The continuing story. Sorry it took so long for this entry. It's been busy and I only have a little time each day to be creative. Entry 3 has been edited somewhat (for example, Crash is no longer muscular...I think that anyone strong looking would pose a threat to the rats and THEM and would be disposed of immediatly. He'll do better being slender. Plus it matches his background better) Feel free to go back and read it again, though it was nothing drastic.
I'm toying with the title "Spero". But I'm not sure yet. Let's call it that for the time being.
They lived in the cellar of The Razor. A run-down bar and inn for such seedy customers as rats, stoners, leeches and other waste of the "new world". All of the hotels in the city had been leveled and many of the bars were too likely to have one of Them downing a pint. So, scattered around were places like The Razor. Havens for those who were tolerated by Them but would rather not be in Their company. And many of these facilities were hideouts for families who were had been lucky enough to evade Them this long. The Atkins were one of the lucky few who had made it this far without being re-educated.
A week after it happened, Matthew Atkins and family had taken residence in the basement of a leveled apartment building several blocks from their home. Towing a 10-year-old son, a 5-year-old daughter and Rachel Atkins carrying number three and hoping that They would let alone buildings already demolished and scoured. Luck pervaded. For them, at least. Forces were sent into the attacked cities to aid in defense against Them. Most people had flocked to hospitals for safety and medical assistance. All troops had set up base camps at these locations. Days after, Columbia paid dearly with the death of thousands, the complete distruction of it's major hospitals and medical supplies and lost nearly all it's troop support. They knew exactly where to strike.
Everyone who was still alive and had minds of their own learned quick that in order to keep it that way, you had to keep moving. Never stay in the same place for more than a few days. And if you were really lucky, They never made it to the place you were hiding. There was no communication anywhere. Not even within the city. No one knew exactly where things stood after the fall of the hospitals. How many were alive, where allies were, if the world had stopped turning. Many swore that it had. The air was filled with never ending smoke from all the smoldering masses that were what remained of the central city. It was starting to snow. Finding food wasn't even an option. The stores that sill stood were crawling with Them. If you managed to make your way to the more rural parts of the city without freezing to death, you may find a house still standing that had minimal food and water. They soon put a stop to that. The Atkins were barely making it by. Praying constantly to God that He would spare their family long enough at least to see Christian born and their children sent somewhere, anywhere, safe. Their answer came in the form of young man trapped underneath the remains of a handsome farmhouse.
Columbia, Missouri : December 3, 2030.
"Do you think it's worth checking out?"
"The place looks pretty ruined"
"Yeah, but we may be able to make it to the cellar and find some food and shelter."
"I don't know. It doesn't look stable."
"Mommy, I feel sick..."
Rachel looked down at her youngest clinging to her left arm. Her face was as white as the snow on the ground. She massaged her swollen stomach with her free hand. They hadn't eaten anything for three days straight. They used snow to get their water supply. It was almost night, when it would be coldest. They desperately needed a change in luck. And this might be it. Rachel looked uncertainly at her husband, then nodded her head.
"Okay, lets try it."
They made their way alongside the footprints leading to the remains. Some were smaller, made by people like them, with barely functional tennis shoes. These prints were soon met with large deep ones. Made by Their boots. The fires from this wreck had long since gone out. It was just a collapsed pile of useless wood and glass. They walked to what used to be the south side of what used to be a cozy farmhouse and found the doors to the root cellar. They had caved in and the entrance was thick with snow. But below, if they were lucky, would be dry and sheltered and maybe have some potatos or canned food. Matthew went first. He put a cautious foot onto where the snowy steps should have been, and tested his weight. For a split second, he looked assured and moved to take another step. Then there was an angry groan of protesting wood and he was gone, leaving behind a crash that reverberated through the empty land surrounding. Rachel screamed. Their son Phinneas called out. Alae began to cry. All three hurried through the snow to the base of the gaping hole which was the remains of the stairs. Rachel fell to her knees and stared desperatly into the aperture, trying to see anything in the failing light. She called out to her husband, praying that he was alive. After several moments of unbrearable tension, somethig stirred below.
"Rachel?" called a voice, weakly.
"Matthew!" Relief was thick in her voice. Tears were streaming down her face and freezing there.
"I'm okay!" he called. "Just got the wind knocked out of me. I guess you were right babe. Those staris weren't very stable. Throw me down a candel and matches son!"
As Phinneas fumbled with his backpack, Rachel shook her head.
"Honey, shouldn't we get you out of there? We don't know if the whole place will come down.."
