Part 31: Promise me you'll never go away again. I couldn't bear being without you...
The bastard had escaped from me one last time. This time, I was going to run him down and kill him and then burn the wreckage and then scour the ashes with lime.
Driscoll was going to die.
Like he had killed Karen.
We had chased the coward down, cornered him in a small area of ruined industrial works in the southeast of the island.
The place where Karen had died. Appropriate.
I was sick to the stomach. The bastard had been carrying her brain around like some kind of grotesque trophy, gloating each day about how his sick plans were working out.
He was mine.
The others could kill the soldiers, but Driscoll was MINE.
They put up no resistance.
And his death was painful and slow. First I removed one arm, then the other. Then my men stopped him from escaping while I put two bullets into his head.
He screamed and screamed and didn't stop until his brains were pasted across the control console.