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that odorless gas you’re not smelling? Well, it’ll knock ya
out soon enough. I didn’t want to spoil the surprise, but I
did want you to know that you’ll wake up from it okay. And
when you do—oh, boy!”
I wasn’t completely sure with whom I was dealing, but I
had some ideas. Regardless, it was quite plain the killer knew
nothing of me, despite what my loose-lipped dream might
have intimated. I decided to make him aware of the fact.
“I’ve a fairly hearty constitution, friend, but I do appreciate
the insight. Of course, I’m speaking of the insight into your
whereabouts, not your undetectable mists. Also, if you did
indeed learn anything about my particular methods from a
dream, you apparently neglected to focus on my fondness
for sounds, and how I determine from which direction they
emanate. If you had attended to that fact, you would have
realized I’ve long been able to detect you just fine. If you
get another chance at this, which I seriously doubt, you may
wish to consider looking into fixing your own teeth, and how
you might learn to keep them from chattering on and on.”
My sister flew like a grinning bullet, slamming into his
chest a moment before my shoulder did the same. The man
was wearing some kind of body armor, along with a gas mask,
night vision goggles, and other combat accoutrements. His
handguns clattered to the floor as my shoulder connected.
He reached for the shotgun slung across his back as he tried
to keep his footing, and I tore it from his grip. About to use
it as a cudgel, an intense flash of light filled my vision. The
slightest bouquet of ozone filled my nose as my body filled
with pain. I fell to the floor, writhing and spasming—the
shock from his homemade stun gun and the effects of the
knock-out gas were wearing me down.
“Now,” the killer said, “I know ya were awfully close
with your mommy, big man. Where are her bones, I wonder?
Did ya turn her into a switchblade, or maybe some kinda
letter opener? Or did ya save her remains fer something a bit
nastier?”
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