Popcorn

Chapter Thirty Seven

Farrah screamed. Velvet screamed. Even Kirsten thought about protesting, but then she remembered the sacred duty of the newsgatherer: never intervene, not even if the news is being created for your benefit.

‘Please, Wayne, don’t,’ Bruce said.

‘She’s my Mom!’ Velvet sobbed.

Outside, in the command truck, Chief Cornell was in agony. Should he send his SWAT teams in now? If he did, there would certainly be bloodshed. If he didn’t, likewise.

Oh, how he wished that somebody else would take responsibility.

Inside the mansion, Wayne had got up and was studying the ratings on Kirsten’s computer screen.

‘They’re climbing, aren’t they?’

‘Yes they are,’ Kirsten replied, ‘but none the less my producer is saying please don’t kill the woman.’

Farrah sobbed, pulling pathetically at her manacled hand.

In the control truck a lively debate was in progress.

‘We have to terminate the broadcast,’ some were saying. ‘He’s feeding off it. It’s creating his crimes.’

‘He killed plenty of people before there were any cameras to play to,’ others contended. ‘We can’t turn off. We don’t choose the news. We don’t have a right to censor national events just because they’re unattractive.’

‘But if he’s creating the news for us?

‘We can’t take responsibility for his actions.’

‘Can we take responsibility for our own?’

The cameras stayed on, as no one had doubted for a moment that they would, and the ratings continued to climb.

Inside the lounge Wayne showed off his guns to the camera. ‘Hurry up now, y’all,’ he said. ‘You don’t want to miss it, do ya?’

When the ninety seconds ran out Wayne shot Farrah dead.