Two Out of Three

It was well after midnight, and the waves were crashing along the shore of the Santa Barbara coastline. The storm that had been building pressure all evening was finally unleashing its wrath, but the house high on the cliff was protected from the deafening water below. Despite the torrential thunder and lightning, the man alone in the bed was sleeping soundly. He had chosen this location primarily for safety, but he would soon learn that he wasn’t safe. He would never understand why, not even as he took his last breath. Something undefined suddenly jerked him into consciousness, his heart pounding as he opened his eyes and waited for them to adjust to the darkness. When they did, he could see the storm raging outside the floor-to-ceiling windows. The branches in the trees were swaying in a fast, rickety cadence, and the shadows danced around the room like ghouls. He took a few deep breaths, telling himself that he was simply on edge and to stop acting childish. There were no monsters, it was just some wind and rain. However, in the next flash of lightning, he saw a silhouette in the bedroom doorway. Was that possible? The man blinked several times, hoping that his eyes were playing tricks on him. But the figure remained, unmoving and ominous. The man realized he wasn’t being childish after all, and the terror that swept through him was overpowering. He started to tremble. From the darkened doorway, the figure switched on the bedroom light. The man in bed squinted in the room’s sudden brightness and automatically raised his hands to cover his face. When nothing happened, he cautiously peered at the person in the raincoat, and his eyes grew wide. “What are you doing here?” “Two out of three,” the killer replied and fired.