He Sees You When You're Sleeping

15th December- Child's Play

Milo opened one eye. He felt a strange excitement and had to think for a moment to remember why. Then it came to him - Christmas Day! Checking his clock, he pouted. It was far too early to go and open stockings with his big brother Daniel and Mummy and Daddy. Then, he brightened again. He could always sort of... check the stocking. Like a preview. It was fine, surely. I mean... nobody would know, right?
Having satisfactorily justified it to himself, Milo grinned and threw off the covers. He tiptoed downstairs, working on his excuse. Hmm... maybe he thought he heard Rusty barking and came down to check? That would do.
Rusty, sleeping in the kitchen, woke up when she heard him coming and moseyed over to lick his face. Rusty was a St Bernard. She wouldn't hurt a fly and she treated the family like her puppies. It was sweet, but now was really not the time for a shower of dog-lick.
'Hey, Rus,' Milo hissed, his face creased in dog-spit related disgust. He shushed her just in case and shuffled over the floorboards to the mantelpiece. His stocking was the green one, and Daniel's was red. Rusty followed him eagerly, hopeful for a dog treat. Suddenly, Milo stopped. He thought he heard a sort of clicking or ticking noise. He hated bugs and things, and he would probably scream if he saw one. He couldn't help it- they were just... creepy. Fervently, he hoped it was something else. Milo pulled open the top of his stocking and jumped back again, eyes wide. The clicking was definitely louder there. He hugged Rusty and listened again. Actually, it was more of a ticking than a clicking, really. Not an insecty sound at all, when he came to think about it. Bravery restored, Milo stepped back towards the stocking and put one hand into it. There were normal things in there, but his fingers suddenly hit something that felt interesting. A mass of wires, connected to something hard and cold. He drew it out, realising as he did that it was the source of the mysterious ticking noise.
He studied the object, tilting his head. He just couldn't figure out what it was. It had a timer on it, so maybe it was some sort of clock? An alarm clock, maybe? His mother must have told Santa about his habit of sleeping in. That would explain things. Satisfied with his classification of the object, he placed it back in the stocking. He climbed up the stairs as quietly as possible and tucked himself back into bed. Downstairs, the ticking got faster.

The forensic team picked their way through the rubble. Body parts lay scattered in the dust of what was once a town. At intervals one man clad in a Hazmat suit knelt down and brushed rubble away from a piece of something black with broken wires protruding. A woman in Hazmat - head of the terrorist branch of the police - would nod and he would place it in a thing that looked like a bin bag. Then they would move on, gloves smudged with blood.