Champagne for dinner

Exotic and relaxing music played in his ears; his eyes wandered cautiously all around; his fingers, precise and lethal, worked on the petrol pump. He had already done the same job at the Cadenazzo service area, aware that his first victims, sacrificial lambs for experimental purposes, would not have been noticed since they weren't liked by the community. As he finished integrating the syringe canal with the petrol one he smiled at the memory of the first time.

The suit, made of a terrible synthetic fabric, had caused him an unsustainable itch in his neck and arms, causing him to move spasmodically. His greatest concern was to be immediately discovered as an impostor when he introduced himself to the staff of the service area as a control operator of the petrol pumps. Incredibly enough, no one questioned him, and he had free access to all the machines. He spent the whole day assembling the syringes and checking that all worked perfectly. The following days he didn't leave the house, too anxious about the idea that they had discovered him. He should have stationed nearby, perhaps disguised at some bar, to monitor the experiment. Instead, like the coward he was, he had tightened all the shutters and unplugged the phone. What a foolish rabbit he had been, he had missed the start of his biggest project, the first battle of the war. He would have exterminated everyone.

Awakening from the bitter-sweet memory he shook his head, to bring attention back to what he was doing. That was the most delicate phase, positioning the needle immediately behind the pressure lever. Originally concerned that the perforation of the skin could alarm the victims, he had speculated the application of an anesthetic gel on the dispenser to numb the fingers. Unfortunately, this only took effect after a certain period, thus leaving the area uncovered for protection and proving useless. He found the solution in Asia: a small company near Tokyo had created a 20mm long stainless steel needle with the greatest diameter of 0.25mm. Even the bite of a mosquito would have been more painful than that puncture.

He spent months designing and crafting his idea. Everything had to be perfect. Fast, precise, but above all painless. At least at the time of injection. A few minutes would have been enough for the potassium chloride solution to enter the circulation, and hyperkalemia would cause the heart to stop. He would have liked to use gasoline itself to end them. What an irony it would have been! Killed by the same weapon they used to kill the planet. Unfortunately, the quantity injected would have been too little, just enough to send the hand into necrosis after several days. Losing a hand was not enough, it could not even remotely be equal to the loss of the world in which they lived, of all that life and beauty that with blind selfishness men were sweeping away. All the proponents of this abomination would pay. He would have made sure of it.

The needle was in place, the poison and petrol hoses connected. All that remained was to attach the tiny transparent tube to the bag containing the cathartic liquid cleverly hidden inside the underground tank, floating on that nauseating and murderous liquid that made so much money and could bring few benefits. Mentally listing things to buy for dinner, he put the tools in his bag. He would buy champagne, he had to celebrate. The war had just begun, but he was satisfied with the turn it was taking. 

It was okay to reward himself for the work done so far. He had not yet closed the tank lid when he heard someone behind him.

-Hands up, slowly. No abrupt movement.-

He would have gone as a hero. He would have gone as a fighter. He would go away taking his enemies with him. The lighter snapped open, the flame was born with the gun burst. The bullet didn't do its job. He did not stop his hand at all; he helped it open, letting the lighter fall, attracted by gravity, attracted by its mission. A smile, a sense of victory, a sense of serenity. And it fell.