"If I'm already down here I might as well see what we can get out of it."
Phinneas dropped a candel and a small box of matches down to his father backed away from the hole. A small whisp of light shone out of the hole and then faded as Matthew made his way deeped into the cellar. Moments later his muffeled voice could be heard.
"It's okay!"
And in seconds, the light from his candel was back. Rachel and the children stood around the rim of the hole. Matthew looked up at them with a smile that had been absent from his face since the day it had all happened.
"The snow only made it as far as the stairs. It's not a whole lot warmer but its protection. We could build a fire, and there's food! Not much, but it will hold us for a few days. Here, Finn, hand me down Lae." He held out his arms to recieve his daughter. Rachel grabbed her sons arm to stop him.
"Are you sure that it's safe down there?"
"Rachel, if we dont take advantage of this place, it may not matter. A few more days and were not going to make it anyway. I'm sure the floor above will hold."
"Well, how are we going to get back out once were down there?"
"I'm sure theres a ladder around here somewhere and if it comes to it, we can stack rubble."
After several moments hesitation, Rachel released the boys arm and he went to his little sister. She held up her arms and he took her in them. She clung tightly to his neck. He went up to the edge of the hole and placed Alae in front of him. Then, he grasped each of her arms by the wrist. She wimpered and tears began to shine in her eyes.
"It's okay Lae," he wispered. "I wont let you fall."
He lifted her feet off the ground and began to lower her down to Matthews waiting arms. He grasped his daughter around the waist and pulled her close to him.
"That wasn't so bad, now was it?" He mummered to her. She shook her head, a small watery smile forming on her lips. Next, Finn got to his hands and knees and went backwards to the hole. He grased the snowy edge with his hands and the pushed himself back. He fell quickly downward and was caught by the straightening of his arms. Matthew put Alae down and grasped Phinneas by the waist, lowering the bow to the ground.
"Rachel, it's your turn." He called. "Just sit on the edge of the hole and let yourself drop. It's not a very long way down. I'll catch you."
Rachel disn't much like the idea of sitting in the snow, nor letting her self fall down the hole. But she trusted her hsband and the prospect of food overcame her misgivings. She did as she was told and like he promised, Matthew caught her in his arms she fell the short distance. Down in the cellar, the wind no longer blew. The air was slightly warmer. The small candle Matther had was stuck into a large snow drift a few feet away. In it's dim light It was just distinguishable that most of the floor above had already fallen in and the majority of the rather large cellar was covered in piles of rubble. There were remains of a handsome china cabinate with shattered dishes bursting from it's ruined frame. Also, there was a table, split in half and sporting only two of it's four legs. The rest of the debris was indistinguishable wood, glass, dry wall. In the midst of it all there was a boot, attached to part of a leg, lifeless fingers reaching from underneath the crushing rubble. Evidence of at least 5 different dead bodies. Rachel gasped.
"We'll just try not to look at it," Matthew murmured. "Finn, take your sister over to that corner, away from the rubble."
Phineas was looking at the piles of ruined building, seeing what his parents hoped his 10-year-old eyes would not catch. His face became ashen and his eyes welled up with silent tears. Matthew went and knelt before him, taking his shoulders in his large trembling hands.
"Listen Finn. I need you to taker your sister over there so that she can't see them. I need you to protect her while your mom and I look for food. Can you do that for me son?"
Phineas was still gazing horrified at the fingers reaching from the fallen house, as if trying to escape. Matthew placed a hand gently on his oldest child's face and directed his eyes to meet his own with a gentle push. Phineas looked deep into his fathers eyes for several moments, then squaring his young shoulders, he nodded. He went to Alae and took her into his arms again, carrying her to the corner of the room farthest from all of the wreckage. Matthew went the the pack Finn had been carrying. He got out another candle and lit it. Together he and Rachel gathered what food remained and made a large pile of firewood and kindling out of the remains of the upper floor. The food that was salvageable consisted of about a dozen cans of creamed corn, 3 jars of homemade canned peaches, two sacks of potatoes and a box of macaroni noodles. If they rationed it all they could stay here for about three days and then move on to a new place with leftovers. Matthew began to work on the fire. Rachel scoured the floor near all the debris and managed to find a chunk of cement the size of her hand. She used this to break into one of the cans of creamed corn. In about 10 minutes, there was a fire going and a large coffee can they had found and kept was heating the corn, a badly hacked up potato and some of the snow to make it thinner. Finn and Alae were by the fire now, but Finn kept Alae wrapped safe in his arms. They all sat in silence watching the smoke rise out of the room through the entrance to the cellar. But then the silence wasn't silence anymore. There was a muffled shout coming from a corner of the room layered in the ruins of the house.
