A Stumble in the Dark
Challenge Name: Words
Title: A Stumble in the Dark
Rating: PG-13, for slight language and violence
Required words: Killer, Remove, Indistinctly, Ta, Benzidine
Word Count (optional): 1,142
Author's Notes (optional): I’m hoping the series will lighten up again soon. Meanwhile, enjoy the violence…xD
When I finally manage to detangle myself from the other women, I coax them out of the house with a few ‘how do you do’s and ‘you’re simply charming’s. I hear Beetle’s chuckle, casual and yet indistinctly separate from her others. Only I knew the difference between those that she meant and those she didn’t.
This one she meant.
“You are an evil woman sometimes, Beetle,” I joke, struggling to grin myself. She seems so frail to me now…It’s a huge difference from when I last saw her, a year or two ago… “An evil old woman.”
“Now, don’t you look at me like that. There are two things I don’t like about that look, and one of them is that it reminds me how naïve you are. The other is that you think that you wouldn’t have done the exact same thing.” Taking my hand, she leads me into the kitchen. Food towers over countertop in all directions, including the ginger snaps and marmalade sauce I used to enjoy as a child. I feel my mouth water.
Beetle pushes me into a chair and pulls a plate out of the nearby cupboard in nearly the same movement. “You always did love my ginger snaps, right, dear?”
“Margaret…” But the plate is thrust into my hands, I can’t resist. I eat and allow the old feelings of peace wash over me again. “I never understood how you did this.”
“I’m your grandmother. That’s my job. Now, I suppose you’re here because of that lunatic on the loose?” Her eyes light up at my shocked expression, nearly dancing. “Oh, yes, dear. I know. I also know that the agency bugged up my house nice and tight. I bet Everett is fidgeting in his chair right now, poor thing. Always thought he could outsmart me, and never did. Now he knows that he still hasn’t.”
“He’s a tough cookie,” I manage.
“Don’t use you’re puns with me. I taught that trick to you.” Sighing, Grandma Marge sits in the chair next to mine. “I know you were sent here to protect me, Susie Q. I appreciate it, but I truly don’t want you here.”
The childhood nickname nearly makes me cry. Why did the agency have to take my grandmother away from me? Why did I have to follow her? Instead of letting the tears show, I square my shoulders. “It’s an assignment, Grandma Marge. I’m honor-bound to see it through. I take that very seriously. It’s one of the really great traits I inherited from you, that sense of honor.”
“Well, ta, I suppose. If you insist on staying, I’ll make up the couch for you. The agency didn’t see fit to get me a building with a guest room when I retired.” I can tell she’s irritated as she removes the plate from my reluctant fingers. Still, she knows I’m right. The small smile tugs at her lips. “I’ll wake you up in the morning.”
“Morning?” I don’t want to know, but I have to ask anyway. “Why are we getting up in the morning?”
Grandma Marge grins at me, cocking her hip in the way she taught me so long ago. “Well, we have to get those chicken legs of yours into shape, Chicken Little.”
So that’s why Travis doesn’t like my puns…
***
I hear a shout. It startles me, causing me to fall off the couch. I don’t care what Grandma Marge says, there is no way I can simply be chipper immediately after waking up.
Grandma Marge….
I stumble to my feet as I hear her shout again, tripping up the staircase, struggling to reach her room. “Beetle!” Finally, I throw the door open and see him.
The killer is dressed in black, with scarlet blood streaking across his face and hands. Grandma Marge…No, Beetle…assignment…is limp in his arms, her eyes staring dully at me. “Oh, you’re ruining my fun,” he sneers, baring pointed canines at me.
“Let her go,” I say instead of answering. He only wants me distracted. It’s just like Beetle taught me in my training…Don’t give him the satisfaction. “I don’t want to hurt you, sir. Just let her go.”
