

God's Gonna Cut You Down

A novella by Eduard Joseph

Published by Eduard Joseph

Smashwords edition

Copyright 2013 Eduard Joseph

Second edition: 2016 © Eduard Joseph

Front cover design by Eduard Joseph

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This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are

not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. Any resemblance to any person or

persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

All Rights Reserved

The right of Eduard Joseph to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him under the South African Copyright Act of 1978 (as amended).

The Grinning Clown

He sat in front of the mirror and stared at his own reflection in the twilit room – not that there was anything unique about his face or his appearance in general. He had a face that could easily disappear into a crowd like dust in the wind and that's the way he liked it. He was a loner and shut the world out most of the time and usually kept to himself at work.

Up until now his life was pretty ordinary; he stayed in a one bedroom apartment in a rundown part of town and owned a cat called Kitty. The only reason he called his male cat Kitty was that he could say _Hello Kitty_ when he got home from work, but that never happened as the cat was more independent than he was bargaining for when he bought it from a pet shop. It was out most evenings when he got out – almost like a grim reminder that his life was meaningless and that nobody really wanted to spend time with him.

He'd spend his nights warming up left over food from previous nights that he froze, sit in front of the TV watching reruns of old shows he'd already seen a thousand times, but still laughed in between chews at each punch-line or joke as if hearing it for the first time

His life was the same each day; he'd get up, go to work, go home, eat left overs and watch TV until he fell asleep. The mundane process would be repeated itself the next day and everyday thereafter until the end of time most probably.

He worked for one of the largest distribution companies in the country; _Johnson Incorporated_ which was a distributor of medical supplies to over half of the private hospitals in the country.

He was one of ten accountants working for Johnson Incorporated – or at least he was until he was fired a couple of weeks earlier. Over the last few months his work had deteriorated until the quality of his work was not up to par with the other accountants and the head of the company, Mister John Johnson, had no alternative but to oversee the intervention and the disciplinary action that ultimately lead to his dismissal.

The only thing he had going in his mundane life was his job and that was taken away from him. As time passed his depression turned into anger and then hate for a man he'd only met twice in his life, but he knew it was best that he no longer worked there, for God had a plan for him as he stared at the mug, expressionless face that stared back at him from beyond the mirror; a face that was brutalized by a hard life.

_Everything happens for a reason_ he told himself.

He wasn't sure what the reason was for him losing his job until the night before when he tossed and turned all night and then he had a visitation by a dark winged creature that lingered in the shadows of his bedroom. The creature showed him his destiny and told him that the Almighty had chosen him to do his bidding.

He reached for a mask that lay upon the dresser in front of the mirror and toyed with it in his hands for a moment. The mask was made of thick rubber and resembled a deranged clown with a big, nasty grin upon its face, a large cherry, red nose, black vacant eyes and red triangular smudges over each eye.

He put on the mask and stared in the mirror at the horrid sneer before him and he tilted his head as if examining his reflection. He felt safe behind the mask – he could be who he wanted to be behind the mask. The mask took away his identity and the fact that his life wasn't very interesting.

He reached for the shotgun that lay upon the bed behind him and got up. He was never one for violence, but ever since the dark angel came into his room he had lost all emotions – he no longer felt fear, hate, love or sympathy.

He was chosen by the dark angel to carry out a special mission; he had to rid the world from certain people. They weren't human, the dark angel told him, but demons. Demons that had to be sent back to the fires of hell and he was the only one that could send them back.

His name was Godfrey Williams, but today his name would be abbreviated to _God_.

Mother of two

Gladys Adams was a single mother of two. Her husband passed away three years earlier in a motor vehicle accident after a drunk driver lost control of the other vehicle. It was hard on her, but even harder on her two young boys, Jack and Jesse. They were twins, but weren't identical and had just turned ten – born ten minutes apart.

She brewed a pot of coffee and prepared each boy a bowl of cereal while the two boys sat at the kitchen table. Jack was a morning person and told his mother about the strange dream he had the night before, while Jesse on the other hand wasn't a morning person. He sat quietly in his chair yawning every few minutes and wished his brother would shut up until at least eleven AM to give his body a chance to wake up and catch up with the rest of the world.

Gladys handed them each a bowl of cereal. Jack kept talking in between mouthfuls of cereal; talking about flying dinosaurs and aliens and all sorts of strange things he saw in his dream the night before while his mother nodded and cleaned the counter. Jesse hated it when his brother babbled so much in the morning and rolled his eyes at the stupid dream stories as he ate his cereal.

Gladys poured herself a cup of coffee and nodded at the sound of Jack's voice as she walked over to the kitchen table and sat down. She took a sip of the coffee as she listened to Jack's story with little to no attention and savoured the decadent taste of coffee.

_Why does Jack talk so much in the mornings?_ She thought. She just wanted a bit of quiet before heading off to the corporate jungle. She knew it was wrong of her to think bad about her son. He was the splitting image of her father – he too was a morning person and talked nonstop from the moment he woke up.

Her mind drifted off to happier days when her husband was still alive. He was a hopeless romantic and won her heart by delivering exactly one hundred roses to her office while they were dating. Each rose had a little note tied to it indicating one thing he loved about her and it took her two hours to read each and every note.

Her phone beeped and her mind was jerked back to reality. She reached for her phone in her handbag – it was a text from Alex. He was a guy she started seeing about a month earlier, and though he was nothing like her late husband, she adored him.

The text said that he couldn't wait to see her that evening and a smile snuck onto her face as she put the phone away. Her boys didn't know about Alex and it didn't feel like the right time to tell them.

"Come on boys." Gladys said, "Finish your cereal. We have to get going or you will be late for school."

"I don't want to go back to school." Jesse sighed.

"You're just used to sleeping in. You will get used to going to school again."

Secretly she was glad that school break was over. She had to pay a babysitter to watch the boys each day while she was at work and it made a dent in her pocket.

"Aren't you excited to see all your friends again?" Gladys asked.

"Jack's my friend."

"Surely you have other friends?"

Jesse shook his head. Jack was his best friend. Other kids only picked on him so he sought solace in his brother's friendship.

Gladys nodded and tried to hide the fact that she was worried about him. He needed to make friends with more boys his own age. He spent almost every waken moment with his brother and she was afraid that he might form an obsession with his brother one day – she read about it once in an article.

"Let's go." Gladys said.

She gulped down the last of her coffee. The two boys groaned as she got up, grabbed their bags and placed their bowls in the sink.

"I know you'll have a great day at school." Gladys said.

Gladys pulled into her parking spot outside the Johnson Incorporated building and placed a visor in the windshield to keep out the sun and got out of her car. She walked across the vast parking lot towards the main entrance and took in a bit of the fresh morning air.

On her way she passed a security check point on a sidewalk and the security guard with a great big smile which was met by one from her side. The guard's name was Freddie and he had been working there for as long as she could remember. He was there every morning to meet her with a warm greeting and took pride in his menial job.

She stared up at the building in front of her; it reached up into the sky eleven floors high and blocked most of the sun as it rose to the east. She worked on the second floor and she was glad she did. Sometimes the old elevator would act up and be out of order for days meaning that people had to use the stairs to get to their offices – not an easy task for some of the more overweight colleagues.

She entered through the main entrance and another security guard sitting behind the front desk greeted her with a warm smile.

"Good morning." The guard greeted.

"Morning."

She walked over to the elevator.

"It's out of order again." The guard said.

"Again?"

"Yeah. Pete has gone to print out a sign for us to put up."

"It's the second time this month. When are they replacing this ancient elevator?"

The guard raised his shoulders and shook his head.

She was one of the lucky ones who had only a few flights of stairs awaiting her.

"At least it's a short climb." Gladys said.

She walked over to the stairs and made her way up the flights of stairs.

The office space on the second floor was an open plan floor with twenty cubicles and hers was the third one to the left near the window as one entered.

She went to her cubicle and put down her bag. Her desk was a neat mess of paperwork, a computer and a framed picture of her two boys and a not-so-impressive view of the parking area and the few trees that lined it.

A skinny girl called Alice Simpson came running up to her. She was so skinny that if she turned sideways she'd disappear for a moment. She was the office gossip and all her stories always ended with, _just don't tell anybody else..._

"You won't believe what happened." Alice exclaimed excited.

"Good morning to you too."

"Yeah yeah." Alice said rushed, "Anyway, there is a rumour going round that one of the girls on this floor is a skank."

"What do you mean?"

"Someone's having an affair." Alice whispered.

Alice folded her arms across her chest and raised an eyebrow, trying to lure interest from Gladys, but she wasn't biting.

"Who?" Gladys asked.

_It worked,_ Alice thought.

"I don't know. I'm trying to find out, but you know me – I hate a gossip. Oh, did I tell you that I saw Timothy cheating on his diet the other day? I saw him sneaking a donut from beneath his desk. It was one of those cream filled donuts with the icing sugar topping."

Gladys wasn't in the mood for Alice's stories on a Monday morning, but didn't want to seem rude so she nodded as if listening; all the while thinking about what to wear that evening for her date. Alice's rambling faded away and then re-emerged. The stories Alice told were always about other people and never about Alice or her private life. She was clearly starved for conversation like someone who had no real human interaction at home.

"And then I said that's not true." Alice continued, "Sarah's not the one who was driving that night. She was way too wasted and so her brother Jimmy drove – but I think Jimmy was drunk as well – I'm not too sure since I had a few drinks myself."

Alice paused for a moment, giving Gladys false hope that it was the end of the conversation, but then that was always the case with Alice.

"Wait," Alice said in thought, "What was I talking about again?"

Alice thought for a moment and then continued.

"Oh, that's right." Alice said, "Sarah was so drunk that she slept with her own brother! Can you believe that?"

"No I can't." Gladys said humdrum, "Who is Sarah again?"

"I mean how drunk can a person be? Imagine sleeping with your brother."

Alice's face contorted at the thought of sleeping with her cross-eyed brother and then she cringed.

Gladys couldn't take it any longer and knew that if she were to stay sane she'd have to get away from Alice before she smacks the woman in the face with a stapler.

"Alice," Gladys said, "It's been great catching up, but I have a report I have to get working on."

"Oh," Alice said foolishly, "Right. No problem. Chat later?"

"Sure." Gladys lied.

"Just don't tell anybody else what I just told you..."

Alice turned and skipped back to her cubicle as Gladys sat down behind her desk and glanced at the picture of her two boys. The picture was taken at a park near their house a few weeks before her husband died. Those were happier times.

Her life was finally improving. She met a caring man whom she was falling in love with. She still haven't introduced him to her sons as she felt they weren't ready yet – but soon. She didn't them to think that she was trying to replace their father and at their age their imagination could run wild.

Her mobile phone rang. She reached for it. It was Alex. She smiled as she answered the call.

"Good morning sexy." She whispered.

"Good morning sexy. I just called to say that I miss you and I can't wait to see you tonight."

"I miss you too." Gladys said, "And I've been looking forward to tonight the entire weekend."

"I don't see why I can't come over. I'm sure your boys will understand."

"I know, but I don't think they're ready yet. I don't want them to think I am trying to replace their father because I'm not."

"I get that." Alex said, "I guess I can wait. It's just you told me so much about them that I feel I know them like they were my own. I have the perfect evening planned. We're going to see that new movie _In Love We Trust_ followed by dinner at _Romano's Italian Restaurant._ "

"And after dinner?"

"What happens after dinner is up to you." Alex said beguilingly.

"I like the sound of that."

"So I'll pick you up at seven?"

"Sure. I'll call the babysitter later just to confirm."

"Great." Alex said, "Kisses."

Alex hung up. Gladys wanted to say she loved him, but didn't want the first time she said it to be over the phone. She also didn't want to be the one to say it first. What if he didn't say it back? She would feel like a fool for rushing it.

The Casanova

Matt lay in his bed soaking up the early morning sun that crept into his bedroom. He lay on his stomach as the alarm clock went off. He hit the snooze button, but too aggressively and the radio alarm fell to the floor.

