Kaitlyn’s Dilemma
Author’s note: I wrote this piece for a flash crime fiction contest. The first sentence was provided as the prompt. It had to be a maximum of five hundred words. This was way out of my comfort zone in nearly every way, but it was fun! PS- I didn’t win!
Despite the hints and then the conversation and then the planning, Kaitlyn didn’t think the group was really going to kill anyone until Alex closed his laptop, rubbed his face and said, “We’re in.”
The clock was ticking, literally and figuratively. The grandfather clock in the library chimed 11. She didn’t have much time. Perspiration pooled in the small of Kaitlyn’s back. Could she do this? Would she do this? Granted, the situation warranted it, but she was no killer, was she? The last two years had shown her that she could do many things she’d never thought she was capable of.
“Let’s collect what we need and meet in front of the noodle bar in an hour,” Alex directed.
The others agreed and dispersed, leaving only Kaitlyn and Alex in the dimly lit kitchen.
“Are we really doing this?” Kaitlyn asked.
“Do we really have a choice?” he responded wearily.
“What if we get caught?”
“We won’t. Look, if you want out, Kaitlyn, now’s your chance.”
“I just don’t want to have to live with this for the rest of my life. What if we’re wrong about her?”
“We’re not. You know we’re not.”
An hour later, the five of them stood in front of the noodle bar in Little China. Kaitlyn was glad that everyone had come. It made it easier. She had resigned herself to what was going to happen. She reminded herself of the situation, the dire consequences if she were found out, and absolved herself in advance.
“Is she coming, Phailin?” Alex asked.
“She said she was.” Phailin’s face was tense, the crease between her eyes deep. She looked tired.
“You and Mali meet her here, then bring her to the restaurant. We’ll do it in the storage area, like we planned. We’ll be waiting in there.” Alex’s instructions to his cousin were in their native Thai. Kaitlyn understood most of it, but she found she struggled with comprehension when under extreme stress, like now.
Kaitlyn, Alex, and Somchai wound their way through the alley to the noodle bar’s delivery entrance. Inside, Kaitlyn assessed the surroundings, adrenaline kicking in, heart pounding. The smell of fish hung in the air.
“Kaitlyn, why don’t you—” Kaitlyn dispatched Alex quickly, her years of Muay Thai paying off. She crushed his windpipe. He dropped without a sound. Somchai was much bigger, and more of a challenge for her five-foot tall, one-hundred-pound frame; but he was slow, and she skirted around him and hopped on his back, choking him. He brought down a tower of pots with him, creating a loud crash. Kaitlyn spun just in time to see Phailin and Mali entering, their jaws open, confusion and betrayal on their faces. Kamala, their target, trailed behind.
“Kaitlyn! Why—” Phailin and Mali dropped in succession. Kamala stood behind them, syringe in her hand.
“Sister,” Kamala offered the wai. “Thank you.”
Kaitlyn surveyed the devastation. Her friends were gone by her hand; but Kamala was here. Her sister was still alive.