Charlie Whitman: Sniper (556 hits)
Category: GeneralLabels: fiction
Rating: 0.92 on 19 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Maltese (View user info) at 2006-08-11 17:09:34 EDT
August 1, 1966
Austin, Texas
3:02 AM
It's a rainy Sunday night. Rain pours down on Charlie's car as the sound of thunder fills his ears. He pulls into the driveway of his house. It was a nice house, perfect for a nice man like Charlie.
Charlie was six feet tall (1.82 m), with short blonde hair and green eyes. He was 23 years old, and was the world's youngest Eagle Scout, becoming one on his eleventh birthday. Charlie was kind of shy sometimes, and didn't really like to talk to people that he didn't know. He was a gifted man (his IQ was in the mid-160 range) and a gifted marksman; he recently returned from two years in the Marines.
He gets out of his car and locks it, like always. He opens the door to his house and makes his way to the living room.
His wife, Kathy, nine months pregnant, is asleep on the couch in the living room. She was two years older than him and worked as a kindergarten teacher at a local school.
Charlie watched her sleep for ten minutes or so.
"Kathy", he said, knowing she was fast asleep.
"I'm so sorry."
He pulled a long hunting knife from his pocket and raised it over his sleeping wife, as his hand wobbled and a tear rolled down his face.
He plunged the knife down into her forehead. He saw her jolt a little, and she stopped breathing.
Then he stabbed her in the head again. Then again. And once more. He left four deep wounds in her head; one for each year of their marriage.
Charlie removed the bloody knife from her head and put it back into his pocket. He walked outside again, locking the door and turning off the light before he left.
He started up his car again, and drove on the wet streets to downtown Austin.
3:36 AM
He stopped his car, parking on the side of the road. He got out and walked across the soaked sidewalk, walking by the ice cream parlor where he and Kathy had gone the day before. He unlocked a door to a large apartment complex, and took the elevator up to the sixth floor. He found the apartment he wanted.
Room 341.
He pounded on the door until it opened. His mother stood there.
"Charlie? What are you doing here? It's three in the morning!", his mother said, wiping the buds from her eyes.
Charlie put his hand over his mother's mouth as he forced his way into her apartment.
He slammed her against the wall.
"Charlie, what are you doing!?", his mother screamed.
He wrapped his hands around her throat.
Within thirty seconds she fell down and ceased breathing. He took the same knife he had used to kill Kathy out of his pocket and pierced her heart.
Charlie yelled, louder than he ever had yelled before. He yelled so loud that it hurt.
"I HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAATE YOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUU!!!"
He put his head into his hands and cried as he ran out the door, and back to the elevator. He got back into his car, drove it five blocks south, and slept off the rest of the night in his car.
August 1, 1966
6:46 AM
Charlie woke as the sun rose on the city of Austin. He got out of his car and walked to the Sears store nearby. He rode the escalator to the second floor of the gargantuan department store, and made his way to the weapon section. Charlie bought a 12-gauge shotgun along with forty shells with his credit card and left the store (Sears discontinued selling guns in 1983). He also used the phone there to phone Kathy's boss to tell her she was sick and wouldn't be coming to work today. He walked back to his car and opened the trunk, which contained two suitcases.
He loaded the shotgun and stuffed it into one of his two suitcases. He took both suitcases, one in each hand, and walked for a while through the city.
Until eventually, he saw it. The concentration of his resentment; the source of all his hatred.
The University of Texas at Austin.
He had spent four wretched years there, being spat upon, picked upon, and unloved. He knew now what he must do.
He walked onto the campus, suitcases in hand, and found the Main Building. It was the tallest building in the entire campus, dwarfing everything else there. There was also an observation deck at the very top which was very popular with both tourists and students. Charlie entered through the front door and looked around, eventually finding the door to the spiral staircase. He walked up the staircase until reaching the twenty-eighth (and top) floor. He was tired from pulling the heavy suitcases and set them down and took a rest on a sofa in the room. The secretary, 47-year-old Edna Townsley, looked at him.
"Hello, how are you today? Are you here to see someone?", she asked in a cheery voice.
Whitman sat there and didn't answer.
He unzipped both of his suitcases.
They contained the following:
Suitcase 1:
12-gauge shotgun with forty shells
Remington 700 sniper rifle with scope
.35-caliber Remington rifle
M1 Carbine
.357 Magnum
Luger pistol
Gun-cleaning kit
Two hunting knives
Suitcase 2:
Transistor radio
Pen and notebook
Three gallons of water
Four gallons of gasoline
Toy compass
Hammer
Canteen
Binoculars
Twelve cans of Spam
Gloves
The secretary looked alarmed at the contents of the suitcases.
