The Tripwire

(NYC Midnight 250 word microfiction challenge 2022/23 round 2 qualifier)

(Criteria: genre = suspense/thriller | activity = buying a bus ticket | necessary word to include = "sake”)

I exaggerate my limp, more for the sake of them than to put her at ease. She doesn’t fear me, but she keeps her eye on the point of my spear as I close in, step by carefully limped step.

Her hair’s matted and her cheeks hollow. Same as every camper. An adult mirror of me.

The only way out is by bus, but tickets are a thousand times more than the highest wage. Only watchers can afford them; and fighters who impress.

My only chance is to keep her between the towers of old pallets. I jab my spear at her abdomen. She steps back as I intended, but her careless movement tells me she's still not taking me seriously. Good.

She weighs me up. Child corpses are low value, but I’m here for the taking.

She raises her axe. There's murder in her eyes.

I miscalculated.

Then she staggers under the weapon’s weight. Trips on my wire. Lands with the back of her head making a sound like a boulder dropped on stone.

Her eyes, still open, register confusion. She didn’t expect to be killed by a child. They never do.

I flourish my spear for the watchers to admire. There's sickening resistance as I push it into her eye.

I look up at the screen. Heart pounding. I picture myself buying a bus ticket. I need 40 points for the fare.

At last the display blips up.

39.

My next kill will have to be more flamboyant.