M17

• Caitlin Bartlett, Grade 10
• Short Story
• 2007

They were M17. Similar to the English M16, or the American FBI, but even more deadly. Highly trained and ready for anything, they had been specially handpicked for today’s mission – a perfect team, displaying both speed and precision.

Annie Scarborough - well known for her shrewd and discerning leadership – used only a regular handgun, which she kept strapped to her hip. His usual cigarette and cap absent, Burrows carried instead a semi-automatic, and the responsibility to protect the other two members of the team. Tiger - renowned for his agility and stealth - was armed only with a small metal revolver, and his trademark dagger, Sumatran.

They crouched motionlessly in their places, waiting. Annie’s finger twitched slightly, and Tiger, picking up the movement, stealthily left his cover and inched forward until he reached the safety of a nearby bush. He peered through the leaves, looking around cautiously. On his signal, Annie crept noiselessly to a stationary car parked close by. Burrows soon followed, slipping past her and flattening himself against the wall of the building.

They had the place covered – all exits were guarded and the enemy was – as yet – unaware of their presence. There was a brief pause as Annie rechecked everything. It had been made clear to her that there could be no messing this up – if anything went wrong the three of them were on their own.

She breathed deeply, checking everything one final time. Slowly she raised her index finger, sending the signal back to Burrows. The atmosphere tensed as the countdown began.

Five.....four.....Burrow’s hand inched towards the door handle.....three.....two.....

There was a indistinct noise behind them and all three spun instantly, weapons now aimed at the newcomer standing on the back steps.
“How many times have I told you kids not to disturb your father when he’s working in the garage?” Guns dropped down to sides as the three children exchanged guilty looks.
“But Mum...” Sam protested.
“Come on,” Anna said, tugging on his sleeve, “let’s go down to the park.”

* * *

There was hardly a sound as the three agents turned and crept towards the edge of the garden. After checking for danger, they one by one pulled themselves up onto the fence that stood in their way. Dropping down to the ground below, they disappeared entirely from view as they flattened themselves out on their stomachs and began to crawl through the grass.

There was no movement to be seen in the empty field, save for the twitching of a patch of grass tufts, disturbed by a breath of wind. Or by unseen bodies, steadily making their way to the children’s play equipment.