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The Road to our Dreams (A tale of the Continuum)
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<blockquote data-quote="Henry" data-source="post: 881375" data-attributes="member: 158"><p><em>3rd June 1998 10:12 a.m.</em></p><p></p><p>The psychotic attacker aimed, fired at Richard, but poorly. Richard was better at his shot.</p><p></p><p>The killer made a sudden snort, and dropped abruptly. Blood everywhere. The killer had been stopped.</p><p></p><p>Richard advanced cautiously. The killer tried to raise his weapon, with feeble fingers, but Richard kicked the pistol, making the killer's fingers go numb, and removing the gun from his grasp. Richard didn't think; he acted. He disarmed the killer, and stood to go check on David. </p><p></p><p>David. Poor David.</p><p></p><p>Alice? Alice! Rounding the hallway, Richard saw his nightmare in full color. Alice reached out, unmoving. Blood was all. Blood was everywhere, and Alice had nothing more to say, nothing more to BE.</p><p></p><p>Richard reached out, and stopped short of touching her. He ran back to his office. He will call, get help - maybe Alice wasn't gone, maybe a paramedic can tell him what to do ---</p><p></p><p>And he saw the killer. Yet again.</p><p></p><p>To his right, down the "L" shaped hall which his office is located in, strode the killer. The psycho he just killed! Thoughts race like light: What the hell? Who was he? Was he a twin? What the hell?</p><p></p><p>Hugging the door with speed he never thought possible, he then lurched out into the hallway, catching the second killer – the first killer – the twin – whatever! - off his guard. <em>(Good goddess, what am I doing?)</em> Two more quick shots, and his luck held yet again: The man reeled backward, sprawled unmoving in the hall.</p><p></p><p>Richard moved quickly, not wasting another second, sealing his door and barricading it with his desk. His phone hit the floor, starting him, and for just an instant, Richard lost all consciousness. He zoned back in, his heart restarting, and he sprang to work, grabbing his phone, his pistol, and crawling under his desk for protection. He once again frantically dialed 911, hoping against hope the police would be nearby to respond quickly.</p><p></p><p>It wasn’t until the line went suddenly dead when he realized he was not alone.</p><p></p><p><strong>To Be Continued...</strong></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Henry, post: 881375, member: 158"] [i]3rd June 1998 10:12 a.m.[/i] The psychotic attacker aimed, fired at Richard, but poorly. Richard was better at his shot. The killer made a sudden snort, and dropped abruptly. Blood everywhere. The killer had been stopped. Richard advanced cautiously. The killer tried to raise his weapon, with feeble fingers, but Richard kicked the pistol, making the killer's fingers go numb, and removing the gun from his grasp. Richard didn't think; he acted. He disarmed the killer, and stood to go check on David. David. Poor David. Alice? Alice! Rounding the hallway, Richard saw his nightmare in full color. Alice reached out, unmoving. Blood was all. Blood was everywhere, and Alice had nothing more to say, nothing more to BE. Richard reached out, and stopped short of touching her. He ran back to his office. He will call, get help - maybe Alice wasn't gone, maybe a paramedic can tell him what to do --- And he saw the killer. Yet again. To his right, down the "L" shaped hall which his office is located in, strode the killer. The psycho he just killed! Thoughts race like light: What the hell? Who was he? Was he a twin? What the hell? Hugging the door with speed he never thought possible, he then lurched out into the hallway, catching the second killer – the first killer – the twin – whatever! - off his guard. [i](Good goddess, what am I doing?)[/i] Two more quick shots, and his luck held yet again: The man reeled backward, sprawled unmoving in the hall. Richard moved quickly, not wasting another second, sealing his door and barricading it with his desk. His phone hit the floor, starting him, and for just an instant, Richard lost all consciousness. He zoned back in, his heart restarting, and he sprang to work, grabbing his phone, his pistol, and crawling under his desk for protection. He once again frantically dialed 911, hoping against hope the police would be nearby to respond quickly. It wasn’t until the line went suddenly dead when he realized he was not alone. [b]To Be Continued...[b][/b][/b] [/QUOTE]
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