Novel total = 24,052 words
Post total = 898 words
“Yeah, and compare Cobain’s records with yours. The murderer may not switch identities until he must. Too bad you didn’t lock up Goumbi and Strual two nights ago/last night.” She looked at D’pa.
His lavender face betrayed no emotion. “Goumbi is innocent.”
“Can you send us some tickets to the land of denial you’re enjoying so much?” Zy folded her arms and glared back.
“You Agents think you are much smarter than racketeers. I will not fall for your tricks.”
Xeryl shook his head.
“How about sending your people to find Goumbi, if you’re so convinced you’re right?”
D’pa didn’t say anything before stalking out of the house.
His employees were still searching for Goumbi when the coroner came back down the stairs. “Come up, please, D’pa. There needs to be some sort of identification done on this body. Then I can move it to my lab.”
He didn’t look happy, but the Outhern headed up the stairs. Zy raised her eyebrows and looked at Xeryl before heading up behind him. Xeryl followed and Mealte guarded the stairs.
The coroner stood back by the stairs. D’pa stared down at the uncovered Ecanian body with glistening red eyes. “It’s Goumbi. That’s his tattoo.” He touched the tattoo that circled an arm tentacle like a band. “But it can’t be Goumbi, it can’t.”
Zy steeled herself and went to the other side of the bed. The blood splatter fanned out and up from the head of the bed, covering the ceiling, back wall, and floor beside the bed. She avoided looking at the swollen body to focus on where the head should be.
“Let me guess, death due to sudden explosion of the head.” Xeryl leaned his chest against the top of the banister.
“You ruined the surprise.” A part of the skull remained on the rusty pillow. She turned back to the coroner. “Did you find any evidence of where the murderer stood? The one I’m tracking likes to watch.”
The coroner clicked his beak. “No, unfortunately. Do you know how this is done? Fudlack didn’t have any traces of explosives. I’m confident Goumbi won’t either.”
Zy shook her head. “No, I don’t. Possatact and Ifeket didn’t have any explosive traces neither. Cobaine is the anomaly; somebody forced him to shoot himself and then stole the gun. How long do you think Goumbi has been dead?”
“I won’t have anything close to exact until I do the lab work, but I’d guess around a month.”
D’pa looked up from the body. “Goumbi was an imposter for the last month? That’s impossible; no one can impersonate that well for that long! And feet, you said the murderer had feet!”
“Look, I’m the first to admit nothing about this case makes much sense. Maybe he had an accomplice.”
“Strual!”
“Was Strual the Goumbi impersonator?”
“No, the guards had Strual when I questioned Goumbi last night.”
“Then the murderer with the feet must have an Ecanian accomplice. But the only way we’ll know for sure is to catch the murderer. Are ther any other racketeers that he can use Goumbi’s identity to get close enough to kill?”
D’pa focused on Zy’s face, but his eyes were distant. “Goumbi worked for Hiqurguet before working for Fudlack.”
“Thank you for your cooperation, D’pa.” Zy watched as his face twisted as it turned away. “And I am sorry for your loss.” Xeryl offered his arm but Zy ignored it, preferring to walk down the stairs unaided.
The driver of the vehicle stopped in front of Zy’s saucer. Zy, Xeryl, and Mealte climbed out. Zy clutched the viddisk and moved to the ramp. She wanted a shower, a nice safe shower where she could bawl her eyes out without anyone knowing.
Xeryl’s voice stopped her. “Do you want me to come along and smooth things over with Hiqurguet?”
“Is he a bloodthirsty, paranoid, meglomaniac?”
“Not that I’ve noticed from the dealings I’ve had with him.”
“Then no. You go check your organization for who’s missing.”
“I can handle that via a communication link.”
Zy sighed. “Then stay for Goumbi’s autopsy and collect that information for me. This is stuff I need, Xeryl. I’m sorry if you don’t think it’s very exciting.”
Xeryl started to say something, but stopped and shook his head. “Please eat something on the trip. Good luck.” He turned around, climbed into the vehicle, and it drove off.
Mealte stared at Zy. She stormed up the ramp to avoid his large black eyes. “What are you looking at! Let’s go.”
The Personal Journal of IGA Agent Zy
Chapter Seven
After the shower, Zy actually felt hungry. And something smelling delicious was coming from the galley. She followed the circular hallway of the saucer to find Mealte stirring the bubbling pot on the built-in stove. “You cooked?” She inhaled deeply. It smelled like beef stew.
“I consulted Sara on your preferences, Mistress Zy. Is your appetite available?”
“Yeah, I want something to eat.” She tried to get a bowl, but Mealte whisked it away from her. She sat at the small table and was compently served. It was delicious. “Do you garden too?”
Mealte shook his hand in the air. “No, that is not one of my skills.”
“Good, gardening sucks.” She looked up at him standing next to the table. “You can eat with me. I don’t object to you cooking because I burn water, but we don’t have to dirty the galley twice.”
“Thank you, Mistress.” He fixed a bowl and sat in the table’s only other chair. “Do you mind personal questions?”
Wednesday, December 14, 2005
Tuesday, December 13, 2005
Zy's Novel Post 26
Novel total = 23,154 words
Post total = 887 words
Trying to get 6000 words written by December 18th. That means 858 words a day. Exceeded the goal for today, woot!
“Then why is the power shut off? I don’t like it and would prefer to treat it like a hostile location. If that’s okay with you?” He stepped back and Mealte stepped forward. “And I don’t want to hear I can’t go in from you.”
“I cannot presume to tell you what you can and cannot do, Mistress. But I would prefer to go first.” Mealte tucked his hands into his grey sleeves.
“The gun goes in first.” Zy went up the rest of the steps to the door. A trickle of sweat ran down her hairline and grazed her ear. No wonder the locals had cooling units. Ecan beat mercilessly on its second planet. She pressed the door control and it slid open. She gagged.
“What is that smell?” Xeryl stepped up a step.
Mealte inhaled deeply. “Rotting flesh.”
“Do you have to sound so positive about it?” Zy holstered her gun and pulled her breather out of the belt pouch. The smell only lingered in her memory, so she swallowed down her nausea. She stepped into the dark and stifling house. The front door opened directly into a living room of stools and tables. Sunlight filtered through the blinds and dark curtains. The end table nearest the door had a light coating of dust. But it was empty of anyone or anything that could make the smell. Ditto on the kitchen and dining room at the back of the house, and the staircase was in the hallway between the kitchen and the living room.
Mealte moved as close to her as he could without touching. “The smell is stronger up there.” He pointed up the stairs.
“Zy, Zy, wait!” Xeryl tried to keep his voice from carrying as he entered the hall. He held a handkerchief over his mouth and nose. “What if someone is waiting up there?”
“Judging by your expression, he couldn’t have a sense of smell. Otherwise, how could he stand it?”
“How about a breather?”
“The filters eventually need replacing.”
“I meant for me.”
“Sorry, they’re custom-built for my nose.” Zy hoped her expression was sympathetic. She remembered how bad Cobaine’s throne room smelt. “Go back out. Mealte and I can handle this.”
He moved the handkerchief slightly, so she could see the wry smile. “And lose face to D’pa? I’ll never be able to import anything to this planet.”
“Where is D’pa?” Zy looked down the hall toward the living room.
“Waiting outside. He refuses to invade a subordinate he trusts’s home.”
“How noble.” Zy started up the stairs.
“How come you don’t have a problem in here?” Xeryl asked Mealte.
“I have choice over what odors to taste.”
“Handy talent.”
The top of the stairs opened into one large room filling the entire second floor. The bed set against the far left wall had a lumpy mass covered with a blood-stained sheet. “Damn. Xeryl, you better go get the forensic gear from D’pa.”
The Ecanian coroner sat on a wooden stool and clicked his beak. Zy hadn’t had a chance to speak with him since he arrived while D’pa ranted.
“For the last time,” Xeryl sounded weary, “there is no conspiracy. There is a dead body up there that must be dealt with.”
“It is not Goumbi.” D’pa stood in front of the staircase with his arms folded.
“The body hasn’t been identified yet.” Zy gripped the recording-bot. Maybe she should record this bit and keep replaying it to D’pa. “But it’s a virgin crime scene and it needs to be documented before we all go tramping through it.” She resisted the urge to kick him out of the way. “Someone has been murdered; don’t you give a damn?”
The coroner chuckled. “Stop denying the child, D’pa. I’ll do the grunt work if you can’t stand for her to do it.” He twirled his leg tentacles off the four legs of the stool and moved to the group.
“Thank you, sir, but I am a legal adult.” Zy handed the recording-bot to the coroner.
“That may be, Agent, but you’re still young. Only the young get so passionate.” Another arm tentacle picked up the case of forensic gear. D’pa stepped out of his way while keeping a glare fastened on Zy. She sat down on the stool the coroner had left.
Xeryl joined her. “Cheer up, it’s not the end of the universe to be considered young.”
“Oh I’m used to that. I was thinking about footprints.”
“Footprints? What footprints?”
“Exactly. The murderer must have been at the top of the stairs and avoided the blood splatter. Otherwise footprints would be on the stairs.” Zy rubbed her eyes. “Which probably means the weapon has some range.”
“And the killer still got to watch. Do you want to wait outside?”
“I’d rather not be target practice for decapitation by knife-weilding locals that hate outsiders.”
Xeryl found another stool and moved it closer. “Good point.” He pulled his braid over her shoulder and twisted it around his fingers. “Does this still fit your serial killer profile?”
“Depends on who that body is. If it’s Goumbi….”
“It is not Goumbi,” D’pa interjected.
Zy ignored him. “If it’s Goumbi, we may have figured out how he’s getting inside the organizations.”
“So I should go home and find my now missing or dead employee?”
“Yeah, and compare Cobain’s records with yours. The murderer may not switch identities until he must. Too bad you didn’t lock up Goumbi and Strual two nights ago/last night.” She looked at D’pa.
Post total = 887 words
Trying to get 6000 words written by December 18th. That means 858 words a day. Exceeded the goal for today, woot!
“Then why is the power shut off? I don’t like it and would prefer to treat it like a hostile location. If that’s okay with you?” He stepped back and Mealte stepped forward. “And I don’t want to hear I can’t go in from you.”
“I cannot presume to tell you what you can and cannot do, Mistress. But I would prefer to go first.” Mealte tucked his hands into his grey sleeves.
“The gun goes in first.” Zy went up the rest of the steps to the door. A trickle of sweat ran down her hairline and grazed her ear. No wonder the locals had cooling units. Ecan beat mercilessly on its second planet. She pressed the door control and it slid open. She gagged.
“What is that smell?” Xeryl stepped up a step.
Mealte inhaled deeply. “Rotting flesh.”
“Do you have to sound so positive about it?” Zy holstered her gun and pulled her breather out of the belt pouch. The smell only lingered in her memory, so she swallowed down her nausea. She stepped into the dark and stifling house. The front door opened directly into a living room of stools and tables. Sunlight filtered through the blinds and dark curtains. The end table nearest the door had a light coating of dust. But it was empty of anyone or anything that could make the smell. Ditto on the kitchen and dining room at the back of the house, and the staircase was in the hallway between the kitchen and the living room.
Mealte moved as close to her as he could without touching. “The smell is stronger up there.” He pointed up the stairs.
“Zy, Zy, wait!” Xeryl tried to keep his voice from carrying as he entered the hall. He held a handkerchief over his mouth and nose. “What if someone is waiting up there?”
“Judging by your expression, he couldn’t have a sense of smell. Otherwise, how could he stand it?”
“How about a breather?”
“The filters eventually need replacing.”
“I meant for me.”
“Sorry, they’re custom-built for my nose.” Zy hoped her expression was sympathetic. She remembered how bad Cobaine’s throne room smelt. “Go back out. Mealte and I can handle this.”
He moved the handkerchief slightly, so she could see the wry smile. “And lose face to D’pa? I’ll never be able to import anything to this planet.”
“Where is D’pa?” Zy looked down the hall toward the living room.
“Waiting outside. He refuses to invade a subordinate he trusts’s home.”
“How noble.” Zy started up the stairs.
“How come you don’t have a problem in here?” Xeryl asked Mealte.
“I have choice over what odors to taste.”
“Handy talent.”
The top of the stairs opened into one large room filling the entire second floor. The bed set against the far left wall had a lumpy mass covered with a blood-stained sheet. “Damn. Xeryl, you better go get the forensic gear from D’pa.”
The Ecanian coroner sat on a wooden stool and clicked his beak. Zy hadn’t had a chance to speak with him since he arrived while D’pa ranted.
“For the last time,” Xeryl sounded weary, “there is no conspiracy. There is a dead body up there that must be dealt with.”
“It is not Goumbi.” D’pa stood in front of the staircase with his arms folded.
“The body hasn’t been identified yet.” Zy gripped the recording-bot. Maybe she should record this bit and keep replaying it to D’pa. “But it’s a virgin crime scene and it needs to be documented before we all go tramping through it.” She resisted the urge to kick him out of the way. “Someone has been murdered; don’t you give a damn?”
The coroner chuckled. “Stop denying the child, D’pa. I’ll do the grunt work if you can’t stand for her to do it.” He twirled his leg tentacles off the four legs of the stool and moved to the group.
“Thank you, sir, but I am a legal adult.” Zy handed the recording-bot to the coroner.
“That may be, Agent, but you’re still young. Only the young get so passionate.” Another arm tentacle picked up the case of forensic gear. D’pa stepped out of his way while keeping a glare fastened on Zy. She sat down on the stool the coroner had left.
Xeryl joined her. “Cheer up, it’s not the end of the universe to be considered young.”
“Oh I’m used to that. I was thinking about footprints.”
“Footprints? What footprints?”
“Exactly. The murderer must have been at the top of the stairs and avoided the blood splatter. Otherwise footprints would be on the stairs.” Zy rubbed her eyes. “Which probably means the weapon has some range.”
“And the killer still got to watch. Do you want to wait outside?”
“I’d rather not be target practice for decapitation by knife-weilding locals that hate outsiders.”
Xeryl found another stool and moved it closer. “Good point.” He pulled his braid over her shoulder and twisted it around his fingers. “Does this still fit your serial killer profile?”
“Depends on who that body is. If it’s Goumbi….”
“It is not Goumbi,” D’pa interjected.
Zy ignored him. “If it’s Goumbi, we may have figured out how he’s getting inside the organizations.”
“So I should go home and find my now missing or dead employee?”
“Yeah, and compare Cobain’s records with yours. The murderer may not switch identities until he must. Too bad you didn’t lock up Goumbi and Strual two nights ago/last night.” She looked at D’pa.
Monday, December 05, 2005
Zy's Novel Post 25
Novel total =
Post total = 363 words
The vehicle stopped on the dusty street in front of a two story syntha-wood town house. “I do not see the sense in this. Goumbi swore he did not go to Fudlack’s office.” D’pa climbed out of the vehicle and waited for them.
