(Dedicated to my bro Alex Allen who set the challenge)
He was already up and running as the last bullet casing kissed the ground, his movements hampered by the canvas bag he guarded with his life. Barrelling through the first two attackers, he broke free of the enclosing circle and drove through the door to the freedom of the corridor beyond.
“Get him!” came the call and James realised that they were in hot pursuit, feet pounding the tile flooring drowning out the landing of his own. The corridor was coming to an end with a window showing the rail of the fire escape before U-turning round to the right and down another flight of stairs. More gunfire and the heat of a bullet passing his ear caused him to flinch away.
Stairs are suicide, he thought and instead dove through the window, hoping that that glass would shatter with impact. Another bullet passed through the air where his head was moments before as he ducked into his dive, piercing the pane. Thanks, he thought and leaped. The glass broke as his shoulder hit it and he flew through the opening, only to cry out as his back cracked against railing and his face slammed down to kiss the cold metal of the fire escape. He lay there stunned for a moment before realising his package had spilled free.
“A courier never looks in the package,” his mentor had told him, “nor does he let it fall into enemy hands.”
“He’s down!”
“Get the bag!”
One of the goons had reached the window and instead of firing was reaching for the bag which was laying beneath it. Groaning, James, pushed himself up enough to then twist his body into a spin and deliver a kick which rewarded him with a sickening crunch as it connected with the man’s jawline and he fell limp, blocking most of the window from those who followed. It was then that James saw the blood pouring from the glass impaling the suited man’s chest.
Knowing that he had only bought himself a few precious seconds, James grabbed the bag once more and charged down the fire escape and vaulted the railing. He landed and immediately ducked into a roll before racing down the alleyway and out onto the street beyond.
After he had gone, one of his pursuers casually pushed open the door to the fire exit and walked out into the alley, staring off into the direction that the boy had gone. Another emerged from the shadows and looked at his colleague with shaded eyes.
“Did he take the bait?” he asked, his voice cold, almost devoid of emotion.
The other man smoothed his comb over hair which was beaded with perspiration and nodded. “We lost Morris doing it, but he believed it to be real. He’ll take it straight to them…”
“Good,” the newcomer smiled. “Now all we need to do is wait for the fireworks to begin.”
400 Words A Day 