The Struggle |
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The absolute darkness was permeated only slightly by the eerie luminescence of the moon and stars. There were no people about; the people who lived in this area were rich enough to leave work early and eat themselves into a slumber by ten o'clock. The calling of an owl, the shriek of a rat being killed, and other nocturnal sounds occasionally broke the silence. A lone person emerged at the end of the street. He walked down it, looking at the houses, analyzing them. At a glance, one could tell he was not familiar with the area. He wore black clothes, though they were ragged and torn. His face was concealed by a piece of black cloth, frayed at the edges. He was quite obviously a thief. Eventually he selected a house. For some reason, the owner seemed lax on security. There was no alarm system, no guard, not even a dog to ward off potential criminals. As he started to consider his first obstacle, the electric fence, his thoughts ran something like this: Today shouldn't be too hard. If I could just get a few valuables - a jewelry box or an expensive watch, I may live another week happily. For the next few days I can relax, not having to struggle to survive. Then I will have to make another 'field trip'. I pray this is over soon - I am really unnerved by this horrible feeling, like all is not going to turn out as expected. He noticed an old, derelict stepladder in a ditch, and promptly had it opened up and standing near the wall. From the top, he jumped right over the electric fence. He then walked around the perimeter to get his bearings and locate the master bedroom. There he would find a watch by the bedside, or a woman's vanity table laden with expensive rings and necklaces. Finding his target, he began to work on the window. With a length of twisted wire and a cheap pocketknife, he masterfully picked the lock on it and swung it open. The nice thing about rich people, he thought, is that they can afford to take care of their homes. I have never come across a squeaky window in a house like this. He climbed in and silently thanked rich people again as his footsteps were silenced by thick carpet. He noticed with surprise a single man on the bed. There were no touches of femininity anywhere. Next to the bed he saw a diamond studded Rolex watch, and his already-high confidence was boosted. As he reached out to take it, the man in the bed lifted his right hand - and in it he held a gun. Unfortunately for the thief, the owner of this house was the most paranoid person in the area. This is why the house seemed so easy to enter; all of the security systems were proficiently yet almost obsessively concealed. The owner also kept a loaded pistol beneath his pillow. So when he saw the thief enter, he was ready. The thief, although caught by surprise, instinctively leapt back and withdrew an old kitchen knife from somewhere in his clothing. He had sharpened and polished it, mainly to intimidate anyone he encountered. Maintaining his crouched stance in order to keep a low center of gravity, he lashed out, aiming not to penetrate his opponent's skin but to hit him with his gloved fist. The knife was just an ornament, intended to play on peoples' fears of pain and death. The gun went off twice, once hitting the thief's left foot. But he was no stranger to pain, and closed in on the rich man. After a few minutes he succeeded in knocking him unconscious, and then grabbed the watch and gun. He glanced back at the man and noticed that his head was facing the wrong way. With a shudder, he checked the man's pulse, and felt nothing. This was the first time he had actually killed someone. Panicking, he then left the house as quickly as possible. As he stood in the yard, nursing his foot, he saw a shadow move inside. At first he hopefully thought the rich man had recovered, that he was not really dead, but then he saw a large dog rush out of the window. With a curse on his lips he realized that some people keep their dogs inside the house. He lifted the knife, now not afraid to use it. Bravely he awaited the animal's arrival, his fear betrayed only by the furtive movement of his eyes. As the dog pounced, he ducked and stepped back, grimacing at the pain in his foot. He slashed at its under belly once and then returned his weight to his good foot. He had not injured the dog badly, but it was enough. The dog, like his knife, was meant only for intimidation purposes. He and his victim were locked in a battle of the mind, each trying to appeal to each other's fears, and other emotions. The dog ran away, making muffled whining noises. He limped to the wall and only then did his fatal error occur to him. He managed to get into the house safely, but could find no way out. He desperately searched the yard, and found nothing. He was on the verge of screaming with frustration, but controlled his emotions as he noticed a car pull up, with B & C SECURITY SYSTEMS painted across the side. The victim, although dead, had managed to win. What the thief had not realized was the reason there were no burglar bars on the windows was to make him overconfident, and thus careless. The thief did not notice the motion sensors directly behind the windowpane. With a final sigh of acceptance, he readied the gun and eased his weight off the injured foot. Tonight was his night, the night that he took on the world, and this anonymous thief - and now murderer - was going to 'go out with a bang', in more ways than one. * * * Two days later, most of the local newspapers' front pages depicted the same story. It went something along the lines of this: INJURED CRIMINAL STAGES VIOLENT SHOOTOUT - SEVEN LIVES CLAIMED. |