Page 57 of Winter

Outside, ice and rain were falling in a torrent and the road was slick with a thick coat of ice. It was bitterly cold as Scarlett dashed outside to the garbage bins and threw in the sack of trash from the kitchen. The rain soaked through her light shirt and she tugged Inca’s coat further around her. The damp material stuck to her body as she went back to the door—only to find it had closed behind her and locked.

Goddammit! Scarlett wiggled the handle, but it was stuck tight. “Inca! Let me in!” She banged on the door. She heard a step behind her and spun around. She squinted through the rain—was there someone there?

There was a muffled bang and the first bullet smashed through the center of her belly. She gasped, shock and adrenaline flooding her system. All the air seemed pushed out of her lungs and she saw her blood spreading across the damp cotton of her shirt.

Oh God, no …

Her attacker shot her again, the bullet slamming into her chest, and Scarlett dropped to the ground, gasping for air and for life as her killer stood over and aimed the gun at her head. The pain was overwhelming, the hot lead burning a path through her soft flesh. She put out a hand, desperate now.

“Please, please … no … don’t …please…”

Then there was only darkness.

Inca, hearing Scarlett bang on the door, put down her broom and went to let her friend in. As she entered the kitchen, she stopped, her heart beating hard. Under the outside door, the rain water was flooding in at the bottom. With the water blood. Inca darted to the back door and pulled it open to see her friend prone on the floor.

Inca Sardee took in the murdered form of her best friend and all of her systems shut down. She saw her friend, saw she was dead, but she did not understand. She fell to her knees and began to scream …