He groaned and rolled over onto his back. He hated Mondays. His weekends consisted of nonstop partying and seducing women as he was a bachelor and enjoying every moment of his single life. Over the past weekend he had sex with three different women – two of them at the same time.

He sat upright on the edge of the bed and rubbed his eyes. His head was still a bit dizzy from the binge drinking and his mouth tasted of vomit, lubrication and pizza –though he couldn't remember eating pizza.

"Come on Matt." He told himself, "Get your ass out of bed."

He got up and walked over to the closet, picked out a blue suit, got dressed and marinated himself in aftershave. Marinating was the best way to hide the lingering smell of a great weekend.

He entered the bathroom and brushed his teeth and was relieved when the odd mixture of tastes was gone from his mouth. He stared at himself in the mirror for a moment; he looked quite good for someone who only had about six hours' of sleep the entire weekend and decided not to shave as the day-growth beard complimented the suit.

"Off to the coalmine." Matt told his reflection.

Matt's studio apartment was only a few blocks down the street from the Johnson Incorporated building so he walked to work every day.

As he walked across the parking lot he waved at Freddie the security guard stationed at the wooden outpost for the past who-knows-how-many years.

He entered the building and smiled at the security guard behind the reception desk.

"Morning." Matt greeted.

"Morning sir. Elevator is not working today."

"No problem." Matt said with confidence, "I'm young and a few flights of stairs don't intimidate me."

Matt flashed a bold smile at the security guard and made his way up the stairs – skipping a few stairs at a time.

Matt worked on the third floor, but each morning he'd pop in on the second floor and flirt with the ladies he believed were lusting after him – though none of them were to his liking. Being one of the sexiest guys in the building had its perks. Women – and the occasional gay guy – would jump at the opportunity to assist him with anything he wanted. Some of the older women on the second floor lusted after him and didn't hide it very well. He loved the attention and would seek out any type of limelight. In this universe he was Dorian Grey and loving it.

He walked over to Gladys's cubicle just as she finished a call on her mobile. He always liked her with her long red hair and silky white skin. She was a real beauty for someone who had two boys and the pinnacle of what a woman should be. He'd try over and over to get her to go out with him, but she declined every time, but it didn't stop him from trying. Sooner or later she would give in to his charm. She was his _Moby Dick_ and one day is one day...

"Good morning." Matt greeted.

Gladys looked up, but wasn't really surprised to see him as he came around every morning. Some of the other women would lean over their cubicle walls to get a look at the hunky man who worked on the third floor, but Gladys, however, showed little interest as she knew what kind of party animal he was.

"Morning Matt." Gladys greeted.

"How was your weekend?"

"It was too short."

She always tried to keep her responses to a minimal; hoping that he'd pick up that she wasn't interested in a twenty six year old male slut.

"Mine too." Matt said, "I had many functions I had to attend and people I had to meet."

"Sounds fun."

"It was. It would've been more fun if you were there with me."

"I'm seeing someone." Gladys said bluntly.

"It can't be serious if this is the first I hear of it. When did this happen?"

"A while back." Gladys said.

"Just because you settled for the next best thing doesn't mean I'll give up. I'll get you to go out with me sooner or later."

Matt noticed Alice was approaching rapidly down the aisle. He hated her. She was so dorky and desperate and was one woman he definitely didn't want to talk to.

"Morning Matt." Alice greeted with a big smile.

"Morning." Matt said bluntly.

He just wanted the bag of bones to go away. She seemed starved of food and sex and wasn't his cup of coffee.

"How was your weekend?" Alice asked.

"Fine."

"Mine was lonely." Alice said candidly, "My vibrator broke."

It was a little too much information for Matt. Did she break because she used it too often? He cringed at the idea and turned back to Gladys. Perhaps if he ignored Alice she'd leave? He'd rather not risk it. The sooner he left the sooner he would get the image of Alice and sex toys out of his head.

"I've got to go." Matt said to Gladys, "Have a great day."

Matt touched her shoulder as he left and she felt like jerking her shoulder away, but resisted. She could see Alice and three other women were lusting after Matt as he left and could never quite understand why.

"What do you see in that boy?" Gladys asked.

"He's so sexy... I just want one night with him. He's had almost all of the girls on his floor and rumour is that he's quite _big_ and knows how to please a woman. I just hope he is circumcised. I hate an uncut one. I bet he is circumcised."

"I feel dirty when he talks to me." Gladys said.

"I don't understand why he's so interested in you. He can have any other woman on this floor, but he only talks to you. And the _way_ he talks to you... It sounds like he wants to take you out on a date – the other girls he simply bangs in his car or in the supply room. You have a special place in his heart."

"I'm not interested in him." Gladys said, "He's too young for me. And besides I think Alex and I are going steady."

"Really? Is he the one with the crooked eyes? Oh wait, that's my brother. Is he the one with the red hair?"

"Alex has black hair."

"Wasn't there one with red hair?"

"No." Gladys said.

Her thoughts drifted away to happy days with her husband. He too had red hair. It was a rare combination – two red heads falling in love.

"Not for a long time." Gladys said in thought.

The Elevator is out of order

The alarm went off, but Elias still wanted to sleep. It was four in the morning and the cold was seeping in through the broken window. Some kids threw out the window the night before and he mended it with duct tape and card board, but the chilly evening wind cut through it like a knife.

"Elias." Martha, his wife said next to him, "Get up. You don't want to miss your bus."

Elias had his face buried in the pillow and wanted to stay there forever.

"Just five more minutes."

"You missed your bus the last time you stayed in bed for five more minutes, "Martha reminded him, "You had to take the next bus and got to work ten minutes late. You almost lost your job."

Elias rolled onto his back and stretched his limbs. Getting up at four in the morning five days a week for almost seven years takes a toll on the body and he was getting old now.

He got up and lit the candle that stood on a little table next to the bed. He and Martha lived in a one room shack in an informal settlement about twenty miles outside of the city and had very little earthly possessions besides the bed. Not that they needed anything else except each other and the love of God to get them through the day.

Just like many of the other men in the informal settlement, Elias had to get up early to get to work in the city.

He quietly put on his security guard uniform, but paused when he heard Sophia turn in her crib. He turned to the crib that stood next to the bed on Martha's side and glanced down at their sixteen month old baby who looked like an angel as she lay sleeping on her back.

"Is Sophia awake?"

"No." Elias said in a hushed tone, "Go back to sleep."

Elias leaned in and kissed Martha on the forehead. She was a wonderful wife and always made sure he woke up every morning in time as to catch his bus and then she would stay at home with the baby. Martha used to work as cleaner at one of the magistrate courts until she lost one arm and sight in one eye during a bombing. The intended targets of the bombing were drug lords that appeared that day and she just happened to be cleaning at the wrong place at the wrong time.

The chilly air tugged at Elias's soul as he walked down the dusty road of the informal settlement and glanced at other men who were leaving their shacks and making their way to their minimum wage jobs to put much needed food on the table.

Elias stared up at the full moon as he walked and longed to see the sun rise _before_ getting to work. He left for work while it was still dark and got home after dark.

He made his way to the bus that stood at the terminus at the end of the unpaved road. The bus trip was long and cold and the windows of the bus fogged up from passenger breath that eventually warmed up the creaking, old bus.

Elias rubbed his hands together for some heat and watched the informal settlement move by outside the window; giving way to the freeway, suburbs and then finally an hour later the city streets.

Elias got to the Johnson Incorporated building just after five thirty and had another ten minutes before he had to report for duty. He was a man that took pride in his work and reported for duty even when he was early, but his pride also prevented him from claiming overtime.

He walked across the parking lot and glanced at the security outpost; Freddie wasn't on duty yet and always arrived just in time.

He walked towards the main entrance and saw one of the night guards taking a smoke break outside the entrance. He hated it when they did that as the smoke got carried into the building by the morning breeze. They might just as well be standing inside.

"Good morning." Elias greeted.

The night guard just nodded and took another drag from his cigarette as Elias entered the lobby and walked over to the reception desk. He sat down behind the desk as the night guard entered.

"I guess I can clock off." The night guard said, "Since you are a few minutes early I can leave a few minutes earlier. Oh by the way, the elevator's not working. You have to log a call to technical support for them to send someone to repair it."

The night guard walked around the reception desk, grabbed his bag and left. Elias sat there for a moment in silence; dreading the telephonic battle with technical support. It was the second time in one month that the elevator wasn't working. He had the unfortunate task of informing everyone that they would have to use the stairs for the next few days. Most people didn't mind, but the higher up in the building they worked the more agitated they became.

Maybe the elevator had overcome its kink and was working? He got up, walked over to the elevator, pressed the button and waited a moment, but nothing happened. He pressed the button again and then tried to pry open the doors.

"Elevator not working again?" Alice asked behind him.

Her voice nearly made Elias jump right out of his skin. He turned to face the deathly skinny girl with the freckles and glasses and smiled.

"Miss Simpson." Elias gasped, "You nearly gave me a heart attack."

"I'm sorry Elias."

"You're working overtime again?"

"Every day." Alice said with a smile, "Have a good one."

Alice made her way up the flights of stairs to her office as she hummed a song that got stuck in her head the night before, but the more she hummed it, the more it got stuck in her head until she finally had to sing it out loud.

Alice is no longer in Wonderland

The sound of the alarm beeping next to her felt like a sledgehammer banging against Alice's head. She had little sleep during the night and had even less energy to get out of bed. She felt like the carpet was made of lava and if she got out of bed she'd die.

She stared at the alarm with bloodshot red eyes and half of her face buried in the pillow; it showed that the current time was five AM. She finally decided she couldn't take the annoying beeping sound anymore and reached for the _off_ button.

If only she could sleep a little bit longer... She knew it wasn't a possibility and slowly dragged herself out of bed and got dressed.

She brushed her hair in front of the mirror and tried to make herself look more like a human and less like a gargoyle. Why couldn't she just wake up and look pretty like the girls in the movies? She slapped on a bit of makeup, left the bedroom and banged on the first door to her right down the hallway.

"Wendy, get up." Alice ordered.

Wendy was her younger, unemployed sister that stayed with her; spending most of her days sleeping and contribute little to the household she was bleeding dry.

When there was no answer, Alice pushed open the door. Wendy's bedroom smelt of sweat and cigarettes and the culprit of the smells lay with her back to the door; snug under the covers.

"Wendy." Alice insisted, "Get up."

Wendy groaned from underneath the covers, but didn't move. Alice looked around the room from where she stood. It was in total disarray with clothes that lay scattered all over the place.

"I've told you I don't like you smoking in the house."

"It's not your house." Wendy mumbled.

She hated her sister for saying stuff like that to her. While she worked ten hours a day to feed them and pay the bills, Wendy stayed in bed most of the day. If only Wendy would get up and find a job they might be able to afford a nurse and they could stop buying food with food stamps.

"Get up." Alice insisted one last time.

Alice shut the door with a loud bang; hoping it would get Wendy out of bed. She went downstairs and entered the kitchen and was surprised to find her mother, Rita, sitting at the kitchen table. Her mother was in her early seventies and a skinny shadow of the woman she once was.

"Mom?" Alice asked confused, "Why are you up this early?"

Rita looked up and smiled.

"I wanted to tell you to have a great day. I always miss you when you leave so I decided to get up a bit earlier."

Alice walked over to her mother and gave her a kiss on the forehead. How she longed for the good old days. She missed her mother. She barely saw her with all the hours she put in at the office.

"Can I make you some coffee?" Alice asked.

"That would be nice. So how's work?"

Alice walked over to the counter and placed some filter coffee in the coffee machine.

"It's good." Alice lied.

She didn't have the heart to tell her mother that she was exhausted from all the overtime. She didn't want to worry her mother.

"Did I tell you Jim came over the other day?" Rita asked.

"Who's Jim again?"

"He's my bridge partner. I introduced him to you the other night when the bridge club was held here."

"Oh, that's right."

In fact, Alice had no idea who Jim was. Old people all looked alike to her and needed to wear name-tags if you asked her.

