Her breath was puffing out in short harsh bursts. A cloud of vapour misted the air in front of her.
Her joints hurt, muscles ached and her hand was shaking, the gun tapped against her side. She
checked the watch at her wrist, between its cracked glass she squinted to see the hands ticking
closer to noon. With her back against the cold wall the first trickle of fear weaved its way in as
fog lifted from the ground. It was colder than the brick at her back and brought with it menace, a
wicked sharp sting as it climbed letting little pin pricks nibble at her skin.
She had to move.
She peeled herself from the wall and launched from her hiding spot, three shots rang out and she
dived behind a crate. She peeked her head above the wooden box sat between her and the
onslaught of bullets, her short black hair now clinging to her face as sweat fell freely from her
temple. The fog was thickening, she counted five but where was the threat?
The one that controlled the fog.
The Minn.
She checked her watch once more.
Six minutes to reach the tower.
She dug a hand in her pocket and pulled out a small metal canister gripping it tightly.
‘Only break this seal if a Minn is there.’ Arthur had said handing over the canister. The only
weapon they had against the Minn but it also meant –
Three more shots fired out and she screamed, cursing herself for being so amatuer. The bullet
had pierced through the crate and lodged itself into her shoulder.
Her good arm.
Her firing arm.
Vainly she tried to lift the gun but her shoulder cried out and her arm fell. She dropped the gun,
useless as it was now and held the canister even closer. She pulled herself into a crouch and
made a reckless run towards the next stack of crates, more shots fired at her, she bent double,
gulping down air trying to reclaim her breath. Her chest felt heavy and tight, blood now coating
her suit; she was cold and tired yet the fog did not let up, it licked at her ankles once again and
the empty aching fear it tried to weave inside her, was now clawing for a way in. She clamped
her eyes shut, whispering the prayers of the Academy, beseeching The Mother to let her make it
through this mission.
One more check of her watch.
Three minutes.
Foregoing the last of her rational thought she dashed from the crates, her injured arm cradled
against her chest the other held a crippling grip on the canister. Shots ricocheted off the huge
steel structure that loomed above her, a straight ladder the only thing between her and the top of
the tower. She jammed the canister between her teeth and using her one good arm started to
climb. With each rung of the ladder bullets cracked the air around her, the prayers of The Mother
repeating themselves inside her head. Her hands grew tired and slick with each step, her only
reprieve was the fog dispersing as she made it towards the top. She climbed and with each
shaking step she saw the top come into view.
She looked up, between the dreary gray sky and the control box sitting atop the tower, stood a
man. He was tall and slim, dressed in a trench coat that kissed his boots; a black bowler hat that
shadowed his face. He turned his head, just enough light caught his jaw that she was able to see
rows of pointed teeth that smiled back at her. Her body tensed and the canister rattled against her
teeth.
He was not a man, but a Minn.
The Minn licked his lips and drew a hand from his pocket. His long pale fingers splayed out
above her, then he flicked his wrist and Ariel was flying. Everything stilled into slow motion as
her body was repelled from the ladder, the shots echoed in a vast silence, the Minn smiled and
she raised her one good arm towards her mouth. The canister still awkwardly pinned between her
teeth. She wrapped a finger around the seal, the Minn’s smile faltered, and then she pulled.
She was dimly aware that her watch read noon.
By Rebecca Douglas