Zy eased out of the vehicle, trying to keep from stretching his stomach muscles. It didn’t stop the bruises from aching. “Look, there are three people singled out as the last who saw Fudlack alive and dead: you, Strual, and Goumbi. You’re all the first suspects.” D’pa’s face darkened but Zy ignored him. “The killer or more accurately whoever watched Fudlack’s head explode had feet.” She pointed down.
D’pa glanced at his feet, and Zy retracted her pointing finger. “Feet, not leg tetacles. I found clear footprints in the blood moving from where he stood to the door. I thought it would be more diplomatic to question Goumbi before swabbing your bathroom for blood residue.”
Xeryl stepped closer, probably to intersect an angry D’pa. “And questioning Goumbi accomplishes what?”
Zy shrugged as she turned her attention to the townhouse’s front door. “Liars are always suspicious when they lie during a murder investigation.” A thick layer of dust coated the steps up to the front door.
D’pa looked up from his feet. “You cannot think I killed Fudlack.”
“Xeryl, explain motive to him.” Zy bent closer to the steps. No footsteps had disturbed this dust recently. She put her foot down on the first step and picked it up with one clear foot print left behind.
Mealte was already at her side when she looked down for him. “The house is too still, has no life.”
Zy looked back at the tarmac street butting up to the dry, sandy ground before the house. How long would it take for it to get blown across the steps and trapped in the corners? That depended on local weather conditions, but something else felt wrong about this place. It didn’t have the same hum as its neighbors. She pulled her gun out of its holster.
Xeryl reached her side. “What are you doing?”
“Something’s wrong. And nobody’s been in or out of here for possibly the last two days.”
“He could have another door.”
“Then why is the power shut off? I don’t like it and would prefer to treat it like a hostile location. If that’s okay with you?” He stepped back and Mealte stepped forward.
Post total = 363 words
The vehicle stopped on the dusty street in front of a two story syntha-wood town house. “I do not see the sense in this. Goumbi swore he did not go to Fudlack’s office.” D’pa climbed out of the vehicle and waited for them.
Zy eased out of the vehicle, trying to keep from stretching his stomach muscles. It didn’t stop the bruises from aching. “Look, there are three people singled out as the last who saw Fudlack alive and dead: you, Strual, and Goumbi. You’re all the first suspects.” D’pa’s face darkened but Zy ignored him. “The killer or more accurately whoever watched Fudlack’s head explode had feet.” She pointed down.
D’pa glanced at his feet, and Zy retracted her pointing finger. “Feet, not leg tetacles. I found clear footprints in the blood moving from where he stood to the door. I thought it would be more diplomatic to question Goumbi before swabbing your bathroom for blood residue.”
Xeryl stepped closer, probably to intersect an angry D’pa. “And questioning Goumbi accomplishes what?”
Zy shrugged as she turned her attention to the townhouse’s front door. “Liars are always suspicious when they lie during a murder investigation.” A thick layer of dust coated the steps up to the front door.
D’pa looked up from his feet. “You cannot think I killed Fudlack.”
“Xeryl, explain motive to him.” Zy bent closer to the steps. No footsteps had disturbed this dust recently. She put her foot down on the first step and picked it up with one clear foot print left behind.
Mealte was already at her side when she looked down for him. “The house is too still, has no life.”
Zy looked back at the tarmac street butting up to the dry, sandy ground before the house. How long would it take for it to get blown across the steps and trapped in the corners? That depended on local weather conditions, but something else felt wrong about this place. It didn’t have the same hum as its neighbors. She pulled her gun out of its holster.
Xeryl reached her side. “What are you doing?”
“Something’s wrong. And nobody’s been in or out of here for possibly the last two days.”
“He could have another door.”
“Then why is the power shut off? I don’t like it and would prefer to treat it like a hostile location. If that’s okay with you?” He stepped back and Mealte stepped forward.
Friday, December 02, 2005
Capt. Kate Short Story Post 4
Story toal = 1174 words
Post total = 698 words
“Adverse to that I am not.” Kate moved the lantern to show her smile. “Mayhaps if Bat had a beauteous voice, he would win more converts. Let’s tell our restless crew.”
“A pretty sight awaits us not with those supersticious curs.” Peadar pushed a cask out of his way and headed to the door.
Jenkin’s grizzled face twisted with a grin as he backed up the steps. Kate moved the lantern in front of her and let Peadar slosh ahead of her. The salty water even under the light was inky. She waded to the stairs and shook the water off her bare feet before climbing to the deck.
Jenkin and Peadar parted at the doorway as Kate emerged on the deck. Nay, t’was not pretty; the crew of adult males crowded around the lone twelve-year-old cabin boy like he was chum and they were the sharks.
“Thou hast doomed us all.” Toby Locke scowled with the unscarred half of his face. He moved ahead of the line of men. “Thou set us on this course.”
Hugh Saunders, the cabin boy, backed up against the wall of the ___________________.
“Where’s the other ship, laddie?” Cut Aldridge snarled. “Why ain’t she broken on these rocks like we are?” The line of men moved level with Toby.
Hugh closed his fists. “I did see the torches on the shp and it passed this way. That’s the course I called out!”
The crew’s muttering grew louder. Bat Pickering’s wavering voice carried over all of them. “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen.” He took a deep breath and started over again. (May need to put in Latin)
Kate passed her lantern to Peadar and marched to Hugh’s side. He looked up at her gratefully as Jenkin and Peadar joined them. “Down you scurvy dogs!” Her hand wrapped around the hilt of her fighting dagger on her belt. “What is done is done. I will nay have anyone on this crew punished for this mishap!”
The crew grew silent and some stepped back. Bat lowered his arms and blinked at the lanterns.
With the crew not looking quite so bloodthirsty, Kate let go of her dagger. “The Master Carpenter can repair the Crimson Lady in the morn. We are going to empty the Lady and set up camp on the island’s beach tonight. The charts and stars had us close to Scotland. Once the fog clears, we can take our position and head to a port in Scotland or Clew Bay in Ireland once the Lady is repaired.”
“But what if this island is Saint Brendan’s isle?” Bat demanded.
“Zounds, Bat, doest thou create these saints out of the ether? Who is Bredan?”
Peadar switched the lantern to his other hand. “T’is a famous tale in Ireland, Captain. He ended up sailing around the world on the back of a giant fish.”
“Aye, what if this island disappears under the waves like a fish?” The hawk-faced man shook his rosary.
“T’is more likely it shall vanish much like the ship we followed.” Toby stroked the scar down the right side of his face.
Kate sighed. Stay on and drown, get off and drown, one did not conquer the sea by being afeared of it. “Master Jenkin, be sure to tie a rope from the Crimson Lady so if this island becomes a giant fish, we may pull her free of the rocks.”
“Aye, Captain. Heave to, you curs! Peadar, get a group started hauling out the cargo in the hold. Toby, Enrique, Wolter, ready the long boats. Everyone else, stowe the deck and their gear!”
The sailors broke apart, muttering and casting suspicious glances at the cabin boy. Kate put her hand on his shoulder. “Come, Hugh, help me pack me cabin.”
“Captain, I did see the torches on the ship.” His pinched face stared up at her.
“Aye, laddie. They saw the lights as well.” That be why they are so upset, she added silently.
Post total = 698 words
“Adverse to that I am not.” Kate moved the lantern to show her smile. “Mayhaps if Bat had a beauteous voice, he would win more converts. Let’s tell our restless crew.”
“A pretty sight awaits us not with those supersticious curs.” Peadar pushed a cask out of his way and headed to the door.
Jenkin’s grizzled face twisted with a grin as he backed up the steps. Kate moved the lantern in front of her and let Peadar slosh ahead of her. The salty water even under the light was inky. She waded to the stairs and shook the water off her bare feet before climbing to the deck.
Jenkin and Peadar parted at the doorway as Kate emerged on the deck. Nay, t’was not pretty; the crew of adult males crowded around the lone twelve-year-old cabin boy like he was chum and they were the sharks.
“Thou hast doomed us all.” Toby Locke scowled with the unscarred half of his face. He moved ahead of the line of men. “Thou set us on this course.”
Hugh Saunders, the cabin boy, backed up against the wall of the ___________________.
“Where’s the other ship, laddie?” Cut Aldridge snarled. “Why ain’t she broken on these rocks like we are?” The line of men moved level with Toby.
Hugh closed his fists. “I did see the torches on the shp and it passed this way. That’s the course I called out!”
The crew’s muttering grew louder. Bat Pickering’s wavering voice carried over all of them. “Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee; blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death. Amen.” He took a deep breath and started over again. (May need to put in Latin)
Kate passed her lantern to Peadar and marched to Hugh’s side. He looked up at her gratefully as Jenkin and Peadar joined them. “Down you scurvy dogs!” Her hand wrapped around the hilt of her fighting dagger on her belt. “What is done is done. I will nay have anyone on this crew punished for this mishap!”
The crew grew silent and some stepped back. Bat lowered his arms and blinked at the lanterns.
With the crew not looking quite so bloodthirsty, Kate let go of her dagger. “The Master Carpenter can repair the Crimson Lady in the morn. We are going to empty the Lady and set up camp on the island’s beach tonight. The charts and stars had us close to Scotland. Once the fog clears, we can take our position and head to a port in Scotland or Clew Bay in Ireland once the Lady is repaired.”
“But what if this island is Saint Brendan’s isle?” Bat demanded.
“Zounds, Bat, doest thou create these saints out of the ether? Who is Bredan?”
Peadar switched the lantern to his other hand. “T’is a famous tale in Ireland, Captain. He ended up sailing around the world on the back of a giant fish.”
“Aye, what if this island disappears under the waves like a fish?” The hawk-faced man shook his rosary.
“T’is more likely it shall vanish much like the ship we followed.” Toby stroked the scar down the right side of his face.
Kate sighed. Stay on and drown, get off and drown, one did not conquer the sea by being afeared of it. “Master Jenkin, be sure to tie a rope from the Crimson Lady so if this island becomes a giant fish, we may pull her free of the rocks.”
“Aye, Captain. Heave to, you curs! Peadar, get a group started hauling out the cargo in the hold. Toby, Enrique, Wolter, ready the long boats. Everyone else, stowe the deck and their gear!”
The sailors broke apart, muttering and casting suspicious glances at the cabin boy. Kate put her hand on his shoulder. “Come, Hugh, help me pack me cabin.”
“Captain, I did see the torches on the ship.” His pinched face stared up at her.
“Aye, laddie. They saw the lights as well.” That be why they are so upset, she added silently.
Thursday, December 01, 2005
Zy's Novel Post 24
Novel total =
Post total = 1239 words
Added to previous posts.
Word box on left—Add to chapter 5
Outherns, humanoids with purple skin and red eyes, developed on Ecan 4 and spread to the other planets in the Ecan system. The Ecanians and Outherns often work together, at least they have been arrested by IGA together.
Ardley P’kins
Sentient Cultures of the Galaxy Third Edition
Add to forensics section
Zy realizes that 3 people entered the bloody room and went to Fudlack’s body on feet. The murderer who left also had feet. Strual has leg tentacles and could not be the killer.
“Insult? You have lousy taste in jewelry is an insult.” Xeryl cringed, but Zy ignored him. “Do we need to have a fight to see who has the bigger balls? Mealte has you outnumbered already. Now sit down and answer my questions so I can find out if your alleged suspect is indeed the one responsible!”
“Strual was the last one to see Fudlack, of course he’s guilty.”
Zy sat down with a smile. “Well, now we’re getting somewhere. Does anybody else know he was the last to see Fudlack?”
D’pa frowned harder. “You’re trying to trick me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Xeryl, why did D’pa call you?”
“I was working on a partnership with Fudlack. He wanted to make sure I would deal with him as head of the organization.” Xeryl remained standing.
“No need to get upset about that. Sit down, you’re going to be uncomfortable standing like that for a while. Now, does anybody else know he was the last to see Fudlack?”
“The bodyguards did.” D’pa pulled his arm out from under his jacket and sat down. Mealte stood up, but remained beside Zy’s chair.
“Did? Why don’t they know anymore?”
“It is possible that they do, but unless you can talk to dead beings, you will not know.”
“The murderer didn’t kill them because you found them still guarding. What happened to them?”
“They were executed for failing Fudlack.”
“Executed! You don’t execute eyewitnesses!”
“Zy,” Xeryl said.
“Did you bother asking them what they had seen before it was off with their heads?”
D’pa folded his arms across his chest. “All they remembered was Strual coming and leaving before I did.”
“What did you do with Strual?”
“He was found while I was dealing with Xeryl. Xeryl told me of the other crimes, and asked that we hold Strual for you. He is under guard.”
“Great, I’ll need to see him next. Can you think of any reason why anyone would want to kill Fudlack?”
“Strual claims innocence.”
“Anybody, not just Strual.”
“There is always death on Ecan 2, but Fudlack was so feared, no one would want to be the attempter of physical death.”
“How many people went into Fudlack’s office after he died?”
“Just myself and the guards.”
Zy stared at D’pa’s red eyes. And just how did he feel as the second-in-command, now the leader of the organization? But that would make this an internal affair, and none of these murders felt like in-fighting. Nobody took over the leadership vacuum left by Cobaine, unless they migrated the whole operation. “Thank you for your coorperation, D’pa. Can I speak with Strual now?”
D’pa led them to a door flanked by two Outherns armed with knives and laser rifles. “Strual is in there.”
“Just two guards?” Zy raised her eyebrows.
D’pa didn’t answer, just entered the code that slid the metal door open. “just knock when you’ve had enough of his whimpering.”
Zy moved past Xeryl and stepped into the room. Mealte practically stepped in her footprints. Xeryl dodged inside before the door slid shut.
“Things will be more interesting on this side.” He said with a grin at her questioning glance.
Zy rolled her eyes with a sigh and turned her attention to the occupant of the room. An Ecanian about three feet tall—much shorter than the others she had seen—perched on a stone stool. His arm tentacles rested on the carved stone table and he kept plaiting and undoing his finger tentacles together. His dun colored skin flaked around his beak and eyes. His leg tentacles dangled from the stool. His course tunic lacked the rich, braided trim of Fudlack’s.
She sat down on the uncushioned stool at the other end of the table. “Hello, Strual. I am IGA Agent Zy. What can you tell me about what happened to Fudlack?”
“I didn’t kill him!” Strual’s finger tentacles hit the table. His beak clicked together a few times before he continued. “D’pa doesn’t believe me. You won’t believe me either. IGA wants to destroy us.”
