Miranda [Watty Awards 2013]

Chapter 15

They can't see them.

            I pressed myself against a tree, out of sight from the group. My whole body was trembling suddenly. How was I going to deal with the Collectors?

            Why were they here anyway? It hadn't been long at all since I'd last seen Charlie-not even half a day. Clearly there had been some dangerous operation of sorts very recently, where they had avoided Death.

            And if that wasn't bad enough, that proved to be a moral issue for me.

            There were three other people now. It was possible for me to save Brady, although I didn't know how badly he was injured. But the others, they shouldn't be alive. And Brady should be; there was no doubt of that in my mind. He deserved a second chance for all he went through to give Jack a decent life.

            The situation was already made up in my mind, although I let myself think that it wasn't. I had to kill Charlie, Vinny, and Kimberly, and make sure that Brady didn't bleed out, making it all in vain.

            There was no option, not to me. They had to die. I had to make sure of it. There's no second choice; it's the right thing to do.

            So why is it hurting me?

            Slithering forward despite the growing pain in my chest, I ducked down low to stay out of sight. Getting as close as I could manage without being spotted, I peered around a thick brush, listening to the trio's arguing.

            "Why didn't you take care of him when you had the chance?" the woman Kimberly snapped, flicking red hair over her shoulders.

            She was a sight to behold, a redhead beauty that modeled Marilyn Monroe. Same hairstyle, same makeup, same spot above her lip, dressed in a crisp black suit. She didn't look at all the type to be standing over a bleeding body.

            "W-well, we tried to-" Vinny started, but it was clear that he had no excuse. It didn't really surprise me.

           "-But that girl kept getting in the way," Charlie stepped in, baring his teeth in a half-grimace, half-snarl. "The brunette with the grey eyes."

            I smiled grimly to myself. He was talking about me. It was a lie, but a clever one. He was mad at me, so he was trying to get me killed. Too bad he wouldn't succeed, not with the skill I'd accumulated over seventeen years.

            There was a brief flash of sunlight, and in it I caught a glimpse of something flash a few feet away. A polished silver gun, complete with a silencer.

            Brady had tried to defend himself, albeit not very well. But at least now I had a weapon. Thank the Gods. It was close enough that I could barely get to it without being noticed. Glancing behind me, I saw Jack watching anxiously, too gar back to see what I was doing. He was too occupied with keeping Lacy from giving us away, but he was doing a very good job at it.

            I took a deep breath. Now or never.

            Moving inch by pain-staking inch, I slithered from frail coverage to frail coverage, keeping a sharp eye out for twigs and an ear open for shouting. The five feet to the gun seemed to take an eternity, and it probably had. My body was aching from the stealth by the time it was in my hands.

            I fell back against another tree, deeming it the best hiding spot that was within reach. Holding the cool metal gadget in my hands, I put one hand on the barrel and wrapped the other around the trigger.