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Colt bounded up the outdoor staircase and unlocked the door to his room. He barged in and grabbed his sleeping children. They both awoke and stared at him curiously as he wrapped them together in the same blanket and heaved them into his arms. Combined, the children were actually quite awkward and heavy, but Colt had ample strength for the task. He shifted most of their weight onto one arm in order to free up the other for his gun.

Everything else in the room was abandoned. He hurried back down to the parking lot.

The one puppet whom Colt had not killed was back up, his smashed-in face still just as vacant amidst all the blood.

At this distance, Colt wasn’t confident that he could get a headshot with only one hand, so he shot him in the chest instead. And when the guy dropped, Colt walked up and blew his brains out.

Stephanie and Thomas both started crying.

“Sorry about the noise, kiddos.” He fastened them into the backseats of the car before jumping behind the wheel and driving out of the parking lot.

He got on the highway. It didn’t really matter where he went, as long as it led out of the city, so he chose west. After a minute, however, he had to slow down.

Traffic was deadlocked ahead. He could see a massive pileup of vehicles and an overturned 18-wheeler.

Colt growled. He doubted the coincidence. He backed up, cars honking at him as he pushed them out of his way. Then he drove over the median in the road and started back the other direction. He exited the highway, searching for a small street out of town. Before long, he had to stop again.

A line of three police vehicles blocked the road. Six uniformed officers exited their cars in perfect unison.

Colt switched to reverse and slammed his foot on the gas pedal. Gunfire pierced the windshield, making him duck his head and squint as he turned backwards onto a side street.