Porter Island Chapter Two (standard:action, 1522 words) [2/2] show all parts
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Mar 12 2024	Views/Reads: 112/40	Part vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
An agent faces her toughest assignment yet, taming an unruly island, but she worries the years are catching up with her.

Chapter Two 

Betty glanced across at her pal, Debbie Langton, saw she was blowing
hard and smiled. They were heading into the rising wind on the last 
phase of their woodland run. A companionable morning run always turned 
into a competition as time went on, and Debbie was getting to be a 
handful with her speed. Tall and light and in her early twenties, 
Debbie was less than half Betty's age, but Betty had one massive 
advantage when running into the wind, and Debbie knew full well what 
that was : 

Power. 

And Betty used it as she surged ahead. Passing the gnarled oak she used
as her finishing point, Betty turned and waited a second before 
slapping Debbie's hand as she struggled past, the wind having sapped 
the last dregs of her energy. 

“You're getting too quick for this old gal.” Betty smiled as Debbie,
hands on knees, took a few deep breaths. 

“Old gal, my backside,” Debbie shot back. “Amazingly, you don't look
half your age, and as for me being too quick, you panned me again.” 
“Huh!” The wind was in my favor. That's all it was. My strength came 
into play. On another, less windy day, I reckon you'd have tanned me.” 

Betty glanced up at the sky, darkening considerably. “Talking of which,
I'm gonna be in for a rough journey to HQ by the look of things.” 

Debbie followed Betty's eyes, then joined her in trekking back to the
houses backing onto Corrisville Woods. “Ah, the mysterious new 
assignment that's so top secret you can't tell your best friend about.” 
Betty tapped Debbie on the shoulder. “Would that I could, but suffice 
to say that it's a way away from here, and my old nemeses, Shonda—” 
Betty stopped and bit her lip. She'd started to divulge too much, so 
best to stop now before the whole mission passed through her lips. And 
she really shouldn't let Stapleton get to her. She needed to ignore the 
bad blood running between them — what Anthony had been thinking when he 
paired them up, she dreaded to guess. 

“You were saying?” Debbie asked, the smirk on her face betraying the
fact that an answer wouldn't be forthcoming. 

“Never mind, said enough. Need to get on. See ya when I get back. Betty
gave her friend a quick hug, laughing as her power left Debbie gasping 
for breath, and went to open the rear gates. She stopped and frowned. 
Odd, they were already off the latch. Pretty sure she'd secured them 
before setting out, Betty shrugged it off and made her way through her 
backyard, the path narrowing on account of the woodland trees that had 
escaped felling when the houses were built. 

Suddenly, rustling crept through the bracken behind her. Betty swung
around but not quickly enough to prevent the arm that curled around her 
throat, tightening its grip and constricting her breathing. Betty 
gritted her teeth, angry at the cowardly attack from behind.  
Instinctively, she drove her elbow into her aggressor's midriff. She 
heard a cough, felt the grip slacken, and brought her hands to the arms 
around her throat, her sheer strength forcing them apart. Turning, she 
unleashed a piledriver—at thin air, her assailant having fled through 
the trees. Catching a glimpse of a tall, dark figure zigzagging between 
the oaks, Betty gave chase, only to find her foot snagging in the 
brambles. Tugging it free, she saw the shape claw its way up the rear 
fence and then heard the squeal of wheels outside as a vehicle pulled 
to a halt. Almost immediately came the roar of an engine and the 
spinning of tires, and Betty cursed as climbing the fence, she saw a 
black BMW disappearing down the track. 

Betty sighed, took a deep breath, felt the soreness in her throat where
the hands had gripped her, and turned toward the house. With her years 
of experience in the FBI, she should know better than to have so many 
trees in her backyard. Truth was, she was sometimes a little too 
confident in her abilities, and this served as a stark reminder always 
to be on alert. 

Betty checked the rear. No sign of a forced entry, so she'd disturbed


Click here to read the rest of this story (99 more lines)