The night drew in close, the mists hung low in the air. The scent of midsummer hit Kathy like a needle in her arm. The light of the streetlamp leaned down and kissed her. She played with the hammer of her pistol as it rested in her purse. Across from her was the home of the police chief for Baltimore County, and Kathy was going to find out how far she could take her violence before the world caught up to her. The streets were empty save Kathy and the mist. The humidity of an eastern summer brought sweat to Kathy’s brow; helped none by her racing heart. In all the death she had inflicted on the world, no one had been so important as a police chief. Yet in ending his miserable life, she would cry out the end of the police’s organization against the fascists and the communists. Although Kathy didn’t care for the ideology of either the fascist American Front of the communists Syndicalists; to her, they were tools to end society, and whichever ultimately was victorious, would become her new enemy. Organizations blur, purpose dies, and all the remains is the necessity of chaos. The world didn’t make sense, nor did any of the justifications for its continued existence, and a so long as Kathy breathed, she would avenge the death of her Ian and Billy. But before her ambitions of total human death could be complete, first the police chief had to die. She didn’t even know his name, only that this is where he lived, and that tonight, he was going to join Billy and Ian.
“Please, baby, just calm down.” She heard Ian beg, “just put the knife down, this is between me and you; don’t bring Billy into this, please.”
Kathy bit down on her lip, and pushed the thoughts of Ian away.
“Mommy, listen to daddy.” said Billy.
“Won’t you shut your fucking mouth? You’re just like your whore of a mother!” Said her father.
“Go away!” Kathy shouted.
Across the street, the door to the chief’s house swung open as the porch light illuminated the mist around his house.
“Is everything alright, ma’am?” said a portly man with male pattern baldness.
“I’m looking for the police chief.”
“Ah I see, well, 911 still works. ‘Least it should. Is it out again? God damn it. Margaret? Can you bring me my cell, I gotta ring up the front office.”
“I don’t want 911, I won’t the chief; is that you?” Kathy asked, gripping her purse.
“Why would you want me specifically?” Asked the man.
“Doesn’t matter unless you really are the chief of police.”
The man sighed, “look, its late, can you just leave a message at my desk tomorrow morning?”
Kathy was tired of waiting for a confirmation. She drew the pistol from her purse, and fired 5 shots at the man, two landing in his gut, and one in his arm. He let out a scream, as he crawled towards his entryway.
“Margaret, get the gun for Christs’ sake!”
Kathy aimed carefully, slowly increasing the pressure on the trigger until it let out one final shot, the bullet missing the man’s head by an inch. The slide stayed back, the rounds spent. She didn’t have another magazine. Quickly, she bolted to the shadows, grabbing her knife out of her purse, ready for this Margaret to leave her home.
“Margaret, hurry!!”
A voice called out from the house, “I can’t get the gun cabinet open, I don’t remember the combination!”
“Fuck, Jesus, why can’t you ever remember anything??” The chief called out, “I’m gonna die because of this bitch. I’m gonna die, oh my god I’m gonna die.” The chief gripped his chest, before his head fell limp.
Margaret finally left the house, a rifle in hand. It was an SKS without a magazine attachment—it hand 5 rounds at the most. Kathy stab her before she had a chance to fire. First, she had to wait.
“David, Jesus no!” Margaret said, dropping to the ground, checking the chief’s pulse. “Why? Why are you doing this? Please, just leave!”
Kathy wouldn’t be going anywhere, not till Margaret was dead.
Lunging from the shadows, Kathy readied her knife at her side, ready to inject the cold steel into Margaret’s neck. Before she reached Margaret, two rounds were fired, one hitting Kathy in the leg, the other her side. She grabbed her side, the knife falling to the ground. Margaret readied the rifle to fire again, this time in Kathy’s head. Before she could, Kathy grabbed the barrel of the gun and pushed it to the side. Another round shot out, hitting Kathy in her leg. Kathy headbutt Margaret, breaking her nose, before grabbing the gun. 3 more rounds. Kathy grabbed the wood of the gun tightly, as she slammed the butt into Margaret’s head. Margaret dropped like Billy. Kathy pulled the butt of the gun to her shoulder, pointed at Margaret’s head, and fired. Blood and brain matter painted the entryway.
Observing her work, Kathy took note of the young boy standing in the entry way, an M1911 in his shaking hands, pointing directly at Kathy. Tears ran down his face. He was hyperventilating. Kathy turned the gun to face the boy.
