“Paul.” They shouted in turn but didn’t hear a sound.
They called his name repeatedly again but no one answered. They started ransacking the building. Alfred entered a room, looked at
the bed and saw something that sent a chill down his spine. A woman was lying lifeless on the bed. She had been shot on the head and was already drowned in her own blood,
“Dennis!” He screeched and Dennis rushed into the room. He saw the frightful sight and a wave of nausea wracked him.
“Oh my God, that’s Paul’s wife. What’s happening?” Dennis’ voice was quavery. Alfred took out his gun and started moving to the door, “Let’s find Paul immediately.”
Dennis dug his hands into his jacket pockets and brought out his two guns. He clutched
tenaciously to the triggers and followed Alfred.
They searched round the compound but there was no sign of Paul. They came out of the compound, confused, and started towards the blazing building at the extreme of the street, their guns held in place. When they were few miles to the building, Dennis looked left and saw a figure he couldn’t tell. He nudged Alfred and pointed to a cashew tree, “Look at that.”
Alfred’s eyes followed his finger and he saw the figure and they started moving toward it.
They got to the tree and were staring at another scene that instantly sagged their guts.
Paul’s lifeless body was leaning against the tree. Alfred went closer and examined it. Paul
had been shot in the brain and on his forehead was written in blood, Good night. They stood there for a while, lost for the next move to make, their hearts hammering loudly against their ribs. Dennis pulled Alfred’s arm
with a shaky hand, “Let’s move up, the murderer might still be around the vicinity.”
Alfred nodded and followed closely behind Dennis, covering him. By the time they
got to Reagan’s apartment, the building was already brought to debris. They
looked around for any sign of life but there was none. They turned and hurried
back to the car.