"What's all that stuff you got there?", she said, her voice trembling.
Again, Charlie didn't answer.
He pulled out the shotgun from the suitcase and aimed it at her head.
"No. P-p-please... I-I-I have a f-family..."
The trigger was pulled, and Edna died instantly. Charlie dragged her body underneath the sofa with a few seconds to spare before a married couple, Don and Cheryl Walden, walked through the door. They greeted Charlie, not noticing the growing red stain coming out from under the sofa he sat in and the rifles he held in each hand.
Charlie let them walk to the staircase. To this day nobody knows why. After they left, he he dragged Edna's desk halfway up the stairs leading to the observation deck and jumped behind the barricade he had just made.
Charlie watched as two families of tourists, the Gabour and Lamport families, made their way up the spiral staircase.
19-year-old Michael Gabour attempted to look around Charlie's barricade and was greeted with a shotgun to his face. Michael fell over, blood spewing from his broken body. The two families panicked and ran down the stairs as Charlie jumped out from behind the barricade and fired down the staircase, killing 36-year-old Marguerite Lamport. He chased them down the stairs and shot Michael's brother, 16-year-old Mark Gabour, in the back of the head, killing him instantly. Mary Lamport was left permanently disabled.
Charlie sprinted up the stairs again, carrying his weapons and supplies up to the stairs and through the door leading to the observation deck. He got out his Remington 700 and attached the scope and positioned himself.
From here he had a view of the entire campus. Nobody was safe now.
He loaded his trusty rifle and attached the scope. He looked to the east, seeing the students come fresh from their dorms to start the day.
He opened fire into the crowd and Charlie's revenge against the world began.
19-year-old Thomas Eckman was the first to go. The bullet pierced his heart as he shielded 18-year-old Claire Wilson, eight months pregnant.
Charlie shot her in a way not to kill her, but to kill her unborn baby. She fell over and Charlie giggled like a schoolgirl.
Professor Robert Boyer, 33 years old and father of six, was on his way to teach a class. He was shot in the back, and, like everyone else, killed without warning.
"There's Mother...", Charlie said to himself, as he envisioned his mother's face on two students who were walking through campus.
22-year-old Thomas Ashton and 24-year-old Thomas Karr were both shot in the spine on their way to a Spanish class and were killed instantly.
Charlie aimed again, seeing a police officer rush toward him. Again, Charlie envisioned his mother's face on the officer.
"There's Mother too..."
Around this time, Billy Speed, a 22-year-old police officer, abandoned his lunch when he heard the gunfire and tried to enter the tower. Charlie shot him in the shoulder, where the bullet pierced his heart and lungs. He was planning to serve in Vietnam soon.
39-year-old Harry Walchuk, a teacher with four children, was shot in the side of the head and died during emergency surgery an hour later.
18-year-old Paul Sonntag was hiding behind a barricade with his fiancée Claudia Rutt and her friend Carla. Paul made the mistake of standing up and shouted, "Carla! Come look, I can see him. This is for real!. He was shot in the mouth. Claudia then tried to assist him when she too was killed. Paul's father, news reporter John Bolton, did not learn of his son's death until he was given a list of casualties to read on-air.
"He's also Mother...", Charlie said in a satisfied voice.
29-year-old Roy Schmidt, an electrician, was shot while running to his truck with a co-worker to escape the gunfire.
17-year-old Karen Griffith, a very bright high school student, was touring the university, which was to be the college she would attend that year, when she was shot in the lungs. She died a week later in the hospital.
Charlie shrieked.
"MAAAAAMAAAAAAA!!! WHY DID YOU NEVER LOVE ME!!!!!!!!!!"
He started crying, somewhat blurring his vision as he continued to fire.
23-year-old David Gunby was shot in his only kidney and had to receive dialysis every day for the rest of his life. He committed suicide by euthanasia in 2001.
The police arrived and started firing at Charlie, but thought there were "at least five people" shooting at them, due to Charlie's extremely high rate of firing. An assault team was set up, consisting of officers Ramiro Martinez and Houston McCoy, charged up the spiral staircase and reached the twenty-eighth floor, pushing aside the desk barricading the entrance to the observation deck.
Slowly they opened the door and saw Charlie firing.
Martinez crept up behind Charlie and carefully aimed a pump shotgun at the back of Charlie's head. However, when Charlie heard the pump, he turned around fired at Martinez (all within two seconds). The bullet hit pierced his right arm and hit the right side of his chest. Martinez collapsed on the floor and Charlie, thinking he was dead, turned around and continued firing.
