The grey clouds hung low over the surrounding rooftops. Phillips stood next to the gate. His breath formed small puffs of mist. He pressed his hands deeper into his pockets.
‘They sent you.’
Phillips recognised the voice from the other side of the gate. He had last heard it in the bar in Whitehall all those years ago.
‘They needed someone who could confirm your identity.’ Phillips peered through the small gaps in the gate’s bars. ‘Show yourself.’
Travers stepped out from behind the wall. ‘Satisfied?’
‘It’s good to see you.’ Phillips said.
‘And you, old friend.’ Travers replied.
‘Why did you do it?’ Phillips asked.
Travers shrugged. ‘Someone had to. Wars were being fought over false information.’
‘What about your loyalty to our government?’
‘Governments come and go.’
‘To your country then?’
‘What are countries but artificial borders dividing people. Better to sacrifice oneself and prevent nuclear war.’
Phillips knew his friend was genuine in his belief. ‘You know what my orders are.’
‘Can you do it though?’ Travers smiled.
Phillips pulled the gun from his pocket and fired two shots. Travers slumped against the gate.
‘Goodbye, old friend.’
Written as part of Sunday Photo Fiction. Write a story of around 200 words based on the photo prompt given (above). Hosted by Al Forbes. For more details visit HERE.
To read more stories based on this week’s prompt, visit HERE.