he’s out there

Warning: If you’re expecting some amusing turn by the end, it’s not coming. This is admittedly very dark for me. I’m not trying to be an alarmist and I hope this is completely wrong, but I’ve been thinking about it and I need to get it out of my head. Sorry and thanks.

He’s out there.

Right now as I type this and you read it, he’s out there—waiting, watching, planning. He’s absorbing the TV news coverage of it, wading through the endless deluge of stories on the internet, probably even buying a newspaper or two just to clip out the headlines to post on his wall as a reminder. He’s reading all the profiles of the victims, watching the families grieve, looking at all the pictures of the latest guy with his red-and-orange dyed hair on every channel and every news site, and fantasizing about what it’s all going to look like when he has his moment of “revenge” and “glory.” He’s seeing his face going around the globe, wondering if they will use his middle name in all the reports.

Everyone who mocked and teased and ignored him—either in his head or for real—won’t do any of that any longer. That pain, that hurt, is driving him now, and he’s already decided that what perceived injustices befell him are serious enough that there’s no going back. This is the only answer.

He’s waiting and watching and planning. He knows about all of them—this most recent guy, the guy in Toronto, the guy in Norway, the guy in Ft. Hood, the Virginia Tech guy, those two guys in Columbine, the guy in that diner in Texas, a few of the others. He’s studied them all: how many they killed, how they went about it, where they got their weapons, which guns they used, how they planned it, what mistakes they made, how they were able to fly under the radar until they were ready to explode onto the world’s stage with the fury and intensity and carnage and unpredictability and massive loss of life that comes with the eruption of a seemingly dormant volcano. All the information is out there, ridiculously easy to find courtesy of our insatiable need to know every detail of every horror.

The fact that he’s alone so much has given him plenty of time to read up on it all. “If they could do it, why not me?” he’s thinking. “I’m smarter than any of them, and my moment will be even more spectacular.” (For a time, anyway.) He’s carefully assembling his arsenal, surreptitiously buying what he needs from various places so as not to arouse suspicion. He’s tested all his weapons, gotten used to the kick and feel of a hot gun in his cold hand. Right now, he’s probably practicing loading and reloading, figuring out how to carry multiple weapons and extra ammo. He’s already picked out exactly what he’s going to wear.

He’s already got the spot for his moment picked out—most likely a public location where anonymous, vulnerable people go about their lives and will never see him coming until it’s too late. They can’t have any inkling of what’s about to happen or it won’t happen—and after waiting and planning so long, it has to be perfect. It’ll be someplace that makes complete sense to him, one that’s traditionally light on security or anyone who could stop him.

He’s making notes and sketches and contingency plans. He will be incredibly prepared, leaving absolutely no detail to chance. The only surprise will be that of his victims. Once the moment arrives, he’ll realize that he—and he alone—is in control, just as he’s always wanted it. Their fear and hysteria will fuel him. He will not fail, and doesn’t really care if he survives or not.

Maybe the rest of us will get incredibly lucky and someone whom he thought was mean to him will unexpectedly be nice and somehow inadvertently make him change his mind. Maybe a family member or friend will do something to alter his course. Maybe a neighbor will notice that “the nice, quiet guy” who lives across the hall has been coming home with assault rifle-shaped packages and tell someone. Maybe someone will see something and say something before it’s too late. Maybe he’ll just kill himself instead . . .

Maybe—and most likely—not.

But it’s okay to hope that whatever it is that’s broken inside him might somehow find a way to heal itself. That’d be nice, if a tad unrealistic.

But make no mistake. He’s out there. Right now. And the truly terrifying part is that he’s the only one who will ever see it coming.