1 year ago
New York
U.S.A
Life was good, an estate on the east side across the river. The smell of freshly cut lawns filled the air, a beautiful wife and two little girls. His dreams come true. But dreams have a nasty habit of going bad when you're not looking.
John Morgan had just finished a top undercover mission booking a notorious gang leader Carl Weathers. Nothing was left of the gang, not after John had finished anyway. Carl Weathers was one of the big three underground crime lords; the FBI had been trying to track him down for years and had received numerous tips on his whereabouts but always ran into a dead end. Word had spread across all of the underground of New York that an ex SAS and now NYPD field agent, had stopped Carl Weathers and his gang singlehandedly. The chief of the NYPD let John make a visit home for the weekend as he lived in Delaware which was too far to travel to New York everyday and had to spend weeks or even months at a time away from home.
Just past midnight the noxious clouds rolled away, at last revealing the moon. After hours of driving and a few pit stops to re fuel the jeep and take a quick toilet break John arrived at his estate. He drove past the looming misshapen hulk of the old ice house that was last used over one hundred years ago. He took pride in his old estate all though most of it had been renewed over the years the history of the place gave him a sense of enormous well being.
The wheels of the jeep sent the stones on the drive into frenzy as he slowly drove into the garage which lay dead opposite the main houses front door. John waited for the usual response from his daughters expecting to see their pretty little faces running out the house and tapping on the car door shouting 'Daddy's home!' They would stay up until he had got home just so they could say good night to him. John then noticed that the door was left ajar and the security light was not working.
He slapped the glove box and rambled about inside it pulling out his trusty Glock which lay hidden under some music Cd's. John stormed towards the main house noticing that shattered glass lay all over the concrete steps. He darted inside holding his weapon at the ready fearing the worst as he had to so many times in his daily life. "Honey I'm home. You ok Honey? Rosie, Laura?" John's heart pounded hard against his chest. He could hear voices from within the house. Creeping into every room he checked every nook and cranny for any sign of his family or an intruder.
John followed the voice about the house finally leading him to the main living room. The voices were coming from the television that sat mounted high on the wall; John quickly scanned the room and then turned the television off slowly. He then entered the next room, that moment, he froze. His family were all sat together huddled on a chair that faced a peculiar angle, but never the less, relief filled Johns mind. His wife turned towards him, head tilted at an awkward angle across her shoulder. A somewhat zombie like scene out of a movie John had watched on frequent occasions. A Hole punctured her forehead; blood trickled down her pasty skin. John raised his arm to cover his nostrils and mouth to avoid vomiting.
This had to have been just some break-in that went wrong. This couldn't have been professional as most traces of the assailant were still here. The incident was recent, fresh blood, still glistening. Suddenly a dark shadow sprung at him from the corner of the room, John fired three bullets. Two missed spiralling wide of the target whilst the third one hit the mark and made the shadow duck and stumble through the large window and disappear into the moonlit sky. John ran to the window and fired blindly into the darkness until the rounds of ammunition in the clip were empty.
He dropped down, his back arched against the blood stained walls, and he cried. He cried until he could no longer breathe over the loss of his loved ones, his mind reeling with shock and horror. His entire world ripped away from him. No amount of training in the SAS or the NYPD could have prepared him for the pain he felt.
