|
Minister
The deposed minister smiles as the guard opens the large double doors and, for the first time, he sees the hordes of reporters clustered at the base of the steps. They are organised, as usual, in ranks: first, cameras from the television stations; behind them, sound men from the radio stations, thrusting microphones through the gaps; the spaces remaining filled with newspaper reporters, clutching dictaphones and minicams, all of them pushing and shoving to try and gain a momentary advantage, all of them barely held back by a surging line of police. They are here to see him. He shifts the overcoat which lies over his right hand and starts down the steps. He remembers to put on a serious face. The police line wavers as they catch sight of him. He waves his left hand dismissively, and says loudly, in authoritarian tones, "If you'll all calm down, I'm prepared to make a statement... that's it... thank you." There is relative quiet as they stop pushing; he moves down the last of the steps and between the divided ranks of journalists, some seventy strong. the police retreat, leaving him at the crowd's mercy. He glances left, right; then he throws the overcoat aside, revealing the automatic pistol clutched in his right hand. he fires into the crowd on his left, stitching a line across the chest of a cameraman who falls back and drops his camera. Calmly, he waves the pistol about, firing continuously, getting at least five or six shots into each reporter, grimacing as flecks of blood blow onto his face. The wounded at the front fall back onto the others who are trying to run; bullets pass through them all. the grating burr of the pistol cuts over the sounds of shouts and screams while he simply stands there, a faint smile on his face, and mows them all down. This was too easy; they weren't running! The clip empties; he slips the old clip out and replaces it from his shirt pocket. He fires again, at the legs of the reporters at the rear, the ones who were beginning to stagger back. They fall, clutching their notebooks and start to crawl away. He shoots them in the back. Within minutes, there are no living targets left. He stands there, wreathed in a wisp of smoke. "Any questions?" He pauses politely, then drops the warm pistol and walks toward the staff carpark. |
|
|
( top )
All work on this site is © Nikolai Kingsley unless otherwise stated. |