Fragments Gallery
Another Day
Another shot burrowed into the stonework over her head as she threw herself behind an old wall. As stone fragments fell around her three more puffs of dirt rose from the cold stone. Carefully she lay her old fashioned revolver at her side before pulling a long roll of cloth from the pouch at her side.
Her hands were deft as she quickly wrapped the makeshift bandage around the wound in her leg. It wasn't a serious injury, the bullet had just grazed her, but it would slow her down. Not good.
"Damn," she muttered as she tied off the loop of cloth, "That could have gone better."
The wall at her back was old, very old. Many of the stones had fallen loose and vegetation covered the few that remained in place, but for her it was enough. Enough remained that it gave her the time she needed to recover.
She reached into another pouch and pulled out the handful of cylinders that still remained there. Her ammunition, her lifeline. A quick count made her grimace. Eight bullets. Only eight remained.
Her eyes flickered as she leaned back against the wall, resting her head on it's rough cool surface. By now she wanted nothing more than to sleep; this chase had been going on for far too long. But she knew she couldn't.
She was their last hope.
Behind her something cracked and her eyes fluttered open. She had a job to do. She wouldn't let some soldier put her down.
Keeping low she moved over to a wall of rubble a short distance away and she knelt behind it. The butt of her revolver was cool in her hand and its weight in her grip was comforting, it felt solid. At least something did.
Heavy footsteps moved around the wall she had just left, she could hear the man's breathing. In her mind's eye she could also see him. She could see his black combat armour made of that new tough material they were using in their gear nowadays. The gun would be against his shoulder and his black visor would be peering down the sights as he checked around the corner. She could see him raising a hand to his chest to hit the small button that rested there, activating his radio.
"She's moved on Sir," murmured a voice behind her, "We'll find her soon she can't have gone far."
Then some radio static as he listened to the reply before he continued.
"Understood Sir. She'll be brought back."
Standard protocol. So predictable.
This seems so easy, she thought as she rechecked her bandage, but maybe it had been that attitude which had gotten her shot. The strip of cloth was still in place. Without hesitation she smoothly rose, took aim, and fired before dropping back behind the pile of rubble. Moments later she heard the man crash to the ground amidst the pieces of his shattered visor.
Time to move on.