Lost (Prologue)

The man stood in the circular room, staring out the grimy window to his left. He brushed back the faded red drapes to see the S.W.A.T. truck pull into the driveway. Already he heard voices from the first floor rising up to him through the air. The pounding of heavy boots on stairs echoed closer and closer. The man had nowhere to run, but he didn’t want to. The only thing he wanted was answers. A black boot came crashing through the door, throwing splinters all across the carpeted floor.
“Freeze!” The agent shouted training his gun on the man. “Put your hands above your head!”
The man slowly laced his fingers behind his head and asked, “Why can’t I find them? Tell me why I can’t find them.”
The agent smiled as he drew closer. More agents reached the broken door.
“You’ve been a hard man to find.” The agent smirked.
“I want you to tell me why I can’t find them.” The man said slowly, quietly.
“There are some things in this world that need to stay lost, things that don’t need answering.” The agent explained as he approached more swiftly now.
The man lowered his hands.
“Don’t move!” The agent ordered once more as he halted.
The man slowly moved his left hand to his chest, head, and both shoulders. “My God,” He said to himself. “Please forgive me for these lives I’m about to take.”
“Put your hands on your head! Do it!”
The man took out his gun, smiling.