“I’m not an exterminator. And maybe IGA wouldn’t be so down on you Ecanians if you didn’t slaughter any tourist that happens to land in your system.” Zy propped her elbows on the table and her stomach bruises ached. She sat back up reluctantly. “Now why don’t you start with telling me what happened in your meeting with Fudlack?”
Strual’s beak clicked rapidly.
Zy smirked. “You know, D’pa called you a whiner, but he didn’t warn us you’re stupid.”
“What do you mean?” His arm tentacle dropped down to his waist before bringing it back to the table with a thump.
“Fudlack is dead, D’pa is going to kill you, we’re your chance to save your life, and you won’t tell us anything.” Xeryl leaned against the table beside Zy. “Fair summation of stupidity to me.”
Xeryl must have just the right stance to convince someone like Strual because he finally stopped clicking his beak. “I had an appointment with Fudlack to discuss my last assignment at 20 local hours last night. We talked for half of an hour before Goumbi interrupted us. He insisted I needed to leave, so Fudlack said we would continue our meeting in the morning. I went home. The guards dragged me from bed around 1 local hours. D’pa said I am a liar and I killed Fudlack.”
“Who’s Goumbi?” Zy rested her hands on the table.
Strual waved his finger tentacles. “Low level, but higher than me. I don’t know why Goumbi would not tell him he went to Fudlack’s office. He saved D’pa decapitation, and D’pa blamed the whole incident on me.”
“Really?” Xeryl’s eyes opened wide. “I didn’t realize D’pa could be petty. Whatever did you do?”
Strual wrapped his leg tentacles around the column of stone he sat on. “No, I won’t tell of my shame to outsiders.”
“You would think D’pa would be a lot less eager to prescribe execution if he was almost executed himself,” Zy said.
“But it works so well,” Xeryl answered.
“Did anybody see you go home early?”
“Do you think D’pa would keep me here if anyone did? I only saw the guards.”
“They’re not going to be much help.” Zy bit her bottom lip. A forensic processing of Strual’s home would be the final cinch that he hadn’t gone into the bloody room or been present for Fudlack’s head explosion. But she didn’t want to waste the time. What if Goumbi was getting away? “We better go talk to Goumbi.”
Xeryl looked puzzled but knocked on the door.
The vehicle stopped on the dusty street in front of a two story syntha-wood town house.
“I do not see the sense in this. Goumbi swore he did not go to Fudlack’s office.” D’pa climbed out of the vehicle and waited for them.
Post total = 1239 words
Added to previous posts.
Word box on left—Add to chapter 5
Outherns, humanoids with purple skin and red eyes, developed on Ecan 4 and spread to the other planets in the Ecan system. The Ecanians and Outherns often work together, at least they have been arrested by IGA together.
Ardley P’kins
Sentient Cultures of the Galaxy Third Edition
Add to forensics section
Zy realizes that 3 people entered the bloody room and went to Fudlack’s body on feet. The murderer who left also had feet. Strual has leg tentacles and could not be the killer.
“Insult? You have lousy taste in jewelry is an insult.” Xeryl cringed, but Zy ignored him. “Do we need to have a fight to see who has the bigger balls? Mealte has you outnumbered already. Now sit down and answer my questions so I can find out if your alleged suspect is indeed the one responsible!”
“Strual was the last one to see Fudlack, of course he’s guilty.”
Zy sat down with a smile. “Well, now we’re getting somewhere. Does anybody else know he was the last to see Fudlack?”
D’pa frowned harder. “You’re trying to trick me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Xeryl, why did D’pa call you?”
“I was working on a partnership with Fudlack. He wanted to make sure I would deal with him as head of the organization.” Xeryl remained standing.
“No need to get upset about that. Sit down, you’re going to be uncomfortable standing like that for a while. Now, does anybody else know he was the last to see Fudlack?”
“The bodyguards did.” D’pa pulled his arm out from under his jacket and sat down. Mealte stood up, but remained beside Zy’s chair.
“Did? Why don’t they know anymore?”
“It is possible that they do, but unless you can talk to dead beings, you will not know.”
“The murderer didn’t kill them because you found them still guarding. What happened to them?”
“They were executed for failing Fudlack.”
“Executed! You don’t execute eyewitnesses!”
“Zy,” Xeryl said.
“Did you bother asking them what they had seen before it was off with their heads?”
D’pa folded his arms across his chest. “All they remembered was Strual coming and leaving before I did.”
“What did you do with Strual?”
“He was found while I was dealing with Xeryl. Xeryl told me of the other crimes, and asked that we hold Strual for you. He is under guard.”
“Great, I’ll need to see him next. Can you think of any reason why anyone would want to kill Fudlack?”
“Strual claims innocence.”
“Anybody, not just Strual.”
“There is always death on Ecan 2, but Fudlack was so feared, no one would want to be the attempter of physical death.”
“How many people went into Fudlack’s office after he died?”
“Just myself and the guards.”
Zy stared at D’pa’s red eyes. And just how did he feel as the second-in-command, now the leader of the organization? But that would make this an internal affair, and none of these murders felt like in-fighting. Nobody took over the leadership vacuum left by Cobaine, unless they migrated the whole operation. “Thank you for your coorperation, D’pa. Can I speak with Strual now?”
D’pa led them to a door flanked by two Outherns armed with knives and laser rifles. “Strual is in there.”
“Just two guards?” Zy raised her eyebrows.
D’pa didn’t answer, just entered the code that slid the metal door open. “just knock when you’ve had enough of his whimpering.”
Zy moved past Xeryl and stepped into the room. Mealte practically stepped in her footprints. Xeryl dodged inside before the door slid shut.
“Things will be more interesting on this side.” He said with a grin at her questioning glance.
Zy rolled her eyes with a sigh and turned her attention to the occupant of the room. An Ecanian about three feet tall—much shorter than the others she had seen—perched on a stone stool. His arm tentacles rested on the carved stone table and he kept plaiting and undoing his finger tentacles together. His dun colored skin flaked around his beak and eyes. His leg tentacles dangled from the stool. His course tunic lacked the rich, braided trim of Fudlack’s.
She sat down on the uncushioned stool at the other end of the table. “Hello, Strual. I am IGA Agent Zy. What can you tell me about what happened to Fudlack?”
“I didn’t kill him!” Strual’s finger tentacles hit the table. His beak clicked together a few times before he continued. “D’pa doesn’t believe me. You won’t believe me either. IGA wants to destroy us.”
“I’m not an exterminator. And maybe IGA wouldn’t be so down on you Ecanians if you didn’t slaughter any tourist that happens to land in your system.” Zy propped her elbows on the table and her stomach bruises ached. She sat back up reluctantly. “Now why don’t you start with telling me what happened in your meeting with Fudlack?”
Strual’s beak clicked rapidly.
Zy smirked. “You know, D’pa called you a whiner, but he didn’t warn us you’re stupid.”
“What do you mean?” His arm tentacle dropped down to his waist before bringing it back to the table with a thump.
“Fudlack is dead, D’pa is going to kill you, we’re your chance to save your life, and you won’t tell us anything.” Xeryl leaned against the table beside Zy. “Fair summation of stupidity to me.”
Xeryl must have just the right stance to convince someone like Strual because he finally stopped clicking his beak. “I had an appointment with Fudlack to discuss my last assignment at 20 local hours last night. We talked for half of an hour before Goumbi interrupted us. He insisted I needed to leave, so Fudlack said we would continue our meeting in the morning. I went home. The guards dragged me from bed around 1 local hours. D’pa said I am a liar and I killed Fudlack.”
“Who’s Goumbi?” Zy rested her hands on the table.
Strual waved his finger tentacles. “Low level, but higher than me. I don’t know why Goumbi would not tell him he went to Fudlack’s office. He saved D’pa decapitation, and D’pa blamed the whole incident on me.”
“Really?” Xeryl’s eyes opened wide. “I didn’t realize D’pa could be petty. Whatever did you do?”
Strual wrapped his leg tentacles around the column of stone he sat on. “No, I won’t tell of my shame to outsiders.”
“You would think D’pa would be a lot less eager to prescribe execution if he was almost executed himself,” Zy said.
“But it works so well,” Xeryl answered.
“Did anybody see you go home early?”
“Do you think D’pa would keep me here if anyone did? I only saw the guards.”
“They’re not going to be much help.” Zy bit her bottom lip. A forensic processing of Strual’s home would be the final cinch that he hadn’t gone into the bloody room or been present for Fudlack’s head explosion. But she didn’t want to waste the time. What if Goumbi was getting away? “We better go talk to Goumbi.”
Xeryl looked puzzled but knocked on the door.
The vehicle stopped on the dusty street in front of a two story syntha-wood town house.
“I do not see the sense in this. Goumbi swore he did not go to Fudlack’s office.” D’pa climbed out of the vehicle and waited for them.
Wednesday, November 30, 2005
Zy's Novel Post 23
Novel total =
Post total = 133 words
“Fudlack is dead, D’pa is going to kill you, we’re your chance to save your life, and you won’t tell us anything.” Xeryl leaned against the table beside Zy. “Fair summation of stupidity to me.”
Xeryl must have just the right stance to convince someone like Strual because he finally stopped clicking his beak. “I had an appointment with Fudlack to discuss my last assignment at 20 local hours last night. We talked for half of an hour before Goumbi interrupted us. He insisted I needed to leave, so Fudlack said we would continue our meeting in the morning. I went home. The guards dragged me from bed around 1 local hours. D’pa said I am a liar and I killed Fudlack.”
“Who’s Goumbi?” Zy rested her hands on the table.
Strual waved his finger tentacles. “Low level, but higher than me. He saved D’pa decapitation, and D’pa blamed the whole incident on me. I don’t know why Goumbi would not tell him he went to Fudlack’s office.”
Post total = 133 words
“Fudlack is dead, D’pa is going to kill you, we’re your chance to save your life, and you won’t tell us anything.” Xeryl leaned against the table beside Zy. “Fair summation of stupidity to me.”
Xeryl must have just the right stance to convince someone like Strual because he finally stopped clicking his beak. “I had an appointment with Fudlack to discuss my last assignment at 20 local hours last night. We talked for half of an hour before Goumbi interrupted us. He insisted I needed to leave, so Fudlack said we would continue our meeting in the morning. I went home. The guards dragged me from bed around 1 local hours. D’pa said I am a liar and I killed Fudlack.”
“Who’s Goumbi?” Zy rested her hands on the table.
Strual waved his finger tentacles. “Low level, but higher than me. He saved D’pa decapitation, and D’pa blamed the whole incident on me. I don’t know why Goumbi would not tell him he went to Fudlack’s office.”
Tuesday, November 29, 2005
Zy's Novel Post 22
Novel total =
Post total = 429 words
Word box on left—Add to chapter 5
Outherns, humanoids with purple skin and red eyes, developed on Ecan 4 and spread to the other planets in the Ecan system. The Ecanians and Outherns often work together, at least they have been arrested by IGA together.
Ardley P’kins
Sentient Cultures of the Galaxy Third Edition
D’pa led them to a door flanked by two Outherns armed with knives and laser rifles. “Strual is in there.”
“Just two guards?” Zy raised her eyebrows.
D’pa didn’t answer, just entered the code that slid the metal door open. “just knock when you’ve had enough of his whimpering.”
Zy moved past Xeryl and stepped into the room. Mealte practically stepped in her footprints. Xeryl dodged inside before the door slid shut.
“Things will be more interesting on this side.” He said with a grin at her questioning glance.
Zy rolled her eyes with a sigh and turned her attention to the occupant of the room. An Ecanian about three feet tall—much shorter than the others she had seen—perched on a stone stool. His arm tentacles rested on the carved stone table and he kept plaiting and undoing his finger tentacles together. His dun colored skin flaked around his beak and eyes. His leg tentacles dangled from the stool. His course tunic lacked the rich, braided trim of Fudlack’s.
She sat down on the uncushioned stool at the other end of the table. “Hello, Strual. I am IGA Agent Zy. What can you tell me about what happened to Fudlack?”
“I didn’t kill him!” Strual’s finger tentacles hit the table. His beak clicked together a few times before he continued. “D’pa doesn’t believe me. You won’t believe me either. IGA wants to destroy us.”
“I’m not an exterminator. And maybe IGA wouldn’t be so down on you Ecanians if you didn’t slaughter any tourist that happens to land in your system.” Zy propped her elbows on the table and her stomach bruises ached. She sat back up reluctantly. “Now why don’t you start with telling me what happened in your meeting with Fudlack?”
Strual’s beak clicked rapidly.
Zy smirked. “You know, D’pa called you a whiner, but he didn’t warn us you’re stupid.”
“What do you mean?” His arm tentacle dropped down to his waist before bringing it back to the table with a thump.
“Fudlack is dead, D’pa is going to kill you, we’re your chance to save your life, and you won’t tell us anything.” Xeryl leaned against the table beside Zy. “Fair summation of stupidity to me.”
Post total = 429 words
Word box on left—Add to chapter 5
Outherns, humanoids with purple skin and red eyes, developed on Ecan 4 and spread to the other planets in the Ecan system. The Ecanians and Outherns often work together, at least they have been arrested by IGA together.
Ardley P’kins
Sentient Cultures of the Galaxy Third Edition
D’pa led them to a door flanked by two Outherns armed with knives and laser rifles. “Strual is in there.”
“Just two guards?” Zy raised her eyebrows.
D’pa didn’t answer, just entered the code that slid the metal door open. “just knock when you’ve had enough of his whimpering.”
Zy moved past Xeryl and stepped into the room. Mealte practically stepped in her footprints. Xeryl dodged inside before the door slid shut.
“Things will be more interesting on this side.” He said with a grin at her questioning glance.
Zy rolled her eyes with a sigh and turned her attention to the occupant of the room. An Ecanian about three feet tall—much shorter than the others she had seen—perched on a stone stool. His arm tentacles rested on the carved stone table and he kept plaiting and undoing his finger tentacles together. His dun colored skin flaked around his beak and eyes. His leg tentacles dangled from the stool. His course tunic lacked the rich, braided trim of Fudlack’s.
She sat down on the uncushioned stool at the other end of the table. “Hello, Strual. I am IGA Agent Zy. What can you tell me about what happened to Fudlack?”
“I didn’t kill him!” Strual’s finger tentacles hit the table. His beak clicked together a few times before he continued. “D’pa doesn’t believe me. You won’t believe me either. IGA wants to destroy us.”
“I’m not an exterminator. And maybe IGA wouldn’t be so down on you Ecanians if you didn’t slaughter any tourist that happens to land in your system.” Zy propped her elbows on the table and her stomach bruises ached. She sat back up reluctantly. “Now why don’t you start with telling me what happened in your meeting with Fudlack?”
Strual’s beak clicked rapidly.
Zy smirked. “You know, D’pa called you a whiner, but he didn’t warn us you’re stupid.”
