Beyond the Darkside 34-16 to 20


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“Mostly food and medical supplies, but we swiped some parts too,” Hanse said.

Debra slowly shifted her gaze to her husband. “And that is it?”

Hanse tilted his head to the side and grinned. “Well there were a few weapons and a prototype code breaker, but that’s it: promise.”

“Great.” Debra shook her head and sighed. “Well that should be enough to get Vo off my back, at least for now, but that doesn’t mean you two are off the hook. Odds are both her and Aldric Dewitt will be coming for you two soon enough, so I would just as soon get you both out of my house.” Continue reading “Beyond the Darkside 34-16 to 20”

Beyond the Darkside 34-1 to 15


CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

Gun

The sparse dinner pleased Evan far more than it had any right to. He smiled and stroked his too thin stomach. The vat grown chicken and greenhouse broccoli tasted better than anything he ate while in the company of the resistance or Isis herself. He did not know if it was because he was not a prisoner at the moment, or if it was that much better than the survival rations that always seemed to be on the menu of the resistance. Ultimately it did not matter, but it tickled Evan’s mind and he smiled.

“You look rather pleased with yourself,” Hanse said as he shut the door behind him and walked into the living room of his wife’s home. The big man’s grin did not have the artificial or sinister qualities Evan was used to. An hour spent with Debbie in her bedroom, neither of them caring what Evan could hear, improved his demeanor as much as the food improved Evan’s.

Continue reading “Beyond the Darkside 34-1 to 15”

100-Word Challenge, Day 127


Extreme Macro!
Rubén Chase / Foter / CC BY-SA

“No!” Evan yelled as he held a hand up in front of him, palm facing the thug as if it might ward off the bullet.

Caleb pulled the trigger. The sound of the gunpowder exploding in the casing was deafening in the small, airtight home, but it was muffled to Evan’s ears as time slowed and he watched the bullet slowly leave the barrel of the gun. He desperately tried to move out of the way, but his body was caught in the same stasis as Caleb and his gun, only his mind was free of the morass, but it was frantic with terror as he watched the implement of his death approaching an inch at a time.

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100-Word Challenge, Day 126


The air in front of Evan’s face shook and shimmered like a blast of heat escaping from a furnace. A low ringing sound, as if an enormous church bell had been struck far away, accompanied the shimmer and was immediately followed by a string of enthusiastically shouted swear words. Evan looked past the dissipating disturbance and saw Caleb’s head cursing as he stumbled backward.

“You broke my hand!” Caleb shouted. “I’ll kill you!”

“I didn’t do anything!” Evan insisted as he scrambled to his feet.

A look of pure fury blazed across Caleb’s floating visage. A large, black revolver appeared from out of nowhere and pointed at Evan’s head.

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100-Word Challenge: Chapter Seven


CHAPTER SEVEN

 

We walk to the bus stop and wait in silence. I look at Julia and she looks away. She stares at me like I am some sort of carnival freak, but she is too ashamed to admit it. I’m okay with it. I suppose I could have sprouted some wings or forced out a halo and that might have answered her doubts, but I don’t feel like going there. I don’t need her to believe in me, but it would be nice. I have kept my secret for a long time, surrounded by people I wanted to help, unable to tell them that there was a God who cared. The problem is I can’t quite believe it myself. Continue reading “100-Word Challenge: Chapter Seven”

100-Word Challenge, Day 199


We get to a rather non-descript door which Parker opens up then unceremoniously pushes me into the room. The walls and lighting match the hall, but here there is an imperfection in the gleaming white hell they’ve created: a partial globe of gleaming black glass tucked into one of the corners. As if on cue Parker says, “it’s a camera. I’ll be watching, so don’t try anything stupid.”

“Don’t worry Parker, I’ve used up my quota of stupid for the day.” Not my wittiest retort to be sure, but I am starting to think that coming in here was dumber than facing Albert’s goons.

100-Word Challenge, Day 198


Parker marches me back through a metal detector, which the handcuffs set off, so he has to stop and wand me. Finding nothing else he pushes me through a non-descript door off to the side. The room beyond is bright and reminds me of the antiseptic feel of a hospital. The walls are white and slick looking, the floor is a seamless looking white linoleum and the ceiling is much like the walls except for the inset fluorescent lights. All in all it makes me think of a place that could be easily cleaned in case of a mess, like someone accidentally bleeding all over the place.

100-Word Challenge, Day 197


“You are a funny kid,” says the man holding the gun, “but there is not a chance in hell that the gun goes down.” He stares at me, gauging me and what I’ve said. I can see the thoughts rolling through his mind, not literally, though that would certainly make things a lot easier. “Parker, take the funny boy here back to the holding room while I make sure everything here is copacetic.” Another one of the heavily armed men placed a pair of cuffs on me and dragged me back to whatever passed as a prison cell for them.

100-Word Challenge, Day 196


I raise my hand and say, “because the men outside work for Albert and I am more useful to you alive in here than I am dead outside.”

The barrel of the gun eases away from my head and the voice says, “turn around, slowly.”

I do as he says and find the barrel of an oversized revolver pointed straight between my eyes about six inches from my face. “I don’t suppose you would put that down would you?” I ask, not really expecting him to lower it, but I am reaching for something to say that backs up my claims of usefulness.

100-Word Challenge, Day 195


The revolving door suddenly stops moving with an audible click. A half-dozen heavily armed men rush up to the entrance and stare down my would-be assassins. My heart breaks for the people bleeding on the sidewalk, but I can’t help them so I hold it inside.

“Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t shove you out that door and let those men fill you full of holes.” The words are accompanied by the press of cold steel against the back of my head. “Don’t make me start counting.” The voice is deep, but crisp, like the speaker had studied diction in college.