The Knife

[Kansas Kenickie 0]

The Knife

Kansas grabbed the first thing her hand touched; it just so happened that is was support piping for something.. She wasn’t sure what had broken, her body hitting it or something else. Her right hand gripped it tight, even though it wasn’t in her dominate hand but it was going to be her last shot at stopping their intruder.  Maybe it was a good thing the pipe was in her right hand, pulling herself up was easier with her left hand.

 She stood on her own and squinted at the bright light the streamed in from the corridor, he was escaping her control. She stretched out her left arm and pointed at the area where the breastplate and gap to the arm openings separated. With a loud grunt she pivoted and threw her Hail Mary makeshift weapon, once the pipe was no longer in her hand the momentum pulled her forward and down to the floor once again.  She stayed down and tried to catch her breath.. Hit your target. It always comes down to the throw.  Kansas wasn’t sure how many times her Father had drilled that into her head… any grunt can shoot a phaser but being able to hit your target with control, with the blade. It was how you would keep others alive.

You are the weapon                                                                             

                                    Death is your gift

         Your miss is their Death..

            Part of her mind wondered where her knife had finished its journey once it had left her grip; it had been in her hand for as long as she could remember. It was her legacy…it was her family.  Her grandfather’s blade…

                The smooth spin had always brought comfort, controlled the longing..

The familiar spin and lightheadedness of unconsciousness had started when she could hear someone yell out her name, but they were far.. or was she?

 

             Prepare for the unknown by studying how others in the past 

    have coped with the unforeseeable and the unpredictable – George S. Patton