“What do you mean?” His arm tentacle dropped down to his waist before bringing it back to the table with a thump.
“Fudlack is dead, D’pa is going to kill you, we’re your chance to save your life, and you won’t tell us anything.” Xeryl leaned against the table beside Zy. “Fair summation of stupidity to me.”
Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Zy's Novel Post 21
Novel total = 21,013 words
Post total = 812 words
“Do not pretend this is a social occasion.” He set a viddisk on the stone block and sat stiffly in the second chair. The heavy gold medallion swung around his neck. “The coroner’s report.”
“Thank you.” Zy wondered how hard he leaned on the coroner to get an autopsy done so quickly. “I appreciate your cooperation. I just need to know what happened.”
“Fudlack is dead and we are ready to deal with the trespass. What I do not understand is your need to butt into an internal affair.”
Zy took a deep breath to stay calm. “How come your internal affair is involved in the deaths of Possatact, Ifeket, and Cobaine? That doesn’t sound so internal to me.” Xeryl poured himself a drink and moved around D’pa to settle on the couch. Zy didn’t take her attention from D’pa. “Who found Fudlack?”
“I did.”
So he was going to be a pull-it-out-of-me-one-word-at-a-time witness. She didn’t let her face change. “Describe what happened in your own words.”
“Fudlack’s last meeting of the day is always with me. I went to it at 22 local hours and found the room exactly like you saw it, guarded by his bodyguards. I took command and called Xeryl. That was two standard days ago.”
“Yes, he did,” Xeryl added. Zy glanced at him then flicked her eyes back to D’pa. Xeryl shrugged and sipped his drink.
It would derail everything to now bring up the fact that Xeryl should follow Mealte’s lead and keep his mouth shut. “And why did you call Xeryl?”
D’pa jumped to his feet. His pale purple hand reached under his jacket. “I knew this was a trick! You are not interested in Fudlack, you want to destroy us!”
Mealte crouched next to Zy’s chair, ready to launch himself at D’pa.
“My job is to find a murderer.” Zy remained sitting. She clenched her muscles to keep from leaping out of the chair and away from D’pa’s rage.
Xeryl leaped up as well. “Fire and ice! This paranoia is unwarranted!”
His faced darkened and his red eyes glittered. “She is IGA and you found her in your organization. Then the deaths started. How convenient for IGA who wants to puts us all out of business to have a reason to force a way inside. I will not give IGA any knife blade to use against us! We know who killed Fudlack and he will pay. And if the Agent does not leave, she will pay as well!”
Mealte’s stance shifted slightly. Xeryl’s body had stiffened. “What are you talking about, I found her in my organization? I didn’t tell you that.” His voice iced over.
“We have other outside sources of information besides you.”
“Sit down both of you!” Zy took a deep breath. “I’m here to find a murderer. If you can’t answer my questions without incriminating yourself in other criminal activities that I’m not investigating, you’re not ready to be a racketeer in the major leagues!”
“How dare you!”
She surged up with fists balled. “Sit down before you find your own head on a pole!”
“I could kill you for that insult!”
“Insult? You have lousy taste in jewelry is an insult.” Xeryl cringed, but Zy ignored him. “Do we need to have a fight to see who has the bigger balls? Mealte has you outnumbered already. Now sit down and answer my questions so I can find out if your alleged suspect is indeed the one responsible!”
“Strual was the last one to see Fudlack, of course he’s guilty.”
Zy sat down with a smile. “Well, now we’re getting somewhere. Does anybody else know he was the last to see Fudlack?”
D’pa frowned harder. “You’re trying to trick me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Xeryl, why did D’pa call you?”
“I was working on a partnership with Fudlack. He wanted to make sure I would deal with him as head of the organization.” Xeryl remained standing.
“No need to get upset about that. Sit down, you’re going to be uncomfortable standing like that for a while. Now, does anybody else know he was the last to see Fudlack?”
“The bodyguards did.” D’pa pulled his arm out from under his jacket and sat down. Mealte stood up, but remained beside Zy’s chair.
“Did? Why don’t they know anymore?”
“It is possible that they do, but unless you can talk to dead beings, you will not know.”
“The murderer didn’t kill them because you found them still guarding. What happened to them?”
“They were executed for failing Fudlack.”
“Executed! You don’t execute eyewitnesses!”
“Zy,” Xeryl said.
“Did you bother asking them what they had seen before it was off with their heads?”
D’pa folded his arms across his chest. “All they remembered was Strual coming and leaving before I did.”
“What did you do with Strual?”
“He was found while I was dealing with Xeryl. Xeryl told me of the other crimes, and asked that we hold Strual for you. He is under guard.”
“Great, I’ll need to see him next. Can you think of any reason why anyone would want to kill Fudlack?”
“Strual claims innocence.”
“Anybody, not just Strual.”
“There is always death on Ecan 2, but Fudlack was so feared, no one would want to be the attempter of physical death.”
Zy stared at D’pa’s red eyes. And just how did he feel as the second-in-command, now the leader of the organization? But that would make this an internal affair, and none of these murders felt like in-fighting. Nobody took over the leadership vacuum left by Cobaine, unless they migrated the whole operation. “Thank you for your coorperation, D’pa. Can I speak with Strual now?”
Post total = 812 words
“Do not pretend this is a social occasion.” He set a viddisk on the stone block and sat stiffly in the second chair. The heavy gold medallion swung around his neck. “The coroner’s report.”
“Thank you.” Zy wondered how hard he leaned on the coroner to get an autopsy done so quickly. “I appreciate your cooperation. I just need to know what happened.”
“Fudlack is dead and we are ready to deal with the trespass. What I do not understand is your need to butt into an internal affair.”
Zy took a deep breath to stay calm. “How come your internal affair is involved in the deaths of Possatact, Ifeket, and Cobaine? That doesn’t sound so internal to me.” Xeryl poured himself a drink and moved around D’pa to settle on the couch. Zy didn’t take her attention from D’pa. “Who found Fudlack?”
“I did.”
So he was going to be a pull-it-out-of-me-one-word-at-a-time witness. She didn’t let her face change. “Describe what happened in your own words.”
“Fudlack’s last meeting of the day is always with me. I went to it at 22 local hours and found the room exactly like you saw it, guarded by his bodyguards. I took command and called Xeryl. That was two standard days ago.”
“Yes, he did,” Xeryl added. Zy glanced at him then flicked her eyes back to D’pa. Xeryl shrugged and sipped his drink.
It would derail everything to now bring up the fact that Xeryl should follow Mealte’s lead and keep his mouth shut. “And why did you call Xeryl?”
D’pa jumped to his feet. His pale purple hand reached under his jacket. “I knew this was a trick! You are not interested in Fudlack, you want to destroy us!”
Mealte crouched next to Zy’s chair, ready to launch himself at D’pa.
“My job is to find a murderer.” Zy remained sitting. She clenched her muscles to keep from leaping out of the chair and away from D’pa’s rage.
Xeryl leaped up as well. “Fire and ice! This paranoia is unwarranted!”
His faced darkened and his red eyes glittered. “She is IGA and you found her in your organization. Then the deaths started. How convenient for IGA who wants to puts us all out of business to have a reason to force a way inside. I will not give IGA any knife blade to use against us! We know who killed Fudlack and he will pay. And if the Agent does not leave, she will pay as well!”
Mealte’s stance shifted slightly. Xeryl’s body had stiffened. “What are you talking about, I found her in my organization? I didn’t tell you that.” His voice iced over.
“We have other outside sources of information besides you.”
“Sit down both of you!” Zy took a deep breath. “I’m here to find a murderer. If you can’t answer my questions without incriminating yourself in other criminal activities that I’m not investigating, you’re not ready to be a racketeer in the major leagues!”
“How dare you!”
She surged up with fists balled. “Sit down before you find your own head on a pole!”
“I could kill you for that insult!”
“Insult? You have lousy taste in jewelry is an insult.” Xeryl cringed, but Zy ignored him. “Do we need to have a fight to see who has the bigger balls? Mealte has you outnumbered already. Now sit down and answer my questions so I can find out if your alleged suspect is indeed the one responsible!”
“Strual was the last one to see Fudlack, of course he’s guilty.”
Zy sat down with a smile. “Well, now we’re getting somewhere. Does anybody else know he was the last to see Fudlack?”
D’pa frowned harder. “You’re trying to trick me.”
She rolled her eyes. “Xeryl, why did D’pa call you?”
“I was working on a partnership with Fudlack. He wanted to make sure I would deal with him as head of the organization.” Xeryl remained standing.
“No need to get upset about that. Sit down, you’re going to be uncomfortable standing like that for a while. Now, does anybody else know he was the last to see Fudlack?”
“The bodyguards did.” D’pa pulled his arm out from under his jacket and sat down. Mealte stood up, but remained beside Zy’s chair.
“Did? Why don’t they know anymore?”
“It is possible that they do, but unless you can talk to dead beings, you will not know.”
“The murderer didn’t kill them because you found them still guarding. What happened to them?”
“They were executed for failing Fudlack.”
“Executed! You don’t execute eyewitnesses!”
“Zy,” Xeryl said.
“Did you bother asking them what they had seen before it was off with their heads?”
D’pa folded his arms across his chest. “All they remembered was Strual coming and leaving before I did.”
“What did you do with Strual?”
“He was found while I was dealing with Xeryl. Xeryl told me of the other crimes, and asked that we hold Strual for you. He is under guard.”
“Great, I’ll need to see him next. Can you think of any reason why anyone would want to kill Fudlack?”
“Strual claims innocence.”
“Anybody, not just Strual.”
“There is always death on Ecan 2, but Fudlack was so feared, no one would want to be the attempter of physical death.”
Zy stared at D’pa’s red eyes. And just how did he feel as the second-in-command, now the leader of the organization? But that would make this an internal affair, and none of these murders felt like in-fighting. Nobody took over the leadership vacuum left by Cobaine, unless they migrated the whole operation. “Thank you for your coorperation, D’pa. Can I speak with Strual now?”
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Zy's Novel Post 20
Novel total = 20,201
Post total = 474
“Did you forget to ask for his resume when you obtain his services?” Xeryl carried his glass to the sink. He had his back to her dirty look. “D’pa is coming here.”
She closed her eyes to fight the urge to glare at Xeryl. “What skills, Mealte?” She opened them and focused on his grey forehead.
“I have training in giving pain. Not all beings respond the same way, but enough do to make it effective. Master Cobaine used my skills sporadically.” He folded his arms over his chest.
“Training? Pain? Are you talking about torture?”
“I think that’s exactly what he’s talking about.” Xeryl stood at the edge of the bar. “I don’t have to explain to you what an appalling mistake that would be.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything!” Zy took a deep breath while shaking her head. “No, we just ask beings questions and maybe threaten them with legal action, but we can’t hurt them.”
“Master Cobaine…” Mealte tilted his head to the left.
“I don’t care what Master Cobaine did. He was a criminal. IGA doesn’t torture.”
“That depends on who you ask,” Xeryl said. “Those prisons…” His voice trailed off when she hit him with her glare.
“I don’t use torture.” She said it slowly, making sure the glare punctuated each word. “The beings in IGA prisons committed crimes against other beings in the galaxy. I’m not a criminal. Mealte, those skills will not be necessary.”
Mealte brought his teeth together twice. “Yes, Mistress Zy.”
“Okay then, let’s get ready for D’pa.” Zy moved to the living room portion of the room. The heavy stone couch and chairs weren’t budging, but luckily they had been set up flanking a stone block coffee table height. Zy perched on the cushions of the chair facing the main door of the suite. Mealte followed and stood behind the chair.
Xeryl shrugged. “Am I to play host? I offered Murdock and you drinks, but otherwise I’ve never been part of an IGA interrogation. I don’t know what the protocol is.”
“Will drinks mellow D’pa?”
“Can you breathe in the vacuum of space?”
“Then we’ll just do whatever doesn’t piss him off. But let me ask the questions.”
“And what if that upsets him?” The door alert chimed. Xeryl opened the door. “Hello, D’pa, would you like a drink?”
“Do not pretend this is a social occasion.” He set a viddisk on the stone block and sat stiffly in the second chair. “The coroner’s report.”
“Thank you.” Zy wondered how hard he leaned on the coroner to get an autopsy done so quickly. “I appreciate your cooperation. I just need to know what happened.”
“Fudlack is dead and we are ready to deal with the trespass. What I do not understand is your need to butt into an internal affair.”
Zy took a deep breath to stay calm. “How come your internal affair is involved in the deaths of Possatact, Ifeket, and Cobaine? That doesn’t sound so internal to me.” Xeryl poured himself a drink and moved around D’pa to settle on the couch. Zy didn’t take her attention from D’pa. “Who found Fudlack?”
“I did.”
Post total = 474
“Did you forget to ask for his resume when you obtain his services?” Xeryl carried his glass to the sink. He had his back to her dirty look. “D’pa is coming here.”
She closed her eyes to fight the urge to glare at Xeryl. “What skills, Mealte?” She opened them and focused on his grey forehead.
“I have training in giving pain. Not all beings respond the same way, but enough do to make it effective. Master Cobaine used my skills sporadically.” He folded his arms over his chest.
“Training? Pain? Are you talking about torture?”
“I think that’s exactly what he’s talking about.” Xeryl stood at the edge of the bar. “I don’t have to explain to you what an appalling mistake that would be.”
“You don’t have to tell me anything!” Zy took a deep breath while shaking her head. “No, we just ask beings questions and maybe threaten them with legal action, but we can’t hurt them.”
“Master Cobaine…” Mealte tilted his head to the left.
“I don’t care what Master Cobaine did. He was a criminal. IGA doesn’t torture.”
“That depends on who you ask,” Xeryl said. “Those prisons…” His voice trailed off when she hit him with her glare.
“I don’t use torture.” She said it slowly, making sure the glare punctuated each word. “The beings in IGA prisons committed crimes against other beings in the galaxy. I’m not a criminal. Mealte, those skills will not be necessary.”
Mealte brought his teeth together twice. “Yes, Mistress Zy.”
“Okay then, let’s get ready for D’pa.” Zy moved to the living room portion of the room. The heavy stone couch and chairs weren’t budging, but luckily they had been set up flanking a stone block coffee table height. Zy perched on the cushions of the chair facing the main door of the suite. Mealte followed and stood behind the chair.
Xeryl shrugged. “Am I to play host? I offered Murdock and you drinks, but otherwise I’ve never been part of an IGA interrogation. I don’t know what the protocol is.”
“Will drinks mellow D’pa?”
“Can you breathe in the vacuum of space?”
“Then we’ll just do whatever doesn’t piss him off. But let me ask the questions.”
“And what if that upsets him?” The door alert chimed. Xeryl opened the door. “Hello, D’pa, would you like a drink?”
