The Measuring of Alice

Alice’s shaking hands were barely able to hold the gun. He was looking right up the ramp and through the sights, meeting her green eye. His clay red eyes didn’t blink as she kept the gun pointed at him. The man with the assault rifle was leaning on the wall, watching happily.

This was a test.

“No.”

Alice put down the gun. The rifle went off and Alice was dead. SWAT broke down the door and within five seconds of Alice’s last breath the hostage crisis was over. Duane would speak well of the woman who spared his life.

If anyone is curious, Alice passed the test. The bastard with the rifle was a poor judge.

Advertisements