Thanks for the review. Sorry it took so long to get to it, I have been having a miserable couple of months. I know it needs a little work but it is a work in progress and I will give it a good reading over once the draft is done and I will take your comments into consideration. BTW ‘Olive Drab’ is the slang for the light green work clothes(or work uniforms) that soldiers wear when they are not in Dress Uniform or fatigues. It’s less common than it used to be since most soldiers wear their camos 24/7 in the media. It wasn’t supposed to be descriptive.
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Novel Treatments / The Hero Syndrome
The man struggled up the small but steep hill as best he could with the rain and the wind doing its best to stop him. It had been a pleasant pre-fall New Mexico day up to that point, mostly because of the clouds that were now dumping on him. Otherwise, it would have been blistering and dry.
His olive drab jacket was in shreds but still managed to keep most of the rain away from the camouflage fatigues beneath. The patch on the shoulder of the jacket indicated his rank to be sergeant, but if one could see the patch on the shoulder of his uniform it would show he was actually a lieutenant. A label over his right breast pocket was soaked and ragged but still readable. It said: Torres.
The man raised his bronze square jawed face to the sky and opened his mouth letting some water in and eventually lapping at the now ebbing drops. He pulled a canteen from his belt and opened it. Holding it out, he spilled some liquid from it and reflexively moved his boot out of the way. A well practiced move. He smiled as he looked at the dusty boot with mud clogged treads and muttered, “Like it matters now, eh. What are they gonna do, bust me down a rank?”
The highway was now well behind him as was the HUM-V which was now a four ton paper weight without fuel. He had seen a gas station a few miles back but he had no money for gas and he dared not use his GSA credit card. He glanced up at the green reflective sign which read Vaughn 50, Corona 140, Roswell 174. A small smile crossed his lips when he read the last name and he turned around to see a similar sign on the other side of the road proclaiming Santa Fe 12, Espanola 40, Los Alamos 50 and Taos 70.
He turned back to the hill and continued up it. The hill turned out to be more of a berm and he could see multiple houses stretching down from the hillock into a valley greenbelt that was not so green. He looked down at a road and followed it to its mouth just down the road from the direction he had just come. As he followed the road back he spotted a large sign if front of what appeared to be a small building, a store he presumed, just beyond the intersection of the highway and the town road that said: “Welcome to Oro Viejo”.
“Golden Oldies,” The man said with a smile. He licked his lips which were dry again despite his attempts to moisten them with the rain. He thought that it sounded like a retirement community but as he turned back to the houses he noticed that many of the houses had toys or swing sets visible around or above the coyote fences that surround them.
The soldier decided to make his way to the small building which now looked like an outcropping of smaller buildings, instead of the houses. He is not sure what he intends to do but it would probably be easier to do it there instead of knocking on the doors of strangers.
The wind was even harsher on the other side of the hill even without the rain and every step was hard fought. Even though the store seemed to only be a quarter mile from where he had been, it might as well have been 10 miles as far as he was concerned.
Torres removed a small photo from his left shirt pocket and he stopped for a moment to look over the picture. A slight but pretty Hispanic woman smiled back at him with a genuine smile. She was holding a little baby who appeared to be about a year old. She was dressed in a pair of little pink overalls just like her mother and they were both standing before one of those painted backgrounds of green trees and blue skies that you would find at a discount photo center in a retail store. He stared at the little girl for a moment, smiling with a whole world of potential in her dark eyes. He brushed the side of her cheek on the photo and smiled at the little shocks of hair that stood out on either side of her head like antennae, held in place by two obvious bright red and yellow rubber bands. “See you soon jita!” he murmured, then returned the picture to his pocket and continued on.
As he approached the building he could see that it was more than just one store. It turned out to be a mini-mall with a pharmacy, coffee shop and a restaurant as well as other small shops. The smell of strong coffee mixed with the fresh rain and what smelled like hamburgers or steaks along with some other exotic scents that he couldn’t identify but were definitely savory. There were quite a few Mercedes and BMWs parked in the lot right alongside SUVs and a few junkers that Torres assumed belonged to the store employees. They had to, the only reason any of the people he was surveying would have to own such cars would be as an investment or a hobby and they would likely have been in much better condition as such. As he passed by the door of the grocery he welcomed the familiar smells of a variety of products mixing with the smells of cardboard.
He passed a few people but they ignored him as if the sight of a six foot two, two hundred ten pound soldier in tattered camos was a common sight. Then he realized they were just so wrapped up in themselves and what they were doing they didn’t care. Unless he whipped out a gun and threatened someone they wouldn’t care. They couldn’t because that kind of thing just never happened in the fairy tale forest that they lived in. Even if the forest was populated with cactus and piñon trees.
He sized up the people around as he stepped into the plaza in the center of all the stores as he was always taught to do in any situation. There were several women around and they all seemed to be dragging a kid or two around with them.
They were all nicely dressed in their obviously designer clothes. He spotted tags and logos like Eddie Bauer and Tommy Hillfigger. The one exception was a haggard looking woman in a frumpy old jogging suit. Her hair was tied hastily behind her head with stray hairs popping out all over the place giving her a slightly eccentric look, like a female Einstein. Her eyes were red and she brought a tissue to her nose as she plunged headlong into the door of the pharmacy.
There were several kids standing around in the center of the small courtyard performing tricks on their skateboards. Torres had seen all the same tricks and a similar crowd of teens in his own hometown, only the kids were wearing Corona Beer t-shirts and levis instead of P. Diddy shirts and JNCO jeans. They almost all wore iPods and had them attached to various locations on their overly baggy clothes. Some had more than one, and those that did had them symmetrically arranged in some fashion or another. Rich kids, thought Torres. A few were sitting by themselves reading. One girl appeared to be reading a novel which had comic book looking characters on the front and what looked like Japanese Kenji on the cover. English writing across the top was hard to make out but Torres thought it said ‘Chrono Crusade’.
The other two, both boys were reading actual comic books. Torres saw the titles on both. Ultimate Avengers one said and the proclaimed it to be JLA and Torres idly wondered if it was the same Justice League of America that he used to read as a kid. The one kid, as if sensing the soldier looked up and Torres quickly looked away hoping the kid didn’t notice he had been staring. Torres had only been interested in the titles of the comic books but in this day and age some people were suspicious of everything whether rightly so or not. There was no such thing as harmless anymore.
After his initial scan of the situation, he focused his attention back on the object of his current mission. A pay phone stood on the far side of the courtyard between the coffee shop and a video store that took up most of the corner of that side of the building. He marched over to it praying to remain unnoticed. For the most part his prayers were answered, only the teenagers noticed him and only because they were evaluating his fashion statement. Camo was passé they judged and returned to encouraging each other into more dangerous stunts.
