“Another Gang Attack Busted”--The Guardian--
As he opened the door, he took an almost casual look around
the top and the bottom of the street.
Dark clouds rolled overhead, and with
every breath, cold mist created a freezing bubble around his head. He saw no
one on the streets. He started taking the steps down to the pavement. In one
hand he held a case and some bulk was evident as he carried it down. In the
other hand he held nothing, for the moment. When he reached the bottom of the
stairs he stopped again. He took another glance at the street, and then with
his free hand patted his front coat pocket. It was there. With a look of reassurance,
he briskly started walking towards the end of the street.
The man in the car at the far end of the street smiled when he saw him step out. He kept his piercing eyes locked on the case when he saw it. His eyes sparkled as he said to his companion in the car,
“Step on it!”
The companion saw the
look and grinned. He revved up the V8, and rolled out of the parking. The man
in the passenger put down his camera and reached into the back, while talking
to a crackling radio.
“C18A acquired, rolling out. Rolling out!” he screamed into it.
Out of the back he ripped out his favourite toy. This was
gonna be fun. He smile grew as he companion revved up the car again and stepped
on the accelerator and raced down the street.
The moment ‘C18A’ took his fourth step down the street, he heard the car. He knew what it was. His reactions sped up. He reached into the pocket and pulled out his Beretta 92A1. His steps quickened, and as he looked behind him, he saw the Ford Mustang pull out of the underground parking.
His initial thought was concerning what an American muscle car was doing in London. But then he realised that it was after him. The car’s sharp running lights cut through the darkness of the street. In another context, it would have been gorgeous, but here? It was terrifying.
As he saw the car rip though the street, he knew wouldn’t have a chance running. But he ran.
He angled out his Steyr AUG machine gun to face the street. The houses flew by.
500 meters to go.
400.
300.
200.
100.
90.
80.
He saw it coming closer, and closer. He was at loss for ideas. Then he saw the open door. As he looked back, he saw it coming nearer and nearer. With a leap of faith and energy, he pulled himself up the railing flung himself into the space between the door and the wall.
A spilt second later, the sound of machine-gunfire ripped through the quiet London streets.
-10.
-20.
-30.
As he flew by the doorway, he hardly saw the man fling himself
in, but he infered it, as saw the lack of body on the pavement. He grimaced as they sped down the street. His companion saw it and as
they reached the end of the empty street, he pulled the handbrake, and turned
the wheels to perform a tight handbrake turn. With that single manoeuvre, they were speeding back up the street.
And they saw that he was out again. They were going to make sure that was the last mistake he ever made.
And they saw that he was out again. They were going to make sure that was the last mistake he ever made.
As he heard the car speed by, while was in the door way, he
heard the gunshots break all the windows in the neighbourhood and dent all the
metal. As soon as he heard that finish, he stepped out to run and saw how
close he had been. The agency were sure to have heard it by now, but would they
activate the forces quick enough? No, it would take them more than a minute, at
least.
He made up his mind. What he had to do was make or break, but the problem was his choice could end up doing either. Or both. Never none. He had to make a choice.
He stepped out of the door, and ran out on to the street, not forgetting his case. As he ran out, he heard the squeal of the tyres performing the handbrake turn and the roar of the engine as it started to gain speed again.
He suddenly realised his pursers weren’t done yet. He looked back to the doorway. Too far. He kept running. He saw the agency building. He heard the Mustang's engine get louder and louder as it grew closer. The agency was too far. He looked over his shoulder. Too close. Too close.
He made up his mind. What he had to do was make or break, but the problem was his choice could end up doing either. Or both. Never none. He had to make a choice.
He stepped out of the door, and ran out on to the street, not forgetting his case. As he ran out, he heard the squeal of the tyres performing the handbrake turn and the roar of the engine as it started to gain speed again.
He suddenly realised his pursers weren’t done yet. He looked back to the doorway. Too far. He kept running. He saw the agency building. He heard the Mustang's engine get louder and louder as it grew closer. The agency was too far. He looked over his shoulder. Too close. Too close.
The man grinned in cold blood as he as he pulled himself back
into the seat. He got ready to pull the trigger.
As the car drew in, the roar of the engine was overwhelming. Afterall, it was doing what it was made to do.
C18A looked over his shoulder one last time.
He heard the sound of bullets ricocheting off concrete and metals. Then, for a second, there was a tiny, silent squiching sound.
The normal ricocheting sound resumed again..
As the car drew in, the roar of the engine was overwhelming. Afterall, it was doing what it was made to do.
C18A looked over his shoulder one last time.
He heard the sound of bullets ricocheting off concrete and metals. Then, for a second, there was a tiny, silent squiching sound.
The normal ricocheting sound resumed again..
The sound of gunfire reached his ears too late. As heard it,
intense pain flushed his body. Then he heard the ricocheting. Then the momentary
pause. Then the resuming. The pain over took him. His eyes glazed. His hands
went numb. His feeling grew light. But
as he fell, he felt the handle of the case and pressed hard with his thumb. ‘Protect’
was his last thought. And then, boom.
The man in car saw the bright flash. He saw the
explosion. His mind stopped for a moment. No. No. NO! The case, the case, where was the case?!
It was gone.
It was gone.
Burning papers caught in the current flew up and around. Then the sound of the police ripped through the screaming silence.
It was time to get going.
The news that night recalled a story of crazy gangs attacking a rich politician's house but had messed up their plans. The gang were dead and luckily, no civilians were attacked. But the stock market, what a fall...
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It might have been a bit cliche, with all the shooting and hiding and James Bond-esque theme, but I wanted to try out writing action and tension, and so when one of school work projects was to write a tension filled story, I took the opportunity and made the best of it.
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If you enjoyed it, please share it, and remember to follow our blog (submit your email in the gadget above) to get all the latest first!
Thanks for reading!
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Check out my other stories:
Crash, a short story: http://interestconcentrated.blogspot.co.uk/2015/01/crash-short-story.html
1:49, a horror story: http://interestconcentrated.blogspot.co.uk/2015/06/0149-pm.html
My Baked in Irony series:
Engrossing, a twisted short tale of irony:
Sorry…..
Noticed….
Check out Rayhaan's stories:
Flipside 3: http://interestconcentrated.blogspot.co.uk/2015/08/flipside-3.html
Flipside 4: http://interestconcentrated.blogspot.co.uk/2015/10/flipside-4.html
Flipside 5: http://interestconcentrated.blogspot.co.uk/2016/11/flipside-5_90.html
Flipside 4: http://interestconcentrated.blogspot.co.uk/2015/10/flipside-4.html
Flipside 5: http://interestconcentrated.blogspot.co.uk/2016/11/flipside-5_90.html
Or just check out everything in the order they came out in by clicking this:
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