“Drop it, kid.” She said, her voice cold, calm.
The boy didn’t move, his breathing faster. He could barely keep the M1911 level with Kathy’s chest, the weight nearly bringing the boy to the ground with his parents.
“How old are you, kid?” Kathy asked.
“I’m 5—I mean 6.” said the boy, his voice shaking as he began to sob.
“You killed younger.” Said Billy from behind Kathy.
“You’re too young to kill someone. Drop the gun, and forget you ever saw me.”
The boy did not comply.
“Look I don’t wanna kill a—eh, fuck it.” Kathy fired a shot in the boy’s skull. He dropped, all life gone in an instant.
Suddenly, Kathy’s wounds became apparent to her, and she fell to the ground. Looking at her side, she saw blood was pooling in her shirt. Both her legs had rounds in them. She couldn’t go to the hospital, they would be obliged to report her wounds to the police. Collecting herself, Kathy used the SKS as a cane, hobbling her way to her car a few blocks down.
“You killed us, mommy.” Billy whispered, “You killed daddy, you killed me, you killed us mommy.”
“How could you kill that boy?” Said Ian in her other ear. She scratched her neck. The pain of every step was overwhelming. She lost blood rapidly, soon she lacked the strength to stand, and fell to the ground. Looking up, she had made it to her car. She eased herself to the door, before falling unconscious.
She slept, dreamless and cold, as the earth turned, and the bodies of her victims began putrefaction. By the time the police had made it to the house, rigor mortis had set in. Kathy blissfully unaware of the danger she was in, as blood continued to drain from her body. The police followed the blood trail back to her car. Opening the door, they found her unconscious. Despite being unconscious, Kathy was all the while aware of her surroundings through some implicit knowledge she did not understand. Shots rang out, as the investigating officers dropped, one after the other. A group of masked men wearing the symbols of the American Front surrounded the car. They took the keys out of her purse, and used it to drive her away from the scene.
Kathy woke up in a room surrounded by men with swastika and 1488 tattoos. Next to her was an IV filled with blood, and an educated looking man, drenched in sweat.
“You American Front?” Kathy asked. She already knew the answer.
“That’s right; we’re a big fan of your handiwork back there. We were planning on hitting the chief’s house, but now we don’t have to, thank to you.” Said the man at the foot of her bed. He had 1488 plastered above his brow, and TND across his chin.
“Glad I could help.” Kathy said, as she groaned in pain.
“That kike had it coming!” said another man, fat like a pig ready for slaughter. He was shirtless, with a massive bundle of sticks around an axe tattooed above his belly button. It had been unnaturally stretched by his ever-growing gut.
Kathy laughed, “I didn’t even know he was Jewish.”
“Why’d you kill him, then?” Asked the fat man.
“He needed to die.” Kathy replied.
“Whatever your reasoning, the point stands: you made a fine kill—even took out the kid and the wife.”
“Was she Jewish, too?”
“No, but she married one of them, and had his spawn; she had to die.” Said the leader.
“I bet HE was a tranny, too!” Said the fat one.
“How does that make sense, Freddy? She had a fucking kid.” Said another.
“Oh right.”
The leader sighed, before he continued, “So here’s the offer: you join us, and help our mission in freeing the white race, and the west from Jewish tyranny. We can make America truly free again; a white, Christian freedom greater than even the Third Reich.”
Although Kathy didn’t care for Nazism, she did see an opportunity in the fascists: protection in numbers. She could take out her goals of chaos all while being protected from prosecution.
“Alright,” Kathy finally said, “What do you need me to do?”
“Fantastic! We’re glad to have you; you’ll find we aren’t just soldiers for the white revolution; we’re family.” Said the leader, as he raised his hand to shake.
“She really shouldn’t move—” said the educated looking man.
“Ah, then get your bed rest; then we’ll officiate this. In any event: welcome to the Baltimore chapter of the American Front.”
Kathy smiled and nodded. She was hungry, and needed to be sated with more dead cops. She had to kill, leaving none left, and from there she’d kill every single solider in the military, every single communist, and in the end, every single fascist. No one would live to rule the world, and then the world could finally die, and with it, Kathy could join the world in death. The world had been dying for years, and it was up to Kathy to euthanize it. These fascists would serve as the needle under which a lethal injection would sound the end of it all. But first, she had to recover from her wounds.
“I miss daddy.” whispered Billy, “I’ll fix it momma…..I’ll fix it.”