The Armalite maiden - Jonathan Kebbe

As he goes to plant a kiss on her forehead, he sees the sidelights of a car creeping through her hair – a night-black BMW. His lips freeze on her skin.

The low-lit street is almost deserted, a young couple turning the corner, litter ruffled by the breeze, a vending drink coke, the scene unrolling as fatefully as a million city nights. Only this scene is all wrong. The BMW approaching soundlessly, a man in dark glasses and leather jacket advancing on either pavement, synchronised.

Uneasy, Annie begins to pull away. He clings to her, watching the grim hand of death unfold.

A few moments remain – with luck.

‘Annie, we’re in trouble.’
She stops breathing, arrested by the chill in his voice. Two men on foot and a black BMW. Anything behind me?

Fused together, pulses racing. ‘No.’

She waits, suspended in his arms, relying on his eyes. The car has pulled into the centre of the road. Of the two men, bone-same and coldly familiar, lengthen their stride. Marcus sees exactly what is about to happen.

‘Get ready to run to your right.’

The car’s headlights open up, blazing.

NOW!