Connor motioned towards the door. “Mike, you look like you can use a drink,” he said.
“Uh huh,” said Mike. His eyes focused on the raptor.
“But first,” Conner waved his hand in front of Mike. “Lets, clean you up.”
“No worries. Come on, there’s a thirty year old bourbon with your name on it.”
Mike followed Connor through the door. “Hey man, did you redecorate since yesterday?”
Connor grinned, “Nope.”
A voice came from behind Mike, “You picked the wrong house.”
Mike spun around. His brows furrowed,”Three years, I’ve waited for this moment.”
“David, I need a break, “ said Brandi.
“Sorry, if trying to keep you alive is boring you,” said David.
“It’s not, but there’s a plantation in Suwannee, Georgia. I’d like to visit.”
“Sounds nice, if you’re into old building and boredom.”
She ran her hand up his leg. “I promise you’ll enjoy it.”
“Sure, why not.”
David was bored ten minutes after arrival. While waiting for a room to be cleaned, they walked through the maze of shrubs. David noticed something small sparkle in the distance.
“That’s weird, Brandi…”
Brandi slumped forward. Brain tissue and blood soaked David.
Photo Copyright: Jan Wayne Fields
David knocked on the door three times before it opened.
A Latin beauty in a skintight black dress said, “He’s expecting you. Please wait by the window.”
With his attention on her David never noticed the two men, until a muzzle poked his back.
The man facing him said, “If you don’t have my merchandise, I’ll torture you and your girlfriend in Starbucks, before you die.”
David said, “It’s in the duffel.”
The man unzipped it to reveal an ancient statue of a Roman solider. He handed David a briefcase and said, “Leave.”
The bullet he expected never came.
Photo copyright – Jean L. Hays
David parked in between two spaces in front of Starbucks.
“Why are we in Illinois? Please tell me, we’re not here for a tour of Route 66,” said Brandi.
David responded, “No sightseeing. I need to make a delivery.”
“What are we delivering?”
“We’re not. I am. You’re going to get a coffee and wait.”
With an icy glare Brandi said, “The hell I am.”
“Brandi, The guy I’m meeting doesn’t care for strangers.”
“He’ll have to get over it.”
“No, he’ll kill you. Wait here.”
David grabbed the duffel from the backseat. “I’ll be back in ten minutes.”
This week’s flash fiction is the continuing story of Brittany,Harold, and Victor. The story began two weeks ago in the piece titled Chance Meeting.
Photo Copyright: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
As they waited for a table at Wolfgang Puck’s Brittany wrapped her arms around Harold’s waist. “You surprised me with this trip.”
“That was the plan,” said Harold.
Brittany leaned in to kiss him, but midway she froze. Her face became ashen.
“What’s wrong Britt,” said Harold?
Brittany’s voice dropped to a whisper, “Victor is in front of the souvenir shop.”
“Impossible, Victor doesn’t…,” something sharp pressed against Harold’s back.
Victor grinned at Brittany and in a calm tone said to Harold, “We’re going to walk to your car. If you try anything, I’ll kill you here and now.”
Photo copyright: Jean L. Hays
Pain radiated from Henry’s leg. A moment later, he collapsed with a thud.
Before everything went black a voice said, “ Your death will not be quick.”
He awoke to find Patricia bound and gagged dressed in her bra and underwear.
The kidnapper pressed a gun to the side of Patricia’s head. “Did Henry tell you what
happened to Hope and Jason?”
Patricia’s voice trembled, “They ran off together.”
The kidnapper laughed, “No, Henry killed them.”
The van came to a stop. Two men dragged Henry into a pre-dug grave. As dirt covered his body Henry screamed.
Photo Copyright: The Reclining Gentleman
Only one man stood at the midway point of the bridge. As Patricia approached with the rolling cooler she started to sweat.
“Where’s the money,” said the kidnapper?
“Where’s Henry? I want proof he’s alive,” said Patricia.
The kidnapper handed Patricia an iPhone. “Hit redial.”
The call picked up on the first ring. Seconds later came Henry’s hoarse voice, “Hello.”
“Henry, don’t worry….,” the call dropped.
“The money’s in the cooler,” said Patricia.
A van speed up the bridge. Tires squealed, the door opened and Henry dropped out of the van. As Henry and Patricia embraced, two gunshots rang out.
Photo Copyright: Marie Gail Stratford
Henry awoke on a cold surface, his wrists and ankles bound.
Through the gag he screamed, “Help,” but only a muffled sound escaped!
Where am I? I remember bringing Hope’s things to charity. Drove home, and something pinched my back.
He struggled to sit up. A thud filled the air, as his head smacked into a hard object.
He writhed; the effort caused the blindfold to slip. A bright light permeated the space. Oh my god, I’m in a box. Take a deep breath. If they wanted me dead, they would have killed me. In the distance a door creaked.
Photo Copyright: Janet Webb
Henry burst through his front door. “Hope, where are you?”
“Taking a bath.”
Doing his best to stifle a grin, he entered the small bathroom. Jazz music filled the room from a charging iPad.
“How was your trip?”
“Good, I learned something interesting?”
“Oh,” she said with little interest.
“Your two month affair with Jason.”
Tears trickled down her face. “I am so sorry. We never meant for you to get hurt.”
“Do you love him?”
“Yes, I’m so sorry.”
With a guttural scream he tossed the iPad into the water. Hope’s body convulsed.
“Tell Jason, I forgive you both.”
Photo Copyright: Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
At the sight of blood pooling under Jason’s body Henry trembled. What am I going to do? How can I explain this? With few options he needed to get rid of the corpse. The waterfall warning came back in a flash.
Jagged rocks lay at the base of the sixty-foot waterfall a quarter mile away. Henry placed Jason in the kayak and tossed the knife in the river. Confident it would be classified a kayaking accident. Although there was little blood Henry burned his clothes and bathed. He peered at the stars and smirked. Now, how to deal with Hope?