The girl knew she was going to die. Her heart thumped. Mouth dry, throat tight, she could barely breathe. She looked at the psycho with the gun, who'd trapped her, on top of a train hurtling through the night. There was no way she could get out of this alive. The next few seconds could go one of two ways. He would shoot her or she would jump. Either way, it would be the same result. She'd be dead.

The girl didn't want to die, but she knew pleading for her life would be useless. The mad gleam in her pursuers eyes told her begging wasn't going to change his mind.

The man moved closer, along the roof of the carriage. He walked casually, as if he wasn't scared of being in such a precarious position. His sneer said he was enjoying this, said he was savoring her last terrified moments.

Buffeted by the wind, arms seesawing for balance, the backed away as the train swayed along the tracks. "There's nowhere to go" he yelled, following, his pistol aimed right at her heart. "You know that, don't you?"

The girl glanced behind her. Her stomach dropped and her heart hammered harder. The heels of her sneakers were wobbling over the edge of the deadly gap between the train carriages. Another inch or bump and she'd fall, get sucked beneath the train, be thrown under dozens of steel wheels. Somehow that seemed an even worse fate than being shot or jumping to her death.

The train lurched. The girl screamed and staggered, facing the worst-arms flailing, fighting for her balance. She tipped, fell forwards and landed hard onto her knees...

To Be Continued...