A group of boys were skinny dipping in the cool water of Sullivan Lake. It was a steaming, hot and humid West Texas afternoon. In the small town of Astatula that was acceptable. To them. Others, their parents included, might have thought differently.

Their clothing scattered around the shore of the recreational lake the boys were playing Tag, Chase, It, Chicken Fights, and any other fun activity their overactive, creative, imaginations could invent. Cody and Matt were two of those boys and instigated most of the shenanigans occurring.

Even while rambunctiously playing Cody seemed a little uneasy. Occasionally, he would turn around to stare off in the distance as if he sensed his every little movement was being observed.

Finally, winning another Chicken Fight by pulling Robby Browning off the shoulders of Timmy Johnston, where he was perched, Matt looked at Cody.

Casually he asked him, "What are you looking at?"

"Nothing," Cody told him not totally believing the words he spoke himself. Then, he changed his answer to, "at least, I hope nothing. Race you to other side of the lake."

Matt was up for that. He always enjoyed his little competitions with Cody to see which one of them could do something better. This friendly little rivalry had always taken place between the two boys. And it was done good-naturedly without any hard feelings on the part of the loser. Both of them were good swimmers so Matt thought this race would be a blast.

He did not expect the kind that happened at the lake. Because, suddenly from out of nowhere, there on the shoreline stood Fred Taylor observing what the boys were doing. And it did not take them but a quick moment to notice his presence. Especially Cody.

The boys froze in place like they had been unceremoniously busted. Caught red-handed with their grubby little paws in the cookie jar after being told they could not have a treat.

Desperately trying to separate himself from Matt, and the other boys for safety sake, Cody began backpedaling. He knew the real reason Taylor had come to the lake. Cody was Number One on his Hit list. The other boys, treading water, remained in place.

Cody was almost to the opposite shoreline. In order to protect his friends from Taylor he had to make his move. It was the only chance they had to see their families again. And Taylor's target was Cody...not them.

Fast approaching Cody with his gun in his hand Taylor angrily snapped, "You broke into my house!"

"What's it to you?" an obviously defiant Cody demanded.

He knew he had to go all in to have any chance to survive Taylor's wrath.

"You trashed my property!" Taylor continued heatedly.

"So?" Cody smugly asked him. He did not care what he had done to Taylor's belongings.

"And you peed on my bed!" Taylor fumed and he was livid.

"Couldn't have happened to a worse person!" Cody replied knowing what he did made him feel a whole lot better in more ways than one.

"Now, I'm gonna kill you, you irrelevant slime ball!" Taylor exploded.

"First you have to catch me you perverted wiener!" Cody fired back just as heatedly.

Cody reached the shore of the lake then said, "I already gave your selfies of your victims to Sheriff Daniels. Now everybody knows you're the Astatula Assassin!"

"Then I'll kill him, too!" Taylor strongly promised.

The murderer surveyed the lake. Seeing the various levels of terror on the faces of each of the boys for good measure he empathetically pointed his finger at them one by one to emphasize his threat.

Snarling at them he threatened, "And after I kill Cody, I am going to come back and kill everyone of you too!"

Taylor started walking at a rapid pace around the short side of Sullivan Lake to where Cody would come out of the water if he exited the lake. He liked the smooth feel of his .357 Magnum in his hand and was more than comfortable using it. Victim Number Ten would soon join his exclusive members-only club.

Cody suddenly darted out of the water. His tiny, little bare hiney in all its shining glory was fully exposed and on display for the whole wide world to see. But at that moment Cody did not care. All that mattered was escaping Taylor's clutches.

As fast as he could run Cody raced over to where his swim trunks and sneakers lay on the ground. In no time flat he pulled his trunks on and up. Then he slid each sneaker on its proper foot. He did not bother to grab his pullover shirt off the ground.

"Drop your gun, Taylor!" came the shouted command from Sheriff Daniels. He too had observed the situation at the lake.

The Sheriff quickly turned to the swimmers and instructed them, "You boys stay where you're at!"

Sheriff Daniels was positioned behind Taylor. He would only risk firing his weapon if the Assassin faced him. The Sheriff wanted to keep all gun play as far away from the frightened boys as possible to prevent any of them from getting shot.

Behind Sheriff Daniels stood a cluster of various law enforcement officers. They were armed and ready. In close proximity to them were a collection of television and radio vans extending their satellite antennas. Several reporters faced cameras to report live the capture of the Astatula Assassin.

To put it mildly the scene was chaotic.

Taylor fired his weapon. His aim was true and the bullet from his gun found its mark. Cody grabbed his left shoulder and fell to the ground bleeding profusely. Sheriff Daniels fired two rounds of his own and Taylor fell dead next to where Cody lay.

Racing to the fallen boy, Sheriff Daniels checked for a pulse. It was weak but there was a faint heartbeat.

Scooping Cody up gently in his arms he told the boy as he ran for his squad car, "Don't you dare die on me, Little Man!"

His voice was desperate!