It had never occurred to David how small his town was. The school taken over, they needed someplace else to set up. The police station was out, they hadn’t even gotten a chance to start the clean up. It just lay there in a shamble of broken class and flickering florescent lights. Detective Ford and her remaining team all looked to David for an answer. Never mind that he was seconds into his confused and guilty grief. He must have stammered out “the fire station,” because that’s where they were. The two story brink building full of lost looking men in suits and holsters.
Detective Ford had been quick to set up an armada of computer monitors and keyboards, after which she’d been locked to her cell phone for the past twenty-three minutes. David had nothing better to do than watch them tick away, cheering them on. It was the only distraction he could find, everyone else distracted with their various important looking tasks.
There were eleven, including David. Detective Ford, McDowell, and eight of their men. One lay upstairs on a cot, grasping a battered arm to his chest and muttering through his fever. Two men with guns stood watch, just in case.
The other five men were busy typing on computers and pouring onto maps. They tried to plan, to prepare. It seemed incredibly useless to David. Eric was dead. His parents were stuck in their house, terrified and sequestered like the rest of the town. He marveled at it all. These eleven government officials controlled everything, the whole time as panicked and confused as the housewives they protected.
David felt antsy. He was responsible for Eric’s death. He was a survivor twice over. He was a bomb the men around him expected to go off, another monster born from his inevitable destruction. He was alone, his family huddled in their home on the other side of town from the fire house. He was tired. He was full of coffee. His thoughts raced and he muttered like the wounded man upstairs.
“Stop.” Detective Ford’s authoritative voice cut through the activity of the room. She waited for eye contact, her cell phone still held partially to her ear. Her face looked slightly flushed, the usual calm assertiveness slightly disturbed. “Everyone pack up. We’re leaving.”
A few men looked puzzled. The more seasoned ones began without question. One man stood and looked out the window to his right, fingering the gun strapped to his hip. David simply sat, eyes calmly focused on Detective Ford. She kept his gaze, muttering a few last words into her phone before sliding it closed and latching it to her hip. She made her way to David, her team busy around her.
“You need a hand?” Ford asked.
David took a second, watched the men pack their things around him. Most of it had never been unpacked. “I don’t have anything. It’s just me. No packing necessary.”
“Did you want to–” Ford paused, her hand unconsciously moving toward the phone on her hip. “Do you need to get anything from your house?”
Another moment of David weighing the Detective with his eyes. “We’re not coming back, are we?”
Ford gave a look that implied she was breaking a rule. Sharing information she shouldn’t share. “David, we can take you with us… because of what’s happened, what you’ve been through. We have to take you with us.”
“What about the rest of the town? My family? How are you going to stop these creatures?”
“We– we can’t let everyone leave. There’s too big a risk of infection. We’re just not set up to quarantine every single person here. And if someone were to… if the creatures were to get out–well we’re not set up for that either.”
“I don’t understand. If we leave they’re just gonna get out eventually anyways. If they haven’t already. How will us leaving help the town?”
Ford unclipped her phone and glance at the digital numbers on the front. “In three hours there won’t be a town left to help.”
David let the bomb drop, absorbing the impact of her words.
“I’m sorry David.”
*************************************************************************************************
“Mom?! Dad?!” David shouted down the hallway to his parent’s bedroom. The lights were off. It was quiet and dark through his house. His parents had the be there. He needed them to be there. He didn’t have time. “MOM?! DAD?!” He moved down the hallway loudly. He felt like he lumbered through the stillness. After all he’d been through in the last few days, the loudness scared him. He was giving himself away.
“David?” An eye peeked through a crack in his parent’s bedroom door. “It’s David!” The door flew open to reveal his mother, 9mm in hand. David’s father stood in the distance, a shotgun pointed at the far window. They looked older then David remembered. Frightened and tired. Bloodshot eyes, lean and hungry figures, gray brows and frown lines.
“We have to leave. Fifteen minutes tops. There’s a truck parked outside. I’ll meet you out there.” He gave his mom a firm but quick hug, and made for the stairs to his bedroom.
“What’s going on? David?” His mom moved to the bottom of the stairs.
“We have to hurry mom. They’re gonna blow the entire town up. You can’t be here when that happens.”
“We can’t be here? What about you?” David’s father asked, his wife pale next to him.
“We all need to get out of here. Fifteen minutes!” David yelled down the stairs.
He pushed his way through his bedroom door, grabbed an old backpack from the hook on the wall inside and started rummaging through his dresser. Some clothes. A wad of cash he kept tucked with his socks. None of it felt vital to his existence.
Dweedle. Dweedle.
David peered out of his backpack toward the phone on the table next to his bed. The small screen lit in green with the phone number incoming. His throat closed and his eyes moistened.
Dweedle. Dweedle.
He pulled the phone into his hand and sat on the edge of his bed, pressing the button to connect. He held it for a minute before placing it next to his ear.
“….Eric?”
*************************************************************************************************
They drove in silence. David’s mother staring out the truck window from the back seat. At last look at the town, the life about to vanish before her. The town already felt dead. It’s people afraid of each other, boarded up in their houses on guard.
McDowell drove unaware of speed limits and stop signs. There was no traffic and they had a schedule to keep. They rounded the corner, the fire station in view, and saw the team of nondescript black vehicles loading up to speed away.