"He's such a sweet man." Rita said, "His wife died a couple of years ago so he's on the market again. I have to admit he's still quite handsome. He brought over some donuts and old movies. His wife died a couple of years ago – did I tell you?"

"Yes you did."

Alice poured them each a mug of coffee and sat down next to her mother.

"Did I tell you Jim came over the other day?" Rita asked.

Rita was in a loop-period which frustrated Alice. This was not her mother. This was a shell. She longed for days before the disease kicked in – when her mother was still her mother.

"Yes you did."

"I did?" Rita asked confused, "Oh."

Rita took a sip of her coffee and smiled.

"This is good coffee." Rita said, "Did you buy it from that coffee merchant down the street?"

"Amiance?"

"Yes.".

"No." Alice said, "They closed down a few years back mom, remember."

Rita thought for a moment and then nodded. She took another sip of coffee.

"Where's that sister of yours?" Rita asked, "She never comes to visit anymore. I worry about her. Is she doing well in school? Are her grades picking up?"

"She's doing just fine. In fact, she's here."

"She is?" Rita asked excited, "Well where is she then?"

"She's upstairs. I told her to come downstairs, but you know her."

"What if something happened to her?" Rita asked worried.

Alice knew it was a bad idea to upset her mother and decided to play along to keep her calm.

"I'm sure she is fine, but I will go call her."

Alice got up and left the kitchen. As she walked across the living room she heard a shattering sound coming from the kitchen. She turned around and ran back; hoping that nothing bad had happened to her mother.

She entered the kitchen and saw Rita standing at the sink. A shattered mug lay in a pool of coffee on the floor. Rita stared out through the kitchen window.

"Mom?" Alice asked cautiously.

Rita slowly turned around. She had a knife in her hand and a bewildered look in her eyes and Alice knew exactly what to expect next.

"Who are you?" Rita asked dazed and confused, "What are you doing in my house?"

Rita raised the knife and stepped closer as Alice motioned with her hands.

"Mom." Alice said calmly, "It's me – Alice. I'm your daughter."

The bewildered look stayed lodged in Rita's eyes and she kept her distance from the stranger that stood in her kitchen.

"I don't know what game you're playing." Rita warned, "But I will run you through with this knife if you don't leave."

"Wendy!" Alice called out over her shoulder, "I need you!"

Alice turned back to her mother and glanced at the knife in Rita's shivering hand.

"Mom." Alice pleaded, "Please. Look at me. I'm your eldest daughter. We _just_ had coffee."

Rita seemed to have no idea what the woman was talking about and kept pointing the knife at her with a quivering hand.

"You told me about Jim?" Alice asked.

Wendy rushed into the kitchen, but halted upon seeing their mother holding out a knife. Rita pointed the knife at Wendy and then, in turn, at Alice.

"Mom?" Wendy asked, "Put down the knife."

Rita stared at the two women while still pointing the knife at them. It seemed almost as if she recognized Wendy to Alice's disappointment and then she slowly lowered the knife.

"Wendy?" Rita asked confused.

Rita looked at the knife in her hand and then dropped it to the floor as Wendy let out a sigh of relief, walked over to Rita and embraced her.

Alice stood there in silence. There were no words to describe what she felt. She worked her ass off to keep a roof over their head and her mother remembers Wendy? Why was she still doing this to herself? Why was life handling her like shit?

The working day commences

Matt sat down at his desk in his cubicle that was larger than the cubicles on the second floor – not by design, but by him moving his cubicle walls over a couple of months without people noticing it. He switched on his computer, but he was in no mood to start working. His day felt incomplete if he didn't flirt with at least three women before commencing his day, but Mondays he was too exhausted to flirt with meaning.

He glanced over the cubicle wall and his eyes searching for the next victim of his charm, but everyone around him seemed too busy worrying about work to pay attention to him. The people on his floor were used to his flirting, unlike the girls on the second floor. He had to find someone to talk to and spotted Michelle approaching; a chubby woman with the thick glasses and though she wasn't his type she'd have to do for now. As Michelle approached, he jumped up from his chair and stuck out his chest until his shirt stretched tightly over the contours of his muscular torso.

"Morning Michelle." Matt greeted with a wide smile.

Michelle seemed flustered and out of place; looking around her whether there was someone else around with the same name as hers. She wasn't used to _Mister Casanova_ even looking at her let alone knowing her name and taking the time to talk to her.

"You're talking to me?" Michelle asked confused.

"Your name is Michelle, right?"

He was pretty sure he had her in the palm of his hand.

"Yeah." Michelle said cautiously; as if holding in a fart.

Matt smiled his pearly white teeth at her and winked which made her feel uncomfortable.

"So how are you today?" Matt asked.

Michelle had a few files in her hands and started flipping through them to seem busy. She couldn't care less that he pretended to be interested in her day because knew all there was to know about him. People talked and he was the subject of many conversations –the way he used women only for pleasure and never taking the time to get to know them.

"Fine, thank you." Michelle said.

Michelle slowly continued on her way. She wanted to run away as fast as her chubby legs would allow, but her knees would give way under her weight if she tried. She tried running once when she was late for work and her left knee simply gave way and she plunged down face first in the street. It's true what they say; the bigger they are the harder they fall – and boy did she fall hard. She even left a crack in the concrete.

"Wait." Matt pleaded.

Matt walked alongside her as she scattered away – quite fast for a ball of lard with legs – and he had trouble keeping up with her.

"We've been working together for two years now and we hardly know each other."

"It's been six years." She corrected him.

_Just goes to show_ , she thought, _he hardly even knew that they worked together for six years. What was this sudden obsession of his to befriend her?_ She hated Mondays, but she hated players even more and he was quickly getting on her nerves. Did she look like the desperate type who would fall head over heels in love if he simply greeted her? She was _not_ that desperate despite being single for three years.

"Really?" Matt asked shocked.

"Yeah. It's been nice chatting to you, but I really have to get to my office. Have a great day."

Matt stopped and watched as she walked away without even looking back. He was ditched by a chubby unattractive woman. Was he losing his touch? He'd never received the cold shoulder from anyone – not even ugly women. Maybe Michelle was the problem? She was clearly a lesbian or she would've been all over him.

Eric came approached from around a corner, but as soon as he spotted Matt, he turned the other way, but it was too late as Matt saw him.

"Eric!" Matt called out.

Eric sighed and slowly turned around. Matt was one of those men who were comfortable enough with his own sexuality to flirt with gay men – Eric on the other hand didn't like Matt's flirting as he knew it wasn't sincere. Matt gave men a bad name and used his charm on anyone just to get what he wanted and wasn't really interested in the person he was flirting with. Matt might've been attractive, but he was _not_ Eric's type. He preferred men with cappuccino-coloured skin.

Matt walked up to Eric and smiled and then patted him on the back; allowing his hand to slide down to Eric's ass, but Eric shoved his hand away.

"Morning sweetheart." Matt teased.

The words made Eric's skin crawl like hearing an old man in a park try and flirt with children.

"What do you want Matt?" Eric asked annoyed.

"What every guy wants from you."

Matt paused a moment for dramatic effect and then continued, "The stationary I requisitioned last week."

Eric tried his very best not to roll his eyes at Matt's wink – he was just one big cliché on legs. How any woman could fall for him was beyond Eric's comprehension.

"I have to process your papers first." Eric said.

As Eric turned to leave, Matt grabbed him by the arm, pulled him closer until their faces were an inch apart and then he flashed Eric a seductive smile. He was sure he had Eric in his clutches and was not about to let him go. His charm was sure to get him what he wanted without paperwork.

"Wait a minute cutie." Matt said, "Surely you can make an exception for me? Your old pal?"

Eric was seconds away from hitting Matt with a stapler – if only he had one handy. He just wanted Matt to leave him alone and slipped out of Matt's grip like a worm wriggling out of a soggy old piece of bread.

"Fine."

"I'll make it up to you." Matt said and winked.

"Whatever." Eric said with a sigh, "Follow me."

He led Matt to the stationary room on the next floor and Matt smiled as they walked. His charm had yet to let him down. He knew Eric lusted after him, that's why his charm worked and not only was he about to get his requisitioned stationary without paperwork, it made him feel a bit better about the fact that he bombed at flirting on the second floor earlier that morning.

Elias was relieved that the day was a quiet one. Most of the staff took the stairs without complaining too much and there weren't any day visitors yet. Day visitors meant completing visitor logs which he hated as he was a slow writer and day visitors sometimes got agitated when he took long to complete the registers.

As soon as the work day commenced, he called to find out what time the technicians would arrive to work on the elevator. He was told they'd get there just after ten AM. All he had to do was hold out for the technicians – thereafter the rest of the day should be smooth sailing. He glanced at his wristwatch and decided to start his second round seeing that there was nothing much else to do.

He reached for his radio.

"Freddie, come in." Elias said, "How are things out in the parking area?"

Freddie didn't respond. Instead, Elias heard an unsettling bang sound over the radio followed by the sound echoing outside. What could it be? It sounded stifled. Did something fall over in the outpost?

"Freddie, come in." Elias called again.

There was no response. It was unlike Freddie not to respond. Freddie took his work serious.

"Freddie?" Elias called again.

Something beyond the glass doors caught Elias's attention; someone was approaching from the parking bay, but he wasn't sure as to what he was seeing. The figure was still too far away, but as the figure came closer he noticed that the person was wearing a sinister clown mask and had one hand behind his back as he opened the door. Without saying a word, the person strutted towards the reception desk and brought the shotgun into sight from behind his desk.

Elias stood up and reached for the panic button, but before he could press it the clown cocked the gun and pulled the trigger. Elias's head shattered into a mush of brain matter and skull fragments that spattered against the wall and blood spurted as his lifeless body fell to the floor. Blood gushed out from his neck and formed a pool around the corpse that still baulked on the floor.

The clown stood for a moment with the shotgun still raised and watched as the headless body came to rest while the last of the blood gushed out onto the floor. He wasn't remorseful, but instead listening whether someone heard the second shot. When he was sure the coast was clear, the clown lowered the smoking gun and walked over to the reception desk, crouched down next to the headless corpse – taking care not to step in the growing pool of blood – and reached for the keys attached to the corpse's belt and removed it.

The clown walked back to the main doors, locked them and jangled the doors to make sure they were secured before he switched off the lights.

This building would be his playground for the rest of the day and he wanted no interruptions from the outside world.
Gladys tried her best to stay calm, but she couldn't take it anymore. She had coffee before leaving home and for every cup of coffee she had her body wanted to go to the loo twice, so she finally got up from her desk and walked down the aisle of cubicles. Alice spotted her and jumped up as she walked by; hoping to get some new gossip to Gladys's anguish.

"Where are you going?" Alice asked.

_Try to be discreet and the world will ask for an announcement,_ Gladys thought to herself. Why couldn't Alice keep to herself?

"I'm going to the ladies."

"Okay." Alice said with a smile, "Mum's the word."

Alice slid back down into her seat. Sometimes she wondered whether she seemed desperate for conversation at work as Gladys also recently started cutting their conversations short like the rest of the girls on their floor. With her mother's illness and her useless younger sister she had little interaction with adults. Gladys was the closest thing she had to a friend and they weren't even that close to begin with.

Gladys left the work space and entered the hallway that led to the restrooms and as she made her way to the restroom she saw a shadow creeping up against the walls of the stairwell. At first she dismissed it as belonging to a colleague that had to use the stairs to get to their office, but then a moment passed and she noticed a sinister grinning clown mask approaching her from the shadows of the stairwell with a shotgun in his hand that dangled next to his leg. She cautiously backed up, but found herself cornered against a wall. She warily gestured with her shaky hands and tried to stay calm, though she was screaming inside. Who was behind the mask and what did they want? This couldn't be happening. She could think of nothing but her two boys. If she stayed calm and did what he wanted she'd live through the ordeal.

The clown raised the shotgun as he got closer to her and aimed it at her face with a relentless motion as she tried to back up as close to the wall as she could. Her heart started racing at the sight of the nozzle in her face and she started weeping.

