I’ve been somewhat late on my posts… but don’t worry. I’m back! 😀 Here is another fragment of the Nanowrimo story… no edits, just a bunch of mistakes on every level.
Geraldine’s body lay on the floor; her head tumbled to a side as someone kicked it against the wall. He was tall, his body covered in bulletproof wear, his face hidden behind an iron mask and a large hammer held with both hands. He neared them, grabbing Patricia and tossing her to a side. His boot pinned Alessandro’s neck to the ground, as he readied his hammer to smash his victim’s head into pieces. “Isn’t… Isn’t a hammer… too loud?”
“I’m a sucker for the dramatics, now squeal like a pig.”
“Knock, knock…” Alessandro replied. “Knock, knock, haven’t you ever played this game? Indulge me for once, Victor.”
He grinned. “I guess the hunter can provide his prey with such privileges.” Readying his hammer, he replied, “Who’s there?”
He flinched. This was stupid. “Soul? Who the fuck is soul?”
“The guy… that left you with a great big hole.” Pointing at him, with his fingers folded like a gun, he added. “Bang, bang, you’re dead.”
“You stupid little…” A loud bang blasted his head right off his very own shoulders. On the other side of the barrel was Patricia, back against the wall, holding the spear with both hands.
“Well done, Pat.”
“How did you know that he’d play knock, knock?”
“He was my best friend… I knew he’d play knock, knock.”
She helped him up, noticing his back was pierced with many glass shards. Alessandro dropped both guns and his jacket. “If we get out of here alive, you must go out with me on a date.”
“Let’s get out of here alive and then I’ll think about it.” Patricia kissed his cheek. “But, I’m keeping the mask.”
“If you could have children, how would you name them?”
She smiled and without giving it a second thought she replied, “Alexander and Anastasia.”
“I’ll make it happen…”
Snow had fallen the night before; Patricia held her pillows close to her cold body. She hated the cold; somehow it made her feel lonely and so vulnerable. Her husband had gone off to work. Staring at the ceiling, she remembered what had transpired thirty years ago. It felt as if it was just yesterday that she was running for her life. She still holds a piece of glass as a memento of that event.
The phone started ringing. She leaned over to the phone and answered. “Hello, Pastore residence, how can I help you?”
“Honey! We found it!” An overwhelming feeling of joy empowered her.
“What do you mean, we found it?”
“You’re going to become a mother!”
A tear ran down her cheek. After so many years of planning and preparing, it was coming to past. Now, all they could do was to wait and see what the future would bring for them. On a side, next to the telephone, there lay a map with a small Central American colony highlighted in red: British Honduras.