“God for only my ears can hear.”Was

“God damn it!” I say loud enough for only my ears can hear.”Was that your train Valencia?” A complete stranger asks.”Do I know you?” I look at the dark handsome man, but can’t make out where I would have meet him. Perhaps he saw me on TV or something talking about the homicides?”I’ve know your father,” he answers. “The name’s Cato.”He has a face that stops you in your tracks. He probably get use to this sudden pause in a person’s natural expression when they look his way. I follow up the pause by overcompensating with a nonchalant gaze and a weak smile.”Named after one of the old Gods?””Something like that.” Cato answers. “Here, take a seat. You will need your rest.” Cato says as he moves his coat off the bench.He seems a bit strange, no phone or any electronics on him. I mean he’s like sixty, but who doesn’t carry around a phone these days? Cato is definitely handsome for an old man and those green eyes of his are hard to look away from. He better not be a creep, it would be a shame breaking such a pretty face.”I’ve heard there is a killer out there, killing pretty ladies like you.””I’m handling it.””Didn’t intend for that to come as an attack.””Sorry didn’t mean to snap at you, just a long week.” I respond.”He seems to be only killing the gifted.””How would you know that?” I ask. “That hasn’t been on the news and only a hand full of people know that.””I know a lot, let’s just say I’m gifted like you.” I look at him and wonder how much he actually knows.”So you know when the next attack will be?” I ask. Can he possibly know that the killer is copying Jack The Ripper? Or is he just bluffing?”If you are right a body will be discovered on ninth of November.””Will I catch him?” I impatiently ask. If he knows everything maybe he also knows the future.”You have bigger things to worry about.” Cato says as he gets onto his train.”What things?” He doesn’t say anything just points to the building entrance as his train doors close and the train leaves the station.As I look at the door I see three men with black trench coats walking into the station. As if synchronized they drop their coats to the ground.”Bomb!” I scream as I notice one of the guys have a timer with a bunch of wires attached to his chest. “Everyone get out!”As the people panic and run past me gunshots crack into the air as loud as thunder, but without the raw power of a storm. Each one rips into something, be it inanimate or living, spilling blood or hitting something with each shot. Two officers collapse to the ground.Dead.I am witnessing another murder scene in San Francisco, another mother’s child will be buried when the sun comes up. I could sense the presence of Morana, The Goddess of Death, and her son Sar, the God of Pain. Morana isn’t kind. We all know that. She snatches where she can, taking people who are far too young, far too good. Morana doesn’t pretend to care, she doesn’t pretend to distinguish.”Get down!” I yell out as I reach for my Glock 27 and open fire back at the three males.I empty my entire magazine and manage to hit two of the attackers, but I do not think to take cover and feel a bullet, then another, then another. I drop my gun and fall to the ground. Blood is pouring out of me and I can feel Morana’s presents hover above me.Only one of the attackers is still standing. He finally runs out of bullets and drops his gun to the ground. I try to access his phone, but have no idea how to deactivate the bomb and the timer quickly counting down. Sixty-five, sixty-four, sixty-three, sixty-two…”Morana,” I whisper. “Wait a little longer.”I reach my gun and stumble to my feet. Click, click, click. Not a single bullet left. Forty-five, forty-four, forty-three… the clock ticks away. After he turns away from me and I sneak up to his side and hit him on the head with the gun. He stumbles but I firmly get a hold of his vest and shove him backwards as he backpedals all the way to the bathroom door. Twenty, nineteen, eighteen…”Get out!” I yell at those hiding in the stalls as I knock the terrorist unconscious with my gun. Fifteen, fourteen, thirteen… “Fuck.”With the adrenaline rushing through my body I manage to stumble out of the bathroom, my body week and in pain.”Run!” I manage to yell out to those who are frightened and still at the station. Eight, seven, six… I try to walk further but notice a little kid on the ground. Three, two… I jump on the kid and try to shield him with my body as the blast rattles the station.