"Please." She whispered, "I'm a single mother of two young boys."

The clown stared at her for a moment as if reconsidering and lowered the shotgun an inch, but kept staring at her with those dark and vacant mask eyes. Her heart was beating uncontrollably as if trying to break free from her chest, her mouth was dry and her inner thighs wet. The sound of her own urine dripping onto the carpet made Gladys weep as she grasped the severity of the situation. She was facing a masked gunman who had the power to end her life at any moment. She fought back the tears and tried to stay calm... All she could think of was her boys and all she could hear was her heartbeat... All she could see was the shotgun as he raised it again and she found herself staring into the darkened abyss of the double nozzle.

"Please." Gladys pleaded with tears running down her face, "My boys won't understand."

The clown squeezed the trigger and a loud bang echoed through the hallway. Somewhere someone screamed as Gladys looked down at her waist; her guts spilt out from a bloody hole in her abdomen as she tried to grab onto her splitting body. Her knees grew weak and she collapsed to the floor; choking on her own blood as she gasped for air and her grip on her bloody abdomen slipped away. She stared up at the clown with wide eyes and gurgled blood as her life slipped away and the world faded to black.

The clown tiled his head and stared down at bloody woman at his feet until she stopped twitching and making throat noises. He never really liked Gladys. He had no reason _not_ to like her... he just never did.

The clown cocked the shotgun, stepped over the corpse on the floor and walked down the hallway towards the entrance of the work space while keeping the shotgun raised as he entered the workspace of cubicles. As he entered he saw a man standing with files in his hands. The man looked up from his work and at the door with uncertainty as to what had happened when they heard the bang. When he saw the malevolent clown with the gun he completely froze and dropped the files to the floor. He stood frozen in fear and was unable to move any part of his body, except his lips that were quivering. He could hardly breathe and tried to utter anything, but nothing came out.

"Oh my God!" Alice screeched and ducked beneath her desk.

The clown pointed the shotgun at the frozen man and pulled the trigger. Upon impact, the man's chest exploded in a gush of blood and guts and he tumbled backwards onto his desk. Everyone started screaming and people ducked underneath their desks while others scattered for safety while shielding their heads.

The clown stood calmly amongst the panicking people and loaded his shotgun.

Alice sat beneath her desk; cowering as close to the wall as she could and tried not to make a sound – clasping her mouth with both hands as if to choke any sounds from coming out. She watched as a female colleague came running towards her cubicle. A shot rung through the air and the woman fell into a bloody mess in front of Alice's cubicle with her wide open eyes staring at Alice whom watched as the woman's pupils constricted and her life slipped away.

Alice covered her mouth, shut her eyes and prayed to God that no sound escaped her mouth. She stared at the corpse of her co-worker lying in front of her cubicle and then noticed the mud covered boots of the shooter walking pass. Alice shut her eyes tight, cringed closer to the corner beneath her desk and though her quivering hands could hold in her screams, she couldn't prevent her tears from flowing as she realized the nightmare was far from over.

_Please God, don't let him see me,_ she prayed as tears ran down her cheek.

She kept her eyes shut and prayed to God for it all to be a bad dream, but she knew it wasn't a dream as another shot echoed all around her.

Someone screamed and then another shot went off. Alice's entire body juddered at the sound of the shot and she clasped her mouth even tighter when another shot echoed all around. It was really happening – there was a crazed gunman going around shooting the people she worked with.

She opened her eyes and glanced out through the opening of her cubicle – she could see the doorway, but nobody was running towards the doorway. Why weren't they running away?

Another scream followed by a shot made Alice realize that she had to get out of there or she could be next.

The sound of the shotgun being fired echoed through the air and made Alice tremble beneath the desk. Her palms were sweaty and her hands were shaking. She didn't want to die today and knew if she stayed beneath her table there might be a chance the shooter could find her. If she left the sanctuary of her desk, he might see her. Either way she was in harm's way.

What was going on? Who was the man? Why was he doing this? Where were the police? Did anyone get a chance to even call the police?

Alice glanced over at her purse that lay on its side a few feet away. She could use her mobile phone to call the police if only she could get her terrified body to do what her brain tells it to. She made sure that the coast was clear and then reached for the purse, grabbed it and retreated back underneath the desk.

' _Please! Don't!'_ someone pleaded and they were silenced by a gunshot.

She searched through the contents of her bag for her phone and dialled 911.

"911 Emergency."

"My name is Alice Simpson." Alice whispered into the phone.

"What is the state of your emergency, ma'am?"

How could the operator be so calm? Alice could barely keep it together.

"There's a masked gunman at my work." Alice whispered.

"What is your location, ma'am?"

"Johnson's Incorporated Building, Everclear Road."

"Is anyone hurt?"

"He's shot at least five people."

' _No!'_ Someone screamed in the background as another shot was fired off. Alice tried not to cry and covered her mouth with her left hand again.

"Ma'am?" The operator asked concerned, "Are you somewhere safe?"

"I'm hiding under my desk." Alice wept softly.

"Can you get out?"

Alice glanced over at the doorway. If she kept to the cubicle walls and stayed low she could sneak to the door... if she moved fast. She just hoped to God that the gunman wouldn't see her.

"I think so." Alice whispered.

"Ma'am, Police are on their way to your location. I need you to either get out of the building or get somewhere safe and barricade yourself until help arrives."

Alice nodded with tears flowing down her cheeks. She couldn't get any words out – they simply died in her throat and she found it hard to concentrate knowing there is a psycho only a few feet away.

"Ma'am?" The operator asked.

"Yes." Alice whispered, "Thank you."

Alice disconnected the call and shoved the phone into her left bra cup; taking a moment to try and calm herself down. She took a few deep breaths and tried not to breathe too loudly. This was it... She had to leave the safety of the desk and get out of harm's way, but could she do it? Would she make it? Would the gunman see her? What if he saw her? Will he shoot her like the rest or would he let her go? Of course he'd shoot her! But if he found her cowering beneath her desk he'd shoot her as well just for the fun of it.

She cautiously crawled out from underneath her desk and inched closer to the edge of her cubicle, stuck her head out and glanced up and down the aisle of cubicles. There were three people lying in their own blood to her left and one to her right, but there was no sign of the gunman.

Alice stared down at the bloody corpse that lay in front of her cubicle; the woman had an expression of sheer terror still frozen on her dead, blood-spattered face that made Alice tremble with fear at the thought of her own mortality. If the gunman saw her she'd end up the same way. She probably wouldn't even get a chance to scream for mercy.

She carefully crawled over the woman's body and snuck in the direction of the doorway. She had to tread lightly as to not draw attention to herself and tried her best to retain herself. Her eyes were filled with tears and she could hardly see in front of her, but she could make out the three bodies lying further down the aisle.

The sound of footsteps approaching made her froze with fear – the gunman was heading her way. Her cubicle was too far back to turn around and the door way just out of reach. Her heart was beating as if it wanted to break out of her chest and made it hard for her to concentrate. What should she do? Should she risk going back or risk running for the door? No. She had to stay put. It was the only way he wouldn't notice her. She had to blend in with her surroundings. It was the only way.

She wiped the tears from her eyes and scurried closer to the three corpses and immersed her hand in the blood – it was still warm; reminiscent of a life taken away suddenly without merit. She was disgusted at the thought, but she smeared the blood in her hair, on her face and over her blouse as she tried not to cry.

The footsteps were getting closer and were almost on top of her... she had to move fast. The ominous sound of approaching doom made Alice hold her breath and stare at the corner cubicle further down; dreading that death might appear and spot her. She shoved one of the corpses aside and lay down amongst the other corpses; making sure her head lay in a pool of blood and as she closed her eyes, the shooter came round the corner cubicle.

' _Stay calm,'_ Alice told herself, ' _Do not move. Do not breathe and most of all, for the love of God, stop trembling! He'll see you are still alive and kill you right here!'_

Alice calmed herself by shutting out any thoughts from entering her head and her body stopped trembling. She kept her breathing as shallow as she could and opened her blood-submerged eye just a crack – hoping to see who it was. She could hear the footsteps getting closer and the sound of oxygen in the blood bubbling in her ear and as the shooter approached, she closed her submerged eye – trying to ignore the sting of the blood.

The clown masked shooter held the shotgun with both hands as he strode down the aisle of cubicles towards Alice. The second floor was quiet. He had taken out every last one that hid beneath their desks praying to God to save them. There was no God coming to their aid. They all _had_ to die. The dark angel told him so. He was given instructions to send every demon in the building back to the fiery hell they came from. They were posing as innocent humans, but he knew the truth.

He stared down at the four bloody corpses in front of him with his dark and vacant eyes before stepping over the first corpse and in the pool of blood next to Alice's head, but she didn't even twitch. He took another step and stepped on Alice's right hand and though she was screaming on the inside she didn't move or make a sound.

The clown lifted his foot off her hand and continued walking down the aisle as she lay motionless. Her hand was in so much pain she was sure it was broken, but she didn't dare move. She listened to the footsteps as they disappeared into the distance and when she was sure it was safe, she opened her eyes.
Where there is smoke there is a clown

Eric stood in the stationary room holding his ear up to the shut door – he was certain he heard anarchy outside; something was happening outside. He just wasn't sure _what_. Matt stood a few feet away from him with his arms folded across his chest and a raised eyebrow.

"Don't tell me to shush." Matt insisted.

"I thought I heard something."

"Like what?"

"I'm not sure." Eric said and took a step back, "Might be nothing."

Eric stared at the shut door in front of him not sure whether he should step out and investigate or stay put.

"I didn't hear anything." Matt said.

"Of course you didn't."

Eric turned to him and could see Matt wasn't really concerned with what he heard or didn't hear.

"What stationary did you request?" Eric asked.

"Two ledger books and a new stapler."

A loud thud made both of them jump and turn to face the door and the two of them stood in silence; staring at the door – both wondering what happened on the other side.

"There it is again." Eric said.

"I definitely heard it this time."

Eric cautiously approached the door and reached for the doorknob. He knew it was an absurd thing to do, but he _had_ to investigate. What if someone was injured and needed help?

"Don't." Matt said.

"Why not?"

"What if it was a bomb or something?"

"A bomb?" Eric asked annoyed, "That's ridiculous. If it were a bomb, we would hear people screaming. Do you hear screams?"

A couple of screams echoed on the other side of the door and then there was another loud bang that made Eric jump back with a jerk. Was Matt right? The bang was loud enough to be a bomb, but it was over too quickly to be a bomb.

"What the hell was that?" Matt asked growing concerned.

"Definitely not a bomb."

There was another loud bang which sounded farther away this time and Eric stepped closer to the door again, placed his ear up against the door and listened.

"Eric..." Matt whispered.

"Hush."

Eric listened closely and tried to figure out what was happening on the other side of the closed door, but he couldn't hear much. It sounded quiet outside. Whatever happened seemed to be over until a sudden scream was silenced by another bang. It was definitely not a bomb, but something macabre was definitely happening on the other side of the door.

When Eric realized what was happening he took a step back and stared at the door with wide eyes before turning to Matt who seemed clueless as to what was happening, but was also clearly stressed.

"What is it?" Matt asked worried.

"I think someone is out there shooting people."

The words tasted like poison in his mouth and never in his life did he ever think he'd have to utter those words. It felt like a surreal dream as he stood there in a dazed state; wondering what on earth was happening on the other side. What kind of madness led to an office shooting?

"What?" Matt gasped with a tremble in his voice.

Beyond the safety of the door another scream was silenced by a gunshot and Matt stared at the door; wondering whether they were safe. He wasn't ready to die just yet and felt like a scared little kid.

"Do you think we're safe in here?" Matt whispered.

"I don't know. The only way to know is to go and assess the situation."

"Are you insane?" Matt insisted in a hushed voice, "What if you get shot out there?"

"And what if this person steps through this door? Either way we're in serious trouble."

"How can you be so calm?"

