“Something’s wrong here,” Carter said, creeping toward the plane.
“What do you mean?” Kevin replied, and ducked behind the wheel.
“Where is everybody? We should have been spotted by now.”
Kevin gripped his baseball bat tighter and approached the plane’s door. “You’d rather we get caught?”
“That’s not what I’m saying,” Carter answered as he reached for the handle. “It just feels too easy.”
“Maybe things are finally starting to go our way.” Kevin nodded and Carter pulled on the door.
The stench of rot wafted through the crack and something bumped against the inside of the door.
This one took me a couple tries to get to a point where I was happy with it. Still not sure it’s perfect, but it’s good enough for the time being.
Written for Friday Fictioneers.
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