Survival of the Species
Chapter Six
Karl drove his van (with faked number plates) along the main street, being careful not to drive too slow (as that might attract attention to him), but slowly enough to observe the faces of the pedestrians. He was always a cautious driver when out on a job; the last thing he needed was to have a run-in with the police for some minor traffic infringement - if they found out that he had faked number plates, then it would not be too long until they carried out a search and discovered the rifle in the back of the van (of course, he would have dealt with them with his pistol before they had gone that far - but then he would have had to abandon his allotted task for the night). It always paid to be careful, to do things right.
It was a busy Friday night, with all of the businesses in the fashionable shopping area doing a brisk trade. Being a trendy area, there was more than enough yuppie couples walking around; and wherever there's a gaggle of yuppies, you're sure to find more than enough racially mixed couples - and this area was no exception.
Karl picked a side street that came directly off the main street, full of shoppers' cars, as it was almost impossible to get a parking spot on the main street itself. Karl eventually found a spot to park his van that had enough room for him to drive quickly away if necessary. Also, this particular side street was mostly non-residential, and therefore there would be less chance of accidental witnesses. Karl hopped into the back of his van and waited.
The proper precautions had been taken, of course. The van was a common model, with a standard colour, no extras - one of thousands. The number plates had been adjusted with some coloured electrical tape. So even if he was spotted, which was unlikely, tracking him down would be near impossible.
As it turned out, Karl had to wait about half an hour. It was well before closing time, so most people were still shopping, but that suited him fine - if he had arrived near closing time, there would be heaps of targets to pick from as the hordes returned from their shopping, but this would also mean heaps of potential witnesses around. This time of night meant that if a couple did come his way, it would be unlikely that anyone else would be around.
After four couples had passed him, eventually a mixed race couple had come along - some chimpanzee-like Asian, surprisingly accompanied by a strikingly good-looking white woman (which was unusual, because most of the women that married monkeys were noted for being plain or ugly types).
Karl had already debated with himself the best way to deal with his targets. If he had gotten out of his van and shot them after they passed, he would have had a better aim, but was exposing himself to possible observation by witnesses. He had decided to shoot them from inside the vehicle as they walked past - and the slide-open window on the side of the van was perfect for this purpose.
As the race traitor couple drew nearer to his vehicle, Karl began sighting the woman with his silenced pistol. Although it was possible that the man might be quicker to react if he shot the woman first, it was highly likely that the woman would very quickly let out a high-pitched scream if he shot the monkey first (men aren't as quick to scream as women are; or, at least, that's what Karl understood to be the case).
Phut, phut. The woman was knocked sideways by the force of the bullets, and was sort of spun around before she hit the ground. In the split-second following, the man started to move towards the woman, but then he half turned to look around as if coming to the split-second realisation that something was very wrong (no, she hadn't tripped; no, she hadn't had a fit or fainted - in the half-light he hadn't yet seen the bullet holes or blood, but some primate sense flashed a warning in his brain). But that split-second delay of his mind's warning meant that his reactions came too late. Phut, phut - down he went too, clasping at his chest.
Half a second later, Karl had fired two more shots at each of them, so as to finish off them off.
Unlike the Grisbys, who were specially chosen targets, it wasn't imperative to ensure that these two were dead; and there was no point in leaving the van to find out (although, it was hardly likely that they were still alive; or, at least, they wouldn't live for more than a few minutes). Within seconds, Karl had started up his van and moved slowly off down the street (he knew that he should never zoom away from the scene with screeching tyres, as that would only draw attention to himself).
The shooting itself had only taken about four to five seconds; and, with only a few seconds more elapsing, Karl was already heading off down the street, to disappear into the Friday night traffic.
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