Kinga and the Cure

It was so terribly cold. Snow was falling, and it was almost dark. Kinga decided that now would be the best time to ditch her pursuers. They had been tracking her for hours, after something she had but was not willing to depart with. She had made a promise to her mother as she lay dying.

"It's all up to you now baby girl," her mom had said as she pressed a vial of green liquid into her daughter's hand.

Kinga clutched the vial tightly as she made her way through the snow-covered forest. She knew exactly what it contained, and her heart raced with anticipation. She had a plan, a difficult and dangerous one, but she was determined to see her mission through.

As she trudged along, her mind drifted back to her childhood - to the days of innocence and laughter. But the memories were fleeting, replaced quickly by images of death and destruction. It was a virus that had wiped out most of the population, and there were rumors that the government had the cure, but only for the elite. Kinga's mother had been one of the unlucky ones, but she had managed to get her hands on a vial of the cure from a trusted source.

Kinga was determined to keep her promise to her mother and get the vial to the resistance, a group of rebels fighting against the oppressive government. They had a small outpost just over the ridge but she knew if she couldn't lead them there because they would just bring more troops and a lot of good people would die. No, she had to end this pursuit now before she goes any further. She had trained for this moment her whole life, learning to be stealthy and resourceful, and now it was time to put her skills to the test.

As she reached the edge of the forest, Kinga spotted a small cabin. It was rundown and abandoned, the perfect spot to execute her plan. She made her way over and entered cautiously, closing the door behind her. The inside was sparse, but it would do. She estimated that she had a fifteen minute head start so she quickly got to work.

The sound of footsteps outside told her that her pursuers were closing in. Kinga crouched on the rafter beam above as she waited for them to enter the cabin. The front door burst open and splinters flew. Three men dressed in white camouflage rushed into the room shouldering military issue MP5s. The first soldier falls to the ground, tripped by a fishing line that Kinga found and stretched low from cabinet to fireplace. The other two men fell like dominos on top of the first. That's when Kinga pounced. She leapt from her perch onto the last man's back, taking note of the bullet proof jacket as she landed. She quickly reached down and snapped his neck.

As the second intruder tried to unbury himself from the dead weight of his fallen comrade, Kinga leapt on top of the small wooden dining table. She squatted on the edge and leaned back against the kitchen sink. When he finally raised up, Kinga violently extended her legs sending the light but sturdy table careening into the side of the man's head. He fell limp.

The head of the search party crawled out from under the table and posted up against the thin wall that acted as a partition, slightly blocking off the living room from the kitchen. Before he can make a plan, a metal container clunked in front of him and rolled a foot or so. This was actually a can of pork and beans that Kinga removed the label from but in the dim light and under these circumstances, the first thought that crossed his mind was that it was an explosive or incendiary device. Panicked, he lunged toward the door but Kinga was ready. She slipped one arm under his neck and hopped on his back like a Shetland Pony. She tucked her hand into her other bicep and clamped down on it. She found his Adam's apple with the inside of her elbow and leaned back. She wrenched back and locked her other hand behind his head. She leaned back and braced herself for impact. He landed on her with a thud but she gave not an inch. She wrapped her legs around his body and held there like a Python patiently awaiting its meal to succumb to the pressure.

After less writhing and thrashing than she anticipated, he went limp. She held on for at least two minutes past that. She didn't want to take a chance that he had just passed out. When she was satisfied that he would never wake up she released him then rolled him off of her. He fell to the floor like a log.

Kinga slowly approached the second mercenary who was just coming around from his concussion. She pulled a knife from his boot and sat on his back and pulled his hear back until his ear met her mouth.

"How many more?" she whispered into his ear.

"I don't know," he said in a pleading tone.

She put the blade of the knife against his jugular.

"How many?" she repeated herself slowly.

"Five or six in two more parties. 2 drones and a few dogs."

She pushed the tip of her knife into his throat an inch or so deep then slashed to the right severing the carotid artery and internal jugular. No more. no less. Blood sprang forth over the cabin floor like a well being tapped for the first time. The man immediately goes into shock but loses blood so quickly that he's gone moments later.

She frowned when she stood, but not because her fifteen year old self just swiftly ended the lives of three trained assassins without a single shot, but because she actually liked dogs and didn't like the thought of having to kill them.