"What was...,"Rachel began, but Matthew cut her off with a shush. They listened in silence. Moments later there was another sound that resembled the desperate cry of a human being. Matthew was up in a flash and moving to the corner of the room where the cry originated from.
"Hello? Can you hear me?" he called. As he got closer to the corner, words became distinguishable.
"I'm here! Please help!"
There was a trickle of dirt and dust as the fingertips of a hand wiggled their way between the rubble.
"Finn, come over and help me!" Matthew shouted desperately to his son as he began digging through the large pieces floor and wall that were covering the living being. They uncovered a hand and then an arm. But that was where they had to stop. For covering most of the person was a large piece of wall about the size of a large table. Matthew hesitated.
"Are you able to move?" If this person was crushed beneath this piece of house, he probably wasn't going to make it anyway, and he wasn't going to risk himself or his son hurting themselves to save this person who had no chance. I sounded heartless in his mind, but he had to think of his family first.
"My arm is pinned beneath a large support beam and I can't get it off alone," a male voice shouted. "Theres this large section of wall above me...I can't see anything. I don't know how deep I am."
"But your not seriously injured?"
"Other than my arm and my head a bit, I seem to be whole."
"Okay, were going to try to lift this piece of wall off of you and get you out of there. Are you able to push it at all?"
There were sounds of muffled movement for several moments. Then, "I have my feet against it, I'll see what I can do."
"Alright, on the count of three." Matthew turned to Phineas. "Are you ready?" The boy nodded, determined. Suddenly, Rachel was there beside them.
"Rachel, no. Theres no way I'm letting you help with that baby only a month away from being born."
"I'm not giving you a choice Matthew."
Their wills crashed for a several moments then the voice called "hello?". Matthew sighed and began counting.
"One...Two..Three!"
The three Atkins lifted with all their might and the person below it all pushed with his feet. Matthew didn't know how they did it but somehow, the section of wall was lifted. Veins standing out in his neck, Matthew turned his head to his son.
"Finn, let go and help that man out of there," he gasped.
The boys release didn't change much of the weight. But after some time, he was dragging the man out from under the rubble and the loss of his feet support the heavy wall began to slip out of Matthews grip.
"Hurry son!"
Phineas pulled and the man was clear. Rachel and Matthew let the wall fall gain with a thundering crash. Panting, Matthew scrambled to the mans side and waited for the dust to clear. Phineas still held the man under his arms and Rachel had gone to put her arms around Alae. Finally all the dust and grit cleared the air. Matthew looked down at the man before him. He was tall, and thin with a wave of dark hair reaching past his ears. The parts of his face that weren't splotched in grime were pale. His arm caked in blood. His eyes looked somewhere between grateful and uncertain.
"How long have you been down here?" Matthew murmured, kneeling and inspecting the mans injury.
"As far as I can tell, it's been about 24 hours...ouch!" Matthew had moved his arm to take in the extent of the damage.
"It's broken, obviously. And you don't have any other injuries?"
"I hit my head, but other than that, I don't believe so."
Matthew heard now that his accent was distinctly British. He had a proud face, with and intelligent gaze. He seemed about 20 years old, which was surprising. In the months following October 31, no one had seen anyone between the ages of 18 and 25. They had all been the first ones to be assimilated by Them.
"What happened to you?"
He took a deep breath.
"I work in the city. At a local bar. One of the only places left after all this massacre. Before They came, I was studying to be a doctor. I'm not even sure how I was successful in evading Them when so many have failed. I've managed to stay useful and They leave me be for supplying Them with alcohol. I guess learning to mix drinks did come in handy...anyway. At night I've been coming to places like this one to look for survivors and do what I can for them. I suppose this place wasn't as stable as I had hoped. I was down here checking the vitals of the dead here and the ceiling caved in. I was trapped. Now thanks to you, I'm not."
Matthew took this all in then asked, "Whats your name?"
"Paul Felson...but for good measure, I've got Them calling me Crash."
Whew! That took a while. I just wanted to get it posted...I know it needs work, but I'll get to that later. Once again, your comments are much appreciated and welcome, even if it's to tell me that this story is the worst thing you've ever read.
I'm toying with the title "Spero". But I'm not sure yet. Let's call it that for the time being.