Once parked at the curb, David’s parents were ushered towards a car with the wounded man from the upper level of the fire house. Straight to sequestering for them all.
“Computer equipment in the SUV. I want guns and ammunition divided equally between all five cars.” Ford directed her men, nodding absentmindedly to McDowell.
“We’ve got the boy’s folks.” McDowell pointed his thumb over his shoulder at the car the two parents were climbing into. “How we on time?”
Ford glanced at the phone on her belt, angling it up and tapping a button on the side. “Just over two hours.”
“Here I was worried we’d be rushed.” McDowell said casually. The thirty minute drive from town to the safety zone well within reach.
“David with his parents?” Ford asked looking down the curb to the open door of the SUV.
“He was right behind–” McDowell shot his gaze from one end of the curbside to the other. “…My truck’s gone.”
*************************************************************************************************
The school looked like the bomb had a already dropped on it. Windows and doors missing. Chunks of brick wall torn through like building blocks pushed over by bored children. The exposed hallways were dark.
McDowell’s truck stood catawampus on yellow parking lines, the driver’s side door left open and the cab light glowing. David stood at the tailgate, checking ammo and strapping metal to his back and hips. He’d never had to use a gun before. At least not like this. Part of him still hoped for a clean record.
Some sort of large rifle David couldn’t name strapped to his back, handguns at both hips. David didn’t feel antsy anymore. He wasn’t tired. His mind was calm, the feverish race lifted and left him focused. Focused on the task ahead, on the ticking clock flipping numbers in his head. Slowly counting down to zero.
“Okay,” David switched on a flashlight, checking the bulb and battery. “Third time’s a charm.”
Comments 2
P1: I’m a little confused about why they’re all looking to David. He’s never seemed like an authority figure before now, but suddenly, he’s their local expert? What are they setting up for in the “brink”/brick building? Also, I thought Ford was a woman, therefore not a part of the “lost-looking men”. Second sentence has funky sound.
P2: Two “beens”, one sentence. He cheered on each passing minute? It’s an interesting description, but doesn’t really fit the tone. If he’s being sarcastic, it doesn’t show through very well. Last sentence feels funky.
P3ish: “Pouring onto maps”? Perhaps “over”. Also, I’m pretty sure it’s not just the “housewives” hiding away. Nice overview of the situation otherwise.
P4: The only thing I would do here is make the last sentence its own paragraph. I like the repeated “he was” in this instance.
P5: I like Ford, and she’s very assertive. Not the sort of government agent who would ask a local who’s potentially been compromised about where to set up camp—going back to my character issue from P1.
P6: “Began” doing what? Packing? You’re much better with describing the action, though.
P8: Shouldn’t she know this? *I* figured he had nothing to unpack in the first place.
P10: Don’t capitalize “detective” here; it’s a noun in this instance, not a pronoun.
P15: “Glanced”.
–Well, shoot. That sure sucks for everyone else. Is David really going to stand for it?
P2: She has a gun? Awesome, lol.
P12: A full minute? Seems a bit long to me.
–Excellent sense of urgency throughout this section, although you might build up the tension before David locates his parents a little more. Amazing hook at the end. At this point in the story, you have my full attention.
P1: “Stared”. “At last look”—the whole sentence doesn’t make sense as written. The last sentence is a fragment that doesn’t work on its own like that. Also, I don’t have a spoon anymore, but if I did, I’d whack you!! “ITS!!”
P2: Unaware or ignorant? I suppose unaware works though.
P3: I don’t particularly like the last “ing”
P4: Comma after the dialogue, which keeps it all one sentence.
P5: “How ARE we on time?”
P7: Comma after first bit of dialogue, not period. Need a verb in the next sentence; fragment doesn’t make sense.
P8: “asked looking” becomes “looked”. We already know she’s asking because of the question mark, and this makes the action stronger.
P9: No ellipsis. Also, good for David. Depending, of course, on what he plans to do
P1: You’ve got an extra “a” in that first sentence. Nice snippet of description.
P2: Catawampus is an excellent word that doesn’t get nearly enough use. And part of me thinks that if David has never used a gun before, now is not an appropriate time to start. His chances of hitting what he aims at are teeny at best. The most he can legitimately hope for is scaring away the baddies. Also, what *has* he used a gun for that might up his chances?
P3: Fragment again that does not work. “Flipping” becomes “that flipped”. Last fragment works better.
Final stuff:
Posted 23 May 2010 at 3:22 pm ¶-So. Who’s David planning to shoot? Please not Eric, please not Eric, please not…
-Much better with integrating a bit of action/description throughout. As always, I’d like to see more of that.
-Very exciting plot twists and developments. Seriously. We’re not leaving Wednesday until you’ve posted the next bit. And that’s a threat.
-Out of curiosity, what phone makes a “dweedle” sound? David’s apparently. Dweedle, dweedle.
-Catawampus.
Haha. Catawampus…Dweedle.
Good stuff here. The pace was good and I could sense the urgency of the moment throughout. I can’t wait for the next and “final” part.
Just to let u know, as a fan, I’m starting the the demand for more after the series “ends”, …Now.
Posted 23 May 2010 at 10:50 pm ¶Trackbacks & Pingbacks 1
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