Blinding Fear by Bruce Roland Page A

by another amateur astronomer trying to steal his comet but now he knew: it was exactly what it said it was! This man wasn’t some nut-job! He was here to carry out whatever legal sentence the e-mail had referred to! That meant he must be from the government. Maybe he could talk his way out!
    “If it’s the crazy e-mail from that governmental space agency you’re talking about, you can’t touch me! This country has laws that protect innocent people from monsters like you!”
    The man laughed. “Very good, Mr. Whalen. I’m glad to see you’ve connected the dots. And by the way, I can ‘touch you.’ The new laws referred to in the e-mail—that you so foolishly ignored—are very real and override all other national, state or local laws. They allow the government and its agents—me—to take all necessary action to eliminate the clear and present danger that now exists—you.” The man pointed his gloved right hand and fingers at Frank making a gun shape. He closed one eye, aimed and quietly said, “Bang. You’re dead.”
    “You’ll never get away with it!”
    The man laughed again, this time louder. “Another wonderful cliche! Of course I will! I meticulously planned every aspect of this operation. Take the fingerprints on my gloves. They belong to one of your local meth-heads. At this moment he’s probably flying as high as he’s ever been, thanks to some high-quality product I generously gave him. When I’m finished here, some of your property, perhaps your precious MacBook, among other things, will find its way into his possession. When the police go through your house looking for evidence they’ll find his fingerprints along with some of your precious stuff missing. At his wreck of an apartment they’ll discover your property. They will quickly determine that for at least the third time in the last five years he broke into a house—yours—looking for anything to feed his habit. Tragically you caught him in the act, a fight ensued and you came out the loser. How sad.”
    As the man talked Frank tried to plan an escape. Deciding only one course of action might work, he suddenly lunged forward with the knife, hoping to catch his adversary off guard.
    The man easily side-stepped the thrust, clamped a powerful hand on Frank’s wrist just below the knife, spun him around, leveraged his arm up behind his back and wrenched the knife away. With another easy motion he planted the blade deep in Frank’s thigh. The pain was far beyond excruciating. As he screamed he hoped one of his neighbors might hear it and call the police.
    “A nice try Mr. Whalen, but not nearly good enough.” He then forced the arm much higher. Frank heard and felt something pop in his arm, eliciting another agonizing shriek. A split-second later he felt himself being thrown out of the kitchen, tumbling across the dining room table, ending up in a heap, face down on the floor. He tried to push up, but agonizing pain exploded through his right elbow and shoulder causing him to slump back down. He rolled to his back and looked up at the man, standing over him, again smiling.
    “You don’t have to do this!” Frank wheezed through the torturous pain. “I won’t tell anyone else about the comet! I’ll delete the photos! I’ll do anything you want!”
    “It’s far too late for that Mr. Whalen. You’ve proven yourself to be very untrustworthy. It’s time for you to accept full responsibility for your foolish actions.” He viciously kicked Frank in the ribs. “You even shared your most recent activities with one of your associates. Now I may have to pay him a visit. Most regrettable. You’ve given me extra work!” He lashed out again with his foot. Somehow, in spite of the searing pain in his ribs, thigh, and arm Frank managed to deflect the blow, grab the foot and twist as hard as he could. The man spun around, easily breaking away but leaving his athletic shoe in Frank’s hands. The man reached down and snatched it out of his