“Do not pretend this is a social occasion.” He set a viddisk on the stone block and sat stiffly in the second chair. “The coroner’s report.”
“Thank you.” Zy wondered how hard he leaned on the coroner to get an autopsy done so quickly. “I appreciate your cooperation. I just need to know what happened.”
“Fudlack is dead and we are ready to deal with the trespass. What I do not understand is your need to butt into an internal affair.”
Zy took a deep breath to stay calm. “How come your internal affair is involved in the deaths of Possatact, Ifeket, and Cobaine? That doesn’t sound so internal to me.” Xeryl poured himself a drink and moved around D’pa to settle on the couch. Zy didn’t take her attention from D’pa. “Who found Fudlack?”
“I did.”
Wednesday, November 16, 2005
The Blue Man Post 14
Seeing if I can post the Zokutou Word Meter here.
Well, it works, but viewed with IE at work I've got borders where I shouldn't have borders. The bright blue is the new stuff added after completion of the first draft.
| |
7,419 / 7,500 (98.0%) |
Well, it works, but viewed with IE at work I've got borders where I shouldn't have borders. The bright blue is the new stuff added after completion of the first draft.
Friday, November 11, 2005
Capt. Kate Short Story Post 3
Story total = 562 words
Post total = 562 words
Yes, some of this is familiar to those who read the previous two posts. I finally got the two tied together.
Kate Roberts stared at the stone thurst into the splintered wood. The salt water had already filled the hold ankle-deep. Empty casks eased free from their ropes and nets to bob. The latern light was too feeble from the stairwell. Had the Crimson Lady been struck a fatal blow?
There comes a regularity with being cursed. Course, Kate didn’t feel she was cursed. It mattered not that others added Storm-blown to her given name simply because every ship she had floundered and was lost in the storm. She never lost any crew, by God’s teeth, save for the fools who could not follow orders in a crisis. Those were hardly sailors one desired come what may. Due to that fortunuous circumstance of her life, she had never expected her ship to run aground, no matter how foggy the night.
She moved forward into the hold, lifting the lantern above her head.The second lantern was held by Jenkin Hopwood, the Quartermaster, at the foot of the stairs into the hold. Peadar Macartan, the ship’s Carpenter, sloshed along beside her until they reached the rift. Yet, here it had happened while following the torches of another ship that had vanished.
The waves pushed more seawater in, but it sprayed into the hold instead of pouring. She stopped and let Peadar move closer to the damage. The Crimson Lady’s hull creaked around them, but the wood wasn’t screaming its death keel. “I think we can repair the good lady. What say thou?”
“Aye, Captain.” Peadar pressed against the rock and inched closer to the wood. “T’is not a large hole, but we need to get her out of the water. She be needing a careening also, provided there be a harbor fit for it.” He straightened and wiped the water spray from his brown beard.
“And if the harbor is not fit, what then?” Jenkin braced himself against the wall of the stairs.
“I can patch her in the water if you can man the pumps. There do be a beach that has not vanished. You can hear the waves crashing on the shore.”
Kate frowned, not that either of the men saw her in the shadows of the hold. How loose were the crew’s collective tongues over the ship that they had followed into this bay? “Counsel, Master Carpenter and Quartermaster, let’s not make this crew even more uneasy over a little hole in the ship. Do you wish to start repairs tonight?”
Peadar shook his head. “By lantern light with the clumsy sots that must assist me? Nay, this job be best by daylight. We must wait till morn.”
“I would prefer to meet the dawn with me boots on the beach.” Jenkin leaned further into the hold from the stairs. “And making camp would give the men something to do besides listening to Bat’s rosary.”
“Adverse to that I am not.” Kate moved the lantern to show her smile. “Mayhaps if Bat had a beauteous voice, he would win more converts. Let’s tell our restless crew.”
Jenkin’s grizzled face twisted with a grin as he backed up the steps. Kate moved the lantern in front of her and let Peadar slosh ahead of her. The salty water even under the light was inky. She waded to the stairs and shook the water off her bare feet before climbing to the deck.
Post total = 562 words
Yes, some of this is familiar to those who read the previous two posts. I finally got the two tied together.
Kate Roberts stared at the stone thurst into the splintered wood. The salt water had already filled the hold ankle-deep. Empty casks eased free from their ropes and nets to bob. The latern light was too feeble from the stairwell. Had the Crimson Lady been struck a fatal blow?
There comes a regularity with being cursed. Course, Kate didn’t feel she was cursed. It mattered not that others added Storm-blown to her given name simply because every ship she had floundered and was lost in the storm. She never lost any crew, by God’s teeth, save for the fools who could not follow orders in a crisis. Those were hardly sailors one desired come what may. Due to that fortunuous circumstance of her life, she had never expected her ship to run aground, no matter how foggy the night.
She moved forward into the hold, lifting the lantern above her head.The second lantern was held by Jenkin Hopwood, the Quartermaster, at the foot of the stairs into the hold. Peadar Macartan, the ship’s Carpenter, sloshed along beside her until they reached the rift. Yet, here it had happened while following the torches of another ship that had vanished.
The waves pushed more seawater in, but it sprayed into the hold instead of pouring. She stopped and let Peadar move closer to the damage. The Crimson Lady’s hull creaked around them, but the wood wasn’t screaming its death keel. “I think we can repair the good lady. What say thou?”
“Aye, Captain.” Peadar pressed against the rock and inched closer to the wood. “T’is not a large hole, but we need to get her out of the water. She be needing a careening also, provided there be a harbor fit for it.” He straightened and wiped the water spray from his brown beard.
“And if the harbor is not fit, what then?” Jenkin braced himself against the wall of the stairs.
“I can patch her in the water if you can man the pumps. There do be a beach that has not vanished. You can hear the waves crashing on the shore.”
Kate frowned, not that either of the men saw her in the shadows of the hold. How loose were the crew’s collective tongues over the ship that they had followed into this bay? “Counsel, Master Carpenter and Quartermaster, let’s not make this crew even more uneasy over a little hole in the ship. Do you wish to start repairs tonight?”
Peadar shook his head. “By lantern light with the clumsy sots that must assist me? Nay, this job be best by daylight. We must wait till morn.”
“I would prefer to meet the dawn with me boots on the beach.” Jenkin leaned further into the hold from the stairs. “And making camp would give the men something to do besides listening to Bat’s rosary.”
“Adverse to that I am not.” Kate moved the lantern to show her smile. “Mayhaps if Bat had a beauteous voice, he would win more converts. Let’s tell our restless crew.”
Jenkin’s grizzled face twisted with a grin as he backed up the steps. Kate moved the lantern in front of her and let Peadar slosh ahead of her. The salty water even under the light was inky. She waded to the stairs and shook the water off her bare feet before climbing to the deck.
Wednesday, November 09, 2005
The Blue Man Post 13
In the process of editing.
The Blue Man on the Porch
“Still not back.” Cyndia dropped The Whitechapel Horror onto the couch. She stretched as she moved toward the kitchen, and glanced toward the front door.
A blue man with a butcher knife locked eyes with her. Cyndia lunged for the rusty shotgun her foster mother kept in the umbrella stand next to the door. She rammed it against her shoulder.
The blue man had disappeared from the front door window.
Her chewing gum cemented in her mouth. The back door was locked; she always locked up when at the house alone. She moved to the back of the living room. She could see both the front door, down the hall to the bedrooms, and the archway to the kitchen, and could jump out the window if necessary. The cordless phone sat on the end table until she grabbed it.
“911. Please state the nature of your emergency.”
“There’s an intruder outside the house. He had a knife.” Cyndia took a deep breath and leaned her back against the wall. She answered the operator’s questions while balancing the shotgun on her shoulder. “I’m here alone. I looked out the front door and saw him through the window. Big knife, butcher knife. Look, I’m just seventeen. My foster mother went out to a bingo game. Can you give the cops a code word? Well, I don’t want to open the door for the guy with the knife pretending to be a cop. Okay, I can remember that. There are three entrances, the front door, the patio door, and the back door through the garage. All doors locked, but the garage is open. My foster mother isn’t back yet. My name is Cyndia Taeurs. He was blue. No ma’am, not wearing blue, his skin was blue. It could have been make-up.”
The operator told her to stay on the line. She thought she could hear computer keys clacking on the other end. “How long should it take for them to get here? I mean I know the guy’s not in the house with me.”
“It shouldn’t be long now. Dispatch says there’s a unit in the area. Let’s verify your address.”
Cyndia sighed and rattled off the street name and number. Her right bicep trembled with keeping the shotgun up, and her neck was going to be permanently bent toward her left shoulder. Blue lights flashed from outside. Voices came up to the front porch and then moved back. What gives? Why didn’t they come up to the door?
The operator was still on the line when there was knocking at the back door. She eased into the kitchen, keeping her back toward a wall.
“Miss Taeurs? It’s the police. Cagney and Lacey.”
Dispatch must have had fun with the code word judging by his polite but resigned voice. “The police are here.” She ended the call and opened the back door. Two uniformed officers had their guns drawn. Cyndia pointed the shotgun at the floor. “It’s not loaded.”
“Are you injured?” The younger officer with sympathetic blue eyes asked.
“No, I’m fine.”
The two officers glanced at each other. “Hilden, you better trace that blood trail.” His partner nodded and headed back out through the garage. “Show me where you saw the intruder.” He holstered his gun.
Cyndia led him into the living room. “I was reading on the couch. I got up and saw him at the front door. Grabbed empty shotgun and he was gone. I backed away and called 911, Officer?”
“Peterson. Did you notice if he was bleeding?”
“No, but I only saw waist up. He was blue and had a butcher knife. You found blood out there?”
Officer Peterson frowned. “What do you mean he was blue?”
“His face was blue.”
“A mask?”
“No, his skin was blue.” Cyndia pressed against the door window to see the blood they had seen. The houses across the street had opened up and their adult occupants started huddling and edging closer to the Baton’s yard. “Oh, the neighbors are coming over. Do you need to put up the yellow tape?”
Officer Peterson said something under his breath. “I need to find out where the blood came from.” He moved back through the kitchen and through the garage. Cyndia dumped the shotgun into a umbrella stand and followed him. “Miss Taeurs, you stay here.”
“The hell I am. What if that guy decides to circle around and come through the patio? Besides, I know the crime scene rules: don’t touch anything, don’t touch anything, don’t touch anything.”
Hilden stood at the end of the driveway address the gathering crowd. “Look, ladies and gentlemen, stay back and let us do our jobs. Just keep out of the yards.” They made some baffled statements, but didn’t move closer to the sidewalk. Hilden moved back up the driveway. “There’s a footprint in the flowerbed, and more blood drops across the driveway.” He pointed to dark spots on the pavement that glistened in the garage light. “I got that far before the onlookers arrived.” A roll of thunder punctuated the statement. “And now the weather.”
“First that weird plane crash, now this.” Peterson shook his head. He walked toward the porch and looked down at the trampled daylily. “Geez, what kind of shoes was this perp wearing?”
Cyndia moved closer. What she could make out in the black potting soil reminded her of a duck’s foot. Swimming fins would be longer. The wind gusted. “You better pour the plaster soon. I think it’s going to rain.”
This time Peterson didn’t bother muttering the swear word. “We don’t have plaster. Forensics has plaster.”
That was a dumb move. Regular cops should have something to protect evidence that will wash away. Cyndia trotted into the garage and scanned the storage shelves. The long plastic box holding Christmas ornaments looked wide enough. Eyes and brains might solve the crime, but you had to have admissible evidence for court. And Forensics always gets to the scene after everybody else.
The boxes of ornaments tumbled onto the concrete floor. A swipe with the hem of her T-shirt made sure she wasn’t transferring any debris. Then she presented the plastic box to Peterson. “This should cover the footprint.”
“Resourceful, aren’t you?” He carefully set the translucent box over the portion of the flowerbed. Some of the neighbors had moved up the Millers’ driveway to see what they were doing. Hilden trotted over to intercept them with his head bent looking at the ground.
“If you can’t roll with the punches, you wind up dead.”
Screams turned everyone’s head to a nearly identical house one lot over.
“Hell, now what!” Peterson ran toward the screams. “Hilden, keep them there!” He pushed around the bewildered group in the Millers’ driveway.
Cyndia ran after Peterson, ducking past Hilden trying to keep the street crowd from going up the driveway and sidewalk to the front door. The Millers’ front door was open, and Mrs. Gregory stood on the threshold screaming. Peterson pulled her out onto the cement walkway and stood where Mrs. Gregory had as he pulled his gun. His other hand grabbed the walkie-talkie clipped to his shoulder. “Dispatch, looks like a 187 next door. Two bodies visible. Alert homicide and send more backup.”
Mrs. Gregory sobbed now, collapsing against Cyndia. Red was splattered on the golden-yellow walls. Mr. Miller lay in front of the door on his stomach. A puddle of blood spread over the ceramic tile right inside the door. Mrs. Miller sat on the couch, her head bent over the back with her chin pointing at the ceiling. Cyndia loosely wrapped her arms around Mrs. Gregory.
“How many people live here?” Peterson still hadn’t holstered his gun.
“They … they have three kids.”
“Stay here and don’t touch anything.” He stepped into the house, avoiding the blood and the body.
Cyndia hugged Mrs. Gregory tighter. The older woman showed no signs of stopping, and the shoulder of Cynthia’s T-shirt was already soaked. She frowned watching Peterson step around bloodstains on the carpet. Stains that looked the same as the footprint in the flowerbed.
“Still not back.” Cyndia dropped The Whitechapel Horror onto the couch. She stretched as she moved toward the kitchen, and glanced toward the front door.
A blue man with a butcher knife locked eyes with her. Cyndia lunged for the rusty shotgun her foster mother kept in the umbrella stand next to the door. She rammed it against her shoulder.
The blue man had disappeared from the front door window.
Her chewing gum cemented in her mouth. The back door was locked; she always locked up when at the house alone. She moved to the back of the living room. She could see both the front door, down the hall to the bedrooms, and the archway to the kitchen, and could jump out the window if necessary. The cordless phone sat on the end table until she grabbed it.
“911. Please state the nature of your emergency.”
“There’s an intruder outside the house. He had a knife.” Cyndia took a deep breath and leaned her back against the wall. She answered the operator’s questions while balancing the shotgun on her shoulder. “I’m here alone. I looked out the front door and saw him through the window. Big knife, butcher knife. Look, I’m just seventeen. My foster mother went out to a bingo game. Can you give the cops a code word? Well, I don’t want to open the door for the guy with the knife pretending to be a cop. Okay, I can remember that. There are three entrances, the front door, the patio door, and the back door through the garage. All doors locked, but the garage is open. My foster mother isn’t back yet. My name is Cyndia Taeurs. He was blue. No ma’am, not wearing blue, his skin was blue. It could have been make-up.”
