Genre Scribes: Friday Fiction Writing Challenge #43 — Plan

The incessant whine of an engine penetrated the fog surrounding Kelvin’s brain, pulling him from the icy grip of semi-consciousness. He ordered his eyes to open, but the harsh glow of the outside world proved too painful. The light grew dim again, the dark soothing away all pain, all thought.

Pain speared and splintered through his body as something sent him face-first into the snow. His eyes fought against the white glare.
A man stood over him and kicked him again. “Where’s the box?” The voice belonged to Anton, the man Kelvin had befriended when he’d gone undercover all those months ago.

Kelvin managed to roll to his side, careful to avoid putting pressure on the knife wound, and scanned the area. Thankfully, Amy was gone—as was the backpack. He brushed snow from his front, confirming she’d left him the gun. “Lost it over the edge.” He pushed himself up, hissing as agony scorched his side. “If you move fast, you can probably still get it before it’s buried under another foot of snow.”

Anton slammed the sole of his boot onto Kelvin’s chest, shoving him back into the snow. The man Kelvin had hoped was redeemable, leaned over him and flashed him a chilling grin. “Nah, I plan on finding that hot little pilot of yours and playing with her until she tells me where it is.”

Blood. Kelvin wanted to see blood. He gripped Anton’s foot and twisted it, sending him crashing to his knees. Ignoring the pain, Kelvin thrust the heel of his hand into Anton’s nose. The satisfying crunch confirming he had enough time to grab the ACP 1911 from his holster.

Anton roared up, blood flowing from his nose, and flattened Kelvin. The man’s fists swinging wild, catching Kelvin about the head and face.

Kelvin couldn’t take much more damage. He pressed the weapon into Anton’s gut and squeezed the trigger several times before rolling him to the side. Blood pooled beneath Anton as he struggled for breath.

High-pitched ringing filled Kelvin’s ears as darkness edged his vision. He didn’t have long. He aimed at Anton’s head and put an end to the man he’d once called friend.

Kelvin had used all of his strength dealing with Anton, and there was none in reserve to walk the twenty meters to Anton’s snowmobile. But he had to get to Amy, and if that meant dragging himself across the snow, well, that’s what he’d do.

When he’d made arrangements to meet with his boss, Harvey, he had no idea he’d have Amy in tow. Harvey was a careful man; he didn’t deal with unexpected “guests” too well. And, Amy wasn’t exactly docile.

The ringing in his ears grew whiney. He froze. Another snowmobile. He checked the mag. Empty. The other clip was in the backpack. There was one round in the chamber. He wasn’t going to make it. His life was always going to end bloody. At least someone knew he’d tried to do the right thing. Amy knew. She knew he wasn’t a traitor.
Kelvin wasn’t going to go out without a fight. He pulled himself to the abandoned vehicle and rested his back against it, readied the weapon and waited for his final foe to arrive.

As the snowmobile neared, two riders disembarked. Kelvin didn’t stand a chance. The smaller one jinked around the massive one, sprinting toward him.

Amy.

“Oh, my god! Kelvin!”

Kelvin sank against the vehicle, as relief and… something more than lust flooded him.

Amy fell to her knees before him, her eyes red with unshed tears.

Kelvin touched her face, making sure she was real. And he smiled. A real smile. “Took you long enough, sweetheart.”