He stopped in front of the phone and smiled. In this day and age of Cell phones it was rare to find one and wondered why this one was still here in such an obviously affluent development where even the dogs probably had their own phones.
Then it dawned on him as he was fishing for change in his pockets. The people who worked at the stores were probably not members of the community. If their cars broke down or they needed to call anyone it was probably frowned upon to use the store phones for personal business. Of course less than a quarter mile away was a minor but busy highway and there were more than likely a few emergency situations.
He found four quarters and he eagerly pushed them into the slot after picking up the receiver. The dial tone stopped momentarily and then there was a click. The tone returned almost immediately and he punched in the numbers with precision that came from abundant practice.
He heard the chirruping noise that was supposed to mimic ringing and licked his lips. He looked around while he waited for someone to answer. It was a habit drilled into him in basic training and it had saved his life numerous times in Iraq. The bad guys always waited for times when they thought you weren’t paying attention and then they would walk up and try to do some damage.
Finally, on the sixth chirp, a voice came on the line. The thought that it took her too long to answer the phone tugged at the back of his mind.
“Hello,” She said, “Roman is that you?” She was descended from a long line of Spanish landowners but she usually had no accent. She had been brought up to speak mostly English though she could speak a few words of Spanish to her grandmother when she wanted. Now her accent was very thick and he knew she was nervous about something. Shit, he thought, she also called me by name instead of my nickname.
“They’re there aren’t they,” he said and lowered his head.
“They said you’re sick. They said you’ve done horrible things!”
“It’s not true Rocky, don’t you believe them. Don’t let Anna believe them either. They did this thing. Not me. I’ll find you when I can. I love…” He was interrupted by his wife screaming and yelling. He heard a baby in the background begin to wail and cry and he heard his wife beg for someone to give her the baby.
“Racquel!” He screamed over and over into the phone. He stopped as another voice came over the phone.
“Lieutenant Torres?” the voice said in a thick Boston accent.
“That’s Tor-rez not tor-ris,” he said thinking how idiotic it sounded.
“Now is not the time Lieutenant. If you come back now, I promise there will be no charges.”
“Screw you and screw your trumped up charges. This sick crap has to stop. Those were people not rats you were experimenting on!”
“All volunteers I assure you. You weren’t supposed to see what you’ve seen. You’ve also been exposed to something that will ultimately kill you. Kill you very badly.”
“Bullshit. I got clear before the seals were broken.”
“Did you? Are you a biological agent specialist? I think that diagnosis is beyond your expertise. You are just an overglorified security guard you misbegotten boy scout.” A feeling of pride welled up inside Torres. If this person was who he thought it was, it took a lot to shake his tree and he was glad he could do it. Then he remembered that the psycho had his wife.
“Let my wife go. She knows none of this. Let her and the baby go White.”
“So,” the voice said, “You do know who I am. Then you also know what my team is capable of. Such a beautiful wife you have.” Torres could imagine the man in the white suit turning around and cupping his wife’s chin in his hand and examining her face as if he were picking out a cut of prime beef. “And the child. More like her mother than you. I have an operative who specializes in children you know.”
“You sick fuck! You don’t touch my little girl!” he shouted. For the first time he was acutely aware that all the activity around him had stopped and all eyes were on him.
“Come home Roman, please!” he heard his wife say in the back ground then he heard skin smacking on skin and he heard something heavy hit the floor. The baby screamed louder than ever and she was soon joined by another set of sobs.
“I’ll kill you White. I’ll hunt you down and kill you!” He said into the phone in a more hushed tone. Aware that everyone was still staring at him.
“That’ll be a neat trick, considering you’ll be dead in two hours or less.”
“I’m not infected,” he shouted and then licked his lips.
“Let’s see,” The man said on the other end. Torres could almost see him with his hand on his pointed effete chin and his eyes turned upward in a comic exaggeration of thinking.
“I’d say your lips are dry, you have a thirst that can’t be quenched and pain is probably wracking your every move. Am I correct?”
“I am not infected,” he said a little more forcefully.
“Soon you will be getting hot. Then it will slowly rise until it almost unbearable. I don’t know how you’ll die, but it will be quite amusing I’m sure. Unless you come in. We can help you. We can regulate the process. It may still kill you, but your passing will be” he paused for effect, “more bearable.”
“Screw you! I’ll find you. I’ll kill you!” he said again. HE was in great pain now and he begin to shrug off his jacket. Despite a cool wind blowing from the north, he began to feel sweat form on his forehead.
“Oh by all means, come and get me. We’ll all be waiting for you here,” White said. If it were possible Torres thought he could see the man’s perfect namesake smile widen as he said it. White continued, “In fact we’ll wait to start the party until you’re home to watch it!”
“Bastard! Don’t you touch them!” He yelled. But it was too late. The phone had already clicked and he knew he had been disconnected.
A man approached him from behind. He was in so much pain Torres lashed out at him without even thinking. More basic training. The man easily stopped his blow and then stepped back with his hands up. Torres couldn’t see his eyes from behind the dark old style sunglasses the man wore but the bemused expression said it all. “Easy Sarge,” the man said. “I just want to help.”
“You can help me by getting away from me,” then he doubled over and growled in pain.
“I couldn’t help but over hear that you have a problem,” the man said reaching into his jacket. Advanced training took over and Torres pulled his side arm from his shoulder holster.
“Easy sarge,” he said and pulled a card from his pocket.
“I’m a lieutenant,” he grunted then grabbed his stomach. The gun fell from his hand as he did.
“Sorry, but your jacket,”
“Isn’t mine. It was my best friend’s. They killed him.”
The man held out his card again more boldly no longer afraid of the impotent side arm lying on the ground at the soldier’s feet.
“I’m a reporter, maybe I can help you. Who killed your friend?” The man said offering a hand to Torres.
“You? You look like a reject from the eighties.” Torres said and laughed. It seemed to take a supreme effort to do so. “The Don Johnson leisure suit look went out when Miami Vice did.”
The man chuckled, “You caught me on an off day. I just think the suit is comfortable. At least compared to the monkey suits I normally have to wear. Sam O’Rourke” He proffered his hand to the
“You’re the one I was going to Roswell to meet,” Torres grunted, “What are you doing here?”
“Also on my way back to Roswell. I always stop here to visit a friend and for a Chai Tea latte . They make the best ones around. So you must be ElToro8113?”
“That’s right. That’s my e-mail ID. Lieutenant Roman Torres MP Security Detail Los Alamos.”
“You don’t look so well. Do you need a drink or something?” The reporter said as he walked over to the soldier and put a hand on his back.
“Bio,” he started then began coughing uncontrollably. The cough ended with a copious amount of mucus and blood being expelled onto the ground. “Bio-research lab. Wasn’t, wasn’t my fault. Didn’t think I had been exposed. Have to stop them.”
“Take it easy now sarge.”
