Showdown
by Winter

He clenched his fingers tightly around the gun. Around him, the forest was still and quiet. It was a hot summer day, and he was glad to move into the shade of trees. He moved cautiously, careful to make as little noise as possible. She was in there, somewhere.

He had last seen her leaving the park, and had found a footprint that had to be hers, right where the path entered the forest. Further in, the soil got firmer, and he had found no more prints. Most likely, she had meant for him to follow. Most likely, she was waiting to ambush him.

He held his breath and listened. The traffic on the nearby thoroughfare drowned out some of the background noise, but he could still hear a bird somewhere to his left. Children laughing and shouting back in the park. Up ahead, though, nothing. Moving slowly, he left the path and made his way through the undergrowth.

After a couple of minutes, he reached a tiny creek that ran towards the pond in the park. He followed it upstream for about a hundred yards, then turned and headed for the path again. He knew this forest well. There was a bend in the path just where he would reach it. A perfect place for the ambush. If she were there, he would catch her from behind. A smile crept onto his lips as he held out the gun in front of him.

She was right there! Crouched down right in front of him, watching the path. From where he stood, he could probably shoot her in the back of the head, but he wasn't about to take risk a miss. She had eluded him for far too long. Had always manage to get away whenever he thought he had her. There was no way out now, though. It would soon be over. He aimed the gun right at her, then took one more step.

She spun around on the spot, then rolled left just as he pulled the trigger. His shot hit the rock she had leaned against, and he knew he had lost. For a fraction of a second, he found himself staring into the barrel of her gun, and he cursed himself silently. She shot him right in the middle of his face.

Gasping, he took a step back and tripped on a root. He coughed and sputtered as she shot him again and again, flailing his arms in vain as he fell on his rump. The pain in his backside made him grunt. She laughed at him as he wiped water out of his eyes with his hands, and he shot her in the chest.

"Hey!" she cried, rubbing her soiled shirt. "No fair! You're already dead."

"Didn't hafta shoot me in the face."

She helped him up and tried to hug him, but he jumped out of harm's way, making a sour face as she giggled at him. She shot him again, then shrieked as he gave chase. 'Next time,' he thought to himself as he ran after her down the path to the park, where their parents would be waiting for them. 'Next time I'll get her.'