All or Nothing by Stuart Keane

worried Kathryn more.
    One was a huge black man, his body ripped to shreds, perhaps caused by years of steroid overuse. He had a khaki cap on his head with a gold badge on it. He was naked apart from a tiger stripe thong he wore around his bulging genitals.
    The other was a huge white guy, Kathryn guessed that he could be Russian, judging by the shape of his nose and the bone structure. There was a huge Russian flag tattooed across his saggy chest. He wasn’t ripped, he looked saggy and hairy, but he must have been at least six and a half feet tall. And probably four feet wide. He had a buzz cut and an eye patch.
    Both men carried assault rifles.
    Kathryn didn’t know very much about guns, all she knew was from her ex-boyfriend’s knowledge on the subject. He had been heavily into movies, and would always try to impress her with his knowledge. Sometimes he did impress her, at other times she just wanted him to shut up and cuddle her. Rarely did she show her emotion until the day she ended their relationship. She had cried herself to sleep that night. She had been adamant that she wasn’t going to France with a loser like that on her arm.
    She was wishing she had listened to his talk about guns now.
    An AK-47, or something, she tried to remember. Was that the name ? It had brown handles. And it looked fucking scary.
    And all the men were staring at her, grinning.
    Four half-naked psychos were squaring up against one woman.
    A strong woman, not a stupid woman, mind.
    But a woman who was outnumbered.
    One of the men aimed his gun and fired. The sound didn’t register with Kathryn at first, all she thought was: GUN . She dived to the ground. A split second later a bullet sparked off the asphalt where she had been standing a second earlier.
    That was close!
    Get the fuck out of here!
    Kathryn was up and running before her mind had processed the intention. She ran towards the building that had the multitude of windows in it. She fell over a body lying on the pavement just in front of the steps. Why hadn’t she noticed that before ? Back on her feet she sprinted past the wall, up the steps two at a time, and came to a rest at the locked door.
    Shit!
    Didn’t think that one through, did you!
    The jeep’s tires squealed as it started to come after her.
    She would be dead now, she realised. She had been exposed the whole time running towards the door with no cover from anything other than shadow, and not much of that. She had fallen over too. Now she was at the door, and she had no way in. The card reader denied her escape.
    FUCK!
    The jeep went past, turned round and came back again, circling the road in front of the building. Taunting her.
    The fuckers!
    But why aren’t they shooting at me?
    Kathryn looked around for anything to use as a device to lever open the door, or to smash the building’s windows, anything would do. Smashing it wouldn’t be such a good idea, for then they could follow her inside. Mind you , she thought, the door didn’t look as if it would stand up to those rifles anyway .
    Moot point there, Kathryn.
    The jeep circled around again, staying in sight, the four occupants whooping loudly, guns pointed in the air - they were guarding her. Kathryn wasn’t going anywhere.
    The body!
    Maybe, could it be used somehow?
    Kathryn ducked down, making herself small, and scooted to the tree in front of her. She watched the jeep circle and head off towards the park she had emerged from.
    She ran down the steps, two at a time, and jumped. She landed just beyond the wall, using it for cover. The body was two feet away. She looked for the jeep. It was still making its way slowly towards the park.
    They knew she was trapped. She wasn’t going anywhere.
    This has got to work!
    The odds of this body being that of an employee of the organisation occupying this building were about sixty per cent, she reckoned. His suit was lavish, not the clothes of someone working at the theatre or the hotel, and he was too close to the