“Lieutenant. I thought I stopped them. Maybe so. Blew up the lab with Michael. Experimenting on people.”
Sam was beginning to worry about the man. He was sweating fiercely now despite the cool breeze and removing his shirt to reveal an olive drab undershirt soaked from the neck to the navel. His skin was beginning to grow a deep, almost glowing red.
“Mr. White. PolyChrome Knights. Black Ops Project 19 code name,” he said then stopped to catch a breath. Unsuccessful, he continued in a raspy voice. “Eris. Project Eris.”
He began coughing again and this time Sam saw that it wasn’t just a trick of his eyes, the man’s skin wasn’t just red, it was glowing red. Like a charcoal briquette in a stiff breeze.
Suddenly Torres burst into flames. Sam stepped back and shielded himself from the tongues of fire flying recklessly from the tempest of flame about the MP. His eyes went wide as he saw Torres standing in the middle of the conflagration apparently unharmed but not looking well. His face was contorted in pain but his eyes were wide with horror and awareness. His skin was pale and his eyes were sallow and the skin about them was baggy and dark. There he stood at the center of a firestorm apparently unharmed by the flame.
Sam backed up several steps and put his hand in front of him to protect his eyes from the heat rolling off this sideshow exhibit. Come see the amazing human Zozobra, Sam thought referring to the yearly Santa Fe tradition of burning a 30 foot tall maquette.
People were shouting now, and running about in all directions. A few idiots in their chinos and polo shirts tried throwing their bottles of Evian on him in the hope of dousing the ever increasing flames. Torres was in no shape to reprimand them though and he supposed it was the thought that counted. Then there were a few level headed calls to alert the fire department and at least one level headed individual dialing 911 on the phone.
Sam looked around for a hose but the closest thing he could see was a drip irrigation tube to water the few plants in the xeriscaped courtyard that needed it. All he could do after that was watch this man burn. Yet he wasn’t burning. Not even his clothes. The whole thing became a marvel, a spectacle, and the voice in his head began to sound more like a carnival barker. Step right up, buy your tickets and your marshmallows and enjoy the show with a snack.
Sam shook those things from his head then thought, What was I thinking? I’ve never been that callous in my life. As he shook the thoughts loose from his head, he happened to catch a glimpse of a kid watching the man burn. There was something in his eyes and expression that wasn’t quite right. He could feel something from the kid like sadistic joy. Then he dismissed the idea as ludicrous. How could he be getting these emotions from this kid. Then an even stranger thing happened. He realized he was somehow feeling things that everyone around him was feeling. Sam looked back to Torres with wonder and Torres stared back knowing everything that was in Sam’s head as well.
Torres looked at the backs of his hands turning them over and over, marveling at the sight of flames and heat dancing around him harmlessly. He looked at the crowd that was now surrounding him but still at a distance. He knew then that this was no illusion or hallucination brought on by the virus he knew had to be running through him.
He heard sirens from somewhere in the distance and it brought him out of his state of awe. It then dawned on him that the last thing he needed was to be questioned or even noticed by the authorities. At best they would poke and prod and experiment on him until he wanted to take his own life. At worst they could try to make him do things until he ended up like all their other experiments, a puddle of goo no longer recognizable as a human being. He began to run but was instantly confronted with a line of people who were more curious than interested in impeding his escape.
Not wanting to hurt them, but eager to get back to his family, he turned about trying to find an opening in the crowd. He found none and was surprised that the survival instinct to flee from fire was being overpowered by the human capacity for gawking at accidents in the making.
Stuck and out of directions to try he wished there was a hole for him to go through. Suddenly the fire about him began to pulse and dance and it lanced out towards the people. The heat didn’t cause any harm but it began to make the people retreat from him. Then it pushed out again and the people cleared from around it as it snaked out. A hole appeared and he wasted no time in taking his new found escape route.
“Torres, wait,” Sam cried.
“Can’t wait hermano. They have my wife and kids and I may be the only one who can save them.” Torres turned and saw a new arrival climbing from his new Mercedes. The flame snaked out again, this time purposeful and with a specific target in mind. It wrapped itself around the man’s arm and he screamed in pain and surprise and his keys dropped to the ground. The man ran towards the crowd still screaming about his burnt arm.
Torres bent down and scooped the keys from the ground. Silently he wondered how he was going to get in the car without toasting it and suddenly the fire was gone. He looked back at Sam for a moment and said, “Project Eris. Look it up. I’ll find you if I can once I know my family is safe.”
“Wait,” Sam said as Torres got in the car, “We should get you to a doctor.”
“And tell him what? I’ve got a bad case of heartburn?”
Sam laughed, he tried not to, but he somehow couldn’t help it. “You said something about seals. Is this contagious?”
Torres thought about that for a moment then turned the key and revved the engine. “According to Doctor Crick it isn’t until the body has built enough energy to fuel the mites or whatever.”
“Doctor Caitlin Crick?” Sam asked.
Torres’ eyes went wide with recognition and said, “That’s her. Know her?”
“I thought I did.”
“See you around.” Torres said and slammed the door.
“I hope so.”
The engine revved and the little Mercedes sports coupe tore out of the parking lot before a fire truck and silver sherrif’s car could block the exit. It also almost ripped Sam’s arm off which had been resting on the open car window. The crowd was still stunned and the man who had been screaming and lamenting the burn on his arm had completely forgotten the injury and was now screaming about his car. As Sam looked at him he noticed that aside from a few scorched arm hairs, there seemed to be no other damage.
It was dark when Torres pulled into the driveway of his family’s home. It had only been an hour’s drive to Corona from Oro Viejo but it took him two hours because of construction on the back highways.
Torres looked at the modest double wide trailer that he was still making payments on. It was his wife’s father’s land and he thanked God that it was one thing he didn’t have to worry about. The lights were off and he was very suspicious. The blue trim looked an austere grey in the dim light given off by a nearby street lamp and the white walls were painted a pale orange. His heart began to sink when the possibilities began to play out in his mind.
He started for the small steps leading up to the front porch deck that preceded the door. The soldier was about to call out the names of his wife and daughter when someone else interrupted.
“Stand down lieutenant.” The voice whispered harshly, “Let’s not make this any harder than it has to be.”
Torres recognized the voice. This was Grey, one of White’s ‘PolyChrome Knights’. They did a lot of bad things and not always to bad people. Often times it was to bad people and their good families. In fact Torres knew Grey was the specialist that White had referred to in his not so veiled threat. The one that specialized in children.
