Flash Fiction Challenge #2

Hello! Some more exciting news, I have submitted my flash ficton piece for round two! I won’t know the results for a couple more weeks, but since it has been confirmed that my subission was recieved I can share this! I’m very excited, this was actually kind of difficult to write. The prompt was Thriller/Indoor Running Track/Ashtray, and I have never written a triller before. It took a lot of research before I was confortable enough to give it a shot, and I’m hoping that I suceeded. We will find out soon! Please let me know what you think, I will post the story below.

Another thing I wanted to mention really quick is I had the wonderful opportunity to go to my first writers conference! I learned so much, and I had the opportunity to have the first ten pages of my book critiqued by an agent! Jim McCarthy was amazing and he had some really good advice. It also gave me the desire to finish editing my book and finally get it to the point of publishing it! I’m so excited!

I’ll go more indepth at a later point. For now, I hope you enjoy Countdown, and I hope you have a wonderful day/evening!

It was a day just like any other, and that’s what made the whole situation more infuriating. People were going about their day as though nothing was wrong, as though doom and chaos wasn’t just around the corner, waiting to engulf them.

Vincent ran down the sidewalk, his shoes pounding against the pavement as he pushed his way through the people ignoring their shouts of protest. They wouldn’t be so upset if they understood the gravity of the situation, lives were at stake!

He kept running until finally reaching his destination; the old, rundown gym. The city had it condemned and slated for demolition and reconstruction. However, after many years of other projects taking priority and the deed of the property passing through so many hands, it was forgotten. The boarded up windows and chain link fence did nothing to deter the local youth from entering and using it as a place for vandalism, unguarded drug use, and general teenage rebellion.

Vincent prayed it would be empty, but he already knew that wasn’t the case. With practiced ease he climbed up and over the fence, pausing on the other side for only a second before darting to the nearest door. He yanked it open. The hinges screeched in protest, but did not give much resistance. Why wasn’t it locked? Was she expecting him? The thought filled Vincent with dread, but he entered the building anyway.

Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary at first. The floor was littered with empty beer bottles, wrappers of every kind and empty spray paint cans, while the walls were covered from floor to ceiling with colorful graffiti. Words, phrases, and images blurred together, not a blank space anywhere to be seen. This used to be a welcoming sight for him, a place where he could escape.

Vincent pushed back these thoughts and quickly made his way deeper into the building. His goal was on the other side of the large, spacious room, a set of double doors that led to what was once an indoor running track. He glanced down at the watch on his wrist and noted that he only had maybe fifteen minutes left. This was not going to be easy.

As soon as he reached the doors Vincent pushed on them, but to his dismay they didn’t budge. Of course he wouldn’t be that lucky. With growing impatience he attempted to peer through the grimy windows into the room.

Unlike the rest of the building, the trash that had covered the track had been cleared away to make room for a few large tables that were covered with electronics, wires, and a various chemicals. Looking down, Vincent could see that a couple of old lockers had been moved and were blocking the doors. Still, he couldn’t see anyone actually in the room. He had to get in there, but how?

The window in the door seemed big enough to climb through, but he still needed something to break the glass. Vincent glanced around until his eyes landed on a large, metal ashtray. That just might do it. He picked it up, relieved to find it was heavier than it looked. Without hesitation he threw it as hard as he could at the door, feeling elation inside when the glass shattered.

He quickly but carefully, crawled through the open hole and darted towards the tables that were curved to follow the track. On the table in the middle was an old laptop computer, showing a countdown on the screen. A harsh ringing made him jump, and Vincent quickly pulled out his phone, the caller ID flashing the name Lizzy. With growing panic as he noticed the time, he answered, “Lizzy, where are you?”

The answer wasn’t immediate, and for a second Vincent wondered if the call was accidental, until a cold, yet familiar voice replied, “I’m where I need to be Vinny. What about you?”

“This has to stop Lizzy!” Vincent said, his voice rising. “We were supposed to only cause a scare, not actually kill people!”

Lizzy sighed. “Vincent, how else are we supposed to get our message across without some casualties?” She sounded patronizing, as though scolding a child. “They won’t hear us unless we are loud enough.”

Vincent felt his blood run cold. “Liz, I won’t let you do this. What the foster parents did was terrible, but the other kids don’t deserve to die!”

“They don’t deserve to live in pain and fear either,” Lizzy replied. “Now go back to your post. We can’t let the court officials leave the court house before the bomb goes off.”

Vincent stood there, frozen with indecision. Lizzy had always known what to do and had worked hard to protect him from the brunt of their foster parents’ abuse. She knew what to do, and things always worked out for the best if he just listened to her.

Then the thought of the other kids, the innocent ones who had done nothing wrong in their short lives, reminded him why he was doing this. Steeling his resolve, Vincent replied firmly. “No, Lizzy, this ends now. I won’t become a murderer, and neither will you.” He hung up the call before he lost his nerve.

Looking at the computer, Vincent saw the timer was now at five minutes. He had to move fast. Pulling up a couple of programs, he began the slow, painful process to disable each bomb remotely, starting with the one at the foster home. The timer continued to count down as he worked, reminding him of the short amount of time he had to save so many lives. Lives he had endangered in the first place.

Minutes turned into seconds, each tick of the timer echoing loudly in Vincent’s skull until finally, all of the bombs were disabled. Everyone was safe with seconds to spare! Now he just had to-

The room exploded, cutting off Vincent’s final thought. Of course Lizzy had one more trick up her sleeve.