Always Prepared - A Flash Fiction Story

The sudden sound of automatic gun fire shattered the night air. With a low crawl across the warped floor boards, Shelia threw aside the braided rag rug and yanked open the trap door. Silently she dropped into the murky bayou waters below as bullets splintered the walls and floor boards above her. The gun fire over her head pissed her off. “Assholes!” she thought, “I just cleaned this place!”

Five quick strokes and she was at the water’s edge. Keeping in the shadows, Shelia entered the pump house and found the detonator. With the press of a button, the wooden cabin and all the assassins inside were blown to high heaven. Grabbing her camouflaged backpack from behind the door, she headed north into the darkness.

She may not have been a Boy Scout, but Shelia was always prepared.

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