A new year, but we’re bringing back some of the fave topics from last year. And honestly, the flash fiction pieces are my favorite, for sure. Seeing how everyone interprets a picture or a song…and this year we’re adding some new twists. But our first for the year is a picture fiction, on a cool photo. Here’s the image and the resulting story…
And… I had nothing, so… I decided to continue from a much earlier song fiction. You can find it … HERE… if you’d like. Or, just read on.
Nick kicked the door shut behind him, balancing his and Megan’s weight as he helped her shuffle inside the old cabin. She managed to get several feet in before collapsing against him, a muffled groan rumbling around him. He dropped the first aid kit he’d grabbed out of his Jeep then scooped her up, hating the way her head lolled against his shoulder—her eyes squeezed shut.
He headed for the single bedroom off to the right, placing her in the centre of the large bed. She grimaced, whimpering before seemingly passing out. He cursed, brushing her hair out of her face as he laid the back of his hand across her forehead. Warm, but not dangerously so, yet. With any luck, her wound hadn’t gotten infected.
He clenched his jaw. He’d stopped once they’d cleared the city, despite her protests, and had insisted on examining her side. She hadn’t met his gaze as he’d raised her shirt and removed the blood-soaked bandages, refusing to tell him anything regarding how she’d sustained the injury. Not that he needed any explanation. He knew a knife wound when he saw one. And hers had been deep. She’d finally allowed him to cover it in QuickClot, taping more gauze in place. She’d been quiet ever since, though he realized, now, she’d barely been holding on to consciousness.
“God damn Agency.”
He’d never truly trusted Jordan, or Rawlings, but…had they really held her prisoner for nearly three weeks? Orchestrated the entire sting operation without her knowledge just to screw him over? Megan had eluded to as much, but…
He gently removed the bandages, wincing when she moaned. The wound looked as raw as before, but at least the bleeding had stopped. Mostly. He dapped at the laceration, doing his best to hold the edges together as he applied a row of Sterie strips. She grunted with every press of his fingers, the painful sound like jabs to his heart. He hadn’t thought he’d still care. Still feel this connected. After everything that had happened, he’d believed he’d buried his emotions. Buried his love for her. But just staring at the pale cast to her skin, the small twitch of her lips—he hadn’t come close to shutting her out of his life.
Nick sighed, gaining his feet. He walked over to a small closet, grabbing a blanket off of one of the shelves. He laid it across her, tucking her in before heading back to the main area. He headed for the couch, collapsing on the worn cushions. He glanced at the far wall, a tilted photo catching his gaze. His brother had taken the picture just before he’d been posted overseas. Sun setting low, illuminating a pathway close to the cabin in a circle of yellow light. Made the trail look like a portal to some other world. It was also the last photo his brother had taken before…
Nick closed his eyes against the sting. The damn picture was a constant reminder of all he’d lost. All he’d hoped to have with Megan. But now—now he was left trying to puzzle everything out. Deduce the truth amidst a sea of lies. He glanced at the bedroom, her body hidden beneath the patchwork quilt. If she’d truly been playing him, why had some ventured to the bar? Risked her own life when she could have easily have disappeared. Left him and the Agency behind?
He relaxed back. Answers would have to wait until she regained consciousness—felt strong enough to talk. And damn it, she was going to tell him everything. Why her partner had needed Nick to supply them with weapons. Why he’d lied about Megan’s involvement. Hell, what she’d been going to tell him at the restaurant. All of it. And then they’d figure out a way to fix the damn mess he’d made. Get the weapons back. Hell, get his old life back.
His gaze lingered on her silhouette. Truth was—there was no going back. For either of them. He just hoped they both had a future that didn’t end in a pool of blood.
That’s all for me. I know… but hey, I had nothing, folks. Seriously, nothing. Now go check out the rest of the crew. A great showing this month… must be resolution time, lol.