“Oh, you want to hurt me.” He laughs, and my spine tenses instantly. Digging his fingers into the wounds in Beetle’s shoulder, he adjusts himself so that he’s sitting on the bed. “I suspect you want to hurt me very much. How many members of your little ‘justice force’ have I killed so far, hm? One, two? No…I think my count is up to twelve.”
“Bastard!” I launch myself at him, and he spins out of the way. Beetle topples to the floor, but I have to check on her later. Now, I have to focus, or he’ll…Bitch!
I’m bleeding from my collarbone. I’m not sure how the wound got there, but I won’t let it happen again. “Tell me why!” I demand, searching for him in the dark. I instinctively move in front of Beetle’s prone body.
“Why I’m hunting down your cast-offs?” He’s too close, but I can’t see him, not through the blinding tears I just now realize are there. Only the flash of metal gives me a clue to wear my second cut comes from, one in my side. “Draining them of their life? It’s simple, really…I want the power.”
“Power?” That’s right, keep him talking…Keep him distracted. Basic training, right, Sue Ann? I see the flash of metal again, match it to the glint of his eyes…and strike. With a small struggle, the knife is in my palm instead of his.
The laughter returns, cold and unkind. “The transfer of blood…it’s the transfer of memories, of experience, of essence. I live for it, and your comrades die for it.”
The flash of eyes in the dark again, and I lunge. My hasty calculation was off, and I feel teeth sink into my wrist. The skin is broken, and I can only sink to my knees as the blood flows out of me. The anger I felt before is gone, and the blackness overtakes me. I hear his laughter one more time before the nothingness is all I have.
***
I wake to voices, to prodding fingers, and blearily slap the hands away. “Grandma…Where’s Grandma Marge?”
My vision finally focuses, and I can only gape at the amount of blood in the room. The agents of the evidence unit spread benzidine across the few places not streaked with the garish red. The medic chews his lip and shakes his head. “Didn’t make it. I’m sorry, Little.”
Nodding, I pull myself to my feet and wobble to the van I know is waiting two streets away by cutting through backyards and climbing fences. I open the back door, crawl inside, and lay my head on Travis’ lap.
He lets me cry.
Title: A Stumble in the Dark
Rating: PG-13, for slight language and violence
Required words: Killer, Remove, Indistinctly, Ta, Benzidine
Word Count (optional): 1,142
Author's Notes (optional): I’m hoping the series will lighten up again soon. Meanwhile, enjoy the violence…xD
When I finally manage to detangle myself from the other women, I coax them out of the house with a few ‘how do you do’s and ‘you’re simply charming’s. I hear Beetle’s chuckle, casual and yet indistinctly separate from her others. Only I knew the difference between those that she meant and those she didn’t.
This one she meant.
“You are an evil woman sometimes, Beetle,” I joke, struggling to grin myself. She seems so frail to me now…It’s a huge difference from when I last saw her, a year or two ago… “An evil old woman.”
“Now, don’t you look at me like that. There are two things I don’t like about that look, and one of them is that it reminds me how naïve you are. The other is that you think that you wouldn’t have done the exact same thing.” Taking my hand, she leads me into the kitchen. Food towers over countertop in all directions, including the ginger snaps and marmalade sauce I used to enjoy as a child. I feel my mouth water.
Beetle pushes me into a chair and pulls a plate out of the nearby cupboard in nearly the same movement. “You always did love my ginger snaps, right, dear?”
“Margaret…” But the plate is thrust into my hands, I can’t resist. I eat and allow the old feelings of peace wash over me again. “I never understood how you did this.”
“I’m your grandmother. That’s my job. Now, I suppose you’re here because of that lunatic on the loose?” Her eyes light up at my shocked expression, nearly dancing. “Oh, yes, dear. I know. I also know that the agency bugged up my house nice and tight. I bet Everett is fidgeting in his chair right now, poor thing. Always thought he could outsmart me, and never did. Now he knows that he still hasn’t.”
“He’s a tough cookie,” I manage.
“Don’t use you’re puns with me. I taught that trick to you.” Sighing, Grandma Marge sits in the chair next to mine. “I know you were sent here to protect me, Susie Q. I appreciate it, but I truly don’t want you here.”
