Jetfuel, Chapter 7 – A Sunday Story

Posted bySuzette BenjaminPosted inSunday Short Story
Image credit: Craig Whitehead | Unsplash

Chapter 7

As Neroot fired her Glock42…

…To her surprise, the body of a man slumped behind her with a muffled thud as her back and buttocks slammed on the cold, hard pavement.

And…

The female assassin with Neroot’s exact face (whom Neroot had encountered earlier that evening) crashed headlong out of the chards of the window showcase from Neeroot’s Glock42’s accidentally deflected bullet…intended for Bobby, The Footman aka Angel One…

Meanwhile, Bobby alertly rolled out of the way of the ensuing shattered showcase window’s tempered glass cubes falling like impromptu winter rain over his head from Neeroot’s gunshot.

Whinching and stumbling to her feet, Neroot leaned forward and grabbed her Glock42, which had clanged out of her hand as she landed on her back on the unforgiving concrete pavement outside Hoax Couture clothiers on Queen Street in downtown Toronto.

“Run! Two more …coming up fast!”

Yelled Bobby pointing to his right as he hucked his large hockey equipment bag on his shoulder, half hopping half running, trying to sling the oversized bag on his shoulder while multitasking.

“Friends of yours?” asked Neroot, plucking her cell phone from her bra and tossing it into the iron grate of a nearby sewer cover.

Then, picking up her speed and catching up with Bobby, her back’s soreness, caused her to limp and lilt to the left, she ran at her best speed under the circumstances.

“Nope. Just because I do not belong to the upper crust’s blue-blood does not mean that my “friends” are low-lifes, paid assassins, or hoodlums, Commander!” replied Bobby, running alongside her.

And this time, Neroot noted that Bobby made no effort to hide his disdain, for whom he believed Neroot represented.

“My apologies sincerely Footman, no disrespect intended,” replied Neroot breathlessly.

Minutes later…

The two now darted down Simcoe Street.

“Quick, in here…!”

Said Bobby running with his arms peddling like windmills trying to slow himself down as he swiftly negotiated the corner of a modest hotel named the Shangri-la Toronto.

They slipped into the hotel’s back exit…

Oddly, Bobby fished an access key card from his back pocket and held it up to a panel on the building’s outside door frame in a back alleyway. The door obeyed, opening slightly ajar and with a soft beep.

Rushing inside Bobby urged…

“Hurry come, quickly!”

Neroot took in the surroundings as she dashed up the stairs with Bobby (Angel One) taking point.

The impeccably clean light beige concrete walls of the Shangri-la Toronto hotel labeled each floor’s exit door with large numbers as they ascended its inside emergency exit staircase: 1…2…3.

Apparently proud of its name, every riser of the hotel’s internal back exit staircase was emblazoned with “Shangri-la Toronto” in orange glow paint.

Bobby opened the hallway door to the third floor cautiously and said:

“Wait here, Commander, I’ll sweep the area and come back with the “all clear.” If I’m not back in five minutes…!”

Of course, Neroot knew the rest of that sentence… she was used to going it alone all too well.

Moments later…

Bobby returned and escorted Neroot to his suite. The door was open. In the other suites on that floor, six of them, all seemed occupied, from Neroot’s assessment of the odors of warm pizza and other take-out fare emitting from the doors as she walked past. The rumble of a television could be heard from one of the rooms.

“Your safe place?” Neroot asked.

Neroot slumped down on the overstuffed Ikea sofa, noting the suite’s meticulous attention to order and impeccable cleanliness.

After closing the door, Bobby strolled to the loveseat across from Neroot, his back to the suite’s wall of windows. Bobby replied:

“I did a favor for the hotel’s owner a while back. He lets me rent the suite off the books. It is central. And, I can come and go as I please, no cameras at the back exit.

“So what do we know?” asked Neroot…

Seemingly deep in thought. Bobby stood up and motioned to the coffee maker:

“Coffee? Or, I can put on some tea if you like?”

“Coffee would be great, thank you. And, I am sorry about earlier, my comment was ill-advised, in the heat of the moment and all. You understand?”

Bobby busied himself, making coffee. He nodded.

Neroot continued:

“Thanks for spotting the gentleman aiming for me at the showcase window there. They were professionals and good in the shadows. I did not see him. However, as I fell backward, I saw her in the showcase window pretending to be a mannequin… when I…”

“When you tried to shoot me…you mean Commander!”

“No offense meant, Footman. I thought…”

“…You thought,” Bobby chimed in, interrupting Neroot.

“You thought that I was aiming at you… no, I saw someone lurking, creeping from across the street. If it were not for the gleam of his AK47, I would have missed him. Those two assassins were good…too good.”

Neroot paused, sensing the obvious tension in the hotel suite…

Moments later as the two sipped the fresh coffee… which Neroot noted Bobby liked extra strong, thankfully.

The generous teaspoons of CoffeeMate creamer, Bobby added to Neroot’s Maple Leaf logoed cup of his fresh brew, made no dent in the deep, dark steamy liquid’s hue. She sipped gratefully. She needed the caffeine jolt.

“Can we start over? We seemed to have got off to a rocky start, Footman?”

Bobby did not reply.