He could see Matt was on the brink of crying, but his pride was preventing even a single tear from escaping his eyes. If he cried, Matt wouldn't seem masculine anymore and he had to protect his reputation at any cost, but Eric saw right through his act to see the scared little boy inside.

"I'm scared shitless." Eric said, "But we have to stay level-headed. We don't know what we are dealing with."

Eric reached out and took a firm grip of the door knob, but Matt lay his hand on top of his.

"Eric," Matt pleaded, "Please. Don't go out there."

Eric stared at Matt a moment and wasn't impressed with the man he saw; Matt was so confident in his sexuality, but when it really mattered he had no confidence. Eric turned the knob and slowly pushed open the door.

The hallway outside the stationary room was twilit and murky and he saw nobody out in the hallway nor any signs of what might be going on. He cautiously stepped out into the hallway while Matt waited for him in the doorway like the coward he was.

Eric walked down the hallway towards the open-plan office space further down and as he passed the stairway to his left he saw a shadow moving up the stairs. He stood still not knowing what to expect, but was relieved to see Alice emerging from the shadows of the stairway.

"Eric?" Alice whispered.

"Alice? What's going on?"

Alice hurried up the stairs and shoved Eric up against the wall and out of sight from the open-plan office space. She glanced over her shoulder to make sure they weren't spotted and it was only when Eric felt his shirt was wet when he realized Alice was covered in blood.

"You're bleeding." Eric said.

"It's not my blood."

"What?"

"It's not my blood."

"What happened?"

"Keep your voice down." Alice whispered "He'll hear you."

Alice kept glancing around at the dark that surrounded them and looked like she expected the devil to jump out at them at any moment.

"Who?"

"The clown with the shotgun." Alice murmured, "There's a man with a clown mask and a shotgun going around shooting people."

Alice tried not to cry as she wiped the blood and tears from her face. She was a mess and longed to go home to her mother and just cry the rest of the day in her warm embrace.

"Everyone on the second floor is dead." Alice whispered.

He couldn't believe what he was hearing. It made no sense. It felt too surreal, but he could tell that she was telling the truth. They had to get out of the building before it was too late.

"We have to get out of here." Eric whispered.

Somewhere someone screamed and then they were silenced when the shotgun fired off a shot.

"I tried." Alice said, "He barricaded the stairway between the second and first floors and set a fire on a halfway landing. We can't get out that way."

"Shit." Eric said annoyed, "What do we do now?"

"I don't know. I called the police a while back, but I don't hear any sirens yet. I think we should hide and wait it out."

The smoke that seeped in from the stairwell was starting to irritate Eric's throat and he cupped his hands over his mouth and nose. Alice soon did the same when the smoke started choking her.

"If the shooter doesn't kill us, the smoke will." Eric said, "We won't be able to stay here."

"We head to the roof." Matt said.

Alice and Eric turned around and faced Matt who finally scraped together the courage to step out into the hallway and appeared a little bit more confident.
The Circus

A constable was cordoning off the immediate vicinity surrounding the parking lot and Johnson Incorporated building with police tape as a large group of people congregated out of curiosity and the constable had to tell some of them to step back as he cordoned the area.

"Please step back." The police constable said.

The ever growing group of people all stared at the building wondering what was happening. On the other side of the tape barrier they could see several police vehicles as well as the coroner supervising a body bag that was being carried into the back of the coroner's van.

Sergeant Wilson was in charge of overseeing the constables and the circus that came with it. He had been with the police department for over ten years and had vast experience with hostage situations. When the emergency call came in about a mask gunman in an office building, he was immediately put on the case as he had the highest success rate at getting hostages out alive.

Sergeant Wilson glanced back over his shoulder at the growing circus behind them; two news vans pulled up and the field reporters jumped out. He hated the news vultures. They could compromise everything he was working towards for a scoop.

Constable Josephs recently graduated from the Police Academy and this was his first big case. He was excited, but terrified as well. He wanted to be a policeman ever since he was a little boy and each Halloween he'd wear the same police outfit, but standing outside a building with a supposed gunman made him wonder whether he was ready.

"Sergeant?" Constable Josephs asked.

"What's the situation?" Wilson asked

"We have one confirmed deceased. A security guard we found in the outpost in the parking lot. His identity is still unknown. The area has been cordoned off."

"What do we know about the people inside?" Wilson asked.

"We know that there's a masked gunman inside. That's basically it."

"Any demands?"

"Not yet, sir."

Wilson stared up at the large building in front of them and assessed the situation at hand by scrutinizing every little detail to his disposal. The parking lot was still full of cars which meant that nobody has left the building yet. Why would nobody leave the building when there is a crazed gunman walking the aisles of the building?

Wilson walked over to the front doors with Josephs and another constable following him. Wilson inspected the glass doors and its framework and spotted thin wire that ran from the inside door handle all along the framework and disappeared into the shadows to the left.

"The doors are rigged." Wilson said.

But surely someone in a panic wouldn't have noticed the trigger and opened the door? He glanced through the glass doors and inspected the interior; the lobby seemed hazy and then he noticed a glow in the stairwell.

Wilson stepped back and assessed the building exterior again and noticed that one of the second storey windows seemed to be fogged up. A faint stream of smoke was escaping from the window of the stairwell.

"We have a fire on the inside." Wilson said.

"Sir?" Josephs asked confused.

Constable Josephs was unsure what to do next.

"Our gunman is smarter than he appears. He made sure he eliminated all means of escape by setting up a fire in the stairwell on the second floor and I bet the elevators are out of order as well."

"But why?" Josephs asked confused.

"To ensure his victims can't escape. To jump from the second floor could prove fatal. This way his victims have to hide. This is fun for him. He's enjoying every minute of this..."

Wilson turned to Josephs and knew he'd have to utter words he haven't said in years – those dreaded words that ended with six officers losing their lives back in 2003.

"Get the bomb squad." Wilson said.

He inspected the nearby buildings and said, "I want snipers stationed on the roof of the surrounding buildings. He has to pass a window at some point. Get me a blue print of this building. I want to know if there's any other way into this building. This guy wants to take his time with the killings. I think this is personal. Get me information on all employees that were let go in the past five years."

Rita sat on the sofa in the living room while the morning sun was rushing in through the window and bathed her feet. It was one of her incoherent days when she'd sit on the sofa for hours simply doing nothing, and other days she would flip through the TV channels. On her more lucid days she'd read a book, do some knit work and some days even go down to the senior citizens recreational centre.

She stared down at her hands and then at her palms; the old hands couldn't belong to her. When did she get this old? When did her body betray her to Mother Time? To her it felt like only yesterday that she was a young girl dreaming of becoming a world renowned dancer.

She looked down at the coffee table in front of her and noticed the TV remote, picked it up and studied it closely; half scared of what it might do.

She pressed a button and the TV switched on; startling her. She stared at the pictures on the tube and it took her a moment to realize what it was and then she started flipping through the channels.

TV technology might've improved, but the programming was still horrible.

Her choices came down to soap operas or talk shows. She wasn't in the mood for either and continued surfing from channel to channel.

Wendy came in and yawned as she sat down next to her mother. She didn't even bother getting out of her pyjamas and her hair was a mess. Every day Wendy would hang around the house doing nothing and then go to bed at night when Alice got home.

"What are you watching?" Wendy asked.

"Nothing really... Who are you again?"

Wendy sighed and said, "Wendy. Your daughter. I don't know why Alice can't just put you in a home."

Wendy took the remote from Rita, flipped through the channels and when she got to a news channel she stopped. The news channel was showing live footage from outside the Johnson Incorporated building. Wendy sat up straight upon recognising the building and turned up the volume to hear what was happening. The news bulletin didn't give much detail except that there was a hostage situation.

And then there were two

Eric led Alice and Matt up the smoky stairwell as each one covered their mouth and nose and tried not to breathe in any smoke. When they got to the fifth floor Eric motioned for them to step out of the stairwell.

They stepped out of the stairwell and into the vacant floor that was under construction and had sheets of shredded plastic hanging from the ceiling like curtains and the lights were out. The only light came from the windows – or at least the windows that weren't boarded up.

Eric coughed and gasped for air. His chest was burning from inhaling smoke through his fingers.

"Are you guys alright?" Eric asked.

Alice gasped for air and nodded.

"Why are we stopping?" Matt asked, "We should keep going."

"We must stop for fresh air." Eric said, "As head of the Health and Safety Committee—"

"I don't care about your committee." Matt insisted.

"You can suffer serious implications from smoke inhalation. We have to take a break for a few minutes."

Matt sighed and rolled his eyes. This was stupid. Staying put on a vacant floor could get them killed. He wanted to get out of there, but didn't want to continue on his own. He knew his chances of survival diminished drastically if he ventured off on his own and opted to stick around.

"Fine." Matt said.

Eric glanced over at Alice and saw she was still in shock. He walked over to her and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"Are you alright?" Eric asked.

"I don't think so. I saw him shoot people in cold blood. How can someone be so cruel?"

"I don't know."

"Why is this happening?"

Alice was trying her best to be brave, but her trembling body gave away her true feelings; she wanted to go home. She wanted to be with her mom and her useless sister. She didn't want to die at work. She wanted to die an old lady asleep in her bed.

"Shit happens." Matt said annoyed.

Eric gave Matt a stern look and Matt rolled his eyes again. He didn't like the fact that Alice got more attention than he did as he was used to the limelight.

"We'll get through this." Eric said, "You've done great so far. You've stayed alive so far. You'll get out of this alive. The police will come and arrest this guy."

"If he doesn't kill us all first." Matt said.

"Will you shut up?" Eric yelled out annoyed, "You're not helping."

"It's the truth." Matt said. "This psycho made sure we can't go out through the front door by setting a fire in the stairway. Do you really think he'll just let us _walk_ out of here?"

Eric stared at Matt with a frown and shook his head. Matt was heartless and seemingly brainless when fear took a hold of him.

"I can't believe I liked you once." Eric said.

Matt was shocked at the revelation and his demeanour changed completely as intrigue set in.

"What?" Matt asked shocked, "You liked me?"

"That's beside the point."

"I knew you liked me." Matt said proudly, "Every woman and gay man likes me. I knew you liked me, but wasn't sure why you'd hide it."

"Because you're a jerk. You flirt left and right and flaunt your charismatic smile all over the place like you're God's gift to earth. Yes, I fell for it at first like everyone, but I see right through you. I see you for who you really are."

"And who am I?" Matt asked.

"You're a lonely guy who can't get any woman to stick around, so you jump in bed with every woman you see hoping to fill the void in your life, but it never goes away and never will."

Matt stood in silence. Eric had it spot on, but he tried to hide it and turned away. Eric saw that his harsh analysis had hit a nerve and could immediately taste his own foot in his mouth. This wasn't him. He wasn't a mean gay and didn't know why he said what he said.

"Matt," Eric said sincerely, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. It's the stress of the situation."

Matt wasn't listening to what Eric was saying and turned his back to Eric as he stepped closer. Matt stared at the doorway.

"Are you seriously giving me the silent treatment?"

"Shush." Matt whispered.

"Did you just shush me?" Eric asked annoyed.

Matt turned around with complete fear in his eyes and both Eric and Alice knew what had matt trembling in his boots... the clown was near.

"I hear him." Matt whispered, "I hear his footsteps out in the stairwell."

Alice stepped closer to the two men and the three of them stood in silence as the faint sound of boots coming up the stairs echoed in the distance. None of them could move a muscle – they were frozen in fear. Maybe he'd continue to the next floor? Why would he come into a vacant floor?

Eric held his breath and listened to his own heartbeat and the sound of the approaching footsteps; the gunman was heading their way. Instinctively he ducked behind a stack of boxes and the other two followed him.

The door hinges screeched as the door opened as the three of them quailed tightly together behind the boxes; listening to the footsteps that were slow but steady as the clown stepped into the vacant area.