The operator told her to stay on the line. She thought she could hear computer keys clacking on the other end. “How long should it take for them to get here? I mean I know the guy’s not in the house with me.”
“It shouldn’t be long now. Dispatch says there’s a unit in the area. Let’s verify your address.”
Cyndia sighed and rattled off the street name and number. Her right bicep trembled with keeping the shotgun up, and her neck was going to be permanently bent toward her left shoulder. Blue lights flashed from outside. Voices came up to the front porch and then moved back. What gives? Why didn’t they come up to the door?
The operator was still on the line when there was knocking at the back door. She eased into the kitchen, keeping her back toward a wall.
“Miss Taeurs? It’s the police. Cagney and Lacey.”
Dispatch must have had fun with the code word judging by his polite but resigned voice. “The police are here.” She ended the call and opened the back door. Two uniformed officers had their guns drawn. Cyndia pointed the shotgun at the floor. “It’s not loaded.”
“Are you injured?” The younger officer with sympathetic blue eyes asked.
“No, I’m fine.”
The two officers glanced at each other. “Hilden, you better trace that blood trail.” His partner nodded and headed back out through the garage. “Show me where you saw the intruder.” He holstered his gun.
Cyndia led him into the living room. “I was reading on the couch. I got up and saw him at the front door. Grabbed empty shotgun and he was gone. I backed away and called 911, Officer?”
“Peterson. Did you notice if he was bleeding?”
“No, but I only saw waist up. He was blue and had a butcher knife. You found blood out there?”
Officer Peterson frowned. “What do you mean he was blue?”
“His face was blue.”
“A mask?”
“No, his skin was blue.” Cyndia pressed against the door window to see the blood they had seen. The houses across the street had opened up and their adult occupants started huddling and edging closer to the Baton’s yard. “Oh, the neighbors are coming over. Do you need to put up the yellow tape?”
Officer Peterson said something under his breath. “I need to find out where the blood came from.” He moved back through the kitchen and through the garage. Cyndia dumped the shotgun into a umbrella stand and followed him. “Miss Taeurs, you stay here.”
“The hell I am. What if that guy decides to circle around and come through the patio? Besides, I know the crime scene rules: don’t touch anything, don’t touch anything, don’t touch anything.”
Hilden stood at the end of the driveway address the gathering crowd. “Look, ladies and gentlemen, stay back and let us do our jobs. Just keep out of the yards.” They made some baffled statements, but didn’t move closer to the sidewalk. Hilden moved back up the driveway. “There’s a footprint in the flowerbed, and more blood drops across the driveway.” He pointed to dark spots on the pavement that glistened in the garage light. “I got that far before the onlookers arrived.” A roll of thunder punctuated the statement. “And now the weather.”
“First that weird plane crash, now this.” Peterson shook his head. He walked toward the porch and looked down at the trampled daylily. “Geez, what kind of shoes was this perp wearing?”
Cyndia moved closer. What she could make out in the black potting soil reminded her of a duck’s foot. Swimming fins would be longer. The wind gusted. “You better pour the plaster soon. I think it’s going to rain.”
This time Peterson didn’t bother muttering the swear word. “We don’t have plaster. Forensics has plaster.”
That was a dumb move. Regular cops should have something to protect evidence that will wash away. Cyndia trotted into the garage and scanned the storage shelves. The long plastic box holding Christmas ornaments looked wide enough. Eyes and brains might solve the crime, but you had to have admissible evidence for court. And Forensics always gets to the scene after everybody else.
The boxes of ornaments tumbled onto the concrete floor. A swipe with the hem of her T-shirt made sure she wasn’t transferring any debris. Then she presented the plastic box to Peterson. “This should cover the footprint.”
“Resourceful, aren’t you?” He carefully set the translucent box over the portion of the flowerbed. Some of the neighbors had moved up the Millers’ driveway to see what they were doing. Hilden trotted over to intercept them with his head bent looking at the ground.
“If you can’t roll with the punches, you wind up dead.”
Screams turned everyone’s head to a nearly identical house one lot over.
“Hell, now what!” Peterson ran toward the screams. “Hilden, keep them there!” He pushed around the bewildered group in the Millers’ driveway.
Cyndia ran after Peterson, ducking past Hilden trying to keep the street crowd from going up the driveway and sidewalk to the front door. The Millers’ front door was open, and Mrs. Gregory stood on the threshold screaming. Peterson pulled her out onto the cement walkway and stood where Mrs. Gregory had as he pulled his gun. His other hand grabbed the walkie-talkie clipped to his shoulder. “Dispatch, looks like a 187 next door. Two bodies visible. Alert homicide and send more backup.”
Mrs. Gregory sobbed now, collapsing against Cyndia. Red was splattered on the golden-yellow walls. Mr. Miller lay in front of the door on his stomach. A puddle of blood spread over the ceramic tile right inside the door. Mrs. Miller sat on the couch, her head bent over the back with her chin pointing at the ceiling. Cyndia loosely wrapped her arms around Mrs. Gregory.
“How many people live here?” Peterson still hadn’t holstered his gun.
“They … they have three kids.”
“Stay here and don’t touch anything.” He stepped into the house, avoiding the blood and the body.
Cyndia hugged Mrs. Gregory tighter. The older woman showed no signs of stopping, and the shoulder of Cynthia’s T-shirt was already soaked. She frowned watching Peterson step around bloodstains on the carpet. Stains that looked the same as the footprint in the flowerbed.
Monday, October 24, 2005
Zy's Novel Post 19
Novel Total = 19,727 words
Post total = 451 words
“Xeryl,” Zy faltered. What she should say was hard enough and his demeanor wasn’t making it any easier. Oh just say it, at worse it’lll be another fight. “About earlier, I’m tired….”
“I can see that, Agent.” Xeryl’s shoulders tightened under his crisp blue shirt. “And I brought you into this mess, and I would like to see you survive to finish it.”
“Every time I turn around, there’s another body.” Zy draped the purple bathrode over the cushioned stone column set next to the bar section of the counter. She didn’t need to twist the garment in her hands. “And you pushing my buttons when I’m tired doesn’t help.”
Xeryl turned, his violet eyes narrowing. The tempature of his voice dropped another degree. “Now that I take exception to. No matter what I say if it shows the least bit of concern for you it is suspect. My personal feelings aside, do you think I want to explain to IGA what happened to their agent?”
The whole reason I’m here is because of you! Zy quashed the thought before she shouted again. No, she had to maintain a professional relationship and even that stretched it. “You want me to do everything your way and I can’t.” She tugged on a longer lock of bright blue hair. “I must maintain independence for the investigation.”
He poured two glasses full of the sugary concotion as the tension carried in his shoulders relaxed. He guided one of the glasses across the counter to Zy and picked up the other one. After a gulp, he resumed the conversation in a warmer tone. “I think we already had this conversation today.”
“Then why are we still on the same topic?”
Xeryl ignored her mutter. “I’m not telling you what to do. I’m offering my expertise and observations. Do what you will with them, but do not automatically dismiss them because they are from me.”
“Very alturistic of you.” Zy crossed her arms.
“Not really. I don’t want to end up in an IGA prison because you got yourself killed. Finish your drink while I contact D’pa.” He crossed the room to an intercom unit on the wall.
She picked up the drink, rolling her eyes. The idea of IGA prison might upset Xeryl, but she doubted it would be a useful threat against D’pa. Probably a better excuse to add her head to the outside decorations. She drained the glass before she could shudder.
Mylte stepped up to her side. “Mistress Zy, will you need my skills for the interrogation?”
“What skills?”
“Did you forget to ask for his resume when you obtain his circumstances?” Xeryl carried his glass to the sink. He had his back to her dirty look. “D’pa is coming here.”
“What skills, Mylte?”
Post total = 451 words
“Xeryl,” Zy faltered. What she should say was hard enough and his demeanor wasn’t making it any easier. Oh just say it, at worse it’lll be another fight. “About earlier, I’m tired….”
“I can see that, Agent.” Xeryl’s shoulders tightened under his crisp blue shirt. “And I brought you into this mess, and I would like to see you survive to finish it.”
“Every time I turn around, there’s another body.” Zy draped the purple bathrode over the cushioned stone column set next to the bar section of the counter. She didn’t need to twist the garment in her hands. “And you pushing my buttons when I’m tired doesn’t help.”
Xeryl turned, his violet eyes narrowing. The tempature of his voice dropped another degree. “Now that I take exception to. No matter what I say if it shows the least bit of concern for you it is suspect. My personal feelings aside, do you think I want to explain to IGA what happened to their agent?”
The whole reason I’m here is because of you! Zy quashed the thought before she shouted again. No, she had to maintain a professional relationship and even that stretched it. “You want me to do everything your way and I can’t.” She tugged on a longer lock of bright blue hair. “I must maintain independence for the investigation.”
He poured two glasses full of the sugary concotion as the tension carried in his shoulders relaxed. He guided one of the glasses across the counter to Zy and picked up the other one. After a gulp, he resumed the conversation in a warmer tone. “I think we already had this conversation today.”
“Then why are we still on the same topic?”
Xeryl ignored her mutter. “I’m not telling you what to do. I’m offering my expertise and observations. Do what you will with them, but do not automatically dismiss them because they are from me.”
“Very alturistic of you.” Zy crossed her arms.
“Not really. I don’t want to end up in an IGA prison because you got yourself killed. Finish your drink while I contact D’pa.” He crossed the room to an intercom unit on the wall.
She picked up the drink, rolling her eyes. The idea of IGA prison might upset Xeryl, but she doubted it would be a useful threat against D’pa. Probably a better excuse to add her head to the outside decorations. She drained the glass before she could shudder.
Mylte stepped up to her side. “Mistress Zy, will you need my skills for the interrogation?”
“What skills?”
“Did you forget to ask for his resume when you obtain his circumstances?” Xeryl carried his glass to the sink. He had his back to her dirty look. “D’pa is coming here.”
“What skills, Mylte?”
Thursday, October 13, 2005
Zy's Novel Post 18
Novel total= 19,276 words
Post total = 147 words
She took another deep breath before leaving. Mylte stood next to the door watching Xeryl across the parlor. Xeryl was behind the counter of the kitchenette rinsing glasses. She carried the bathrobe across the plush rug on the stone floor. “Thank you for letting me borrow this.”
“You’re welcome. Just leave it on the stool.” His voice had all the warmth of an ice cube. “Have you changed you’re mind about eating?” He didn’t turn his attention from the glasses to look at her.
“No, I can’t.” Her stomach rolled at the mention. “It’ll be like after Ifeket.” Not one of her finest moments, showering to get rid of the smell and jumping out of it to throw up again.
“Fine. I will tell D’pa you’re ready to begin.”
“Xeryl,” Zy faltered. What she should say was hard enough and his demeanor wasn’t making it any easier.
Post total = 147 words
She took another deep breath before leaving. Mylte stood next to the door watching Xeryl across the parlor. Xeryl was behind the counter of the kitchenette rinsing glasses. She carried the bathrobe across the plush rug on the stone floor. “Thank you for letting me borrow this.”
“You’re welcome. Just leave it on the stool.” His voice had all the warmth of an ice cube. “Have you changed you’re mind about eating?” He didn’t turn his attention from the glasses to look at her.
“No, I can’t.” Her stomach rolled at the mention. “It’ll be like after Ifeket.” Not one of her finest moments, showering to get rid of the smell and jumping out of it to throw up again.
“Fine. I will tell D’pa you’re ready to begin.”
“Xeryl,” Zy faltered. What she should say was hard enough and his demeanor wasn’t making it any easier.
Capt. Kate Short Story Post 2
Story total = 496 words
Post total = 353 words
Notes to remember:
thou is informal.
Basic Faire Speech will have to do until I can find some better language resources.
Pirates Fact & Legend
Pirates of the Carribean--good info on ships
Character Names:
“Storm-blown” Kate Roberts – Captain (only one with an existence prior to this story)
“Jenkin” John Hopwood – Quartermaster
“Bat” Bartholomew Pickering – practicing Catholic crewman
Hugh Saunders – cabin boy
“Cut” Cuthbert Aldridge – greedy idiot crewman
Amos Thompson – will die crewman
Nathaniel Gilbert – will die crewman
Toby Locke – muttering crewman
Enrique Vento Dias - Portuguese crewman
Wolter Bleecker – Dutch crewman
Peadar Macartan – Irish carpenter
The Crimson Lady – the ship
Mogens Vromme – Kate’s Papa Captain
Scene has changed. Need to have the ship’s carpenter in as well.
The Crimson Lady’s hull creaked around them, but the wood wasn’t screaming its death keel. “I think we can repair the good lady. What say thou?”
“Aye, Captain.” Peadar Macartan pressed against the rock and inched closer to the wood. “T’is not a large hole, but we need to get her out of the water. She be needing a careening also, provided there be a harbor fit for it.” He straightened and wiped the water spray from his brown beard.
“And if the harbor is not fit, what then?” Jenkin Hopwood braced himself against the wall of the stairs.
“I can patch her in the water if you can man the pumps. There do be a beach that has not vanished. You can hear the waves crashing on the shore.”
Kate frowned, not that either of the men saw her in the shadows of the hold. How loose were the crew’s collective tongues over the ship that they had followed into this bay? “Counsel, Master Carpenter and Quartermaster, let’s not make this crew even more uneasy over a little hole in the ship. Do you wish to start repairs tonight?”
Peadar shook his head. “By lantern light with the clumsy sots that must assist me? Nay, this job be best by daylight. We must wait till morn.”
“I would prefer to meet the dawn with me boots on the beach.” Jenkin leaned further into the hold from the stairs. “And making camp would give the men something to do besides listening to Bat’s rosary.”
“Adverse to that I am not.” Kate moved the lantern to show her smile. “Mayhaps if Bat had a beauteous voice, he would win more converts. Let’s tell our restless crew.”
Jenkin’s grizzled face twisted with a grin as he backed up the steps. Kate moved the lantern in front of her and let Peadar slosh ahead of her. The salty water even under the light was inky. She waded to the stairs and shook the water off her bare feet before climbing to the deck.
Post total = 353 words
Notes to remember:
thou is informal.
Basic Faire Speech will have to do until I can find some better language resources.
Pirates Fact & Legend
Pirates of the Carribean--good info on ships
Character Names:
“Storm-blown” Kate Roberts – Captain (only one with an existence prior to this story)
“Jenkin” John Hopwood – Quartermaster
“Bat” Bartholomew Pickering – practicing Catholic crewman
Hugh Saunders – cabin boy
“Cut” Cuthbert Aldridge – greedy idiot crewman
Amos Thompson – will die crewman
Nathaniel Gilbert – will die crewman
Toby Locke – muttering crewman
Enrique Vento Dias - Portuguese crewman
Wolter Bleecker – Dutch crewman
Peadar Macartan – Irish carpenter
The Crimson Lady – the ship
Mogens Vromme – Kate’s Papa Captain
Scene has changed. Need to have the ship’s carpenter in as well.