They lived in the cellar of The Razor. A run-down bar and inn for such seedy customers as rats, stoners, leeches and other waste of the "new world". All of the hotels in the city had been leveled and many of the bars were too likely to have one of Them downing a pint. So, scattered around were places like The Razor. Havens for those who were tolerated by Them but would rather not be in Their company. And many of these facilities were hideouts for families who were had been lucky enough to evade Them this long. The Atkins were one of the lucky few who had made it this far without being re-educated.
A week after it happened, Matthew Atkins and family had taken residence in the basement of a leveled apartment building several blocks from their home. Towing a 10-year-old son, a 5-year-old daughter and Rachel Atkins carrying number three and hoping that They would let alone buildings already demolished and scoured. Luck pervaded. For them, at least. Forces were sent into the attacked cities to aid in defense against Them. Most people had flocked to hospitals for safety and medical assistance. All troops had set up base camps at these locations. Days after, Columbia paid dearly with the death of thousands, the complete distruction of it's major hospitals and medical supplies and lost nearly all it's troop support. They knew exactly where to strike.
Everyone who was still alive and had minds of their own learned quick that in order to keep it that way, you had to keep moving. Never stay in the same place for more than a few days. And if you were really lucky, They never made it to the place you were hiding. There was no communication anywhere. Not even within the city. No one knew exactly where things stood after the fall of the hospitals. How many were alive, where allies were, if the world had stopped turning. Many swore that it had. The air was filled with never ending smoke from all the smoldering masses that were what remained of the central city. It was starting to snow. Finding food wasn't even an option. The stores that sill stood were crawling with Them. If you managed to make your way to the more rural parts of the city without freezing to death, you may find a house still standing that had minimal food and water. They soon put a stop to that. The Atkins were barely making it by. Praying constantly to God that He would spare their family long enough at least to see Christian born and their children sent somewhere, anywhere, safe. Their answer came in the form of young man trapped underneath the remains of a handsome farmhouse.
Columbia, Missouri : December 3, 2030.
"Do you think it's worth checking out?"
"The place looks pretty ruined"
"Yeah, but we may be able to make it to the cellar and find some food and shelter."
"I don't know. It doesn't look stable."
"Mommy, I feel sick..."
Rachel looked down at her youngest clinging to her left arm. Her face was as white as the snow on the ground. She massaged her swollen stomach with her free hand. They hadn't eaten anything for three days straight. They used snow to get their water supply. It was almost night, when it would be coldest. They desperately needed a change in luck. And this might be it. Rachel looked uncertainly at her husband, then nodded her head.
"Okay, lets try it."
They made their way alongside the footprints leading to the remains. Some were smaller, made by people like them, with barely functional tennis shoes. These prints were soon met with large deep ones. Made by Their boots. The fires from this wreck had long since gone out. It was just a collapsed pile of useless wood and glass. They walked to what used to be the south side of what used to be a cozy farmhouse and found the doors to the root cellar. They had caved in and the entrance was thick with snow. But below, if they were lucky, would be dry and sheltered and maybe have some potatos or canned food. Matthew went first. He put a cautious foot onto where the snowy steps should have been, and tested his weight. For a split second, he looked assured and moved to take another step. Then there was an angry groan of protesting wood and he was gone, leaving behind a crash that reverberated through the empty land surrounding. Rachel screamed. Their son Phinneas called out. Alae began to cry. All three hurried through the snow to the base of the gaping hole which was the remains of the stairs. Rachel fell to her knees and stared desperatly into the aperture, trying to see anything in the failing light. She called out to her husband, praying that he was alive. After several moments of unbrearable tension, somethig stirred below.
"Rachel?" called a voice, weakly.
"Matthew!" Relief was thick in her voice. Tears were streaming down her face and freezing there.
"I'm okay!" he called. "Just got the wind knocked out of me. I guess you were right babe. Those staris weren't very stable. Throw me down a candel and matches son!"
As Phinneas fumbled with his backpack, Rachel shook her head.
"Honey, shouldn't we get you out of there? We don't know if the whole place will come down.."
"If I'm already down here I might as well see what we can get out of it."
Phinneas dropped a candel and a small box of matches down to his father backed away from the hole. A small whisp of light shone out of the hole and then faded as Matthew made his way deeped into the cellar. Moments later his muffeled voice could be heard.
"It's okay!"
And in seconds, the light from his candel was back. Rachel and the children stood around the rim of the hole. Matthew looked up at them with a smile that had been absent from his face since the day it had all happened.
