Leonard David Worthington drove calmly down the street, reminding himself what is was to be a survivor. The scars he bore from the shotgun blasts were badges of honor he wore proudly.
That old fool had thought he took care of him, but he had been sorely mistaken. He had to admit to himself that he had almost succumbed to the injuries, but apparently, he was meant for greater things and somebody had been looking out for him. Too bad the person who had pulled him from the frozen lake hadn’t been as lucky. The man had drowned saving him and there was nothing he could have done about it. Worthington had been too weak to do anything but help himself.
Smiling to himself at the memory, he pulled in behind the police vehicle. He could see the man look into his mirror as his own lights illuminated the interior of the patrol car. Worthington shut the engine off, extinguishing the headlights. He opened the door and stepped to the driver’s window of the car. The officer was rolling down the window.
“Good evening, Officer,” Worthington said. He was carrying a stuffed animal in his left arm. It was a purple unicorn with a bright pink bow wrapped around its neck. The officer looked at it and chuckled.
“That’s not for me, I take it,” the policeman said.
Worthington smiled. “No. It’s for my daughter, Ellie.”
The cop’s smile faltered and Worthington could see some wheels turning in there. The cop suddenly grabbed for the radio. Worthington’s right arm shot up and the can of mace he was carrying fired directly into the officer’s face. Worthington immediately reached in and grabbed the officer’s neck, and with the purple unicorn soaked in model airplane fuel, he muffled the officer’s cries with it by stuffing the unicorn into his face and holding it there until the officer succumbed to the fumes.
One down, he thought.
Walking into the backyard and through the hole in the fence, he approached the second squad car from the rear. This time, he held the unicorn below the officer’s line of sight and tapped on his window, startling the man. The officer rolled it down. Worthington maced him immediately, and then rendered him unconscious in the same fashion as the first.
Two down. Nobody had noticed a thing. His daughter waited inside. He wasted little time.
Striding to the basement sliding door, he shattered it with a swift kick, the noise loud in the night, but it didn’t matter. He would be in and out within minutes. Commotion from upstairs could be heard as he strode briskly up the stairs. Bursting through the door, he saw the mother directly in front of him, standing with her hands to her face, frozen. He took a step to her and grabbed the junction of the nerve bundle at the base of her neck adjoining the shoulder and applied pressure. She moaned and collapsed, unconscious within seconds, her head striking the floor with a sickening crunch.
The boy came around the corner and paused for a second, staring at him. Then Lucas Harrison charged at him and this surprised Worthington, but nonetheless, it was foolish. As the boy came within range, he moved to his left and brought his knee up into his abdomen, bending him at the waist. His right fist struck the base of his exposed neck and he was down for the count. Worthington grinned and even admired the boy’s foolish courage. Maybe he would re-evaluate the boy’s destiny.
Hearing heavy footfalls above his head, Worthington moved into the hall and turned left into the living room.
And there she was.
The shock on her face only amused him. Of course she would not believe. He knew she had seen a picture of him, but the real recognition came when she saw his eyes. He watched as who he was registered in her mind and then was surprised when she said, “Hello, Daddy.”
Then she ran.
It did no good. He was too quick for her and he cornered her easily. He talked to her soothingly as she struggled against the stuffed animal pressed to her face, but her struggles soon subsided. He lifted her, so small and so light, put her over his shoulder, and walked out the front door. As he reached the bottom of the driveway, the father emerged from the house, shouting, pistol pointed toward him. Worthington did not hesitate. He drew the Glock from the small of his back and fired. The man went down without another sound.
Worthington walked to his car and lay his daughter carefully in the back seat. He opened his own door, glanced around the quiet neighborhood and then sat in the seat. He started the engine and drove away whistling.
His princess had finally come home.