Stories about the Knights made the circuit around the duty stations where the Knights found themselves and the Knights didn’t seem to mind. In fact smart people realized that the stories were probably spread by the Knights themselves to let people know not to screw with them. More than likely some of the stories were either bullshit or altered to make them even worse by those who resent authority. Most were probably distorted by the oral transmission from mouth to ear and out again. Like that experiment in high school
Torres recalled the story that followed this particular Grey from the moment he came on to the base to replace the previous Grey who had disappeared one night and was never seen again. The story on him was that he was transferred but more likely than not his sordid past had caught up with him and he died on some mission. If the rumors were to be believed, White had him killed for getting caught doing something that could have jeopardized his mission. All the knights had rotated at least once during his tour and the only rumors that seemed to repeat, and therefore seemed most likely to be true, were that White would kill his own men to save the embarrassment of failure.
In this Grey’s case, he seemed to revel in the fact that he was a cruel man and a pedophile only too happy to ply his trade in the name of getting people to do things they wouldn’t do under anything but duress. Rumor had it that he once got a man to become a suicide bomber by threatening to rape the man’s nine year old daughter in front of him. Once he killed himself and set off a war somewhere, he raped and killed her and her mother anyway.
One time when Torres had been trading pictures with a fellow soldier, Grey had noted that the other man’s little girl was a cute little firecracker. He then asked the soldier if she would grow to be big bomb like him. The other soldier was a fellow MP and built like an Abrams. When the other Soldier had attacked him, Grey tossed him around like a bean bag and pulled his arm out of its socket with hardly a sweat. Bad men. Hard men.
“I said put your hands over your head and turn around.”
Torres had realized he had allowed his mind to wander and it had gone in a direction that Soldiers usually found fatal. A gun barrel poked into his back and his first instinct was to lash out and try to take the weapon. There was the click of a weapon being primed from somewhere in the darkness to his right and the thought left his conscious mind. It didn’t however leave his mind completely and the world exploded into fire. There was a scream from Grey behind him and he didn’t have to turn around to know that the man was completely engulfed in flame.
Several shots flew from the dark on either side of Torres and he instinctively hit the ground. He was too busy looking for cover to realize that he was not being perforated by any of the projectiles. He was almost to the deck when he realized that the fire would set the whole house alight. He backed off quickly and cursed the gun fire that hailed down on him before he realized that the bullets were not even reaching him. Two balls of flame separated from his aegis of flame and rushed towards the darkness greedily consuming it until there was nothing left. He turned to the right to see the face of the man he knew as Green before he was consumed in fire. He heard the high pitched woman’s voice cry out in pain on the other side. “White is going to need a new Black,” he thought with a smile, though it was a confused smile.
He looked back to see a glowing briquette that had been Grey twitching on the grass which was now alight as well. He moved to put out the fire and the flame leapt from the grass and corpse and rejoined the cloud of flame which surrounded him. A new insight flashed in his mind and he looked from side to side and wished for the other two corpses to be doused and their flames danced back to him as well.
With a vigorous sense of confidence he ran up the stairs not aware of the fact that the fire didn’t burn the wooden deck or stairs as he went. Coming back to his senses his training kicked in and he realized he would be entering the ‘kill zone’ with a happy go lucky attitude and these were dangerous people he was dealing with. It was certain that if he made it this far they would consider him a threat if not a grave one.
He kicked in the door and dove to the side just as a claymore would have ripped him in half. Dogs were barking, smoke alarms were going off in the house and a car alarm across the street was whooping and screaming into the night. He could hear neither of them. His head was pounding and his ears were ringing.
“Rocky,” He yelled without even realizing he was yelling, he could hardly hear himself.
He rushed into the house with his whole body on fire and his head ringing and pounding like his brain was trying to free itself from his skull. He listened carefully for his wife or his child but they made no sound. He couldn’t be sure and he wasn’t about to abandon the search. White and his fruit basket of nut cases were forgotten.
“Rocky! Anna! Answer me if you can?”
The smoke was thick but it didn’t seem to affect him. He realized that the smoke was coming from the back of the house instead of the doorway that was just blown apart. He didn’t even realize that his cloud of fire had absorbed the fire from the doorway as he passed it. Not that it mattered to him. Only two things mattered.
He made his way to the back room of the trailer which served as a master bed room and what he saw made his heart explode. The trailer soon followed, swallowed in a conflagration of biblical retribution.
Sam yawned, stretched out his arms and then let out his yawn in a great rush. One of the deputies watching over the scene scowled and turned back to his notepad. Sam was tired and any energy he had garnered from his Chai Latte had long since vanished. He removed the fedora from his head and wiped at the sweat that had condensed on his ever expanding forehead. He looked at the object in his hands as if he had never seen it before trying idly to take his mind off the heat, not only from the quickly clearing afternoon sky but from the local authorities as well.
He was sitting on a ornate but hardly comfortable little bench. He prayed that something would happen soon or he was going to make something happen. The waiting was worse than anything else they could do to him and combined with the oppressive heat and the humidity from the brief showers, he almost welcomed whatever release they would give him. Even if it was in the back of a police car, an air conditioned police car.
He kept eyeing the man in the beige and blue uniform who seemed to be doing some kind of verbal tango or cha-cha with another officer in a smart black uniform and hat. Sam almost groaned as he stared at the man whose triangular arm patch proclaimed him to be a member of the New Mexico State Police.
Sam wondered how the hell he could stand being in that monkey suit, that black monkey suit, in the growing heat? He knew the heat would once again subside as the sun went into the home stretch in the west, but in the mean time the sun and short but brutal rainstorm were teaming up to cause no end of suffering. It almost seemed personal to Sam who wasn’t adverse to the normal dry desert heat but who hated humid heat. His only comfort was that the humidity would eventually cool things down nicely once the sun went down but at this time of year that wouldn’t be for another couple of hours.
The two law enforcement officers were obviously comparing notes as they looked down into their respective notepads and if Sam didn’t know any better, he would have thought they were haggling over the price of a car rather than discussing the events of the past few hours.
The sun was now almost at that point where it would warm the day no longer, where the thick atmosphere would filter out the UV and any other radiation. The day would begin to cool from here, but the damage had already been done. In New Mexico, even in the rainy season, the temperature never dropped below 80 even at night.
“Whatcha doing?” said a female voice from behind him. The voice broke through the silence of his contemplations like the report of a rifle bullet and shook him badly.
“Damn it Lindsay! Give me a heart attack why don’t you?” He said and clutched his fedora to his chest. He quickly raised the hat to his thinning brown hair and covered it completely with his chapeau, hopefully before Lindsay noticed the hair or lack there of.
“I would but then who would I share Chai Lattes with on a hot afternoon.” She laughed.
Sam regarded the woman with what he hoped was a casual eye. She was wearing a rather conservative, well conservative for her, pair of baggy khaki shorts and a sleeveless khaki button down shirt lined with pockets on either side of her chest. The thought Lindsay Croft Tombraider brought a smile to his lips as well as some other unsavory thoughts to his mind. Her collar was open just enough to hint at her better than average cleavage and to allow her to keep her cool. Her auburn tresses were pulled into an exotic formation on the back of her head with an intricate network of elastic bands. It made her look exotic though she had told him before it was a very good way to keep cool.
