The Map

The Map
By: James Dubeau

Frank gritted his teeth as pain shot through his side; his grip on the cold hard steel in his hand only became tighter. The dark figure in the doorway lowered his still-smoking gun and gave a shrill, oddly familiar chuckle.

“We meet for the last time, Frank. This time, you won’t be able to follow me and repeat pathetic attempts to gain the map.”

Frank fell to his knees and smiled awkwardly. He knew something that his would-be murderer did not. “You only have half of the map…”

“True,” the shadowy figure replied, “but I know you left your half with her – and I don’t need a map to find her!”

“Well, you may,” said Frank, as hot liquid dripped down his side, “the bottom of the lake is broad.”

“You’re lying,” the figure shouted.

“You’re worried,” Frank spat with his last breath.

“I know you let her escape through that cave,” the roar of a single gun shot punctuated his statement. The figure smiled knowing that the full map would be in his hands soon enough.