I often wonder if God feels like this. High above the ground, looking onto the little people down below. Only God doesn't seek revenge. I plan on killing my father all the same. The problem is how am I going to do it?
He is going to have bodyguards, with guns; Big guns, and probably some ungodly medical who knows what waiting for its next meal. Most likely me.
I landed at the edge of my home town. I tucked in my wings tight under my clothes. No need to bring attention to myself. If I do, dear old dad will see me a mile away. I was walking around I need to see a newspaper or a TV place. Hmmm. McDonald's has TVs showing the news. I went in trying to look casual. I plop my backpack and sit in the booth where the TV is in full view. What I saw I did not like.
Here's what happened. Spyker was never found. Hunter and Miss Doomsday are wanted all over the US and all over the world. They lived my knife, and Nicole's butt kicking. So I guess that's a good news bad news moment. On top of it all my dad openly put out a hit on me. A million? A million dollars for my "safe" return? Great. At least the Millers cut and dyed my hair before the bounty hunters attacked. All I have is the knife I stole from that kid, when I escaped. Perhaps I need stock up on some gear, before I hunt him down. But where could I get the equipment I need to.....
Uh, Oh.
There is a cop watching me from across the restaurant. I pretended not to notice. I'll just slip out in a minute. The policeman got up and started towards me. Crap. Chill, just chill. He probably just thinks I'm a juvenile delinquent. "How's it going?" he asks. I shrug, "Going good." He nodded. "So got any plans? Other than sitting around here all day?" He was smiling and joking now. That comforted me a little. I said, "I'm supposed to meet with some friends, but I guess they're not coming." I lied. Normally I suck at lieing, but I think I sold this one. He nodded again. "Why don't ya buy something?" Before I could say "I'm not hungry" my stomach growls. I hold it hoping that will shut it up. The policeman, who I saw the name of Carl on his name tag, laughed. "Your friend there just proved my point." he laughed. I said, "I don't have any money, unfortunately." Which was the truth. "Well, here." He pulled out his wallet and put five dollars in front of me. Before I could say anything he put his hand up. "Don't fight with me here. Just get something to fill you up." With that he left. Before he got out the door he turned back and said, "Have a good one, and be careful." I stammered; turned around in my seat, I said, waving, "Yeah, uh, you too."
After he left I got up and ordered a simple chicken sandwich with a Coke. I think that cop knew more about me than he let on. I guess he's seen the possible new looks of me. He knew who I was. Yet, he let me go? I am so confused.
There is a million dollars on my head, and he let me go? Why?
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