Written (promptly) for OLWG# 203
Kacela was knee-deep in the muck, making her way swiftly and quietly through the reeds at the edge of the intertidal zone. She’d been hunting Cooper for years, and now she was close. She believed that the man, now known as Charlie Ray, had used the money he’d obtained from the hijacking and bought this run-down marina at the edge of Côte du Golfe Marais. She was close, but she had found the marina abandoned when she’d wheeled her truck up to the pump hoping for an easy capture. He wasn’t there, but a cup of coffee sat steaming next to the old National Cash Register on the counter.
Cooper must have sensed what was happening. He’d fled into the marsh when she approached and hadn’t been gone long. There was only one direction that he might have run and avoided detection. She headed that same way with her fingers crossed. Kacela hated snakes, and this landscape promised to be rife with them.
She’d always been a hunter. As a girl, she’d taken down the big cats that preyed on the village goats. As a young woman, she’d become a guide, taking European tourists, armed with either guns or cameras, in search of big game. It didn’t matter to her how her clients captured their prey. Death was not something with which she was unfamiliar. She accepted it.
From ahead came the thundering sound of wings beating. Countless dusky coloured birds burst from the wetlands like clouds of feathers intent on obscuring the sun. She knew she was close. She could almost smell the money she would earn by bringing in Cooper.
This week’s prompts were:
- smiling in the sun
- bread and morphine
- clouds of feathers