A Grit Battle
809 Words
Idris sprinted through the thicket, breath steady but heart pounding in panic. The wet earth silenced his footfalls as he glided between colossal trunks and dense shrubbery. The moon, half-concealed behind drifting clouds, shone a pale light on the mist-draped ground. He had no time to waste.
His mind was moving as quickly as his legs. If this were a setup, who was the actual target? What if his enemies had anticipated his every move? But more importantly was he too late already?
The thought made a cold shiver run down his spine. He couldn’t afford to fail.
A Trail of Deception
The way forward was unknown, but Idris had trained his instincts for years. He followed his gut as it tugged him out, through the maze of trees. His most recent clue had brought him to the empty mill beside the river his first destination before the ambush. And if his enemies had drawn him out, then one thing that something, or someone was waiting at that mill.
Idris slowed as he approached the forest’s edge. “You know you are being watched?” he said, crouching behind a thicket of shrubs and scanning the area. The mill appeared to be a forgotten artifact, its wooden walls having weathered the storms of time. The giant waterwheel, now long out of commission, remained still in the dirty river. They had one lantern flickering by the entrance.
Someone was inside.
Idris slinked closer, staying in the shadows. His ears caught distant voices blown by the wind. Two men, maybe three. One was pacing, his boots scuffing against the wooden floor. Another was speaking in low tones, his words too dull to grasp.
He needed a way in quietly.
He circled the mill until he found a broken window in back, wide enough to squeeze through. He looked inside, examining the poorly lit interior. The following room was crammed with ancient machinery, rusty gears and decaying crates. Dust catch the air, pierced only by the faint shimmer of the lantern.
Then he saw her.
A woman, tied to a chair, head drooping forward, long dark hair covering her face.
Idris’s stomach tightened. He expected a trap, but this? This was worse.
He moved without hesitation.
A Desperate Rescue
He slid through the window and landed softly, crouching low behind a crate stack. The voices were clearer now.
“She’s no good if she’s not going to talk,” one man said, irritation creeping into his voice.
“She will,” another responded, in an icier tone. “They always do.”
Idris clenched his jaw. There was no time for doubt, he didn’t have time for doubt.
The woman stood in front of him, and there were two men on either side, one close to the door and the other standing next to an old control panel. They could see their weapons, but did not anticipate an attack. That gave him an advantage.
Idris punched through the air in one smooth motion.
The first man didn’t even have time to react before Idris struck, his knife cleaving clean through the other’s weapon hand. The man broke into a high-pitched scream, stumbling backward as blood spattered his hands.
As the other men looked on, Idris snatched the second man from behind, twisting his arm and forcing his gun to the ground before the mankuveled an elbow into the man’s temple. The man crumpled instantly.
The third attacker reached for his weapon; Idris was quicker. He snatched a rusted wrench off of a nearby table, and chucked it across the room. It hit the man in the head, a sickening crack, knocking him to the ground.
Silence.
The fight had taken seconds, but each move had been calculated. Efficient. Deadly.
Idris turned to the woman.
She was barely awake, her wrists bruised from the ropes tied so close. Gingerly, he touched her, sweeping the hair from her face. His chest constricted as that fact sank in.
Zara.
His heart pounded. He hadn’t laid eyes on her in years hadn’t even known if she was alive. But here she was now, some ghost from his past, caught in whatever crossfire was happening.
Her eyes opened, dark and unfocused. She blinked up at him, and confusion crossed her face. “Idris?” Her voice hoarse, she could barely whisper.
“It’s me,” he confirmed, his voice lower than he meant. “We need to go. Now.”
He sliced through the ropes around her wrists and ankles. She made a noise as she tried to move, and he steadied her, taking her weight.
“You’re safe,” he told her, not that he was so sure if that was right.
They weren’t safe. Not yet.
Because whoever had put this trap in place wasn’t done playing.
And Idris knew this was just the start.
- Writer
