pg 7

bounded down the alley. Using a garbage bin and kicking off the wall he managed to catch the ledge of the building and pull himself to the top, but not before taking a bullet in the bottom of his right foot. He rolled onto the roof clutching his damaged foot with his right hand and grabbed for his flare gun with his left. He shot it into the air causing a beautiful purple flame. It was the signal for the rest of the crew to set sail. It was admitting that he was caught.

He could hear the chatter below about watching all sides of the building, about getting a ladder, and about how each of them claimed to be the one to have shot him. Kail took advantage of the noise they were making and used the butt end of the flair gun to break through the clay roofing tiles. He swung a few more times and created a hole just big enough to fit his good foot into. He paused a moment and heard a ladder clanking its way down the alley. Kail began stomping hard until a portion of the roof gave way. Being primarily a mixture of clay and dirt it was relatively quiet. It appeared that he had found a weak spot between two wooden beams. He lowered himself slowly into the room and landed on a well placed bed. He had gotten lucky again.

Both of his feet throbbed now. He hobbled of the bed and made his way to the door when the sound of a gun cocking behind his head stopped him.

“Who are you?” the voice asked. It was a woman’s voice.

“Someone who made a bad mistake,” Kail responded. “Someone who would just like to get out of here and go peacefully back to the sea."

“Look me in the eyes and tell me the truth.”

He turned slowly. The only light was that of her tiny, freshly lit lamp. She was young. Probably no more than 90 seasons old. He was 

The End

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