 | Olive Jar Agents pursue an unusual quarry deep through the wilderness. But who’s hunting whom? |
| Contest: | Flash Fiction Challenge 2016 |
| Round: | 2 |
| Genre: | Thriller |
| Location: | A dollhouse |
| Object: | A campsite |
| Results: | 11pts - 5th place |
“We have the campsite secured, sir,” a voice said through the captain’s radio. “No way anybody’s getting through.”
The captain seemed unconvinced. “You better make damn sure they don’t, Jenkins,” he said.
The voice on the other end hesitated a moment before responding, “Ye-yes, sir. But…sir, she’s just a nine year old girl…”
“You have your orders!” replied the captain. “She’s close. She won’t slip away this time.” As if to punctuate the point, he yanked the hammer back on his machine gun, loading a round into the chamber.
For a moment, Brimmie thought the captain had spotted her. Barely daring to breathe, she watched intently from her hiding place in the foliage, mere yards away. It seemed as though he stared right through her, as his men searched the surrounding area. He took a couple of slow paces forward, squinting into the brush. Brimmie froze. Was this to be her final moment?
The captain’s radio again squawked to life. “Captain! Walker, here. Striker and Gillespie are missing!”
The captain grabbed his radio angrily, suddenly turning away from Brimmie’s position. She breathed a sigh of relief as the captain yelled into his radio, “What do you mean, ‘missing’?”
“They failed to report, sir, and now…well, we have no idea what happened to them. They’re just…gone.”
“Well that’s just flipping great. What was their last reported position?”
Walker answered, “We’re not exactly sure, captain…but we think they may have been near Harper’s Bend.”
The captain’s face flushed. “Dammit, Walker, that’s where we are now!” He suddenly spun about and gazed towards Brimmie’s hiding place. “Oh hell…she’s here!”
Brimmie recoiled as the captain raised his weapon. Bolting from her hiding spot, she scrambled furiously away through the heavy brush. The crackle of automatic weapons erupted behind her, bullets screaming through the air inches from her body, tearing apart the surrounding flora. Brimmie ran like she’d never run before. Ahead, a large formation of rocks jutted out of the woods, promising a possible escape. But it seemed miles away, and she heard more guns join the fray. Bullets pierced the air all around her. All it would take was one hit, and she’d be done. Her thoughts raced as death seemed imminent.
If only they hadn’t taken my dollhouse. That wasn’t very nice.
Brimmie stumbled forward, and for a moment she thought she was lost. But her misstep turned out to be a lucky break. Bullets whizzed just above her head, as she realized she’d made it to the outcropping. She crawled quickly behind the formation and jumped up, running as fast as she could down the trail, the rise of the landscape covering her escape.
- - -
Black-clothed guards paced the perimeter of the campsite, eyes scanning the growing darkness of the wilderness, weapons at the ready. Near the center of the clearing, a simple blue dollhouse rested upon a set of stacked crates, well out of reach to an average nine-year-old.
The captain and his squad jogged breathlessly into the campsite. Walker rushed to meet them with a hurried salute.
“Captain, still no word from Striker or Gillespie…”
“Forget ‘em, they’re gone,” interrupted the captain. “Where’s Jenkins?”
“Patrolling the perimeter, sir,” said Walker.
“Good. We lost the girl, but I suspect she’ll show up sooner or later,” said the captain.
“Why, sir? Why would she come back here?” asked Walker. “If she had any sense, she’d get as far away as possible.”
“I keep trying to tell you, the kid’s not normal. There’s something…weird about her. And that dollhouse. It’s just creepy, almost like…” the captain stopped mid-sentence. “Walker, where’s the dollhouse?”
- - -
Gunfire broke the eerie silence of the wilderness, accompanied by distant screams. Jenkins jumped involuntarily, spinning towards the source of the sound. The campsite! He set off at a frantic run, barely managing to stay afoot over the darkened trail. As he neared the campsite, he slowed and crouched low, peering through the brush.
The camp appeared empty. A lingering haze drifted ominously through the air of the moonlit night, but he found no other signs of life.
“Captain?” Jenkins called through his radio in a hushed voice. “Walker? Anybody?” No response.
Clutching his weapon, he crept into the campsite, peering into the shadows. Turning in a slow circle, he scanned the perimeter nervously. He gasped when he spotted the girl, standing motionless in a spot he swore was empty a moment before.
Fear and uncertainty gripped him as he stared, wide-eyed, at the unassuming nine-year-old. She gazed back at him calmly, clutching her dollhouse in her arms. He wasn’t prepared for the reality of the situation. His orders were clear, but he found himself unable to fire on a defenseless child. She made no effort to move, watching him curiously. Finally, he stammered, “Where…where are all the men…”
Brimmie smiled slightly. Without a word, she stepped slowly forward, raising her dollhouse. Jenkins lifted his weapon defensively, but faltered as Brimmie’s smile turned to a frown. She stopped, shaking her head disapprovingly. Jenkins hesitated. Whatever the danger, he realized he simply could not fire on a little girl. Resigned to his fate, he lowered his weapon and nodded to Brimmie. Her smile returned, and she again stepped forward, extending her dollhouse before her. She stood before him expectantly.
Jenkins gazed at her in bewilderment. Brimmie motioned towards the dollhouse with her head. “Look.”
Jenkins cautiously lowered himself to one knee. With considerable trepidation, he peered through the tiny windows of the dollhouse.
“Oh my god,” he whispered in horror.
Inside the little house, he saw people. Real, living people, only inches high, packed into the house like olives in a jar, their faces pressed against the windows in twisted expressions of terror and despair. Among the faces, he recognized the captain, his mouth agape in a silent scream, hands clawing at the window in hopeless futility.
“Will you play with me?”