Revenge Is Best Served Bloody by Rod Kackley

Author:Rod Kackley
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: serial killer fiction thrillers, crime fiction, crime fiction amateur sleuth, mystery suspense thriller books, mysteries and thrillers, mystery suspense thriller series, psychological murder thrillers, suburban crime fiction, crime fiction mass murder
Publisher: Rod Kackley
Published: 2015-09-17T00:00:00+00:00

3

Henry Branson walked into SIS Computer Services locked, loaded and soaked with the blood, brains, and whatever else had splashed back from his assault on his former coworkers and his supervisors’ families.

Everyone who survived the initial attack was waiting for execution in the conference room, the four supervisors, all of whom where young enough to have pestered Henry when they were in grade school and he was in high school, all four who had persecuted him as young adults.

The hipsters had been brought to ground with their styled hair, tight jeans and black horn-rimmed glasses. They were bloody from the tips of their manicured fingers up to the elbows of their tattooed arms.

Henry had forced them to stack the bullet-riddled bodies of their colleagues up against the front and back doors of the software company’s office.

Five bodies piled at each door should slow down the counterattack, Henry thought.

Those who were doomed to die were crying softly, afraid to attract attention. All except one.

Henry too was doomed to die. But he felt like he was already in heaven. So he was not crying.

Henry had dreamed of this last night. This is how he fell asleep, thinking of murdering the people who humiliated him at work, dreaming of their agony, their misery and their death.

Henry had decided some time after midnight a simple bullet to the forehead would not be justice. He wanted to see suffering. He wanted to experience their pain, to savor their agony. A bullet to the forehead would have not be enough for them or for him.

Still, even if they died slowly, screaming, begging for mercy, it would not be enough for Harry.

So he killed their families, recorded the murders on his smartphone camera, and brought the video into the office to share.

A fucking, bloody show-and-tell.

Todd had seen this coming ever since the night Henry had bought him a couple of beers at the Lamplighter. That never happened before. Todd knew something was wrong.

Henry never bought. Not even when he was working. It might have happened once or twice when he decided to set up his own software business.

But the only products Harry created were a couple of programs that nobody wanted.

The free beer stopped flowing

There was no app that could be used as a salve for the sting of that pain.

Todd had seen this coming and he would never forget Henry’s eyes when he came into the office for his final day at work.

Todd had never seen two eyes glowing like this. Maybe it was Henry’s tears that reflected off the artificial light in the SIS cube farm or maybe it was the tears of his victims, and their blood too.

Henry was spray painted with the agony of others. Todd could read their pleas for mercy in the dark red splashes on Henry’s shirt, arms, neck, face, even on the top of his head.

The middle-aged, balding, paunchy pawn of the SIS corporation had become a warrior; a warrior who told Todd to “run, and run now.”

Todd ran.

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