"The snow only made it as far as the stairs. It's not a whole lot warmer but its protection. We could build a fire, and there's food! Not much, but it will hold us for a few days. Here, Finn, hand me down Lae." He held out his arms to recieve his daughter. Rachel grabbed her sons arm to stop him.
"Are you sure that it's safe down there?"
"Rachel, if we dont take advantage of this place, it may not matter. A few more days and were not going to make it anyway. I'm sure the floor above will hold."
"Well, how are we going to get back out once were down there?"
"I'm sure theres a ladder around here somewhere and if it comes to it, we can stack rubble."
After several moments hesitation, Rachel released the boys arm and he went to his little sister. She held up her arms and he took her in them. She clung tightly to his neck. He went up to the edge of the hole and placed Alae in front of him. Then, he grasped each of her arms by the wrist. She wimpered and tears began to shine in her eyes.
"It's okay Lae," he wispered. "I wont let you fall."
He lifted her feet off the ground and began to lower her down to Matthews waiting arms. He grasped his daughter around the waist and pulled her close to him.
"That wasn't so bad, now was it?" He mummered to her. She shook her head, a small watery smile forming on her lips. Next, Finn got to his hands and knees and went backwards to the hole. He grased the snowy edge with his hands and the pushed himself back. He fell quickly downward and was caught by the straightening of his arms. Matthew put Alae down and grasped Phinneas by the waist, lowering the bow to the ground.
"Rachel, it's your turn." He called. "Just sit on the edge of the hole and let yourself drop. It's not a very long way down. I'll catch you."
Rachel disn't much like the idea of sitting in the snow, nor letting her self fall down the hole. But she trusted her hsband and the prospect of food overcame her misgivings. She did as she was told and like he promised, Matthew caught her in his arms she fell the short distance. Down in the cellar, the wind no longer blew. The air was slightly warmer. The small candle Matther had was stuck into a large snow drift a few feet away. In it's dim light It was just distinguishable that most of the floor above had already fallen in and the majority of the rather large cellar was covered in piles of rubble. There were remains of a handsome china cabinate with shattered dishes bursting from it's ruined frame. Also, there was a table, split in half and sporting only two of it's four legs. The rest of the debris was indistinguishable wood, glass, dry wall. In the midst of it all there was a boot, attached to part of a leg, lifeless fingers reaching from underneath the crushing rubble. Evidence of at least 5 different dead bodies. Rachel gasped.
"We'll just try not to look at it," Matthew murmured. "Finn, take your sister over to that corner, away from the rubble."
Phineas was looking at the piles of ruined building, seeing what his parents hoped his 10-year-old eyes would not catch. His face became ashen and his eyes welled up with silent tears. Matthew went and knelt before him, taking his shoulders in his large trembling hands.
"Listen Finn. I need you to taker your sister over there so that she can't see them. I need you to protect her while your mom and I look for food. Can you do that for me son?"
Phineas was still gazing horrified at the fingers reaching from the fallen house, as if trying to escape. Matthew placed a hand gently on his oldest child's face and directed his eyes to meet his own with a gentle push. Phineas looked deep into his fathers eyes for several moments, then squaring his young shoulders, he nodded. He went to Alae and took her into his arms again, carrying her to the corner of the room farthest from all of the wreckage. Matthew went the the pack Finn had been carrying. He got out another candle and lit it. Together he and Rachel gathered what food remained and made a large pile of firewood and kindling out of the remains of the upper floor. The food that was salvageable consisted of about a dozen cans of creamed corn, 3 jars of homemade canned peaches, two sacks of potatoes and a box of macaroni noodles. If they rationed it all they could stay here for about three days and then move on to a new place with leftovers. Matthew began to work on the fire. Rachel scoured the floor near all the debris and managed to find a chunk of cement the size of her hand. She used this to break into one of the cans of creamed corn. In about 10 minutes, there was a fire going and a large coffee can they had found and kept was heating the corn, a badly hacked up potato and some of the snow to make it thinner. Finn and Alae were by the fire now, but Finn kept Alae wrapped safe in his arms. They all sat in silence watching the smoke rise out of the room through the entrance to the cellar. But then the silence wasn't silence anymore. There was a muffled shout coming from a corner of the room layered in the ruins of the house.
"What was...,"Rachel began, but Matthew cut her off with a shush. They listened in silence. Moments later there was another sound that resembled the desperate cry of a human being. Matthew was up in a flash and moving to the corner of the room where the cry originated from.
"Hello? Can you hear me?" he called. As he got closer to the corner, words became distinguishable.