The clown's grinning face searched the shadows for any signs of life as he held the shotgun in one hand – dangling it next to his leg as he walked. His boots left behind faint prints of blood as he walked pass the boxes behind which Eric, Matt and Alice hid. He stood in one spot for a moment; letting his eyes search the rest of the floor. All he saw were boxes and plastic. The floor seemed abandoned so he turned around and walked back to the doorway.

Alice held her breath as the clown walked pass them and prayed to God they didn't make the slightest noise for him to hear. Her heart was beating so wildly it felt like it was tugging at her and she was almost certain the clown could hear her heartbeat... but he didn't hear them and continued walking away.

The sound of the clown's footsteps faded as he walked farther away from the boxes and it seemed they were in the clear. He didn't spot them and would continue on his murder rampage elsewhere.

Without warning Alice's phone started vibrating loudly and her eyes widened with terror upon realizing that he could hear the vibrations. She had completely forgotten about the phone she stuck in her bra.

Hastily, she reached into her bra, grabbed the phone and switched it off. The clown fired off a shot in the direction of the noise; sending a box flying through the air to the left and Matt to the right. Before Alice could scream Eric cupped his hand over her mouth and dragged her into the shadows and out of sight.

Matt lay on his back screaming in pain with his left shoulder a raw mess of blood and flesh where the bullet hit him. Blood gushed out of the wound and Matt tried to stop the bleeding with his hand while crying and trying to crawl away, but he was in too much pain. The clown stepped closer to Matt and stood watching him a moment as if revelling in the man's suffering.

"Why are you doing this?" Matt cried.

The clown didn't answer and simply stared down at Matt with his dark, empty eyes. The clown stepped closer, lowered the shotgun and the muzzle of the shotgun against Matt's heaving chest as he tried to back away, but couldn't. The loss of blood left him weak.

"Please." Matt pleaded, "Don't do this."

The clown pulled the trigger and the shot went off that jolted Matt; leaving a gaping wound in his chest and a crater in the floor beneath his lifeless body. The clown pulled the muzzle out of the wound, shook off the excess blood and flesh and then lifted the shotgun.

The clown glanced across the dark room once more for signs of life, but didn't' spot Alice and Eric hiding in the shadows so he turned towards the door again and left.

When the coast was clear, Alice shoved Eric aside and jumped up. Her chest felt tight and she found it hard to breathe as a piercing pain shot through her lungs. Her entire body was shaking and she felt like throwing up. They simply hid like cowards and watched that crazy man kill Matt in cold blood.

"I can't breathe." Alice gasped.

"Keep your voice down."

Alice started pacing up and down; trying to calm herself down and catch her breath until she finally stopped and stared down at her hands - they were trembling uncontrollably like the rest of her body.

"I can't stop shaking." Alice whispered.

She tried to shake off the fearful feeling, took a deep breath and paced back and forth again. Her throat felt dry and then she was overcome with a warm burning sensation in her throat before spewing out vomit. She bent forward and coughed out the last bits of vomit from her mouth before she started crying again.

"Just try to stay calm." Eric said.

He was just as terrified, but knew that he had to keep a level head. Alice wiped away vomit from her lips and glanced over at Matt's lifeless body that lay in a pool of blood. They could've at least tried to save him, but they simply hid.

"I think I'm gonna throw up." Alice mumbled.

"You just did."

Alice leaned against a pile of boxes with one hand and heaved sounds of dry vomit, but nothing came out. Her stomach was churning and wanted to react to the situation, but it was empty.

Eric grabbed her by the upper arms and stared her dead in the eyes.

"Get yourself together." He insisted, "What just happened was horrible, I know, but if you lose it we won't get out of here alive. I need you level-headed. Can you contain yourself?"

Alice nodded and whispered, "Yes."

Alice gulped and wiped her mouth again as she took a couple of deep breaths and glanced down at her hands. She continued to stare at them until they stopped shaking.

Alice's phone vibrated again. She quickly grabbed it and stared at the LCD screen – the caller ID showed that it was her sister, Wendy so she answered the call.

"Hello?" Alice whispered.

"Alice?"

"Wendy." Alice sighed with relief, "It's so good to hear your voice. I thought I'd never hear your voice again."

"What's going on? Your office building is on the news. The newsman says that there's a hostage situation. Do they want ransom?"

"No. I don't know what he wants, but it's just one man. He's wearing a clown mask and just shooting people at random."

"Oh my God." Wendy gasped, "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. I've had a few close calls."

"Can you get out?"

"No." Alice whimpered, "The elevator's out of order and he started a fire in the stairway. We're heading to the roof and hope we can find a way out."

"We?" Wendy asked confused, "Who's _we_?"

"Eric and I."

"I think it's your best option. The building's surrounded with police. Someone's bound to see you on the roof."

Alice walked over to one of the windows, stared out to the street below and saw police vehicles, policemen, reporters and a large group of onlookers. Why weren't the police storming the building? Something was wrong. The situation was probably worse than she thought.

"Wendy," Alice said, "I don't want mom to see this. I don't want her to worry."

"I'll do my best." Wendy said.

There was a moment of silence that felt like forever as Alice thought of everything she wanted to tell her family before she died. Alice wanted to take the moment to tell her family she loved them. She knew that they were in a very dangerous situation and that she might not make it home.

"Wendy," Alice said; trying to control her emotions, "I want you to know I love you."

"Don't talk like that." Wendy pleaded.

"I don't know whether I will make it out. I just want to let you know that I love you and mom very much."

Wendy whimpered on the other side of line, "I love you too."

There was a thud and the floor shook beneath them during which Alice tried to keep her balance until the floor stopped shaking. Alice and Eric looked at each other with tremendous fear... That was no gunshot.

"What was that?" Eric asked concerned.

Boom

Constable Josephs ran up to Sergeant Wilson with a bunch of documents in his hands and dropped a file as he ran, but picked it up and continued on his way as he scurried to his impatient senior.

"Sergeant..." Constable Josephs called out.

Wilson turned around as Josephs reached him; panting for air as he was quite unfit and not used to running around.

"What do you have for me, Josephs?" Wilson asked.

"Sir, I went through the company records for anyone who was let go in the past five years."

"What did you find?"

"Jack White," Josephs said, "Was let go twelve months ago after disorderly conduct, but he died in a car accident a few weeks ago. Maggie Black was let go two years ago because she was caught stealing. She currently lives in Sutherland and local police went over to her house... She's not our guy."

"Do we know who our guy is?" Wilson asked annoyed.

Josephs was wasting valuable time by giving him irrelevant information – time they could use to save lives and bring down the shooter.

"Godfrey Williams, sir."

Josephs handed Wilson a file and he paged through it.

"He was let go a few months ago." Josephs said, "His quality of work started to decline and he became more and more unstable."

"Unstable?"

"Yes sir. According to one of the line managers Godfrey Williams started ranting about seeing winged creatures that talked to him. Apparently he was convinced that he was working in a building filled with demons."

"Demons?" Wilson asked worried.

If their shooter was imagining demons he was more disturbed and dangerous than they expected and time was not only of the essence, but running out. One thing Wilson learned through years of experience was that the disturbed didn't value life like normal people and that every second counted when dealing with a madman.

"They tried in-house counselling" Josephs said, "and referred him to a therapist, but saw no improvement. They eventually let him go in fear of him hurting someone. He was prohibited to enter the premises to protect the staff and the CEO even went as far as getting a restraining order. Police went over to his apartment, but he wasn't home. Neighbours say they saw him leave wearing a mask this morning... a clown mask."

Wilson looked up from the file and stared up at the building. They had found their guy and his motive. The question now was how to stop him and prevent more deaths? He knew he'd have to put himself in the shooter's shoes to understand the situation as there was nothing random about the shooting; he had a plan – he was working his way up and killing everyone along the way. What was at the top?

"Where are the managers' offices?" Wilson asked.

Josephs opened the blueprint of the building and threw it onto the hood of a police car as his eyes searched through the plans. Wilson grew agitated that Josephs took long to locate the offices on the blueprints and pushed him aside. He hated rookies.

"The managers and CEO offices are on the top floor." Josephs said.

" _That's_ where he is heading."

"You think he's going after the managers?"

"Wouldn't you?" Wilson asked, "He is unstable and probably blames the managers for losing his job. I think he is out for revenge. If he thinks his co-workers are demons then the CEO must be the devil himself. "

"Why not just start at the top?"

Wilson stared at the building. It was a good question. Why didn't he slip past everyone on the lower floors and simply kill everyone on the top floor?

"He wants them to be terrified." Wilson said in thought, "He's blocked their way out. They're stuck on the top floor with no way out. That's why he's killing everyone as he makes his way up. He wants the CEO and managers to panic. They _know_ they're next and can't escape the wrath of a madman. We have to get into the building."

"I studied the blue prints, sir. There's a back entrance in the alley. It's an old delivery door from when this building was still a food distribution company."

"Take three men and go." Wilson ordered.

"Really?"

"Yes."

Josephs couldn't help but smile. It was his first big case and he was actively involved. His mom would be so proud of him. He had finally made it. He was a real policeman.

"Yes sir." Joseph said proudly.

Wilson turned around and faced a group of police constables a few feet away, "Johnson, Patricks and Steward!"

The three men stepped closer.

"Go investigate the back door with Josephs." Wilson said.

The men nodded and followed Josephs. The four men ran across the parking lot, down the alley and slowed down when they reached a large dumpster. Josephs led the group of men as his eyes searched for the door as they walked and then he finally spotted the back door.

"This is it." Josephs said.

They walked up to the door and Josephs took a hold of the handle. He turned the handle and as he opened the door a massive explosion went off that engulfed and incinerated the officers in a brilliant blaze that shook the side of the building.
It's a long way to the top

There was a loud bang that shook the floor beneath their feet and Alice moved the phone away from her ear as she stared down at building rubble around her feet as it stopped shaking.

"What was that?" Eric asked concerned.

"Alice!" Wendy's voice called out from the phone, "Are you alright?"

Alice brought the phone back to her ear, "Yeah. Something happened. I don't know what but—"

"There was an explosion." Wendy cut her off.

"What?"

"I'm watching it on the news. The news anchor says there was a large explosion... Four policemen were just killed."

"Oh my God." Alice gasped in disbelief.

With the sound of the word _explosion_ echoing in her head, Alice slowly walked past Eric towards the window.

"What?" Eric asked concerned.

She stared out the window at the circus below as people ran around in panic; some of them were bleeding and coughing in the debris as the dust settled. There were a few bodies lying in the street and a woman was crawling towards a nearby police car. Eric joined her at the window and gasped at the sight of the devastation down below.

"What the hell." Eric asked in thought.

"It's the masked gunman. It has to be."

"Now he's planting bombs?"

They both stared out at the panicking people down in the street a moment longer and tried to put together the puzzle pieces. Why would he plant bombs?

"It's personal." Alice said as if having an epiphany.

"What?"

_She wasn't making sense. It had to be the stress of the situation,_ he thought as he stared at her. She didn't pay attention to him and kept staring out the window as if all hope was lost. She was afraid of dying – more of dying trapped in a building with a masked gunman hunting them down like animals.

"We're not making it out alive."

"Alice." Eric insisted.

Alice snapped out of her momentary daze and stared at Eric with much concern in her eyes.

"This is personal." Alice said, "This guy has a grudge. I think he used to work here and I think he blames this entire company for whatever went wrong in his life."

"That makes no sense. Who just picks up a shotgun and kills people?"

"Think about it." she insisted, "He didn't simply pick up a shotgun. He waited for the right day. Everyone that works here knows this old elevator acts up every other week. He must've known the elevator's out of order and the stairs would be our only escape – _that's_ why he started a fire in the stairwell. He blocked us in. And I think the bombs are to keep the police at bay. He wants to take his time and kill as many of us as he can."

A chill ran down Eric's spine as he realized that she had a point. There was a possibility that they wouldn't make it out of the building except in a body bag – a reality he wasn't ready to accept just yet. He had so many things he still wanted to do and see and regretted not doing. The thing he regretted the most was never asking Tim's number despite placing a coffee order with him almost every day while flirting his ass off.