The Crimson Lady’s hull creaked around them, but the wood wasn’t screaming its death keel. “I think we can repair the good lady. What say thou?”
“Aye, Captain.” Peadar Macartan pressed against the rock and inched closer to the wood. “T’is not a large hole, but we need to get her out of the water. She be needing a careening also, provided there be a harbor fit for it.” He straightened and wiped the water spray from his brown beard.
“And if the harbor is not fit, what then?” Jenkin Hopwood braced himself against the wall of the stairs.
“I can patch her in the water if you can man the pumps. There do be a beach that has not vanished. You can hear the waves crashing on the shore.”
Kate frowned, not that either of the men saw her in the shadows of the hold. How loose were the crew’s collective tongues over the ship that they had followed into this bay? “Counsel, Master Carpenter and Quartermaster, let’s not make this crew even more uneasy over a little hole in the ship. Do you wish to start repairs tonight?”
Peadar shook his head. “By lantern light with the clumsy sots that must assist me? Nay, this job be best by daylight. We must wait till morn.”
“I would prefer to meet the dawn with me boots on the beach.” Jenkin leaned further into the hold from the stairs. “And making camp would give the men something to do besides listening to Bat’s rosary.”
“Adverse to that I am not.” Kate moved the lantern to show her smile. “Mayhaps if Bat had a beauteous voice, he would win more converts. Let’s tell our restless crew.”
Jenkin’s grizzled face twisted with a grin as he backed up the steps. Kate moved the lantern in front of her and let Peadar slosh ahead of her. The salty water even under the light was inky. She waded to the stairs and shook the water off her bare feet before climbing to the deck.
Wednesday, October 12, 2005
Strix Post 5
Story total = 1137 words
Post total = 567 words
I have no idea if the second section is going to end up in the final version of the story. I'm debating on just how to tell this superhero story.
“I’m not here for them. I know how you feel about criminals.” Roger’s hand swiped across his mouth quickly. “Don’t worry, we’ll catch this guy.”
“I wish I had gotten a better look.”
“We’re looking through the security system.”
Of course they were. Peggy felt stupid. It’s not like the murderer had tried to hide. “Do you know what he used to kill Ardenwood?”
“Not yet. Want a ride home?”
She shook her head as she stood. “No, I don’t want to take you from your job. I can take the bus. I can go now, right?”
“Yeah.” Roger escorted her through the maze of desks and halls. Why was it so hard to accept his friendship? Probably for the same reason she couldn’t go back to her father’s house. They reached the station lobby and Roger cleared his throat. “Be careful. If you think you see that guy in the coveralls again, call me.”
“I will.” The night air was heavy with humidity. Peggy’s skirt went limp and clung to her legs. At least the bus would be air conditioned. She sat down at the bench at the end of the block.
Robert ran. Fear licked his heart. A woman ran ahead of him, her dark blonde ponytail swinging, speeding like the denizens of the abyss were after her. Maybe they were after them both. What else would he be afraid of?
The woman glanced over her shoulder and reached back for his hand. She didn’t see the arms reaching out of the darkness ahead.
Fear squeezed his heart. “No!” But he couldn’t run any faster. The unknown woman was out of reach.
One hand grabbed her shoulder. The other hand sprayed something into her face. (Need effects of cyanide poisoning again to describe Peggy’s death. Lost my copies of this info.)
Now he had speed to reach her before he finished screaming his rage. Robert cradled the woman and caressed her face. The light in her eyes was gone. He screamed again through his fangs and into his bedroom. Robert panted from the false exertion. A nightmare of the death of a woman he had never met, what was wrong out there?
He went to the ballroom first. He slipped past the dust cloth draped furniture to reach the wall of windows. The city in the valley below glowed orange predominately with sprinkles of white on the skyscrapers. The town his father had founded was now a metropolis and with all the ills that came with that social progress.
Robert turned away from the glass. What could he do? He already had his secretary, no, assistant was researching and revising the social programs that he had started in the ‘60s.
But the woman in the dream had depended on him personally.
Damn! It was only a dream. No one could depend on him. He had limitations that would get him killed by the superstitcious. He stopped on the staircase. They couldn’t use him limitations if they didn’t know what he was.
Notes
Peggy Wynn – thrown out of the house by her father for having sex in it with a deadbeat. She married the deadbeat, who was a criminal deadbeat at that. Peggy went to college, taking some writing courses. Matt Roger arrested her husband, and Peggy found out about his criminal activities. She left him, he almost killed her, and Matt Roger saved her from that too. She got the divorce and changed her name.
Post total = 567 words
I have no idea if the second section is going to end up in the final version of the story. I'm debating on just how to tell this superhero story.
“I’m not here for them. I know how you feel about criminals.” Roger’s hand swiped across his mouth quickly. “Don’t worry, we’ll catch this guy.”
“I wish I had gotten a better look.”
“We’re looking through the security system.”
Of course they were. Peggy felt stupid. It’s not like the murderer had tried to hide. “Do you know what he used to kill Ardenwood?”
“Not yet. Want a ride home?”
She shook her head as she stood. “No, I don’t want to take you from your job. I can take the bus. I can go now, right?”
“Yeah.” Roger escorted her through the maze of desks and halls. Why was it so hard to accept his friendship? Probably for the same reason she couldn’t go back to her father’s house. They reached the station lobby and Roger cleared his throat. “Be careful. If you think you see that guy in the coveralls again, call me.”
“I will.” The night air was heavy with humidity. Peggy’s skirt went limp and clung to her legs. At least the bus would be air conditioned. She sat down at the bench at the end of the block.
Robert ran. Fear licked his heart. A woman ran ahead of him, her dark blonde ponytail swinging, speeding like the denizens of the abyss were after her. Maybe they were after them both. What else would he be afraid of?
The woman glanced over her shoulder and reached back for his hand. She didn’t see the arms reaching out of the darkness ahead.
Fear squeezed his heart. “No!” But he couldn’t run any faster. The unknown woman was out of reach.
One hand grabbed her shoulder. The other hand sprayed something into her face. (Need effects of cyanide poisoning again to describe Peggy’s death. Lost my copies of this info.)
Now he had speed to reach her before he finished screaming his rage. Robert cradled the woman and caressed her face. The light in her eyes was gone. He screamed again through his fangs and into his bedroom. Robert panted from the false exertion. A nightmare of the death of a woman he had never met, what was wrong out there?
He went to the ballroom first. He slipped past the dust cloth draped furniture to reach the wall of windows. The city in the valley below glowed orange predominately with sprinkles of white on the skyscrapers. The town his father had founded was now a metropolis and with all the ills that came with that social progress.
Robert turned away from the glass. What could he do? He already had his secretary, no, assistant was researching and revising the social programs that he had started in the ‘60s.
But the woman in the dream had depended on him personally.
Damn! It was only a dream. No one could depend on him. He had limitations that would get him killed by the superstitcious. He stopped on the staircase. They couldn’t use him limitations if they didn’t know what he was.
Notes
Peggy Wynn – thrown out of the house by her father for having sex in it with a deadbeat. She married the deadbeat, who was a criminal deadbeat at that. Peggy went to college, taking some writing courses. Matt Roger arrested her husband, and Peggy found out about his criminal activities. She left him, he almost killed her, and Matt Roger saved her from that too. She got the divorce and changed her name.
Tuesday, October 11, 2005
Zy's Novel Post 17
Novel total = 19,129 words
Post total = 248 words
The Personal Journal of IGA Agent Zy
15.8.1010/7 July 1997
Murdock says I need something to relieve stress, something removed from the self-defense training. I think he's just tired of listening to me practice 'cause he recommended painting.
I haven't played with colors since grade school, but he bought me a complete art set at the last station. Chalk, pastels, oils, charcoals, watercolors, brushes, easel, and a dozen different sized canvases. I don't think anyone has ever spent that much money on me.
I suppose that means I'm going to have to use them so not to hurt his feelings. But I'm not taking lessons.
Chapter Six
Zy took a deep breath and faced herself in the mirror. Grey smudges circled under her brown eyes from her too long nose. She was tired and hadn’t been taking good care of herself. “That’s why I’m so short tempered right now,” she muttered and turned her attention to her clothes. Dressing gave her more time to reflect. D’pa would be a hostile witness, and she had to go through him to get to anyone else in the organization that might know something.
And she needed to get a list of employees. That meant playing nice with Xeryl. She laced up her ankle boots with a grimace. She would have to suck it up and apologize even though he started it.
Post total = 248 words
The Personal Journal of IGA Agent Zy
15.8.1010/7 July 1997
Murdock says I need something to relieve stress, something removed from the self-defense training. I think he's just tired of listening to me practice 'cause he recommended painting.
I haven't played with colors since grade school, but he bought me a complete art set at the last station. Chalk, pastels, oils, charcoals, watercolors, brushes, easel, and a dozen different sized canvases. I don't think anyone has ever spent that much money on me.
I suppose that means I'm going to have to use them so not to hurt his feelings. But I'm not taking lessons.
Chapter Six
Zy took a deep breath and faced herself in the mirror. Grey smudges circled under her brown eyes from her too long nose. She was tired and hadn’t been taking good care of herself. “That’s why I’m so short tempered right now,” she muttered and turned her attention to her clothes. Dressing gave her more time to reflect. D’pa would be a hostile witness, and she had to go through him to get to anyone else in the organization that might know something.
And she needed to get a list of employees. That meant playing nice with Xeryl. She laced up her ankle boots with a grimace. She would have to suck it up and apologize even though he started it.
Monday, October 10, 2005
Strix Post 4
Total word count = 570
This post's progress = 181 words
“It’s been legally changed.”
“And you say the same thing every time, Wynn. Not very creative.” Roger rested his elbow on the table. “Why were you there?”
“I thought they already took my statement.” Peggy wadded up the wipe and left it on the table. “Right before they said they had to take my fingerprints.”
“This is Matt asking, not the detective. But if Ardenwood was your sugar daddy, I’m going to say eww a lot.”
Peggy sighed. “I had a job appointment for ghost writing Ardenwood’s memoires.”
“What about your job at the newspaper?”
“Dad got me fired after I covered the Ver Hagan benefit. I degraced him by not crawling back to the house he threw me out of, or something stupid like that.”
Roger tapped his finger against his cheek. “And now you’ve seen a murderer and he’s seen you.”
“I don’t know why he didn’t kill me too. I’m sure your cop buddies are wondering too.” Why did that last part come out so bitter?
“I’m not here for them. I know how you feel about criminals.”
This post's progress = 181 words
“It’s been legally changed.”
“And you say the same thing every time, Wynn. Not very creative.” Roger rested his elbow on the table. “Why were you there?”
“I thought they already took my statement.” Peggy wadded up the wipe and left it on the table. “Right before they said they had to take my fingerprints.”
“This is Matt asking, not the detective. But if Ardenwood was your sugar daddy, I’m going to say eww a lot.”
Peggy sighed. “I had a job appointment for ghost writing Ardenwood’s memoires.”
“What about your job at the newspaper?”
“Dad got me fired after I covered the Ver Hagan benefit. I degraced him by not crawling back to the house he threw me out of, or something stupid like that.”
Roger tapped his finger against his cheek. “And now you’ve seen a murderer and he’s seen you.”
“I don’t know why he didn’t kill me too. I’m sure your cop buddies are wondering too.” Why did that last part come out so bitter?
“I’m not here for them. I know how you feel about criminals.”
Strix Post 3
Nope, won't make the mistake of not getting at least the 5 minutes in. I was irritated all day yesterday.
Today's count = 133 words
The binder slipped from her grasp. She stepped back and looked at the assistant’s desk. And her fingers pressed the numbers while she concentrated on finding her voice.
The gruff voice answered and it was really him, not an answering machine. “Roger, I found a dead body. Please come get it.”
It felt like hours later. Peggy had forgotten her watch at home before her appointment and the room that had put her in at the police station had no clock either. She focused on wiping the black ink off her fingers with the cleaning wipes provided. A just in case measure, they had told her. She kept a wary eye on the corner waiting for a rodent or insect to come darting out.
The door to the spartan room opened. Roger ran his hand through his brown hair before sitting down at the table. “Hey, Winnward.”
Today's count = 133 words
The binder slipped from her grasp. She stepped back and looked at the assistant’s desk. And her fingers pressed the numbers while she concentrated on finding her voice.
The gruff voice answered and it was really him, not an answering machine. “Roger, I found a dead body. Please come get it.”
It felt like hours later. Peggy had forgotten her watch at home before her appointment and the room that had put her in at the police station had no clock either. She focused on wiping the black ink off her fingers with the cleaning wipes provided. A just in case measure, they had told her. She kept a wary eye on the corner waiting for a rodent or insect to come darting out.
The door to the spartan room opened. Roger ran his hand through his brown hair before sitting down at the table. “Hey, Winnward.”
Saturday, October 08, 2005
Strix (the Night Storm revision) Post 2
No clear title yet, but Strix is going to be the new superhero alias.
Daily word count = 129
“I’m all done. Mr. Ardenwood wants to see you now.”
Peggy jerked her head up. The man in the blue coveralls was shutting the outer office doors. She caught a glimpse of black curly hair and thick lips before the door closed. Maybe he was installing something, she thought as she brushed off her skirt.
She marched to the open inner office door with binder in a damp grip. “Mr. Ardenwood, I want to thank you for seeing me.” Her mouth fell open.
The bald man sprawled in his leather executive chair. His jaw dropped open and his arms hung slack off the arm rests. His eyes stared into the corner of the ceiling.
The binder slipped from her grasp. She stepped back and looked at the assistant’s desk.
Daily word count = 129
“I’m all done. Mr. Ardenwood wants to see you now.”
Peggy jerked her head up. The man in the blue coveralls was shutting the outer office doors. She caught a glimpse of black curly hair and thick lips before the door closed. Maybe he was installing something, she thought as she brushed off her skirt.
She marched to the open inner office door with binder in a damp grip. “Mr. Ardenwood, I want to thank you for seeing me.” Her mouth fell open.
The bald man sprawled in his leather executive chair. His jaw dropped open and his arms hung slack off the arm rests. His eyes stared into the corner of the ceiling.
The binder slipped from her grasp. She stepped back and looked at the assistant’s desk.
Friday, October 07, 2005
Capt. Kate Short Story Post 1
Capt. Kate was my Faire persona. I've been doing so much history research for the resource guide, I thought that a fiction peice through her eyes might be another good use for the research. Plus I read Murder by Magic this summer and thought an Elizabethan sea dog ghost story sounded like fun.