The childhood nickname nearly makes me cry. Why did the agency have to take my grandmother away from me? Why did I have to follow her? Instead of letting the tears show, I square my shoulders. “It’s an assignment, Grandma Marge. I’m honor-bound to see it through. I take that very seriously. It’s one of the really great traits I inherited from you, that sense of honor.”
“Well, ta, I suppose. If you insist on staying, I’ll make up the couch for you. The agency didn’t see fit to get me a building with a guest room when I retired.” I can tell she’s irritated as she removes the plate from my reluctant fingers. Still, she knows I’m right. The small smile tugs at her lips. “I’ll wake you up in the morning.”
“Morning?” I don’t want to know, but I have to ask anyway. “Why are we getting up in the morning?”
Grandma Marge grins at me, cocking her hip in the way she taught me so long ago. “Well, we have to get those chicken legs of yours into shape, Chicken Little.”
So that’s why Travis doesn’t like my puns…
***
I hear a shout. It startles me, causing me to fall off the couch. I don’t care what Grandma Marge says, there is no way I can simply be chipper immediately after waking up.
Grandma Marge….
I stumble to my feet as I hear her shout again, tripping up the staircase, struggling to reach her room. “Beetle!” Finally, I throw the door open and see him.
The killer is dressed in black, with scarlet blood streaking across his face and hands. Grandma Marge…No, Beetle…assignment…is limp in his arms, her eyes staring dully at me. “Oh, you’re ruining my fun,” he sneers, baring pointed canines at me.
“Let her go,” I say instead of answering. He only wants me distracted. It’s just like Beetle taught me in my training…Don’t give him the satisfaction. “I don’t want to hurt you, sir. Just let her go.”
“Oh, you want to hurt me.” He laughs, and my spine tenses instantly. Digging his fingers into the wounds in Beetle’s shoulder, he adjusts himself so that he’s sitting on the bed. “I suspect you want to hurt me very much. How many members of your little ‘justice force’ have I killed so far, hm? One, two? No…I think my count is up to twelve.”
“Bastard!” I launch myself at him, and he spins out of the way. Beetle topples to the floor, but I have to check on her later. Now, I have to focus, or he’ll…Bitch!
I’m bleeding from my collarbone. I’m not sure how the wound got there, but I won’t let it happen again. “Tell me why!” I demand, searching for him in the dark. I instinctively move in front of Beetle’s prone body.
“Why I’m hunting down your cast-offs?” He’s too close, but I can’t see him, not through the blinding tears I just now realize are there. Only the flash of metal gives me a clue to wear my second cut comes from, one in my side. “Draining them of their life? It’s simple, really…I want the power.”
“Power?” That’s right, keep him talking…Keep him distracted. Basic training, right, Sue Ann? I see the flash of metal again, match it to the glint of his eyes…and strike. With a small struggle, the knife is in my palm instead of his.
The laughter returns, cold and unkind. “The transfer of blood…it’s the transfer of memories, of experience, of essence. I live for it, and your comrades die for it.”
The flash of eyes in the dark again, and I lunge. My hasty calculation was off, and I feel teeth sink into my wrist. The skin is broken, and I can only sink to my knees as the blood flows out of me. The anger I felt before is gone, and the blackness overtakes me. I hear his laughter one more time before the nothingness is all I have.
***
I wake to voices, to prodding fingers, and blearily slap the hands away. “Grandma…Where’s Grandma Marge?”
My vision finally focuses, and I can only gape at the amount of blood in the room. The agents of the evidence unit spread benzidine across the few places not streaked with the garish red. The medic chews his lip and shakes his head. “Didn’t make it. I’m sorry, Little.”
Nodding, I pull myself to my feet and wobble to the van I know is waiting two streets away by cutting through backyards and climbing fences. I open the back door, crawl inside, and lay my head on Travis’ lap.
He lets me cry.