Her tanned skin glistened in the waning light and he thought about how sweaty and disheveled he must appear to her. Her light golden tan made her appear even more exotic, he thought. He wiped at the back of his neck with a handkerchief he pulled from his back pocket and said, “I wish I could take a cool shower at the moment.” He suddenly became aware that between the heat of the day and her appearance he was likely to have a heat stroke.
“That makes two of us,” She said wiping a bit of glow from her long and graceful neck.
Sam about jumped out of his skin and only a supreme mustering of will kept him from jumping up and dragging her home to share that shower with her.
Quickly changing the subject and hoping she didn’t notice his mouth hanging open he said, “How long have you been here?”
“Since about the time the guy became a human Molotov cocktail. They just finished taking my statement.” She flushed slightly and said, “I saw you over here and thought I’d come over.”
Sam’s heart leapt into the stratosphere momentarily then dropped back into his throat and then into his stomach like a meteor when she added, “To see what you wanted to talk to me about.”
He had invited her there to ask her how she felt about him. They had been friends for only a few years since Caitlin had introduced them. At first it was a cold relationship. She was Caitlin’s friend from College and one of her few normal friends. She wasn’t in Caitlin’s league talent wise but she was no moron either. She had a master’s degree in Biology and was working on her doctorate in biotechnology. She was currently working on a project to map the human Genome.
But soon they began to be friendly. She was tough to win over but once you did she would personally hand you the head of anyone who hurt you. She was passionate, smart and good looking. It would be hard to not fall in love with her especially when the one attempt he had made with Caitlin had ended in near disaster.
Suddenly the shouting match between the two officers erupted into a yelling match and it gave them relief from the now awkward silence. “What’s going on with them” She nodded towards the officers who were now heavily engaged in a barking match.
“Jurisdiction dispute. Out here the city cops hold no sway. It’s county so the SFCSO has the jurisdiction but the State Police have no limits on their jurisdiction and they were first on the scene.”
“You boys are so fond of your pissing matches aren’t you.”
“That’s not fair. I’ve seen some spectacular cat fights in my time. If you recall how I met Caitlin.”
“That wasn’t typical, you might say that was the exception that proved the rule.” She said in a huffy tone. Her eyes narrowed to slits and her smile drooped slightly in her best ‘don’t try to pull that one on me’ face. He recalled that first meeting when he was an idealistic young journalist at a social mixer for over privileged geeks, nee interns, at Chicago’s Fermi Labs. He was undercover trying to do a story on how sports figures weren’t the only ones being recruited by questionable means and she was one of those faces being touted, to use the Chicago reference, as the Michael Jordan of Physics.
He had to chuckle despite himself and she joined him. She looked at him with a disarming smile and she saw something in his eyes that made her stop for a moment.
“No seriously though you seem fairly shaken up.” She said and grabbed his hand.
A sensation ran up and down his spine that he would gladly have paid any price to feel again. He saw her eyes go wide with recognition at what she had done but she made no attempt to pull her hand away.
“Do I look that bad?” he asked and hung his head.
“Worse.” She said. He thought she was trying to be as unemotional as possible and the monotone she was using was unbelievably effective. “Want to tell me about it?”
His head rose but he still refused to look at her. “What if you found out something about someone you thought you knew well and it changed the way you looked at that person?”
“Does it change the way you feel about that person?” She asked.
“No. Maybe. It goes to the heart of the person’s character.”
“Well you can be character without having character.” She said breaking her façade.
“What?”
“It’s from a movie. So what if the person is basically good then one small skeleton in the closet shouldn’t make a difference.”
“It may not be a small skeleton and it’s more in the office than in the closet.” Sam said. Looking at the dark unmarked police car that was now pulling into the parking lot he got a sinking feeling in his stomach that things were about to get more complicated.
“What’s the matter?” She asked noting his vacant stare. shifting gears so suddenly he thought she would seize up her transmission.
“Dinner later?” he asked, hopeful he was changing the subject.
She instantly pulled her hand away from his and giving him a sideways glance.
“We’ve talked about us before but…” she started but he stopped her.
“This isn’t about that. I respect our friendship and considering it’s been around longer I’d rather side with that then back a new loser.”
“Okay then,” She said somewhat back into her normal mode.
“Great! You cooking or should I bring something?”
“Actually I was already going out with Caitlin tonight, but I’m sure she wouldn’t mind having an extra guest tonight.”
“Who’s cooking then?”
She crossed her eyes and rubbed her hands together and said, “Caitlin’s a scientist remember and I’m her mad sidekick.”
“Well you’re the best looking Igor I’ve ever seen.”
Lindsay winked at him and said in her best
“That’s what scares me. Especially considering she’s a Biophysicist.”
“That means she works to merge man and machine. They don’t create Lovecraftian/Frankenstein’s monsters.”
“We’ll see,” he muttered.
“What was that?”
“We’ll see you tonight.” He said managing to gather his wits before she could become suspicious. “One thing though.”
“And that would be?”
“Does the word Prometheus mean anything to you?”
He wasn’t sure what he saw in her face but there was definitely something there. She recovered quickly though and he didn’t have time then and there to judge what he saw. Later when he had more time he could do little more than speculate but at the time it meant something.
“As in the ancient Titan who stole fire and the secrets of healing from the gods? A common name for Sci-fi writers to massacre at their whim in titles and for the names of spaceships. Or perhaps you refer to the inspiration for Shelly’s the Modern Prometheus considering we were just talking of Frankenstein?”
“No just something a contact told me regarding a story. It had to do with Los Alamos so I figured I’d give it a shot and see if I could get any info out of you.”
“Nope, I just work there I’m not privy to everything, but I’ll ask Caitlin if she knows anything. So I’ll run into the store get some stuff and I’ll do the cooking. Be by whenever you’re finished here?”
“Wouldn’t miss it.” Then he wondered if he should ask Caitlin himself and said, “Don’t bother Caitlin about it though. If you think of anything let me know huh?”
She was about to turn and leave when she paused, “You’ll be the first to know after me of course.” She sauntered off. Not with gusto but happily enough and with energy.
“Thanks Lindsay.” He said and he watched her go with interest. I’m not married and I’m not dead he thought noting a glare from an older woman who was watching him watch her. She looked a bit like his grandma, he thought, except for the fact that she was a bit heavier set. And his grandmother would never be caught dead in the fru-fru nylon jogging outfit. He thought she couldn’t be that much of a saint with her painted expression and the jewelry hanging everywhere.
Sam wanted to follow Lindsay, to hell with the police. If they couldn’t be concerned about him and his fellow ‘witnesses’ why should he give a damn about their case? He was about to follow his friend when someone cleared their throat behind him. “Sam O’Rourke” a voice said.
