Wandering Ends A Flash Fiction Collection

The Services Secrets

Kurt stood like a statue as he stared at himself in the mirror.  A huge cigar hung from his mouth producing the only light in the room.  Speaking to no one, he declared, "I guess I'm goin' to hafta handle this myself!"  He flipped the light on, the bulb flickered as it dimly lit the small room.  He stood scratching his mangy, unshaven face; staring bitterly at what they had done to him; what they had done to his family.  A smoky haze encircled his face making him appear ghostly in his reflection.  Scars crisscrossed his face, just another reminder of why he was seeking vengeance. 

...........

Just six months ago, Kurt was in line for the top guy in the Secret Service.  Kurt and his wife had a baby one year prior to that.  They were happy and excited for their next adventure as a family. 

............

A few days ago Kurt's buddies from the department were throwing a party in celebration of his promotion.  His wife stayed at home with the toddler, she was content to get some snuggles in that night. 

A thunderous knock on the front door startled them awake.  She hustled to the front door just as the glass, back patio door exploded in.  Within seconds, bullets tore through her and her baby.  They both died instantly. 

............

Meanwhile, the party had turned epic.  Kurt and the guys were flipping cash at the bump-and-grinders by the hundreds.  Alcohol flowed freely and so did the cocaine.  They were high, they were drunk, and they were horny.  The strippers were willing, and besides Kurt, so were the guys. 

A few hours later, Kurt woke up in bed with two of the strippers whose faces were bruised the shade of a black grape.  He had no recollection of what had transpired.  He tried to remember what happened as he left the bedroom.  Exiting the door he found two more strippers, blood oozing from the backside of their skulls.  "We've got the room surrounded!  Drop your weapons and come out with your hands up!" someone yelled over a bullhorn. 

"I didn't do this, but I'm not coming out either!" Kurt yelled.  At that, a force of police rushed the room.  Kurt's fight-or-flight response kicked in.  He battered the first three to enter the room but was quickly overcome by at least ten more.  He was kicked and punched and brutalized with batons, but managed to escape underneath the dog-pile they had formed on top of him.  He skipped the stairs and elevators, instead leaping through the second floor hallway window.  Kurt landed roughly, but safely, in some brush just below the window. 

............

Frantic to get to his house, Kurt fought his way through heavy pedestrian traffic and even heavier vehicle traffic as he dashed home.  He vaulted over cars and rammed through crowds of people, viciously knocking several people to the ground.  As he made his way down their block, he could see black smoke rising from his house.  Sirens wailed in the distance, if his wife had not got out already, he had to get in and out as quick as he could with his family.

He burst through the living room door, flames engulfed the kitchen.  The smoke was getting thick but he could still see through it.  As he fought his way through the smoke he saw a silhouetted figure on the ground.  Moving closer, Kurt knew it was his wife.  When he rolled her over he found their child.  Blood soaked every piece of their pajamas.  The wail of the sirens became steady outside the front of the house but he did not want to leave.  As water started to rain in, he kissed his wife and child goodbye, he vowed to get whoever was responsible for this. 

Kurt sprinted about a half-mile to a commercial building he knew was abandoned.  He took shelter there while he plotted his revenge. 

..........

Kurt found an abandoned, run-down house to stay in after his other hideout was compromised.  He spent the last couple of days gathering info, weaponry, and putting together his hit list.  The next few days would satisfy his anger but it would never satisfy his heartache, assuming he survives.