question.
“You
can tell everyone, or you can tell no one.” he tells her. “It’s up to you.”
Seth
takes her hand and kisses it softly.
“Goodbye
Hannah. Take care.”
In
front of her and everyone else, Seth blinks.
Seth
steps out into his backyard, still and silent save for the rustling of the
leaves on the trees that surround his property. He looks up to the sky,
relishing feeling the warmth of the sun on his cheeks. He pulls the hood over
his head.
He
takes a deep breath. Closes his eyes. The light envelopes him.
He
disappears.
Nineteen
He
didn’t know exactly how far back he had travelled. Still, he wasn’t too
concerned. He travelled back far enough. Back before the day of the attacks.
Seth
opens his eyes, finding himself in the hallway of the house, the sounds of a
football match coming from an adjacent room. No one knows he’s here. Yet.
A man
comes out of the room, a beer in his hand. Seth instantly recognises him.
He
is one of the eight.
The
man yells as Seth draws the pistol. Raising the gun, he squeezes the trigger
and fires, shooting him in the head. The man goes down, blood splattering
across the wall behind him. Alerted by the shots, two more men come out from
the adjacent room. Seth fires again.
Three
down, five to go.
Seth
goes through the house, taking two more of those bastards down. They know he’s
here now, he can hear them yelling, panicking. They’re armed. Turning a corner,
he almost gets shot by one wielding a shotgun. He fires back. Another down.
That’s the sixth.
Seth
reloads the gun. Continues to sweep the house.
He
hears another one behind him, coming up a flight of wooden stairs that lead to
a basement under the house. Seth guns him down at the top of the landing,
barely even giving him a chance.
Stepping
over the body, he slowly heads down into the basement below.
Cold
and dimly lit, it was here, in this Spartan concrete basement, where it all
began. The planning, the making of the bombs, the stockpiling of weapons.
Everything.
Moving
cautiously forward, Seth steps around the cache of weapons, the boxes of nails
and ball bearings and other shrapnel on tables yet to be packed into their
explosive containers. He hears a sound. Seth raises the gun again as he corners
the last remaining terrorist. Raising his hands high, the man is unarmed...
save for the explosive vest he has on, and the trigger clasped in his palm.
Seth
squeezes the trigger on his pistol. Nothing. The gun jams.
The
man shouts to his creator. Seth lunges for him; however, he is too late.
The
trigger under his thumb, the man in the vest presses down on the button just as
Seth reaches him and blinks, taking the two of them into the void. Rendering
the explosive reaction temporarily inert, Seth transports himself and his
captive to where this had all ultimately started...
Out
of thin air, the two are dumped into a small room, in front of an audience of a
few confused men. Seth opens his eyes to find himself face to face with the man
himself, The Scimitar. The man responsible for all that death and destruction,
all that hatred, fear, and evil. Here he was, hidden in his bunker, the same
bunker where he had sent out all those messages of hate and war.
He
thought he was safe here. No, not anymore. Seth had found it, had found him .
Staring
at the terrorist leader with a fierce determination, the man with the vest
pinned under his knee, Seth tells him the first thing, the only thing that comes
to his mind:
“Go
to hell.”
The
chemicals become potent again. The reaction restarts almost immediately.
The
vest explodes, taking everyone out in the bunker with it.
Hannah
inserts the USB thumb drive into her laptop. Lights blink. On her screen, a
directory pops up, its sole contents a single video file. She double clicks on
it.
Seth
appears on the screen, his face looking directly at the camera, at Hannah.
“Hannah,
by the time you are watching this I will be gone. I have set out to
“You
can tell everyone, or you can tell no one.” he tells her. “It’s up to you.”
Seth
takes her hand and kisses it softly.
“Goodbye
Hannah. Take care.”
In
front of her and everyone else, Seth blinks.
Seth
steps out into his backyard, still and silent save for the rustling of the
leaves on the trees that surround his property. He looks up to the sky,
relishing feeling the warmth of the sun on his cheeks. He pulls the hood over
his head.
He
takes a deep breath. Closes his eyes. The light envelopes him.
He
disappears.
Nineteen
He
didn’t know exactly how far back he had travelled. Still, he wasn’t too
concerned. He travelled back far enough. Back before the day of the attacks.
Seth
opens his eyes, finding himself in the hallway of the house, the sounds of a
football match coming from an adjacent room. No one knows he’s here. Yet.
A man
comes out of the room, a beer in his hand. Seth instantly recognises him.
He
is one of the eight.
The
man yells as Seth draws the pistol. Raising the gun, he squeezes the trigger
and fires, shooting him in the head. The man goes down, blood splattering
across the wall behind him. Alerted by the shots, two more men come out from
the adjacent room. Seth fires again.
Three
down, five to go.
Seth
goes through the house, taking two more of those bastards down. They know he’s
here now, he can hear them yelling, panicking. They’re armed. Turning a corner,
he almost gets shot by one wielding a shotgun. He fires back. Another down.
That’s the sixth.
Seth
reloads the gun. Continues to sweep the house.
He
hears another one behind him, coming up a flight of wooden stairs that lead to
a basement under the house. Seth guns him down at the top of the landing,
barely even giving him a chance.
Stepping
over the body, he slowly heads down into the basement below.
Cold
and dimly lit, it was here, in this Spartan concrete basement, where it all
began. The planning, the making of the bombs, the stockpiling of weapons.
Everything.
Moving
cautiously forward, Seth steps around the cache of weapons, the boxes of nails
and ball bearings and other shrapnel on tables yet to be packed into their
explosive containers. He hears a sound. Seth raises the gun again as he corners
the last remaining terrorist. Raising his hands high, the man is unarmed...
save for the explosive vest he has on, and the trigger clasped in his palm.
Seth
squeezes the trigger on his pistol. Nothing. The gun jams.
The
man shouts to his creator. Seth lunges for him; however, he is too late.
The
trigger under his thumb, the man in the vest presses down on the button just as
Seth reaches him and blinks, taking the two of them into the void. Rendering
the explosive reaction temporarily inert, Seth transports himself and his
captive to where this had all ultimately started...
Out
of thin air, the two are dumped into a small room, in front of an audience of a
few confused men. Seth opens his eyes to find himself face to face with the man
himself, The Scimitar. The man responsible for all that death and destruction,
all that hatred, fear, and evil. Here he was, hidden in his bunker, the same
bunker where he had sent out all those messages of hate and war.
He
thought he was safe here. No, not anymore. Seth had found it, had found him .
Staring
at the terrorist leader with a fierce determination, the man with the vest
pinned under his knee, Seth tells him the first thing, the only thing that comes
to his mind:
“Go
to hell.”
The
chemicals become potent again. The reaction restarts almost immediately.
The
vest explodes, taking everyone out in the bunker with it.
Hannah
inserts the USB thumb drive into her laptop. Lights blink. On her screen, a
directory pops up, its sole contents a single video file. She double clicks on
it.
Seth
appears on the screen, his face looking directly at the camera, at Hannah.
“Hannah,
by the time you are watching this I will be gone. I have set out to
Similar Books
