Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Action/Adventure · #1067171
Amanda's run would be different today.
Amanda glided in and out of the early morning mist as if she were hovering off the ground. Her tempo, fast by most standards, was casual for her. Her jogging shoes made almost no sound as they floated over the wooded trail, while her visible breath shot forth in rhythmic intervals, coinciding with her footfalls.
Twenty-eight and extremely fit, Amanda relished in keeping herself in shape. She wore an off-white thermal jogging suit that covered her whole body. The hood was up, hiding her shoulder length brown hair.
She made her way down the route suddenly breaking through the fog and then disappearing again like a ghost. This was just the way she liked it. As she came to a sharp bend in the trail, she repositioned her stance to take her up the hill on the other side. Her speed increased slightly in anticipation.
The man stood crouched behind the trees to the left of the trail. His hands were cold and the ground around him littered with cigarettes. He knew her routine well and a smile found its way through the deep scars of his face as he saw her. He waited like a lion stalking a gazelle.
Amanda's rhythm slowed. She thought she had seen something move in the brush up the path but only for a moment. She regained her speed after scanning the foggy trail ahead. Was it possibly her imagination?
The man shot from the brush just as she reached him. Amanda darted out of the way and let the momentum of his lunge carry him across the trail to a crashing thud on the other side. He spun around and looked up at her; the knife in his hand aimed at his prize.
He heard the whisper as their eyes met. A sound not unlike a quick burst of wind in the face. He fell back to the ground and felt the warmth engulf his chest. His hand dropped the knife and searched for the reason for the heat. He brought it back up to his face, a crimson red.
Amanda dropped the hood never taking her eyes off him.
"You're not her." he said.
Amanda pulled the cell phone from her jumpsuit pocket and pre-dialed a number. She kept the silencer barrel of the gun locked on him.
"Lisa, It's me. You won't have to run anymore. It's all taken care of."
She hung up the phone and squeezed the trigger again. Pulling her hood back up, she made her way down the trail and disappeared into the mist, like a ghost.
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