The frenchman’s threats gave Ava an idea. Honestly, it sounded ridiculous in her head, but she had to do something. They’d never seen this kind of technology, after all.
Feeling like an eight-year-old at a campfire, and without any clue as to whether this would be a stroke of genius or just, well, a stroke--she held her cell phone up to her chin and clicked the home button. Instantly her face lit up with the white silvery light of her twenty-first century screen, in what she hoped was a phantom-esque appearance.
The woman yelped in fright and tried to step back, but the man's grip on her was firm. His eyes widened, fearful for a moment, before narrowing into suspicion. Ava cursed and clicked the lock, swallowing herself in darkness again. So much for scaring him away.
She glared at her phone in annoyance. “What good are you, then?" The man gasped at the sound, but before he could react any further she lunged forward and hurled the phone right at him.
It smacked against his bony face with a satisfying crack.