“Yes,” Sam answered realizing that the voice belonged to the State Police officer who had been arguing with him. He turned around to confront the officer and to tell him to get lost when he noticed someone new had joined the crowd.
“This is Detective Maldonado of the State Police. She has some questions to ask you.”
The small Hispanic woman was not what Sam expected of a detective. She was small but smartly dressed in business attire. While Sam thought she wouldn’t win any beauty contests he didn’t think she was bad looking either. She was older than he was but did look like she was in better shape. Her short hair bristled in the more than slight breeze and in the softening light of day looked darker than it actually was.
“Mr. Rourke,” She started.
“O’rourke” He corrected. He resisted the urge to yell ‘the plane, the plane’.
“Mr. O’rourke. The other witnesses have said that you were talking with the man familiarly. Did you know the arsonist?”
“Arsonist? This guy didn’t set himself on fire, he spontaneously combusted.”
“He’s also added grand theft auto and assault to his list. I ask again did you know him? Miss Hill said she heard you call him Torres.”
He thought for a moment and he saw on her face that if anything but the truth came from his lips she would suspect it. He let himself have all the time in the world to think about things at that point and he really didn’t want to tell them any more than he could. On the other hand he had no reason to antagonize her and any potential information he could get out of her later.
He had been upset by how things had ended with Caitlin and he wanted to patch things up if he could. But for now it was a distraction he could ill afford and he smelled a story and didn’t want to have an investigation of himself stand in the way of that story.
“Mr. O’rourke?”
“Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts there for a moment. Yes I knew who he was, no I don’t know much else about him.” He wanted to tell her until today he didn’t even know the guy was military but she had certainly come up with that already from all descriptions.
“What was the nature of your relationship with this person?” She asked and held a tape recorder up to him.
Sam hated tape recorders and he almost snarled as she thrust it into his face. He had always thought that recorders were the tools of reporters with weak and lazy minds. He always carried his notebook with him but he usually only scribbled things that he was unsure of to match up with his memory later or if he wanted to get a quote exactly right. He trusted his near photographic memory and distrusted fancy gimmicks. The only drawback was that if anyone ever denied they had said something to him he had no proof to back it up.
He suddenly realized that with a Detective a missed quote could be the difference between life and death and whether a bad guy walked or went to the gas chamber. So he could give that to her since he didn’t know her and that not everyone had the same gifts. He knew he should be more giving since they were professionals in two separate but not that different professions. Sam still hated gimmicks though.
“We had e-mailed each other a few times. He was thinking about blowing the whistle on some issue within the government.”
She looked wary of his words and cocked her eye at him as if she didn’t believe him. “Uh-huh. And what was the specific nature of that issue.”
“Detective,” he said with his head cocked as if in evaluation of the shorter woman, “I couldn’t tell you if I knew. I have a right to protect my sources.”
“That may be true, but you are now a witness to two crimes and as such I can ask for any relevant information to the case. I won’t in this case but I will remember you.” She said and turned to leave. Suddenly she turned back and asked, “So what made you approach him in the first place.”
“Say what?” He asked taken aback.
“The witnesses said you seemed a little too friendly when you were the first person to approach him before he, well, detonated.” For some reason the Sheriff’s deputy thought the situation was funny and barked out a laugh at her words.
“Do you think this if funny?” She barked at the officer.
“Yes maam,” The officer responded, then immediately realized the error of his lack of sensitivity as the black uniformed state trooper groaned and rolled his eyes at him. To his credit he didn’t panic. He faced her down like a soldier.
“Oh so people exploding and people getting car jacked is hilarious, huh?”
“Yes maam, I mean no maam,” The deputy said flustered.
Let me tell you what is not funny. What is not funny is what is going to happen when I talk to Benji.”
The deputy’s smirk fled from his face like an escaped con from the scene of his escape.
“Benjamin Montano is my Padrino. He and my father have been in law enforcement long before the better part of you was a stain in your daddy’s pants. So if you think that crime and suffering is funny I can arrange a detail for you that will fill your heart with joy and laughter until the day you retire or we decide to let you die.”
Her rant done the deputy looked duly dressed down. As she turned away from him he moved as quickly as he could towards his car.
“Where was I, ah yes, what was your reason for approaching him in the first place?”
“I don’t understand what that has to do with…” He stopped but a wave of her hand cut him off.
“Please. Humor me.” She said and smiled a brilliant smile at him. It actually makes her somewhat pretty Sam thought.
“The man was screaming and yelling for someone to leave his kid alone. I thought I could help and I thought I smelled a story. It was rather interesting to discover my instincts were correct.” Yeah, came the unbidden thought to his mind, especially one that I had already had a scent on.
“In that order huh? You think there’s a story here?”
“Not much of one. But there is at least something for tomorrow’s news.”
She seemed satisfied with that and she turned back to her black unmarked vehicle, unmarked that is except for the government license plates and the flashers installed in the windows and front grill. “I’ll be in touch.”
Unable to help himself Sam said, “Isn’t this where you tell me not to leave town?”
She returned his smile and without missing a beat said, “I know where to find you.” She made a dismissive gesture with her hand and added, “You’ve been watching too much Miami Vice buddy.”
With that she got into her car, started it and drove away. Sam turned to see the deputy removing some yellow police tape from around the little plaza, and the State officer was removing it from another corner. Sam noticed that they had left a small little section of tape around the large scorch mark which stained the sidewalk like a bad omen.
Sam looked down at his suit and said, “But it’s comfortable.”
The smell of something cooking began to waft on the breeze again and Sam’s stomach grumbled. He had decided he was going to have one more Chai Latte and maybe a snack in the form of pie, cake or one of the fancy pastries from the little diner at the back end of the plaza before heading to Caitlin’s place to try and make inroads to what she might or might not know. That’s when he noticed the unusual altercation in the center of the courtyard. As he moved towards the café he noticed a most unusual altercation unfolding before him.
“What are you getting mad at me for? I didn’t say anything,” A boy cried. It was one of the skaters that had gathered to watch ‘the human Zozobra’.
“You did! I heard you!” shouted the future arsonist who had been standing next to him as they witnessed the conflagration of Lt. Torres.
“Well maybe I thought it, but how do you know?” The other boy shouted back. The future arsonist rushed the skater and the fight was on. The two boys who had been reading comics earlier had dropped them and rushed to view the fight and began to cheer it on. Soon all the skaters and goth chicks were standing around rooting and cheering and hollering as if they were watching Gladiatorial Games in some ancient coliseum.
Anime girl’s head shot up as Green Day’s American Idiot finished playing on her iPod and she could now hear the fight in progress. She watched as Future arsonist was walloping the snot out of the skater he had bum rushed earlier. He was smaller than the skater but seemed to be filled with more hate and pure desire to win. Skater boy had managed to push him off but Arsonist was right back at him with ferocity that one would think only a cro-magnon could muster. Soon Arsonist was pounding and beating the kid even though blood was beginning to pour profusely through his obviously broken proboscis.
