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Chicken Dinner: A Novel of Battle Royale
31 - Lady Luck Strikes Again

31 - Lady Luck Strikes Again

Kathryn Pickford, fresh off the revelation that people, or at least a person had somehow survived the game, and had lived in this shithole of a city, found herself in a precarious situation. She had a cache of weapons, and she was sure that had she spent time exploring the barn she would have located even more goods. However, it wasn’t worth sticking around and getting the shit shocked out of her.

Carl, the poor bastard, lay in a heap on the ground next to the guy who had tried to kill them both. She carefully angled her body cam upward so it wouldn’t show both corpses. Once that happened, someone was bound to start asking questions.

Gunshots echoed around her, but they were in the distance. Still, it was a cold reminder that she was far from being out of the fire.

She snatched up the long rifle and hustled out of the open doors and into broad daylight. After checking her watch, she picked a direction well away from the closing zone and made a run for it. Her legs still ached from hitting the ground after the drop, but there was no time to think about that.

Kathryn had gotten incredibly lucky. She had a kill to her name, even though she hadn’t pulled the trigger.

She raced toward a copse of trees, ducked under them as she fumbled the gun around, and slid a round into the chamber. Kathryn paused at the edge of the little forest, and scanned the way ahead. Her watch buzzed, and the red arrow flashed.

“Shit!” Kathryn exclaimed, and then made a run for it again.

That’s when her luck, for the third or fourth time today, struck once again. It sat off the road, and if it hadn’t been for a white helmet, she never would have noticed. She checked her watch and decided that it was worth taking the risk.

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The Suzuki appeared to have been colored by a sand blaster, but the tires were full, and it looked as if it was in working order. She lifted the helmet and turned it over in surprise because it was a lot heavier than it appeared. She found it lined with some kind of pads.

“Armor plating?” She wondered out loud.

Kathryn found a key in the ignition.

She hopped over the seat and thought back to her younger days. Of the long list of shithead boyfriends, none of them had been worse than Eduardo Evans. When he wasn’t gaslighting her by trying to tell her she had used up more of their heroin, or drank more than her share of whiskey, he was pushing her around, or worse, holding her down while he fucked her. Not in a hot way, either. He liked to press her on her belly and then flop his stank ass onto her. Sometimes it was hard to breathe, but she had been young and naive. Not just naive, hell, she had been downright dumb.

The one thing Eduardo had done right was teach her how to ride a motorcycle.

She turned over the ignition, put the bike in neutral, then engaged the clutch and brakes on the handlebars. She stood, put her hand on the kick starter, and then ripped it down.

She let out a whoop as she revved the engine. Then she slung the rifle over her shoulder and gave the engine a little more gas to help it warm up. Kathryn decided to avoid the open road. This bike was perfect for traversing this terrain and she was going to make the best of it. She took off and spit a trail of gravel behind her as she tore away from the area.

After a few minutes of cruising around trees, crashing over piles of leaves, and crushing foliage, she came to a dirt road. She checked her watch one more time and let out a sigh of relief because she was now in a clear zone.

She pushed the bike next to a copse of bushes that were nearly as tall as she, and killed the engine.

Kathryn dropped to the ground as the sound of a car engine sounded in the distance. She dragged herself behind some bushes, pulled the rifle around, and then pointed it in the general direction of the automobile.

She couldn’t make out where the road lay, but the engine roared as it closed in on her location. She readied the gun and wondered how hard it would be to hit a moving target. She could open fire, sure, and maybe hit a wheel, but what would she do if the driver got out and was fully armed?

So she waited, and hoped the zone didn’t change again any time soon.

Then someone started shooting a few hundred feet away.