards a black F150. Miles pulled out a pair of binoculars from his pocket and memorized the license plate.


Garret didn’t remember falling asleep. He must have had some night, but he didn’t remember drinking either. He tried to get up, but his hands and legs were bound. He smelled gasoline. His chest heaved out, and he started to bellow.

“What the fuck is going on here! I will kill you.”

“Are you sure of that,” said a voice. Garret turned his head to see a tall figure in a corner. “You positive.”

“What do you want,” hollered Garret. “Money, a woman. I can give you whatever.”

The man took one step closer.

“You could never give me what I want,” another step closer. “But, you could give me pleasure.”

“Sick, man,” said Garret. He tried to wriggle free. “Your sick, I’m not into dude,”

“That’s not the pleasure I am talking about,” another step closer. “It would be a pleasure, to see you in pain.” The man took a few steps back and a light turned on. Garret recognized his surroundings right away. He was in his garage after all. He took a look at his capture. He had a long black overcoat. His face was covered by some weird bird like mask. In one hand he had a pack of matches. In the other, well it wasn’t even a hand, but a prosthetic hook hand. He held a cigarette in his hook.

The man began to pace, circling Garret. Garret took notice of the fragile material that had been wrapped all around him. Shit tickets. Rolls upon rolls of shit tickets. He thought he could break free through the paper tailed cocoon. There was some rips and tears, but his hands and legs were bound with zip ties.

“Christ, man. What’s your deal,” yelled Garret.

The birdlike mask shook back side to side. “Look around you. Clearly if you can’t tell by now your a lost soul. I should take you out of your misery before Corona does.

Garret looked around and noticed hundreds rolls of toilet paper neatly stacked around. “Dude, just grab some TP, if its such a big deal. He attempted to wriggle free once more.

“I am afraid that it is to late,” the man poured gasoline all over garret, then all over the toilet paper rolls. “You could already have the virus. It is also the greed with which you hold, has taken up too much of a genuine soul. You are not worthy a clean death.”

The man walked out of the garage, and pulled his mask up just enough to put the cigarette in his mouth. He struck the match, lit his smoke and tossed it match at Garrets feet. He walked away with nonchalance, as Garret became a ball of flame. Garret made a blood curdling scream as he felt his flesh bubble and burn. Garret tried to roll the flames out, forgetting about the gasoline soaked rolls surrounding him. Flames licked at the earth and sky, billowing into a thick smoke. Garret tried to scream once more, but only harsh gurgles could come out.

Miles kept walking, looking back once, just for a quick minute. The blaze behind him danced. He could almost feel the heat radiating. He turned away, and kept walking. not giving the fire another glance.

word count for Nano 1394


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