“Andrew,” Anime girl was shouting though no one seemed to pay her any mind.
“Leave them alone April,” one of the goth chicks told her as she tried to squeeze through the circle of living angst.
“Shut up Mandy,” she said and finally just pushed her way in.
“It’s Circe,” Goth chick tried to correct her.
April didn’t hear her and accordingly said, “Move before Andrew kills Pete.”
April dragged Andrew from the nearly unconscious boy as if he weighed nothing. She seemed deceptively wiry and closer inspection from Sam showed she was indeed athletic it was just well hidden by her attire. Andrew not quite done took a swing at her which she ducked easily. Not satisfied with his miss of the girl he lashed out at Peter before him with his foot dragging a long painful moan from the boy. April swept his legs out from beneath him in a move that Sam had seen before.
A few years earlier Sam had done a local piece on a man named John Starr who had been teaching neighborhood kids the art of self defense in a tough neighborhood in El Paso. He had been decorated veteran who had retired from the army after his tour in Vietnam and spent several years in Japan after that sharpening his martial arts skills. He was touting martial arts as a way to keep kids off of drugs and out of gangs. If the gangs tried to pressure them they had a way to fight back. He was found a few weeks later stabbed to death in his own home. No signs of a struggle, he was just run through in the middle of the night with one of his own swords. Of course that wasn’t public knowledge and everyone just assumed the gang members had done a job on him.
The sweep and subsequent restraining hold April was now applying to Andrew had been included in the demonstration of Kenpo that Starr had put on for the reporters who had come to spread his message.
“Let me go sis!,” Andrew cried, “He started it!”
“Doesn’t matter who started it. You know better than that! You could have killed him!”
“He thought bad things about me,” Andrew said struggling for purchase. All the other kids had gathered around the Skater who was now profusely bleeding and dazed.
“That doesn’t matter,” April said as if she hadn’t heard him exactly right or as if she had heard something similar before, and Sam had to wonder which was the truth.
One of the kids noticed that the ambulance which had been called to the original episode had yet to leave. He ran to it, big golden letters proclaiming it to be Oro Viejo Volunteer fire and rescue looming over one of the EMT’s as he leaned against it. As the boy ran shouting to him he stood at full attention revealing the letters EMS that he had rendered invisible with his considerable girth. He opened a compartment, grabbed a large white box and shouted something to another EMT who was busy hitting on a blonde girl in a red designer mini-dress that fit her like a second skin and heels that seemed to make her three inches taller. She was about ten years his junior and she looked as if she had just come from the Grocery Store. One had to wonder, but not too hard, why she would be going into a grocery store dressed in such a manner. The EMT seemed to have gotten the drift.
She giggled and flipped her hair, and the EMT wanted to ignore his partner whose shouts and cajoles were becoming too loud to be ignored. The skinny older man twitched his mustachioed upper lip in disgust and finally gave in. He grabbed a pen and paper from his pocket and asked the girl if she could write her name and number for him and leave it on the EMT truck when she was done. He told her something about duty calls and needing to save lives which genuinely seemed to impress her. Inwardly he was hoping the little shit wasn’t bleeding badly enough to soil the only clean uniform he had at the moment. He smiled broadly revealing nearly perfect white
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ammahaffey reviewed Version 1 -
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andersda reviewed Version 1 -
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Sorry I couldn’t stay to finish the whole thing. I got pulled away. The begining of this piece isn’t doing it’s job for you. You need a hook in the first sentence or two that will grab you readers attention and never let it go. Along thosee lines, I wasn’t engaged until I read, “I’ll kill you White. I’ll hunt you down and kill you!” This is where this story really begins. Everything up till then is just fluff and filler. After that, there are quite a few places where the flow is still a bit rough. Focus on what’s important to the story line and get rid of everything else. You use the word “Now” too much along with adverbs that doen’t add to your story. Here are some things I noticed along with suggestions;
Up until the time that the clouds had opened up and dumped on him, it had been a pleasant pre-fall New Mexico day.
...indicated that he was a sergeant.
“he looked at the dusty boot” not in the rain. Use muddy.and he wouldn’t see the treads from above.
down the road from where he had just come.
a large sign if front of a small building. A store he presumed,that lay just beyond the intersection of the highway and the sign that said: “Welcome to Oro Viejo”.
The soldier (give this guy a name, if he’s important)decided to make his way to the small house that looked like an outcropping of smaller buildings.
Even without the rain, the wind was even harsher on the other side of the hill and every step was hard fought.
by two (delete obvious) bright red
better condition (delete as such)
smells of a variety of products mixing with the smells of cardboard…Memories are strongly tied to our sense of smell. Be precise. Rotting oranges mixed with wet paper smell of cardboard.
they were just so wrapped up in themselves (In what? There’s nothing here that would distract from the novelty, unless they were close to a military base.) and what they were doing they didn’t care
Even if the forest was populated with cactus and piñon trees. This is a dependent clause, not a complete sentence tie to the previous sentence.
Torres had seen all the same tricks (You should probably delete or shorten. Doesn;t advance the plot)...fashion or another.
both boys(,) were
answered. Only the teenagers
Cell phones(,) it was rare
one. He wondered why this one
such an (delete obviously) affluent development where even the dogs had their own phones.
Then it dawned on him (delete this whole bit if it doesn’t advance the story.)
and he (delete eagerly) pushed (or slid or dropped)them
“That’s Tor-rez not tor-ris,” he said thinking (would he worry about that while his lady is being handled?)
You’ve also been exposed to something that will make you die a terrible death. Kill you very badly. Has to go.
misbegotten or misguided?
This is where you should begin this piece. “I’ll kill you White. I’ll hunt you down and kill you!”
HE was in great pain now an there is no transition into these feeling. Show us how he felt was there a dull throb at the base of his skull, etc.
lashed out at him without even thinking. More basic training Basic doesn’t give you that kind of training. Make him more than just a grunt. Make him special forces with serious hand-to-hand training.
sweating fiercely (delete now almost every time you use it) despite the cool
level headed is level-headed and only use once
the idea (delete as ludicrous)
At best, they
but was instantly confronted with a line of people who were more curious than interested in impeding his escape Richard Pryor has said it. “When you’re o nfire people get out of your way. That’s a problems here.
scooped the keys (delete from the ground)
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BrianA reviewed Version 1 -
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The story premise is sound – though perhaps a bit comic book. A soldier on guard duty is infected by something – the subject of secret government research which causes him to have incredible powers. This is not an original storyline so it is your responsibility to give it an original `novel’ treatment. You asked about pacing, content, character development. All three are affected by the wandering narrative. You seem to get distracted from the main storyline by details. There is room for some serious chopping where you go over ground repeatedly e.g. the weather. The bones of the story are there and the characters I think could be good, but it is not necessary to prolong descriptions – the reader will fill in details with imagination. Get through the story – it will drag reader along – descriptions should be incidental to story. Torres seemed the best rounded character (believable) – Sam seemed a bit off hand and immature (with Linda at the combustion scene) – his character uncertain because of text unevenness. Linda seemed worthwhile and the female detective also – though later dialogue seemed a bit ordinary.