"I'm here! Please help!"
There was a trickle of dirt and dust as the fingertips of a hand wiggled their way between the rubble.
"Finn, come over and help me!" Matthew shouted desperately to his son as he began digging through the large pieces floor and wall that were covering the living being. They uncovered a hand and then an arm. But that was where they had to stop. For covering most of the person was a large piece of wall about the size of a large table. Matthew hesitated.
"Are you able to move?" If this person was crushed beneath this piece of house, he probably wasn't going to make it anyway, and he wasn't going to risk himself or his son hurting themselves to save this person who had no chance. I sounded heartless in his mind, but he had to think of his family first.
"My arm is pinned beneath a large support beam and I can't get it off alone," a male voice shouted. "Theres this large section of wall above me...I can't see anything. I don't know how deep I am."
"But your not seriously injured?"
"Other than my arm and my head a bit, I seem to be whole."
"Okay, were going to try to lift this piece of wall off of you and get you out of there. Are you able to push it at all?"
There were sounds of muffled movement for several moments. Then, "I have my feet against it, I'll see what I can do."
"Alright, on the count of three." Matthew turned to Phineas. "Are you ready?" The boy nodded, determined. Suddenly, Rachel was there beside them.
"Rachel, no. Theres no way I'm letting you help with that baby only a month away from being born."
"I'm not giving you a choice Matthew."
Their wills crashed for a several moments then the voice called "hello?". Matthew sighed and began counting.
"One...Two..Three!"
The three Atkins lifted with all their might and the person below it all pushed with his feet. Matthew didn't know how they did it but somehow, the section of wall was lifted. Veins standing out in his neck, Matthew turned his head to his son.
"Finn, let go and help that man out of there," he gasped.
The boys release didn't change much of the weight. But after some time, he was dragging the man out from under the rubble and the loss of his feet support the heavy wall began to slip out of Matthews grip.
"Hurry son!"
Phineas pulled and the man was clear. Rachel and Matthew let the wall fall gain with a thundering crash. Panting, Matthew scrambled to the mans side and waited for the dust to clear. Phineas still held the man under his arms and Rachel had gone to put her arms around Alae. Finally all the dust and grit cleared the air. Matthew looked down at the man before him. He was tall, and thin with a wave of dark hair reaching past his ears. The parts of his face that weren't splotched in grime were pale. His arm caked in blood. His eyes looked somewhere between grateful and uncertain.
"How long have you been down here?" Matthew murmured, kneeling and inspecting the mans injury.
"As far as I can tell, it's been about 24 hours...ouch!" Matthew had moved his arm to take in the extent of the damage.
"It's broken, obviously. And you don't have any other injuries?"
"I hit my head, but other than that, I don't believe so."
Matthew heard now that his accent was distinctly British. He had a proud face, with and intelligent gaze. He seemed about 20 years old, which was surprising. In the months following October 31, no one had seen anyone between the ages of 18 and 25. They had all been the first ones to be assimilated by Them.
"What happened to you?"
He took a deep breath.
"I work in the city. At a local bar. One of the only places left after all this massacre. Before They came, I was studying to be a doctor. I'm not even sure how I was successful in evading Them when so many have failed. I've managed to stay useful and They leave me be for supplying Them with alcohol. I guess learning to mix drinks did come in handy...anyway. At night I've been coming to places like this one to look for survivors and do what I can for them. I suppose this place wasn't as stable as I had hoped. I was down here checking the vitals of the dead here and the ceiling caved in. I was trapped. Now thanks to you, I'm not."
Matthew took this all in then asked, "Whats your name?"
"Paul Felson...but for good measure, I've got Them calling me Crash."
Whew! That took a while. I just wanted to get it posted...I know it needs work, but I'll get to that later. Once again, your comments are much appreciated and welcome, even if it's to tell me that this story is the worst thing you've ever read.
3 comments:
So one question: who are "They" exactly (or are we meant not to know)...My first impression was of an al-Qaida type force, but now it seems more diverse, possibly not even Muslim-Extremist centered.
Very good- very creative, dark, dreary, but gripping. Other than minor technical editing, really good.
Ditto Steven's comments. I am very curious to find out about "they". But, really good and gripping. Can't wait for the next edition.
You are correct. You are not to know much about "Them". At least not right now. The reason for this is that most of the characters themselves know little about "Them". Only that "They" are dangerous and pretty much control everything. No one has ever seen one of "Them" except the rats that work for them.
Thanks for the comments!
Post a Comment