God's Gonna Cut You Down

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 t
he 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.