I made some edit notes to about half way – thought you could use:
`olive drab’ – reverse
`...highway was (now) well behind him as was the HUM-V which was now a four ton paper…’ look out for use of `now;, `so’ – oral narrative devices that can be omitted and extraneous words like `still’ `just’ & `began’
`He turned back to the hill and continued up it. The hill turned out’ – thought awkward and repeat use of turned. Initial `turned back to the hill’ – has alternate sense and it is not needed. `He continued up the hill which turned out…’
`He looked down at a road and followed it to its mouth just down the road from the direction he had just come. As he followed the road back he spotted a’ – very confusing – for reader;s sake keep it simple – even if it is not exactly as you picture it.
`...sign (if) in front of (what appeared to be) a small building – watch equivocation in description – simpler if a thing `is’.
`...that said:...’ – think this is too far away from `sign’. Suggest new sentence = `The sign said…’
`...building which (he) now saw (looked like) was an outcropping…` – just suggestion.
`...he (could see that) saw it – passive voice
`They had to, the only reason…cars…in much better condition as such.’ – thought this poorly expressed. Suggest re-work.
`...women around and they all seemed to be dragging a kid or two (around)...’ – repeat
`...video store (that took up most of the corner of that side of the building).` – is this necessary? Does it add anything?
`...age of Cell phones it was rare to find (one) a pay phone and…’ – or use pay phone in previous sentence, might help.
`HE was in great pain now and he begin to shrug…’ – suggest be more specific & from his pov .
`...courtyard( that needed it). – necessary? – a guys on fire and reader gets information on why plants requirements.
`His heart (began to sink) sank when the possibilities began…’ – watch use of `began’
`...on his ever expanding forehead.’ – are you sure?
As a general comment – some sections seemed long winded and unnecessary – the aside about in one ear and out the other – Sam’s analysis of heat and humidity – these cause story to lag.
`Sam about jumped out of his skin…’ – his reaction seemed extreme, and he lingers over her description previously, even though he knows her: `the woman’.
“We’ll see,” he muttered.
“What was that?”
“We’ll see you tonight.” – `what was that? & uses the royal `we’.
`...not what Sam expected of a detective. She was small but…While Sam thought she wouldn’t win …he didn’t think she was bad looking either. She was…but did look like she was in better shape. ...the more than…darker than it actually was.’ – throughout section you use opposite comparisons and negative summations – all together it becomes confusing and tedious for reader.
Okay. Like I said I think you have the makings of a good story here, but you have to trim and be direct. Good luck with this.
jhmckeogh reviewed Version 1 -
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omit “The phone had already clicked and he knew,” its redundant.
there seems to be a point of view shift at “Sam saw that it wasn’t just a trick of his eye”. I would try to keep the third person in torres’ control, since the narrator seems to be pulling for and thinking as Torres.
Its jarring for the reader to be thrust into other characters head (without section breaks or other cues…). I think you can do this without too much editing, perhaps have the pov shift occur at organically with the section break after torres makes his escape and the reporter is left alone being questioned by the cops.
I like this story. Its perfect for the genre, gets right to the action, and really has a comic book feel about it. I would watch out about how you move the plot along using dialogue. This is okay sporadically, but you seem to be leaning on it a little heavily this draft. For instance, “I’d say your lips are dry, you have a thirst that can’t be quenched and pain is probably wracking your every move. Am I correct?” You can show your reader all this in his trip to the mall. Since you seem to be keeping the “origin story” for a later chapter (ie, how torres became johnny flame), so why not keep the reader a little bit on their toes. Have the evil general on the other side of the line jump right in with threatening the wife and kid if torres doesn’t return.
Cheers, enjoyable read
James
slbynum3 reviewed Version 1 -
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Nice job! This story is very well told. I like the characters and the situation in the story. You have talent.
“A slight but pretty Hispanic woman smiled back at him with a genuine smile.” repetition with the words ‘smile’ and ‘smiled’.
The part about the carnival cracked me up. The side effects of that virus are cool too. It seemed to give Torres superpowers. If a virus could give me fire powers, I think I wouldn’t mind having it.
“I would but then who would I share Chai Lattes with on a hot afternoon.” should be question mark here.
“Do you think this if funny?” ‘if’ should be ‘is’
“That’s when he noticed the unusual altercation in the center of the courtyard. As he moved towards the café he noticed a most unusual altercation unfolding before him.” Both of these sentences say the same thing. Maybe you should just use the last one.
Your descriptions of characters are excellent, but the reader doesn’t need to know every detail about minor characters, such as the parts where you go on and on about John Starr and the EMT at the end of this.
oknapp reviewed Version 1 -
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“The man struggled up the small but steep hill as best he could with the rain and the wind doing its best to stop him.”
What was the rain and wind doing? Was the rain cold? Was the wind blowing a hard gale? Give us an atmosphere. Show us?
“his bronze,” .... maybe his bronzed tan skin. The sun had bronzed it—past tense.
“As he followed the road back..’ You use follow twice. Perhaps, as he continued in that direction.. ”Follow” used twice ruins this nice flow you have going.
Wonderful stellar descriptions of the town and the people. I am drawn in.
They almost all wore iPods” Almost all had Ipods. or most of them had ipods. do you see the different more fluent ways you could say this?
You are no novice. You are a practiced writer. Wonderful flow.
Kill you very badly.” Are you sure about this description? Kill and badly?
Let her and the baby go White.” You need a comma to seperate go and white.
“The heat didn’t cause any harm but it began to make the people retreat from him.” A little passive… but it caused people to scatter…maybe
“His heart began to sink when”.. A passive sentence. His heart sank as the possibilities played out in his mind… less apssive this way.
Rumor had it that he once got a man to become a suicide bomber A pasive sentence. Rumor had it that he caused a man to participate in a suicide mission.
“Soldier had attacked him.” Passive sentence. Take out “had”
You have a repeat of page 20
“but in the mean time.” In the meantime. goes together.
“He suddenly became aware that..” A passive sentence. He was suddenly aware.
For the most part this piece has everything, action, good characterization, a great flow, a sophisticated and knowledgable vocabulary. With that said, you must correct these passive sentences. Although every story is allowed some you have surpassed the normal amount. But overall, this is professional work and could sell because the characters are well drawn and the action is building toward something. In other words the reader, knows the plot and looks forward to seeing where it leads. I hope i have helped. Sandi
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