This month’s Furious Fiction competition has begun! Here was the criteria for this month’s submissions:
- Your story must take place during an EXTREME/UNUSUAL WEATHER EVENT.
- Your story must include something being lifted.
- Your story must include the following words: ZERO, ZIGZAG and ZOOM (longer variations accepted).
Here’s my entry!
Tuesday the fifteenth, 6:15pm, opposite the clock tower.
It was Tuesday, it was the fifteenth, it was 6:15pm, he was opposite the clock tower.
The cold crawled through the soles of Ray’s boots, his neck aching underneath the weight of his canvas hood. Security cameras drew his eyeline to the drenched pavement. His ears clicked with the downpour running rivers over his shoulders. He had zero interest in lifting his gaze to find her cruiser, but she was well and truly late. He’d repeated their agreement silently, but now, standing alone on the street, he was sure he’d been scammed. Two thousand credits for nothing. No escape, no way out, forced to be a slave to this evil city, and now broke because he was foolish.
6:21pm.
‘Idiot’, he said to himself, ‘you meet a woman in a bar, talk to her for eight seconds, shake her hand and give her all your money? You deserve to be arrested.’
The hum of passing cruisers was broken by a sharp whirring. Peering left he saw a worn-out cruiser zigzag its way towards him, the woman leaning hard as she pulled the steering wheel toward his location. She came to an abrupt halt, spraying him with a wave of rain.
‘What the-’ he tried to say, but was interrupted.
‘Get in,’ she commanded.
‘But my-’
‘GET IN!’ she bellowed.
He frantically lifted the cruiser door, falling into the seat and gripping the dashboard as she zoomed away. He stiffened his posture to ground himself, cold drops of water sliding off his nose.
‘They’re not far behind,’ she yelled through the din.
‘Who’s not far away?’ he asked.
‘No time to explain.’
A distant siren began to sing through the pelting raindrops.
‘Why are they chasing us?’ he tried to ask, but she continued to silently steer, eyes forward, one hand juggling the gears.
Through, round, under and over they swerved, the distant wall growing higher and higher. How would they forge through it with what seemed like the authorities on their tail?
‘How will we get through?’ he asked against the bullets of rain.
‘Follow the old man,’ she said cryptically.
‘Follow the old man? What old man?!’
‘Follow…the…old…MAN!’ she said, finally drifting the cruiser to a stop. She opened his door, turned her feet toward him and kicked him out.
‘Hey!’
A weathered face appeared, summoning him into a nearby stall. The woman waited for the authorities to arrive, then dropped her cruiser into gear and disappeared down the street, the authorities following.
In the darkness of the stall a frail voice spoke.
‘She OK. This way,’ the old man instructed. They descended a narrow staircase to a small, half-sized door. The old man propped it open.
‘Follow eight kilometers. Meet cousin, Tsao, on other side. Not turn back.’
Ray gulped. Crouching down he squeezed through the doorframe, before the old man closed it behind him, the splatter of the rain finally fading.
The battle to save Earth and the Realm has begun.
It’s time the Prince’s power, and his last army, was released.
Feature images:
Photo by Vadim Pospelov on Unsplash
Photo by PAN XIAOZHEN on Unsplash
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