Flash Fiction written by Stefanie Gilmour
Writing Prompt
The three words given were: bravado, beaker, goggles. Story must be 440 words or less.
Story
I snatched the flask, spun, and kicked open the back doors. I whistled for my motorcycle. It crested the edge of the canyon and raced up toward me. I leapt from the moving carriage. Suddenly, I was jerked backward and suspended in the doorway. My BA trench coat had caught on the door handle.
“Are you kidding m…” The carriage jostled and the fabric tore. I hit the ground in an explosion of dust, but was caught in the coat and dragged behind the speeding carriage.
***
I’ve been told I don’t think ideas through before taking action. This job, for example. My partner, Pat, had suggested an ambush.
“Nah. That lacks bravado.” I said.
“Bravado is another word for foolish,” she stated.
“If I’m going to be called Night Ranger, I must embody bravado like that legendary masked hero who rides the talking motorcycle.”
“What? No, I don’t think…”
We’d been waiting nearly an hour before Pat spotted our target. “There.” She handed the spyglass over.
I saw the cloud rising from the shallow canyon. I collapsed the glass and lowered my goggles, “Let’s go.”
Our motorcycles rumbled to life. We tore off down the dune, spraying red rocks behind us. We neared the lip of the canyon. The coach was being drawn by actual horses. Crafty. That ensured protection against EMPs. It’d be through the roof then. I shot a thrilled grin at Pat. She rolled her eyes.
I braced my hands in front of me, hopped up onto the seat. With a final inhale, I dropped over the edge of the canyon. My boots locked to the roof with a thunk, not sounding above the thundering hooves. Wind whistled past my ears and whipped my ponytail and trench coat out behind me.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Pat cut down the side of the canyon. She rode alongside the team pulling the carriage to serve as a distraction. I crouched, and with spraying sparks, cut an entrance through the metal roof. My boots clicked again, and I dropped down inside. Test tubes and beakers rattled on the narrow shelves. And as simple as that, I got the flask.
Now I was shielding the flask while attempting to free myself from the trench coat. I pulled my arm loose from the fabric, and slid to a stop, choking on dust. My motorcycle rumbled up to idle beside me. I heard Pat’s laughter above her motorcycle as she approached. Wincing, I stood. The flask was unscathed, but my ego bruised. Scowling, I got on my bike. “Let’s go before they notice what’s missing.”
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