Martinez crawled slowly towards McCoy and tried to gesture to McCoy to take Charlie's shotgun, which was laying on the ground right next to Charlie's feet. Then realized he could not move his hand, or his arm for that matter. Blood flowed from Martinez's arm and he whispered his plan to McCoy. He agreed.
McCoy crawled slowly towards Charlie, staining his uniform with Martinez's blood in the process. McCoy grabbed the shotgun next to Charlie's feet and stood up.
Charlie turned around again, prepared to fire, but the bullet missed and hit and flew out into the air.
McCoy aimed the shotgun and Charlie's head and fired. Charlie fell over slowly and slumped over the ledge, his bloodied head falling onto McCoy's boots.
To make sure, McCoy fired another shot into Charlie's forehead again and McCoy checked Charlie's heartbeat. Nothing.
The nightmare was finally over.
McCoy hunched Ramirez over his shoulder and walked back down the staircase.
Fifty-one lives were changed forever that day. Seventeen were killed and thirty-three were permanently disabled. Notes were later found in Charlie's suitcase, as well as two rolls of film, later developed by police, showing a trip that Charlie, his brother John, and his wife Kathy took to the Alamo in July. An autopsy performed on Charlie's body revealed that there was a terminal brain tumor pressing against the part of his brain that controlled anger, however, nobody, not even Charlie, knew of the tumor.
Charlie was laid to rest later that week, as well as fifteen of his victims.
I don't know if there is a way to end this post, so I will end it like the tragedy ended; a sudden cut-off.
User Reviews
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2006-08-12 21:19:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Ijust reread this, and I say it was well-written. It was NOT cut and
pasted. Good job.
Submitted by Bubba2341 (user info) at 2006-08-12 21:01:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
In my opinion, this desreves much better reviews.
Submitted by Kent_Weirdo (user info) at 2006-08-12 20:46:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
"He was tired from pulling the heavy suitcases and set them down and took a rest on a sofa in the
room. The secretary, 47-year-old Edna Townsley, looked at him."
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+1 because I myself am a Townsley.
+1 interesting read
Submitted by eppliks (user info) at 2006-08-12 20:43:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
queer.
Submitted by kaos-king (user info) at 2006-08-12 11:23:05 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Good work on this.
Submitted by Gunslinger (user info) at 2006-08-12 00:50:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Excellent! However you cannot commit suicide by euthanasia......
but that's forgivable.
Submitted by The_Mighty_Badger (user info) at 2006-08-11 23:50:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
1 post per day...
Submitted by Maltese (user info) at 2006-08-11 22:41:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Thank you. At least somebody is rating this.
Submitted by joedaddy (user info) at 2006-08-11 22:25:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
i looked at the pictures before i read the story and laughed like hell when i saw
the one of billy speed
then.....i realized i looked just like him at that age
<sigh>
good job
Submitted by Maltese (user info) at 2006-08-11 20:22:59 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Meh. Get yo ass raped.
Submitted by hot_pocket (user info) at 2006-08-11 19:25:13 EDT (#)
Ranking: -1
you spent too much time on this...too many details. more of a report or news cover story, i dindt like it nor did i finish it...
Submitted by Maltese (user info) at 2006-08-11 18:31:24 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Fuck. Why is nobody reviewing this? I spent an hour on this! Fuck you ALL!
Submitted by Maltese (user info) at 2006-08-11 18:13:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Submitted by Maddog (user info) at 2006-08-11 17:36:55 (#)
Ranking: 0
Sorry, but I can't rate this stuff you copied out of Encylopedia Britannica.
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I didn't copy it from the encyclopedia. I read about the shootings a few months ago on Wikipedia, so I decided to research them for the story. If you read the entry, you'll notice that 5% is from the encyclopedia, 95% from me. Get your head out of your peehole before you criticize.
Submitted by Maddog (user info) at 2006-08-11 17:36:55 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Sorry, but I can't rate this stuff you copied out of Encylopedia Britannica.
Submitted by UnderOathMeal (user info) at 2006-08-11 17:27:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
At first glance at the title, I saw Whitman's Sampler. Then I got hungry.
Then I read this post and shit my pants from being scaredy. Good shit.
Submitted by gank (user info) at 2006-08-11 17:21:48 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
But it is 2 GOOD posts in a day, so..
Submitted by gank (user info) at 2006-08-11 17:21:11 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
If you've been reading since Nov 2005, then you should know about the ONE POST PER DAY rule.
Submitted by RyuFu (user info) at 2006-08-11 17:16:00 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Jesus fucking christ. I feel...inspired.
Submitted by BobLobla (user info) at 2006-08-11 17:14:44 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Twisted...