[ WP ] Killing another human now allows you to exchange your remaining lifespan the victim 's . Young people live in fear while the elderly plan their attacks .

I had to applaud her; the tears on her wrinkled cheeks looked real. 
 
 But I knew she was lying. 
 
 The front of her car was wrapped around a lamp post, only two steps away from where I had been walking. She must have seen the shine in my hair, or the strut in my walk, and taken the dive. 
 
 `` Please-'' she whimpered, gently nudging her car door open. I kicked the door shut, knocking her back into her seat. There was blood trickling down from her gray curls. 
 
 `` Please, I did n't mean to. It was an accident.'' 
 
 I have to be honest; the tightness in her voice did something for me. A bug of empathy fluttered to life in my stomach. I flexed my abdominal muscles, newly-acquired from a twenty-year-old I found hiding out in a grocery store, and I crushed that fluttering bug until it was paste. 
 
 `` Please, you have to believe me. I have grandchildren,'' purple veins stood out as she struggled to pull a picture from inside her purse. She showed it to me, it's glossy finish tarnished with age. 
 
 At the sight of the photograph, the bug fluttered back to life. Maybe she was n't lying. There were three laughing kids, sitting one above the other on a slide. I do n't know how old they were; it's been a long time since I've seen anyone that young. One of the kids was missing her front teeth. 
 
 `` How do I know they're yours?'' 
 
 `` What?'' she cupped her hand to her ear. Her eyes were huge in the lenses of her glasses. 
 
 `` I said,'' I leaned closer, `` How do I know they're yours?'' 
 
 She gave me a warm smile, `` Well, this one is Sara, and this is her younger brother Dav- HYYEEAAAAGH!'' 
 
 I leapt back as the blade of a knife darted out from the car. Instead of embedding in my stomach, it barely grazed my sweater. The old bitch swung her arm around a few more times, trying to snag me with her weapon, but I kicked her frail hand and the knife fell to the ground. 
 
 She shoved open the door, and spilled out onto the ground. Her legs, broken, dragged behind her, and she crawled toward the knife. 
 
 I stomped on her hand. She shrieked, and clawed at me with her other hand. With the butt of my firearm, I whipped her in the head. 
 
 `` Unph.'' 
 
 That was all she said, like I'd somehow taken the wind from her lungs. The old woman laid still, and for a minute I thought it was another ruse. 
 
 The front of the car was smoking, and it smelled like gasoline. 
 
 `` Hey,'' I nudged her with my boot, `` Wake up.'' 
 
 My boots felt heavier, and suddenly too large for my feet. 
 
 I kicked her again, and she rolled over. Her old dress and the lower half of her face was covered in blood. She was grimacing, like she had just stuck her hand into something cold. 
 
 `` Fuck.'' I said to no one in particular. 
 
 I could feel the arthritis settling into my bones. 
 
 Now I have to go kill someone else.
