Vantage Point

The mesh front gate made an eerie creak as he opened it. It echoed loudly through the silent school. Just the way he liked it. The date? What did it matter? But on the off chance that he needed it later he dragged a torn up old note pad from his jacket pocket and began tainting the page with an atrocious scrawl of ink. “February 25 1983”. Alongside 4 other appallingly recorded dates. One after the other, “May 17 1982, September 6 1982, December 28 1982, January 31 1983”. Though he was never in a position to need those dates, he was always right there in plain view, this would be the same. Five fires, four schools, no survivors, game over. He smiled gleefully as he pushed the gate back into place, his trademark black slicker billowing around his torso. Only a matter of seconds now before he was discovered. Smiling smugly he began to thread his way carefully into the high set cluster of buildings. There was noise coming from one of the slightly lower set buildings to his left. The rasping sound of a child shouting hoarse words of disrespect reminded him of his cause here. In a split second his mind had arranged his thoughts into flawless order. “Game over” he murmured forcing himself to smother the triumphant laughter bubbling to his lips. As he waited for the silent calling to ignite his vengeful plan a twinge of annoyance struck him at the continuous shouting. He set to work despite the distraction, bringing his flawless plan to life. The exaggerated phrases drifting breezily out classroom windows grew louder. An overpoweringly sharp, potentially alarming noise, like metal hitting metal or a latch breaking, caught his attention only seconds before the match hit the fuse and the dry dead grass sparked to life in an assortment of reds, yellows and oranges. The flickering colours had spread to the high surrounding scrub before his senses alerted him to the problem. A child had left the building. That was not allowed. Not to his rules. The mass of his plan was already flickering to life. He had time. He launched himself in a flailing of body parts toward the small child, her blonde hair flying in the wind as she fled. She wasn’t aware of him yet. Her brilliant green eyes ran with salty droplets that lined her fragile face glinting in the heat. He continued to run toward her. The breeze picked up and the brilliant red- orange glow began to lick its way up the sides of the buildings, consuming them and resigning them to crumble beneath the force. The little girl, finally alert to the danger that had befallen her, watches in horror as her place of childhood refuge is consumed by the glow and crumbles away in thick hunks of rubble. The sparkling gurgle of the river nestled secretively amongst the grassy scrub surrounding the country school, alighted the slightest hope as she realised she was next to be smothered by the all consuming flame. His plan was not going to work if she escaped his grasp. It was not to the rules. Games had rules and this, this was against them. She’d begun to run now, desperately trying to escape her fate. Game over, she was to die here, with the rest of her class mates or if she was clever, she would want to die here. He would find her. She would not escape and live to tell about it. He stalked toward the river, she couldn’t get far. His temper had been pushed now. He broke into a run. It wasn’t his policy to leave ‘witnesses’ however small and ignorant they may be. His perfect smoke streaked summer masterpiece had doubled back, coming toward them. Time was ticking. The clock was on. Out of time. Sirens blared as he turned three sixty to meet head on with the smouldering haze. His walls of iridescent red and yellow would stop the insolent child. He still had time to get out. He fled, predicting how long the paramedics would wait before assessing his damage. He would be there, oh yes he would be there. Back through the gate, this time leaving it hanging open. Trademark.
The blaring sirens came to a sudden halt. Firemen set to work, smothering the hot walls in short bursts of hydraulic power. By the time the paramedics had arrived the blaze had been calmed only to leave a dull roaring, smoky haze. Only job left was assessing the damage. School 1: no survivors, School 2: no survivors, School 3: nothing left, School 4: no survivors, Now School 5: yet to be assessed. It was printed clearly in front of him. He was back. Plain view. The head of the paramedic team set his men to work, patrolling the surrounding area and searching hopelessly through the rubble for survivors. “Hey Mark, go check down by the river for any stragglers!” one man had shouted above the suppressing hum of the water being projected onto the lapsing flames from the fire hose. The one they called Mark made his way down through the dead and burnt scrub, over the blacked, fire claimed stretch to the river. He knew where he was going, what he was looking for. He scanned the stony river bed with his eyes, filtered his hands through the immediate reeds. “Bingo” The gurgling rush of water hid but a single child amongst its reeds. The small blonde girl was breathing. Unconscious but alive, that was for sure, yes alive. Mark grabbed her arm and mercilessly towed her out of the reeds toward him. He dragged her far enough to cradle her lovingly within the shelter of his arms, a single box of matches falling from his jacket pocket as he did so. It didn’t matter. He had the child and now it was over. Game over. Snatching up his matches and shoving them back into place he laughed not bothering to smother it this time. Vantage point. Game over.

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