"Do you remember that crazy guy?" Alice asked, "The one that rambled about demons?"

"Yes, I remember him. You think it's him?"

"Could be."

"We have to be extra careful then." Eric said, "We _will_ get to that roof and we _will_ get out of this alive."

Eric took a hold of Alice's hand and though it trembled just as much as his own, he tried to be brave for the both of them. There was no use in panicking anymore. The only important thing was to get out alive. The scenario had changed which meant that their plan for survival had to change with it if they were to survive this nightmare. They weren't facing any ordinary gunman. He was clinically insane and was more dangerous than the devil himself... and he was trigger-happy.

The clown-masked man stepped out of the stairwell and glanced at the big '10' insignia against the wall like a countdown to his ultimate target on the top floor. The shotgun dangled next to his leg as he walked across the quiet and seemingly abandoned floor where not even shadows dared to linger. He stared at the rows of cubicle workstations; every last one seemed abandoned. News of a crazed masked man shooting people had obviously reached the floor and people were hiding.

He walked down the first row of cubicles – taking his time to check under the desks. The first three were empty, but when he got to the fourth cubicle he spotted a woman cowering underneath her desk. She hugged her legs like a baby and sobbing softly as she buried her face in her arms. Upon hearing his boots coming to a halt, she looked up and when she saw the man standing at her desk she started crying uncontrollably.

"No. Please!" She pleaded, "I have a little girl."

A few cubicles down a man emerged from underneath his desk. He was trembling like a weed in the wind, but stood upright and bravely stuck out his chest in protest as he cleared his throat. The gunman turned his head and the man gulped with terror when he saw the palpable and wickedly smiling clown mask.

"Please." The man pleaded, "It's not too late to stop what you're doing."

The clown made a complete turn and faced the shivering man who stared down at the shotgun that dangled next to the clown's leg and then back at the horrid mask. Maybe standing up and being brave wasn't such a good idea, but if the clown shot his co-worker he would've been next. Somehow someone had to put a stop to the madness. Perhaps if he talked some sense into the gunman he'd stop the killings? It was worth a try.

"We all have families." The man said with a shaky voice, "Just as I'm sure you have. Is this what your family would want? Is this how you'd want to be remembered?"

The clown lifted the shotgun, took a step forward and instinctively the man raised both hands and spoke quickly.

"Please." The man pleaded, "Think of what you're doing. You're orphaning many children in one day. It's not too late to stop."

The man's lower lip trembled and a tear dangled at the edge of his left eyelid as he kept a watchful eye on the approaching clown. The clown cocked the shotgun and pointed it at the man who shielded his head and closed his eyes tightly. It was all over. The gunman would take him away from his family within a matter of seconds.

The clown's finger tightened around the trigger, but before he could squeeze it a nearby phone rang. The clown's grip around the trigger relaxed and the man was surprised to still be alive as he slowly opened his eyes.

The clown just stood there and stared at the ringing phone for a moment before pointing his shotgun at the ringing phone; motioning for the man to answer it. The man obliged and walked over to the phone, but hesitated a moment and then answered the call.

"Hello?"

"My name is Sergeant Wilson." Sergeant Wilson said, "Who am I speaking to?"

"M-m-my n-name is J-John. J-John Booth."

"John, are there other people with you?"

John stared over at the clown and was reluctant to answer out loud. He didn't want to disclose that there were more people hiding throughout the office. He nodded as he slowly looked away from the clown.

"Yes." John whispered into the receiver.

"Good. John, by now you probably know there's a man in the building shooting people?"

John nodded and said, "Yes."

"We're doing everything we can to get you out alive. Our bomb squad has arrived and are working on defusing the bomb at the main entrance. Our sniper team is on their way. I need you to all stay in one room and barricade yourself."

"Uhm..." John uttered.

John was unsure as to what to respond. If he said something wrong, there might be a chance that the clown would shoot him where he stood.

"What's wrong? Is the shooter there with you?"

John nodded and then said, "Yes."

"John, you've been very brave so far, but I'm going to need you to do me a favour. Hand the phone to the shooter. I'd like to speak to him."

John stared down at the receiver in his hand and then over at the clown; hesitant to step closer to the devilish fiend, but eventually held out the receiver.

"He wants to speak to you." John said.

The clown simply stood there; staring at John's quivering hand and then suddenly he took a step towards John who shifted uneasily. The clown grabbed the phone from John's hand and put the receiver to his ear, but said nothing. He simply listened and breathed heavily like someone who was suffering from asthma.

"Hello?" Wilson asked, "Who am I speaking to?"

He didn't respond. John took a cautious step back and kept staring at the clown who toyed with the shotgun as he grew impatient.

"My name's Sergeant Wilson." Wilson said, "I'm the person in charge here. Can I get your name?"

The clown didn't respond.

"Okay." Wilson said as he realized that it would be a one sided conversation, "Do you mind if I call you Stephen? Stephen King's one of my favourite writers. Do you read by any chance? Books are my passion. They've gotten me through some dark times. What do you do to unwind? Is there anything you want or need? Can I get you a pizza or a burger?"

There was a moment of silence and John grew concerned as to what was happening. The eyes to the mask were as dark as a raven's wing and robbed of any human emotion; it was like a dark abyss.

"Is your real name Godfrey?" Wilson broke the silence.

The clown tightened his grip on the receiver as his patience wore thin. Sergeant Wilson had hit a nerve – and he was short of nerves.

"It's Godfrey, isn't it?"

"Today I am God." The clown's voice sounded like thunder.

"Now calm down. No need to get agitated. At least we're communicating. I've read your file. Let me help you? I have doctors that can help."

"I'm not crazy."

"I didn't say you were." Wilson said, "I just meant that you need to figure out how to manage your anger. I understand you're angry about losing your job, but this isn't going to resolve the problem. You're killing innocent people. I want you to think carefully about what you're doing. Is this really who you are? Are you really the type of person who wants to take fathers away from their children? Wives away from their husbands? Children away from their parents?"

His breathing became louder as the last of his patience ran out.

"Godfrey," Wilson said, "How about we change the situation a bit? Instead of killing innocent people, rather keep them hostage? I can try and meet your demands, but if you keep on killing innocent people, I'll have no other choice but to take you out with a sniper."

There was a moment of silence.

"What do you say?" Wilson said, "It'll cost you nothing to send out a couple of hostages in good faith. How about sending out John? Give me something to work with? Send me a few hostages?"

"What do you say?" Wilson said, "It'll cost you nothing to send out a couple of hostages in good faith. How about sending out John? Give me something to work with? Send me a few hostages?"

There was no response. Sergeant Wilson stared up at the building in front of him and let out a heavy sigh of frustration. He wanted to resolve the situation as swiftly and effortlessly as possible, it was like talking to a brick wall. He had no idea in what state of mind Godfrey was – something that made his job even more difficult.

Medics were attending to some of the injured people a few feet away from him while a squad of bomb experts were carefully studying the homemade bomb at the front entrance, but all Wilson hear was silence – uncomfortable silence like the calm before a storm and he was growing concerned. He stared up at the top of the building. Why was the shooter quiet? What was he thinking? Was he considering releasing some of the hostages? What was happening?

"Godfrey?" Wilson asked into his phone.

There was no response.

The sound of shattering glass and screaming made Wilson look up with a jerk as a man was thrown from a window on the tenth floor. He was screaming all the way down and impacted with the sidewalk that silenced his screams. The man's arms and legs were contorted around his lifeless, blood-soaked body as his last breath left his lips.

Another window shattered at the tenth floor as a woman came crashing through it. Her terror-filled screams for help echoed off the glass panels as she rushed to meet the sidewalk below and then her body crushed into a pulp a few feet away from a bomb squad member. Blood splashed onto his helmet and he quickly jumped to his feet.

Everyone looked up helplessly as another woman was thrown from a tenth floor window. The bomb squad quickly got out of the way as she plummeted to her death and fell on top of the previous woman to create a pile of broken bones, flesh and blood that oozed into the cracks of the sidewalk concrete.

Wilson yelled into the phone infuriated as he ran closer to the building, "Godfrey! This wasn't what I meant!"

Another window shattered and a man tumbling out of it; screaming for dear life as he slammed into the sidewalk below. Wilson stopped when he reached the man who still twitched and gurgled blood and then the man stopped moving all together. Wilson stared up at the tenth floor windows high above him with fear of more people plunging to their deaths.

"Everyone dies today." Godfrey's voice said.

Wilson raised the phone to his ear. He was furious at the brutality of it all. The shooter was deranged.

"You've given me no other choice." Wilson said and disconnected the call.

He glanced that the bloody mess around him and then reached for his short wave radio.

"Where the hell are my snipers?"

"They're a few minutes out." A voice said over the radio.

"Good. The order is _shoot to kill_. I'm tired of this sick bastard."
The Top

Bonnie was in her late twenties, had a large bosom, a curly hairdo and a surprisingly soft, little voice for her sheer size. She'd been working as Mr John Johnson's personal assistant for just over five years and though he was a difficult boss, he was a fair one to work with – most days anyway. Along with Mr Johnson they were the only two who worked on the eleventh floor and on an ordinary day she'd be seated behind the reception desk in the lobby attending to phone calls and administrative work.

But this was no ordinary day as both Bonnie and Mr Johnson were aware of the crazed gunman that was shooting his way up to the top floor. The pot-plant lay on its side with soil spilled out onto the floor and Bonnie's oversized desk barricaded the glass doors of the lobby in an attempt to keep the gunman out.

Bonnie stood in the doorway to John Johnson's office while he paced up and down behind his desk; frantically going over his extremely limited options. He was getting increasingly concerned with each passing moment as the second hand ticked like a countdown to his own demise that was approaching fast.

A plasma screen TV mounted to his wall was broadcasting the top news story of the day – the shooter in _his_ building. Not only was this a huge public relations disaster, but it was a dire situation. Lives were being lost if all weren't lost already and he might be next. Despite having an empire he built from scratch it meant nothing if his life was in danger.

Sergeant Wilson made contact with him about ten minutes earlier and informed him that the ex-disgruntled employee, Godfrey Williams, was the one out on a rampage. He and Bonnie barricaded the entrance to their office as instructed and tried to stay calm until the situation could be resolved, but this was easier said than done as any man would worry when he knew his life was on the line.

Bonnie could see her boss was terrified – even more than she was and though she was the most level-headed person she knew, she didn't know what to do or say to calm him down and though she had a calm exterior, inside she was frantically running around in circles of a maze with thorny walls.

"Mister Johnson?" She asked.

He ignored her and kept on pacing back and forth with his mind a million miles away, but every now and then he'd stare at the TV; hoping that the shooter was captured or killed, but no such luck.

"We'll be alright, sir."

"There is a masked gunman walking the corridors." John said annoyed, " _Killing_ everyone he lays eyes on. The police have only been here less than half an hour and they confirmed hearing twenty gunshots. _Twenty_ gunshots, Bonnie, and they can't just move in and kill this bastard. I don't understand what's taking them so long."

"They first have to defuse the bomb. Who knows whether there are more bombs?"

John stopped pacing up and down and stared out the window to the street below and saw a black van pull up and a team all dressed in black jump out. It seemed promising. They were snipers. From what he could see from way up in his office, someone delegated with the snipers and then the group disbursed.

"It won't be long now." John said relieved.

A loud bang behind Bonnie made them both turn around with a jolt and she noticed shattered glass flying across the lobby. From where she stood she could only see a glimpse of the barricaded door and the clown beyond the shattered glass.

"Oh no." A chill ran down her spine.

She watched the clown fidget with the doorframe; trying to get the doors open and then he cocked his shotgun again. Bonnie cautiously backed away into John's office as he stood motionless behind his desk with his sights transfixed upon the doorway while Bonnie entered and closed the door behind her. She locked the door as quietly as she could; trying not to draw attention to them.

She turned to John, brought her finger to her lips and said, "Shush".

