Weekend Edition: Nathan Musser's The Lone Wolf, part 2

Fetterolf’s Fiction: Creative Writing Selections
Part of an ongoing series of creative writing selections from Ms. Fetterolf's creative writing class. Check back next weekend for another installment.

by Nathan Musser
Fenris, a child kidnapped and raised to be a hardened assassin, is now a man, free from his former master -- yet still an assassin. His next target jars him off his current course and onto a path filled with many dangers, but also, hopefully, redemption.

Part 2: The resulting blast echoed throughout the ruins as Lauren fell to the ground, the life leaving her body.
            Quickly, Fenris slung his rifle over his shoulder and jogged over to the body. He checked for a pulse. There was none. Perfect, Fenris thought. And I shouldn’t have any problems with Security, because they would have simply thought the shot was a wave crashing against the cliffs. And even if they were suspicious, they’re a few miles down the road.

Fenris’s getaway helicopter, supplied by the General, was only a brief sprint away from the castle. He allowed himself a small smile. He loved it when plans came together.
            With a feeling of great satisfaction, Fenris straightened and turned -- only to stare straight into the stern face of a Norwegian security guard. The assassin had just enough time to think, How did they get here? before the guard pulled out a Taser. “Opp med hendene!” the guard barked.
            Even if Fenris had understood enough Norwegian to realize that the guard had said, ‘Put your hands up!’, he wouldn’t have obliged. As it was, Fenris simply slammed the butt of his rifle into the guard’s face. The stunned man slumped to the ground, the Taser falling uselessly from his palm, but there were three more security guards backing him up.
            Fenris didn’t have time for a fight -- he needed to get out. The reward the General promised wouldn’t do him any good if he was captured or killed. Although it was unlikely the guards would achieve either of those things, Fenris didn’t want to risk it.
            The assassin abruptly turned on his heel and ducked behind the ruins of the watchtower. A bullet tore through the ground where he’d been moments before, grazing a long path across the courtyard. Apparently, the guards had ditched their Tasers.
            Fenris’s eyes probed the area, searching for a more defensible position. Then he found it: on the opposite side of the courtyard, a still-erect watchtower stood like a beacon of hope. He could just see the open entranceway and the spiral staircase leading to the top. It would be a simple matter to shoot anyone who pursued him through the narrow staircase, especially once he got to the wide top.
            Without giving himself time to rethink the idea, Fenris sprinted out from the cover of the watchtower. The guards uttered a few frenzied phrases in Norwegian, but Fenris had no idea what they were saying. It was probably something like, “Stop that crazy gun-wielding maniac!”
            Luckily, the Norwegian guards didn’t seem to be accustomed to combat. Their idea of a problem day was most likely the occasional tourist that didn’t speak Norwegian. This being the case, the guards’ shots went wild, shooting over Fenris’s shoulders in bizarre paths.
            After a few heart-pounding seconds, Fenris made it to the watchtower entrance. He leaped inside and took the spiral steps two at a time. A bullet punched into the wall beside him, spraying a cloud of dust everywhere.
            Their aim is improving, Fenris thought drily. He paused momentarily, reloaded his rifle, peeked around the corner, and fired. He didn’t wait to see his results, but he heard a yell and a dull thud. He knew his bullet had found its mark. Now he had only two pursuers.
            Fenris continued his climb at top speed, and he reached the top of the staircase in a matter of seconds. The stairs opened to a platform that encircled the tower, open in all directions. He glanced over the edge, checking to see if the guards were there.
            They weren’t. That meant they had climbed the stairs after him.
            “I could have pushed you over that wall very easily by now,” said a woman’s voice behind him.
            Fenris spun around, his rifle pointed at this new person. He didn’t even have time to match a face to the voice, however, because the woman suddenly had him pinned to the ground, his face pressed against the stone floor of the watchtower. He was more humiliated than he’d ever been in his entire life. He’d allowed himself to be sneaked up upon, and worse, he was now pinned to the ground. And try as he might, Fenris couldn’t fight his way out. “Who are you?” Fenris grunted.
            “The person you were sent to kill.” With another expert move, the woman flipped Fenris on his back but still kept him pinned to the floor. She grabbed his wrist and twisted, forcing his rifle from his grasp. Fenris gasped as it clattered to the stones. Then he gasped again when he finally managed to get a good look at the person’s visage.
            It was Lauren Night. The straight dirty-blonde hair, the gray eyes, even the way she shifted her weight, as if she favored her right leg. She was too careful to open the leg up for Fenris to attack, however. “How are you alive?” Fenris demanded. “I killed you.” He tried once again to escape from her hold, but she was too skilled.
            “I was never dead,” Lauren admitted. “You killed my bodyguard. I knew you would be coming after me, so I set a trap.”

To be continued...

Read all of Nathan Musser's The Lone Wolf

Related: Read Nathan Musser's The Lone Wolf, part 1
Related: Read Preston Brazzle's short story, The Explorer III.

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