It’s been a while since I looked at this story, and after reading the start through each iteration, it always seems the case that I’m never quite satisfied.
That said, I decided to come at it from a different direction. It might not be better, but it might provide a different perspective, and lead to a more polished start in the next iteration.
Certainly this time, there are more words, and a totally different start. It was needed bcause we need to get a little insight into the main character, just before the action starts.
And now we know our main character is a bit of a pessimist, something bad does happen.
There were five cars in the car park, three over the back, and one next to mine, closer to the entrance. Perhaps it was one of the two new guards, though I thought they had left before me. The three others belonged to the morning shift.
As I approached it, the door opened, and a figure well wrapped up in snow clothes got out. My first thought, the detective who had said he would get back to me, though I doubted he would come to the factory site, or in this weather.
Someone else then?
I headed towards the other car, and seeing me approach them, the person stopped not far from the door.
It was a voice I was familiar with, belonging to my sister Penelope. She had pulled back the hood so I could just see her face and from what I could see, she didn’t look too well. My second thought, how did she know where I worked. We were supposed to meet a cafe in town, later in the morning.
“How did you find me?”
“I’m a lawyer, I can find anything or anyone.”
“What couldn’t wait a few hours. I just finished a long shift and was hoping to freshen up before coming to see you.”
A second, maybe two, after she took a step towards me, the windscreen of her car shattered. Instictively, I dived towards her, pushing her to the ground between the cars just as there was a loud bang as something hit the front of the her car.
A bullet. A sound I was familiar with, and hoped I wouldn’t hear again.
“Someone is shooting at us.” The moment I said it, it sounded unbelievable.
A second shot, lower this time, not far from where my head had just been, told me we were being targeted by a sniper, a good one to get so close in these conditions.
It was cold, and cramped in that small space, and the sniper wasn’t going to wait around until we came out, he, or she, was going to come to us and finish the job.
“What the hell have you got me into,” I said, more than a little anger in my tone.
“I think my husband is trying to kill me.”
More on this tomorrow, enough time to get over the shock, and figure out what to do…
© Charles Heath 2020-2021