There was another loud gunshot on the other side of the door and the sound of rubble falling onto the floor. Bonnie backed up until she stood next to John and both of them kept staring at the door; awaiting the clown or the police – whichever came first.

The office was quiet, except for the news on the TV and John used the remote control to turn down the volume until only a faint hum could be heard. They listened as footsteps approached the door and then everything was quiet until the doorknob started turning and then there was a massive jolt at the door. They both stood frozen in terror and kept staring at the door as it shook vigorously without opening – each jolt sounding like the lock would give way. The clown stopped jolting the door and then all was quiet again... too quiet.

Bonnie's heart started pounding robustly, her breath grew shallow and her blood pulsated in her neck, arms and fingers. Every part of her body was overwhelmed with adrenaline, but she was completely frozen in fear on the spot as she awaited an unknown fate that would be brought on by the man on the other side of the locked door.

The silence lasted for what seemed like minutes and then there was the ominous sound of a shotgun being loaded on the other side of the door; signalling them that the door that stood between them and death would be a thing of the past in a few seconds and there was nothing either one of them could do.

Bonnie clenched her hands into fists; her nails digging into her palms and her heart skipped a beat upon hearing that palpable sound they were hiding from the entire morning. Death was knocking at their door and despite being reluctant to answer, they'd be meeting death any second now.

A shot went off and incinerated the door; sending shards of wood flying through the air and Bonnie ducked beneath the desk as John jumped out of the way of the shards of wood. He fell to the floor next to a visitor's chair and looked up as the dust and debris settled and saw the clown climb through the hole in the door.

John rolled over onto his back and started backing up towards the wall in an attempt to get to safety from the clown who stepped closer and held the shotgun with both hands.

"Godfrey." John pleaded, "Don't do this."

The clown mask didn't show any remorse or any other signs of human emotions – not that there were any behind the vacant eyes and vindictive smile of a crazed demon. He took another step towards John and pointed the shotgun at his head with one hand. He took another step towards the pleading coward on the floor and a sniper shot missed him and struck the wall behind him.

Instantaneously the clown grabbed John by the collar, pulled him to his feet and used him as a shield as they walked over to the window to inspect the situation. The clown wanted to see who dared shooting at him and where they were, but hid behind the cowering body of the man he used as a shield.

Bonnie stared up from underneath the desk as they walked by, but the demon clown didn't notice her. He was hell bent on finding the shooter and as his eyes searched the buildings beyond the window John motioned with his one hand that she should stay hidden.

Sniper One was positioned on the rooftop of the building across the street and had the perfect view of John Johnson's office. He lay flat on his stomach and out of sight with the scope pointing at the window of the top floor office.

The bipod of his rifle was positioned right on the edge of the roof and he adjusted the scope rings until the office came into focus. He could see a woman and a man standing with their backs to the window while staring at a locked door. From their demeanour he could tell they were terrified of something – perhaps the shooter.

"Sniper One." He said over his radio, "I have visual confirmation on Johnson."

"Any signs of the shooter?" Sergeant Wilson asked over the radio.

"Negative."

He looked through the scope with one eye; Johnson and the woman were clearly concerned about something and kept staring at the closed door, but nothing seemed to be happening.

"But something is going on." The sniper said over the radio.

"Keep your position."

He nodded and looked through the scope with one eye closed just as the door of the office was obliterated by the impact of a shotgun. The woman and Johnson both scurried to safety in different directions.

"Sir," The sniper said, "Something just happened."

The sniper looked through the scope, but saw nothing except debris.

"What is it?"

"I can't make out, sir, but I think it might be our shooter."

"As soon as you have a clear shot... Take him out."

"Yes sir." The sniper confirmed.

He looked through his scope and tried to make out what was happening, but could no longer see Johnson or the woman and feared the worst. He noticed the masked gunman moving towards the wall while pointing his shotgun and that's when he noticed Johnson cowering against the wall.

_This is it,_ the sniper thought as he squeezed the trigger and fired off a shot. The bullet penetrated the window, missed the shooter and hit the wall.

"Damn." The sniper whispered.

Just as he was about to take another shot, he saw the gunman was shielding himself with Johnson.

"Sir." The sniper radioed, "He's using Johnson as a shield."

"Damnit!" Wilson yelled, "Take him out when you have a clear shot!"

"Copy that."

The sniper looked through his scope again and saw the gunman and John walk over to the window. He also noticed Johnson motion something to the woman who hid beneath the desk. The gunman handed something to Johnson who was a bit reluctant to take it.

"What are you up to?" The sniper asked himself.

The sniper continued looking through the scope; awaiting the perfect opportunity to take out the shooter, but he kept himself well hidden behind Johnson. There was no way of taking out the shooter without shooting Johnson, so the sniper just had to be patient. Sooner or later the target will make the wrong move and expose himself.

Johnson had a marker in his hand and the clown shoved him up against the window. A moment passed and then he started writing a large backward B on the window.

"What the..." The sniper asked himself confused.

The sniper kept looking at the window as Johnson wrote two O's followed by an M. It spelled out the word _Boom_.

Through the scope the sniper noticed that the shooter held out his hand from behind Johnson. He had something in his hand. It was only then that the sniper heard the ominous ticking beneath the rim of the roof a few feet away and before he could jump up, there was an explosion that sent bits of roof and parts of the sniper disbursing in all directions.

The end

The clown and Johnson stood at the window and watched as the dust of the explosion settled on the rooftop across the street. Johnson's shivering hand dropped the marker in disbelief at what he just witnessed. A bomb on the roof of a building across the street from his office meant that this madman must've planned his assault down to the last detail – leaving _nothing_ to chance... not even the possibility of snipers. This wasn't a spur of the moment thing. He wanted revenge and made sure he covered every possible angle.

Johnson knew his end had come. He would be next and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. All his work to build an empire of dirt was for nothing. He had no family who'd even mourn over him.

The clown tossed John across the room and he fell against the wall; dislocating his shoulder which he clenched in pain as he sat upright and stared in horror as the clown walked over to him. This was it – this was the end. He'd meet his maker and it wasn't even on his own terms. He just had to accept his fate and the fact that he had no control over what happened next.

"Fine." John insisted. "Go ahead. Kill me. It won't change the fact that you were bad at your job. It won't change the fact that you're insane and need help."

The clown didn't respond. He simply stepped closer to John with the shotgun dangling next to his right leg.

"If I could, I'd fire you all over again." Johnson insisted.

It was inevitable. The shooter was going to kill him so he might just as well say his last words no matter how harsh and poisoned they tasted in his mouth.

"You're a sick individual." Johnson said, "You killed innocent people today. I hope you rot in hell."

The clown cocked his shotgun, aimed at Johnson's left knee and squeezed the trigger. The shot amputated John's leg at the knee and he screamed in pain as clenched the bloody stump.

The clown lifted the shotgun, reached into his pocket for more bullets and reloaded the shotgun before raising it at John's pale face that was draining of colour due to the loss of blood.

"Go ahead." John snivelled in between gasps for air and cries of pain, "Do it, you coward!"

The clown shoved the muzzle of the shotgun into John's mouth; chipping away three of his front teeth. He revelled in the sound of Johnson gurgling blood for a moment before he squeezed the trigger and the shot went off. John's jaw shattered at the right hinge; severing his neck at the spine and the decapitated body fell to the floor as the clown shook the maimed head off the muzzle.

The sounds were too much for Bonnie, but she kept her mouth covered with her hands – trying not to scream as she stayed hidden beneath the desk. Though she didn't see the kill shot, she knew her boss was dead and she might be next, so she started praying to God to save her from the madman.

The clown stared at the John's bloody corpse that lay in a pile of marred flesh and blood against the wall and a sense of accomplishment and fulfilment came over him. He had finally killed the man that destroyed his sanity. The winged creatures in the night assured him that everything will be alright once he killed everyone that made his life hell at work. He could rest now... He had sent every last demon back to hell.

Though almost inaudible, the voice of the news anchor on TV made him turn around. The news channel was showing footage of the building, the police in the street and aerial footage of the area. He walked over to the desk, picked up the remote control and turned up the volume and, unbeknownst to him, his lingering presence made Bonnie whimper as she hid.

"If you're just joining us," The news anchor announced, "An explosion on a rooftop across the street from the building just took the life of a sniper. Moments ago Alex Smith lost his life while trying to take out the crazed gunman that went on a shooting rampage. The reports so far have put the death toll of today's shooting at thirty nine. It seems there are no—"

The news anchor stopped talking as insert footage from a low-flying helicopter showed two people rushing out of the stairwell onto the rooftop of the Johnson Inc. building.

"Wait" The news anchor announced.

It was Alice and Eric that stumbled out onto the roof and they were waving their arms at the news helicopter that hovered high above them; hoping to be seen and rescued.

"It seems we have two survivors." The news anchor said, "This is a miracle!"

To the clown it was a failure. He couldn't let the two of them get away. He had to kill everyone or he would've failed. He grasped his shotgun until his knuckles turned white and left the office. He walked through the lobby and shoved the debris that still blocked the doorway.

The clown made his way up the stairs; taking two stairs at a time. He had to get to them before they were rescued. They had to die. He only had one flight of stairs to go before he got to the roof that already came into sight.

He got to the door and swung it open and as he did, Eric and Alice stopped waving their arms and spun around in horror as the clown emerged from the shadows of the stairwell with the threatening shotgun.

They had nowhere to run to. Eric glanced over the edge of the roof – they were too high up to jump so he glanced back in the direction of the crazed clown who approached them with swift, menacing strides.

Eric stood frozen in the spot and watched as the clown took one final step forward and raised the shotgun. Eric was completely nauseated from fear as he stared into the asserting muzzle of the shotgun a few feet from his face. He felt a faint rush of air pass his ear and then saw a tiny red, hole form on the forehead of the clown.

The clown stood motionless for a moment and then dropped the shotgun as a little bit of blood flowed from the tiny hole in his forehead and then the clown fell to his knees. Alice and Eric watched in terror and confusion as the clown collapsed onto his side. He was dead. Eric glanced all around them and spotted another sniper on a rooftop behind them who radioed something in to his commander and then waved at Eric and Alice; motioning that they were safe. It was over.

"We made it." Eric started crying with relief.

He stared at Alice with tears in his eyes.

"We made it." He said again; trying to convince himself.

He still couldn't believe the words that came out his mouth. The nightmare was finally over and he let out a sigh of relief and trembled as the air left his lungs. They made it...

"We made it." He couldn't stop crying and smiling.

Alice stared at him and smiled back at him. She felt liberated, but still shaken by the ordeal of the day as she glanced over at the lifeless body of the clown. The madman was no more.

The news helicopter circled the rooftop to get exclusive footage of the survivors and the gunman that was taken out. It would make for great TV. People were starved for real drama in a world filled with fake reality shows.

Alice kept staring at the corpse of the clown. They won. He didn't succeed in killing them. Her pupils narrowed and then widened again – blinking as a second set of eyelids.

THE END
ABOUT THIS STORY

I was listening to the American Recordings by Johnny Cash and the song _'God's Gonna Cut You Down'_ had a haunting and ominous ring to it as the guitars sounded like the footsteps of a madman closing in on his victims and I thought to myself; _this song would actually make a terrifying soundtrack for a movie about a crazed gunman killing people_.

While writing the story, I probably listened to that specific song about fifty times – if not more and it definitely helped set the mood for this story.

Clowns have always had a disturbing stance in our minds ever since _Stephen King's IT_ and I thought it would make for the ultimate villain as most people associate the face of the clown with the face of the devil.

This was also my first venture into hard-core horror and due to positive feedback about this story I decided to write an equally unnerving story, _"Snapped"_ , about a woman setting out for revenge after being raped and left for dead.

In 2016 I started on a project to revisit, re-edit and revise some of my earlier works like this one and _"Snapped"_ is next on my list to receive more attention to detail – especially the gory parts.

As always, if you liked this story, please leave a review on the site from which you downloaded it as reviews are like applause to writers and highly appreciated.

- _Eduard_

