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(Author\'s note - At this point, I decided to take a different direction. Don\'t forget this is still in its first draft stage and I\'d welcome your opinions)
Jenny’s log:
I kept hold of Morris until we hit the ground. He wasn’t moving, I hit his vitals monitor, nothing. He was goddamn dead, I wouldn’t accept that. I tore off his helmet, held my face to his mouth. Then I started to cry, rocking back and forwards, there was nothing, the life had left his body and he had left me alone. Boris nudged me and I wiped the tears from my eyes and saw him pointing up with his snout, lips curled back in a snarl. I dragged Morris to the corner of what appeared to be a cellar and pulled my Beretta from its holster. I had reloaded recently so there was plenty of rounds to kill those bastards, kneecaps first to disable them, then work my way around each body finishing with a gut shot that ensured they died, but slowly and in a great deal of pain. I wasn’t going to let anybody kill my man and get away with it. My guardians were now busy burrowing into a wall, God knows why. Then I saw Boris disappear and realised this must be the remains of a street and they would all have cellars. My pets were hip to this and already finding an escape route. The Readers would be here soon and it was going to be too easy to pick me off if I stayed. I had to leave David in the cellar, he was dead – it was pointless trying to delude myself. I leaned over him, kissed his forehead then his mouth, already starting to grow cold, then I followed my guardians into the next cellar.
Tears filled my eyes again and I angrily wiped them away, I was behaving like a fucking dewy-eyed wimp. We had three good years together and considering our occupation we were lucky to have lasted that long. He would be pissed off with me for folding up now. I had survived worse than this, I was Jenny fucking Wilson, mad, bad and bloody dangerous to know especially if you got me miffed. I was going to get that list, burn it, make sure the whole world went to hell, because it fucking well deserved it. David had told me how to communicate with the A.I. Grenadier-class submarines that permanently patrolled the seas. They carried enough deGaulle thermo-nuclear missiles to wipe everything and everybody out. When I got revenge I did it with style.
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In five hundred years time, most of us will be forgotten dust. But Hitler will still be remembered, God loves irony.
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Fear Book 3 part 8
