Fear the Darkness Read Free Page B

was about to make the window explode, catching him in the blast. Then, as the window shook once more, the smoke cleared enough for him to see the cause.
    It was the fat man whom Morris had knocked unconscious and left to die in the fire. Head and arms haloed in flame, he beat against the window with his fists, pleading for escape as Morris stared at him blankly. Finding no answer, the fat man began to throw himself bodily against the plexiplast, trying to break through the window by sheer force of will. Taking a step backwards in case by some miracle the fat man actually managed to smash his way through, Morris moved his hand to the gun in his pocket and waited. He had often tried to imagine what it must be like for a man to die by fire. Now, he found he had the opportunity to see it for himself.
    Then, incredibly, weakened by the fat man's frantic blows, the plexiplast started to crack. At last, with a final superhuman effort, the fat man leapt head first through the window to land facedown in the alley. Taking the gun from his pocket and tightening his finger on the trigger, Morris prepared to shoot the man in the head and be done with him. But as he aimed, he realised it was not needed. The fat man was dead already, as evidenced by the spreading pool of blood. Looking closely, Morris saw a jagged piece of plexiplast embedded in the fat man's neck. For all his desperation, the fat man had simply exchanged one death for another.
    But even as he gazed down at the man's lifeless body, Morris felt a strange new inspiration run through him. Before he knew what he was doing, he was squatting down by the corpse and dipping his hand into the blood. Next, moving over to the wall, he began to write on it, feeling the rough surface of the plascrete under his fingertips mix with the warmth of the blood that covered his hand.
    It is not enough to simply bring retribution to this city, he thought. I should leave a message. Something to let all the other sinners know I claim this act and that I will be coming for them all in time.
    He was halfway through the message when he heard the scream. Looking at the letters "J", "U", and "D" written in blood on the wall before him, at first he dismissed the sound as nothing more than the cry of one of the dying customers caught inside the blazing eroto-palace. Until it occurred to him that the direction of this scream was different. It had come from behind him.
    Whirling as he heard another scream, Morris saw a man and a woman standing in the alleyway, their faces aghast. For a moment, he stood staring at them, the dead man's blood still dripping from his fingers. Coming round, he did the only thing he could. Something that, Morris now realised, he should have done long ago.
    He ran.
     
    "Control to any unit vicinity Larry Flynt Recreational Plaza! Firebombing at Blue Dreams Eroto-Palace. Suspected perp reported fleeing scene in direction of Raymond Pedway. Available units please respond."
    He had just taken down a gang of wreckers working the skedways when the call came in to him, the bike radio on his Lawmaster crackling as the calm yet urgent tones of Sector Control broke through the static. Chaining the last of the surviving perps to a holding post, Judge William Brophy strode quickly to his bike and patched his helmet mike into the local Sector frequency.
    "Acknowledged, Control," he said, mounting the bike and revving its engine into noisy life. "Judge Brophy responding. ETA to Raymond - two minutes. Request Pat-Wagon to Skedway Twenty-Twelve, off Gibson Junction. Three perps for pickup. Also notify Resyk there's two more for disposal."
    "Received and understood. Fleeing perp is described as gaunt-featured, wearing a black overcoat with matching kneepads. Control out." The radio fell silent as Brophy pointed his bike in the direction of Raymond and gunned it down the skedway. Another tangent, moving inexorably towards its destination.
     
    He heard the screaming first. Not the shrill cries of