Page 357 of Rage

He’s a dead man walking.

Just like Rhett was.

As Whitman crumples to the nasty ground, I turn, walking down the alley as my breaths come in waves. The gun isn’t linked to me directly, the serial number having been wiped by the seller, so I toss it in one of the dumpsters I pass.

I’ll never forget tonight. It will haunt my dreams until I fucking die.

But I can rest, even just for a bit, knowing that the man who killed Rhett, my sweet, beautiful Rhett is eliminated from his own fucking pitiful existence.

Walking down the alley, my phone rings. My hands burn from clenching them into fists for the last several blocks. I slowly withdraw my phone from my pocket, and see an unknown number flashing against the dim screen. I answer, knowing the voice will be synthesized and comforting.

“Hello?” I answer the call.

The hacker barely calls me, but I knew they would tonight. They need to start, if they haven’t already, wiping the camerasin the streets of my presence. It’s all a part of the plan. The delicious plan we baked up together.

But their voice isn’t the same electronic one I’ve been hearing for the past several month. I halt as I listen.

“Kath, did you get the job done?”

Kath.

Before I can respond to the ghost, a heavythunkmeets the back of my head and I crumple like a doll to the cold concrete of the place where Rhett was last seen.

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