Jen DeSantis Week 3: Target Acquired

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Jen DeSantis’ Choice: 1

Title: Target Acquired

She might have been waiting for a bus, her hand raised to block the sun as she looked down the street. She might have been – but I knew better.

“Interesting necklace.” I kicked a can into the street as she looked past me.

“What’re you doing here, Malloy?”

She pulled a Virginia Slim out of her bag and looked up through her hair, waiting. I fiddled with the lighter in my pocket before bringing it out. She waited patiently as I lit her cigarette. She took a long, deep pull and closed her eyes as she exhaled.

“Answer my question.”

“I don’t know, Shell,” I said, still squatting in front of her. “Sure as shit wasn’t expecting to run into you.”

Smoke curled out of her pale lips as she chuckled silently. She clutched her fur-covered bag closer to her side and I heard something metallic move within.

“Mark?” I asked.

She shrugged, but her eyes shifted to the side and she blew a stream of smoke in the direction of a group of older people down the street. I wondered who it might be: the old butcher with years-old bloodstains covering the front of his overalls? The expired society lady was a possibility. Her days of entertaining were long behind her, but she’d clearly forgotten how to get out of bed without looking perfectly put together. Maybe she had secrets someone wanted to silence. Shell wouldn’t tell, but I guessed that one member of that group wouldn’t live to see the end of the day.

“What about you?”

“Been here and there,” I replied.

“On a job?”

My eyes slid away from hers as we entered dangerous territory. I was being stupid.

“Classified.”

She nodded and stubbed out her cigarette.

“Gotta run,” she replied. “I’d say that I’ll see you around, but …”

“You won’t,” I finished, a half-smile playing on my lips.

For a moment, she paused. Her green eyes clouded and she cocked her head to the side in question. I wondered if I’d said too much, made her wary. Shell shook her head after a moment and smiled.

“No, I guess I won’t.”

She raised her hand and a taxi seemed to appear out of nowhere. She slipped inside with a casual wave over her shoulder. I watched the car speed away before I pulled out my phone.

“Target acquired,” I murmured into the phone.

The line went dead and I slipped the phone back into my jacket pocket.

“Game on, kitten,” I whispered.

It was always more fun to hunt the hunters.

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Jennifer DeSantis is a Horror and Paranormal Author and host of the #FridayPictureShow. She lives near Philly with her family. In her spare time is an aspiring ninja.


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