Neroot noted the subtle change in Bobby’s demeanor. She kept silent as her instincts continued their uneasy jiggers in her gut.

Bobby continued in silence, sipping his coffee, and avoiding Neroot’s polite glances. He stared blankly at the floor, recalling in his mind the text message he had received from their employer, Section “O” regarding her status:

“Assignment Jetfuel status omega move move move”

… For Bobby, The Footman aka Angel One, known secretly by his fellow Footman team members as “the enforcer” understood all too well— that when his assignment was labeled “omega” it was not a rescue mission of any kind…!

***To Be Continued Next Sunday***

_____

Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

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Published by Suzette Benjamin

Positive thinker, inspirational, writer, faith

96 thoughts on “Jetfuel, Chapter 7 – A Sunday Story”

  2. 🔫The female assassin with Neroot’s exact face (whom Neroot had encountered earlier that evening) crashed headlong out of the chards of the window showcase from Neeroot’s Glock42’s accidentally deflected bullet…intended for Bobby, The Footman aka Angel One…🔫

    Shew, female assassin caught by a stray bullet; definitely not in the league of Mata Hari or Kim Hyon-Hui

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  5. 🔫Whinching and stumbling to her feet, Neroot leaned forward and grabbed her Glock42, which had clanged out of her hand as she landed on her back on the unforgiving concrete pavement outside Hoax Couture clothiers on Queen Street in downtown Toronto.🔫

    Can you imagine, in the middle of so much branding, to cross paths with that hoodlum, the unforgiving pavement.

    Defying all description
    Simply the best
    This is why every Sunday
    I renew my subscription

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  6. 🔫”Run! Two more …coming up fast!”

    Yelled Bobby pointing to his right as he hucked his large hockey equipment bag on his shoulder, half hopping half running, trying to sling the oversized bag on his shoulder while multitasking.

    “Friends of yours?” asked Neroot, plucking her cell phone from her bra and tossing it into the iron grate of a nearby sewer cover.🔫

    Oh my goodness, such an earful, lively and mindful can only happen between two professionals making an escape.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  7. 🔫Then, picking up her speed and catching up with Bobby, her back’s soreness, caused her to limp and lilt to the left, she ran at her best speed under the circumstances.🔫

    Fascinating, in this condition, still moving in songlike staccato

    Bravo to the writer 👏

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  8. 🔫Nope. Just because I do not belong to the upper crust’s blue-blood does not mean that my “friends” are low-lifes, paid assassins, or hoodlums, Commander!” replied Bobby, running alongside her.🔫

    Now now Bobby she struck a chord; becoming all defensive.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  11. 🔫Said Bobby running with his arms peddling like windmills trying to slow himself down as he swiftly negotiated the corner of a modest hotel named the Shangri-la Toronto.🔫

    I’m trying to imagine these turbines in motion
    Quite a sight
    Choosing modesty

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  12. 🔫Oddly, Bobby fished an access key card from his back pocket and held it up to a panel on the building’s outside door frame in a back alleyway. The door obeyed, opening slightly ajar and with a soft beep.🔫

    Oddly!! Why oh why Bobby
    Wth is going on

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  13. 🔫Apparently proud of its name, every riser of the hotel’s internal back exit staircase was emblazoned with “Shangri-la Toronto” in orange glow paint.”🔫

    With that glow, I’m sure the modest hotel serves a mean cup of tea

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  15. 🔫Bobby returned and escorted Neroot to his suite. The door was open. In the other suites on that floor, six of them, all seemed occupied, from Neroot’s assessment of the odors of warm pizza and other take-out fare emitting from the doors as she walked past. The rumble of a television could be heard from one of the rooms.🔫

    Oh how wonderful not to be deserted in this crucial hour

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  16. 🔫”I did a favor for the hotel’s owner a while back. He lets me rent the suite off the books. It is central. And, I can come and go as I please, no cameras at the back exit.”

    Oh very convenient
    I wonder about the favor in hand

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  18. 🔫”You thought that I was aiming at you… no, I saw someone lurking, creeping from across the street. If it were not for the gleam of his AK47, I would have missed him. Those two assassins were good…too good.”🔫

    It sounds crazy
    Yet thought did plant a feather
    And thought it would grow

    So this is how Bobby came to her rescue

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  19. 🔫The generous teaspoons of CoffeeMate creamer, Bobby added to Neroot’s Maple Leaf logoed cup of his fresh brew, made no dent in the deep, dark steamy liquid’s hue. She sipped gratefully. She needed the caffeine jolt.🔫

    Bobby is a lover of powdered milk

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

  21. 🔫For Bobby, The Footman aka Angel One, known secretly by his fellow Footman team members as “the enforcer” understood all too well— that when his assignment was labeled “omega” it was not a rescue mission of any kind…!🔫

    Ohhhhh the powder milk lover finds himself in a barrel of pickles!!!

    And the reader is left with the taste of pepper, till next week; further intrigued.

    A round of applause 👏 🙌 👌 👍 for the author
    And a standing ovation is in order

    Liked by 2 people

    Reply

    1. What bundles of preserves… you pen so delightful a spice in your kind appreciation. Thank you so much. I am glad you enjoyed the chapter and the story thus far.
      Sunday blessings and copious bliss!

      Like

      Reply
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