B.A. Nichols Author Posts

Someone recently challenged me to write a short story based on words chosen by them. I accepted their challenge, and here’s a sample of what I came up with.

Someone recently challenged me to write a short story based on words chosen by them. I accepted their challenge, and here’s a sample of what I came up with.

The three words are: Female – Steps – Danger

Send me a challenge – or share one you’ve done yourself.

Piper Fallon

The black SUV pulls into the semi-dark tunnel of an abandoned rail system, and I can’t help but shudder. It’s too dark and creepy down here, and I don’t like it.

“This sucks,” I tell Special Agent Thorne. “Why do we have to meet them here?”

I search the brick walls of the tunnel, for what, I do not know. It’s not like I’m not dumb enough to think somebody on a white horse is gonna magically appear and save my ass. No… I’m not stupid. Despite what these clowns think of me.

“I already told ya, kid. You gotta go with the Marshals,” Thorne says.

“I know that,” I snap. “I just wanna know why we have to meet them here?” I nervously drum my fingers on my knee.

Thorne shifts in his seat and stares at me for a second. I stare back. Does he know I know?

“You can shove that resting dick face of yours up my ass, Thorne. I don’t want to be here.”

Thorne drops his head and his double chin presses against his neck as he swings his head from side to side.

“Resting dick face?” he questions with a wry chuckle.

“Yeah. You know… old chicks have a resting bitch face. Old guys like you have a resting dick face.”

Thorne’s weary eyes raise to meet mine. “Kid, you’ve got to learn when to shut the hell up.”

“Oh really? Shut up?” I shout. “Your bosses want me to blab my mouth about what I saw? Right? I mean, the only reason I’m being chased is because you guys made me talk.”

Thorne ignores my tantrum and turns to open his door. “They should be here any minute,” he says. “Let’s get out and stretch our legs.””

“Why?” I ask, suspiciously.

Thorne sighs. “Because you have a long ride ahead of you. And you know that once you’re in transit, there’s no stopping.”

The not stopping part is true. I mean, once the car is moving, it doesn’t stop until we get to where we’re supposed to be.

Still, my butt remains firmly planted in the seat. And when I refuse to move, Thorne mumbles something about teenagers being a pain in the ass and gets out of the SUV, slamming the door behind him.

He comes around to my side and wrenches my door open. “Out!”

“Keep your panties on, Gigantor,” I say, and hop out of the SUV before he can grab me.

I should probably be more frightened of the guy. Not because Thorne is built like a viking, and scowls like a bear, but because of what I know. I still don’t want to believe he’s dirty, even if I heard him say it with my own ears. I’ve made denial, my bitch.

There’s no denying that the man I’m ratting out is a pretty fricking nasty, though. The only way he avoids jail time is if I disappear. You know… like finding me at the bottom of a lake, kind of disappears.

And until last night, when I heard Thorne on the phone, I thought I had a real shot at getting out of this mess. The District Attorney’s offer of moving me to some place where I could start over had sounded pretty good. Especially considering how no one in Boston could give two shits about me.

Now I don’t know who Thorne was talking to last night, but I know what Thorne said.

“Tomorrow, Piper Fallon dies.” Those were his words. I didn’t imagine it, goddamnit.

So now, I’m screwed. Because not only do I have to worry about the psycho who killed my uncle doing the same to me, the Feds want me dead, too.

Could my life get any more f’d up? Seriously. I mean, what the hell? Haven’t I been through enough already? Seeing Uncle Tommy killed. His blood and brains splattered all over the front steps of our house.

Suddenly, the sound of a tune being whistled echos throughout the tunnel. Thorne and I both whip around to see where it’s coming from, but it’s too dark to see.

“Stay close to me.” Thorne says, his voice making me jump and knocking me off kilter.

He reaches out and grabs my wrist, setting me straight, his fingers like a vise.

“You’re hurting me,” I say and attempt to pull free.

But then there’s movement in the tunnel and his grip tightens.

“You need to shut up and get behind me, kid.”

There’s an urgency in his tone I haven’t heard before, and it makes me freeze.

I’m confused. Thorne’s not sounding or acting like he wants me dead. Maybe I misunderstood what he’d said last night on the phone?

“Something’s wrong,” he says and waves his hand for me to get behind him.

“No shit,” I gasp.

Normally, I’m above all the stereotypical crap about how girls get hysterical when something scary happens. It pisses me off when people underestimate a chick’s power to persevere. And up to this point, I’ve proven that I’m no wuss, and I’ve kept my shit together. But all of my blustering goes out the window as the figure of a man appears out from within the shadows.

“Who is that?” I whisper.

Thorne tries to shove me towards the SUV, but it’s as if I have lead boots on, and my feet won’t move as the man comes closer.

“Piper, get in the damn car,” Thorne growls, and places his body in front of mine.

“All I want is the girl, Agent Thorne. Give her to me and you walk away.”

Thorne turns to me. The conflict in his eyes is clear.

Is he going to let me die? Or is he going to save me?

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B.A. Nichols left her career in sleep medicine behind to pursue a lifelong dream of becoming a published author. Support B. A. by following along with her journey on her Facebook page – B. A. Nichols, and her Twitter account @BANichols5.

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