Katrina burst through the doors of the metal encased facility. All the helicopters had departed, and there was no sign of people anywhere. The snow before the doors was mashed up by many of thousands of boot marks.
Katrina slipped a small, thin nail from her belt and inserted it into the lock and wrenched it savagely to the side, and the lock clicked open, and the door slid smoothly inward.
Fade gasped at the sight inside. A deep puddle of dark maroon pooled on the bright, gray steel, obviously blood. A tall, slender woman stood above it, cursing. Her body was covered in muscles and her face was hard lines. In almost every way she resembled Fade, except that he was bulkier.
She roared at the man standing next to her, “How did Jason escape?! Look at the cameras and TELL ME NOW!” The man shuddered backward, unable to answer the fearsome woman.
The woman produced a blade from her hip and slashed the man swiftly across the throat. Blood spurted out and splashed in deep color around the room, scattered everywhere. Gasping, the man fell to his knees, gagging. He clutched his throat desperately, crimson staining his hands. The compressed sound of air rushing out of his torn trachea echoed through the room.
Beside Katrina, Fade’s muscles tightened and flexed uncontrollably, his face shaking, droplets of sweat a gleaming sheen on his face. His face was a rich burgundy, his fists were clenched.
The woman wiped the knife off neatly, her hand dyed in gore as the man thrashed in a puddle of his own blood, before laying still and cold, no longer in his world.
A door opposite from the two hidden figures of Katrina and Fade slid open silently, and the woman strode through it, casually, as if she had done a small, simple task.
From his belt, Fade drew a single revolver and aimed a shot at a corner of the room. The security camera was blasted off it’s hinges.
Katrina sprinted forward, and dropped into a crouch beside the man, her boots soaking with his still warm blood. There was no need to check his pulse, his face was as pale as alabaster, and drained of life force. The ragged edges of the jugular vein protruded from grisly wound.
Shuddering, Katrina drew herself to her feet. Fade was crouching a number of paces away. He fished a small square piece of plastic from the gore stained floor. He held it up. Jason’s worn face stared at Katrina through the picture.
“Your father was here.”
Katrina swooped forward, and plucked the ID from Fade’s grip, and glared at it. “Who was that woman? Who was that monster?” It was a rhetorical question, not worthy of an opinion.
“My mother,” answered Fade in a flat tone.
YOU ARE READING
The End of Her World
Science FictionAfter a series of devastating terrorist attacks a girl is abducted and trained to be a spy while her father, a marine, looks for her with a military squad. Along the journey she will discover betrayal and love as she's never felt before.
