The Blade

The Diary of the Writer on the Run

There was no running. I couldn’t move quickly enough to dive behind the nearest tree.

The eight gun-wielding mercenaries advanced on me.

Maybe I should have stayed inside.

A dark shape swept past me.

Muzzles flared in the darkness. Guns fired. The attackers reeled off streams of silenced rounds – which ricocheted away from the dark figure flying over the ground toward them.

Then they recoiled in alarm at the tall, muscular figure – who wore jet black armour under a black hooded cloak and ripped a sword with a narrow, gleaming blade from its sheath.

His boot kicked one attacker in the chest, sending him crashing into the guy behind. He punched one to the ground. Then his blade slashed, stabbed and sliced. Five attackers lay dead. The other three retreated and ran into the woods. The hitman tore after them. The hitman who had threatened to kill me was now saving my life. Apparently, if he couldn’t kill me, no one else was allowed to either.

Loud, agonising screams rang out – from where the hitman had chased them down. He’d hunted them down and shown no mercy.

I didn’t wait for him to come back. I scrambled to my feet, shoved the Glock in my belt, grabbed a couple of assault rifles, slung the straps over my shoulders and ran for it. My eyes swept the trees in front of me, scanning for any signs of more attackers lying in wait as my feet pounded over the ground.

I reached the back garden fence bordering the house and leaned against it, bowing over to catch my breath. Then I edged slowly around the side. I peered around the corner to survey the street in front of the house. It all looked quiet. There was no sign of anyone.

Then an engine sounded somewhere close by, followed by another.

Dark shapes with no headlights roared up the street. Three black Mercedes SUVs sped towards the house and screeched to a halt in front of it. Out jumped seven figures in body armour, who carried handguns and rifles with sights and suppressors. They trained their weapons on me and motioned to me to get down on the ground.

My instincts told me it was so dark they probably hadn’t seen what I was carrying.

They were moving like they knew they’d cornered me.

I couldn’t get caught.

My heart pounded as I came to a sudden decision.

I did the one thing I could think of.

I grabbed one of the assault rifles – and opened fire.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

*
*