Daily writing = 143 word
Kate Roberts stared at the stone thurst into the splintered wood. The salt water had already filled the hold ankle-deep. Empty casks eased free from their ropes and nets to bob. The latern light was too feeble from the stairwell. Had the Crimson Lady been struck a fatal blow?
There comes a regularity with being cursed. Course, Kate didn’t feel she was cursed. It mattered not that others added Storm-blown to her given name simply because every ship she had floundered and was lost in the storm. She never lost any crew by God’s teeth save for the fools who could not follow orders in a crisis. Those were hardly sailors one desired come what may. Due to that fortunuous circumstance of her life, she had never expected her ship to run aground, no matter how foggy the night.
Daily writing = 143 word
Kate Roberts stared at the stone thurst into the splintered wood. The salt water had already filled the hold ankle-deep. Empty casks eased free from their ropes and nets to bob. The latern light was too feeble from the stairwell. Had the Crimson Lady been struck a fatal blow?
There comes a regularity with being cursed. Course, Kate didn’t feel she was cursed. It mattered not that others added Storm-blown to her given name simply because every ship she had floundered and was lost in the storm. She never lost any crew by God’s teeth save for the fools who could not follow orders in a crisis. Those were hardly sailors one desired come what may. Due to that fortunuous circumstance of her life, she had never expected her ship to run aground, no matter how foggy the night.
Wednesday, October 05, 2005
Strix (Night Storm Revision) Post 1
This started a long time ago, back in 1992. This is the third take on it, and I think it'll probably be the last one. The title will change, but I don't know to what yet.
Today's writing = 127 words
Peggy Wynn flipped through her portfolio one more time. All the pieces showed off her writing, but also conveyed how interesting she could make interviews and childhood rememberances. Just what Mr. Nate Ardenwood would need in the ghostwriter of his memoires. She shut the binder and leaned back in the chair. Ardenwood’s executive assistant had apologized profusely for the wait before leaving for the day. What could possibly be taking so long? How tempting it was to just leave, but she needed this job. She closed her green eyes.
The waiting room chair jabbed the body in the right spots to keep one awake. That was fine; she didn’t need to fall asleep on a job interview. Be respectful, be courteous, be the opposite of her father.
Today's writing = 127 words
Peggy Wynn flipped through her portfolio one more time. All the pieces showed off her writing, but also conveyed how interesting she could make interviews and childhood rememberances. Just what Mr. Nate Ardenwood would need in the ghostwriter of his memoires. She shut the binder and leaned back in the chair. Ardenwood’s executive assistant had apologized profusely for the wait before leaving for the day. What could possibly be taking so long? How tempting it was to just leave, but she needed this job. She closed her green eyes.
The waiting room chair jabbed the body in the right spots to keep one awake. That was fine; she didn’t need to fall asleep on a job interview. Be respectful, be courteous, be the opposite of her father.
Blog Maintenance: changes
Scroll down to the bottom. I've added Progress Bars for just about everything original on my working list. I left off fanfics because this is the stuff I need to be concentrating on. The fanfic muse has no problems with encouragement, where as my originals muse and discipline need some bolstering.
Wednesday, August 03, 2005
Notes for end of Evil Jack series
Moved from a draft created for Intentionally Left Blank on June 3, 2004
I don't want to think or write about cleaning, money, non-existing web updates (I have the hardest time sticking to that schedule). The end for the 4th Evil Jack story finally gelled and since I'm afraid of losing the notebook I put it in (I've found notebooks this weekend that I had lost for years), you're getting a free preview. You should know how rare this is, so no complaining.
Evil Jack is only going to be 5 stories long. The first two stories are already done "Domestic Bliss" and "In Sickness." Like I said this is the end of the 4th story.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Carbine stared at the kitchen door as it swung shut.
Stoker turned and captured Vinnie, Modo, and Rimfire in his best authoritative glare. They snapped to attention. He gave them a get-the-hell-out-of-here sideways nod toward the garage doors. They tiptoed to their bikes and eased them out and onto the street.
Carbine never noticed. "He loves her. He really does love her."
"Sit down before you fall down." He eased a chair under her and pushed her on to it. He straddled the nearby workbench and scrutinized her bleak expression. "It's not the end of the universe. You still got me."
She glared. "You are the most egotistical... what makes you think I even want you?" She crossed her arms over her chest.
"Oh come off it. All the advisory meetings, the visits to training sessions, inviting me along for this little jaunt; you can't stand to be away from me." Stoker grinned, and gently pulled her right hand toward him. His fingers stroked the fur on the back of her hand. He watched her brown(?) eyes go hesitant. "And I don't have any problems with that."
She made a feeble attempt to pull her hand back. "Stoker...."
"You and the Rookie were growing apart long before he left Mars. You dealt with that by walling off your heart. I'm not letting you do that this time. You deserve some happiness too."
A thud above shook the rafters and rained dust into the garage. "What was that?" Carbine tried to get up.
"Charley's surprise, and none of our business. Where was I? You deserve happiness, I'm crazy about you, aw heck with the script." Before she could answer, he put his hands behind her ears and kissed her.
You probably just shot all your chances straight to hell, you stupid old man. What the hell were you thinking? He eased back from her, letting his fingers run through her black hair.
Carbine blinked as she eased forward. Her mouth fell on his and her arms wrapped around his neck.
THE END
I don't want to think or write about cleaning, money, non-existing web updates (I have the hardest time sticking to that schedule). The end for the 4th Evil Jack story finally gelled and since I'm afraid of losing the notebook I put it in (I've found notebooks this weekend that I had lost for years), you're getting a free preview. You should know how rare this is, so no complaining.
Evil Jack is only going to be 5 stories long. The first two stories are already done "Domestic Bliss" and "In Sickness." Like I said this is the end of the 4th story.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Carbine stared at the kitchen door as it swung shut.
Stoker turned and captured Vinnie, Modo, and Rimfire in his best authoritative glare. They snapped to attention. He gave them a get-the-hell-out-of-here sideways nod toward the garage doors. They tiptoed to their bikes and eased them out and onto the street.
Carbine never noticed. "He loves her. He really does love her."
"Sit down before you fall down." He eased a chair under her and pushed her on to it. He straddled the nearby workbench and scrutinized her bleak expression. "It's not the end of the universe. You still got me."
She glared. "You are the most egotistical... what makes you think I even want you?" She crossed her arms over her chest.
"Oh come off it. All the advisory meetings, the visits to training sessions, inviting me along for this little jaunt; you can't stand to be away from me." Stoker grinned, and gently pulled her right hand toward him. His fingers stroked the fur on the back of her hand. He watched her brown(?) eyes go hesitant. "And I don't have any problems with that."
She made a feeble attempt to pull her hand back. "Stoker...."
"You and the Rookie were growing apart long before he left Mars. You dealt with that by walling off your heart. I'm not letting you do that this time. You deserve some happiness too."
A thud above shook the rafters and rained dust into the garage. "What was that?" Carbine tried to get up.
"Charley's surprise, and none of our business. Where was I? You deserve happiness, I'm crazy about you, aw heck with the script." Before she could answer, he put his hands behind her ears and kissed her.
You probably just shot all your chances straight to hell, you stupid old man. What the hell were you thinking? He eased back from her, letting his fingers run through her black hair.
Carbine blinked as she eased forward. Her mouth fell on his and her arms wrapped around his neck.
THE END
Thursday, May 12, 2005
TMNT: Vignettes Post 3
"His tatics feel like Yukuza." Lotus frowned up at the karoke bar in Little Tokyo. She and Clin-san stood down the strret from it and the crowds swerved around them, the bustle that was New York City with a mix of tourist frolic. Lotus wasn't sure which was more annoying.
"Nagi's mother was raised Yukuza before marrying into the Oroku clan." Clin-san wore a black haori and hakama. Lotus wore her black gi, and both were recieving glances and shrugs from the Westernized crowd. "Already he extorts business, otherwise we would not be meeting here. And he recruits others to contend with that side." He gestured at the five young men exiting the club. The one swaggering in front had a large purple dragon tattoo coiled around his entire arm.
"They would draw less attention than ninjas. But if Oroku Nagi gains control of the entire Foot Clan...."
"Feh, let's be finished with this." Clin-san led the way into the karoke bar.
Daisuke met them in the foyer. Lotus narrowed her eyes at her former classmate. He frowned slightly but it disappeared as he adjusted his Western tie. "Mr. Oroku will see you now." He led them past the divider wall into the main club room. Two girls were trying to sing a duet on the stage. The group they were with must be the table laughing the loudest. The stairs were off to the side, and went up to a short hall. Daisuke opened a door on the right side and held it open until they entered.
The office extended the full-length of the hall, making an oppossing space. A collection of bladed weapons and two suits of samuri armor filled the back wall. Large framed landscapes from Japan hung at intervals on the long walls up to the desk.
Oroku Nagi rose from behind the teakwood desk. "Clin-san, Miss Norinaga, welcome to America. How flattering that you have followed me here. Please sit."
Her eyes narrowed at how gaigan he made her name sound, but she was disciplined and would follow Clin-san's lead. Clin-san perched on the chair offered. Lotus stood behind him but slightly to the side. "You know why we have come, Oroku-san," Clin-san said severely.
"You are looking well, Clin-san. Travel agrees with you."
"And you look like a gaigan businessman."
Nagi's dark eyes flashed. He pulled the suit jacket down before sitting again. "A true ninja can assume any part."
"A true ninja does not try to change the rules the Honored Master has established for the succession." Clin-san's arms rested lightly on the chair's arms.
"I came to America to find Saki's followers. Two underlings thought they were doing me a service by eliminating a rival. They have been punished. Now is there anything else? Is the girl ready to fight?"
"Allison Baker will not fight you. She is stepping aside in favor of her brother Zackery. He will fight you when he becomes of age."
Nagi's hands slammed against his desk. "You expect me to wait seven years!"
"I suspect you will find a way to make the time profitable." Clin-san glanced around the office. "But you agreed to settle this by combat with Yoshi's heir, your mother and the Honorable Master agreed as well. You cannot dictate who the heir is."
Nagi straightened his silk tie. "Well, accidents happen, Clin-san."
"Hai, but if any accidents are engineered for the heir and his siter, it will cause a civil war in the Foot Clan. How certain are you of winning that?" Clin-san lifted his chin, but his gaze never left Nagi's face.
"The freaks that killed my brother," Nagi smirked. Lotus stiffened and her hand ached for her katana. "I will kill them for that. And tell them that interferring in my affiars will make killing them easier."
Clin-san nodded once and stood. The meeting was over. The street felt cleaner when Daisuke led them out, even though the crowds hadn't vanished. But Lotus didn't relax not even when they got on the subway. Even though no one was following them, and she was very good at spotting stalkers.
"Well, it appears that they will need your help. Fortunate that you decided to stay." Clin-san perched on the subway bench. Lotus sat next to him. "Even if their safety factors very little in your decision."
"Most fortunate," that was the safest answer.
He cast her a side-long glance. "Always on guard. "I hope your young kappa can teach you how to enjoy life." Lotus felt her cheeks get warm, but Clin-san ignored it. "The arrangements have been made. Are you sure about being a student?"
"I can take on any role." She looked straight ahead at the window of the subway car.
"But a horticultural student?"
Lotus shrugged. "I like bonsai trees."
http://members.tripod.com/~orgcrime/japgangint.htm
http://www.crimelibrary.com/gangsters_outlaws/gang/yakuza/1.html
http://www.cnfj.navy.mil/phrases.html
http://japanese.about.com/library/weekly/aa042901a.htm
http://japanese.about.com/blqow9.htm
http://japanese.about.com/library/weekly/aa072303a.htm
http://japanese.about.com/library/weekly/aa050601a.htm
"Nagi's mother was raised Yukuza before marrying into the Oroku clan." Clin-san wore a black haori and hakama. Lotus wore her black gi, and both were recieving glances and shrugs from the Westernized crowd. "Already he extorts business, otherwise we would not be meeting here. And he recruits others to contend with that side." He gestured at the five young men exiting the club. The one swaggering in front had a large purple dragon tattoo coiled around his entire arm.
"They would draw less attention than ninjas. But if Oroku Nagi gains control of the entire Foot Clan...."
"Feh, let's be finished with this." Clin-san led the way into the karoke bar.
Daisuke met them in the foyer. Lotus narrowed her eyes at her former classmate. He frowned slightly but it disappeared as he adjusted his Western tie. "Mr. Oroku will see you now." He led them past the divider wall into the main club room. Two girls were trying to sing a duet on the stage. The group they were with must be the table laughing the loudest. The stairs were off to the side, and went up to a short hall. Daisuke opened a door on the right side and held it open until they entered.
The office extended the full-length of the hall, making an oppossing space. A collection of bladed weapons and two suits of samuri armor filled the back wall. Large framed landscapes from Japan hung at intervals on the long walls up to the desk.
Oroku Nagi rose from behind the teakwood desk. "Clin-san, Miss Norinaga, welcome to America. How flattering that you have followed me here. Please sit."
Her eyes narrowed at how gaigan he made her name sound, but she was disciplined and would follow Clin-san's lead. Clin-san perched on the chair offered. Lotus stood behind him but slightly to the side. "You know why we have come, Oroku-san," Clin-san said severely.
"You are looking well, Clin-san. Travel agrees with you."
"And you look like a gaigan businessman."
Nagi's dark eyes flashed. He pulled the suit jacket down before sitting again. "A true ninja can assume any part."
"A true ninja does not try to change the rules the Honored Master has established for the succession." Clin-san's arms rested lightly on the chair's arms.
"I came to America to find Saki's followers. Two underlings thought they were doing me a service by eliminating a rival. They have been punished. Now is there anything else? Is the girl ready to fight?"
"Allison Baker will not fight you. She is stepping aside in favor of her brother Zackery. He will fight you when he becomes of age."
Nagi's hands slammed against his desk. "You expect me to wait seven years!"
"I suspect you will find a way to make the time profitable." Clin-san glanced around the office. "But you agreed to settle this by combat with Yoshi's heir, your mother and the Honorable Master agreed as well. You cannot dictate who the heir is."
Nagi straightened his silk tie. "Well, accidents happen, Clin-san."
"Hai, but if any accidents are engineered for the heir and his siter, it will cause a civil war in the Foot Clan. How certain are you of winning that?" Clin-san lifted his chin, but his gaze never left Nagi's face.
"The freaks that killed my brother," Nagi smirked. Lotus stiffened and her hand ached for her katana. "I will kill them for that. And tell them that interferring in my affiars will make killing them easier."
Clin-san nodded once and stood. The meeting was over. The street felt cleaner when Daisuke led them out, even though the crowds hadn't vanished. But Lotus didn't relax not even when they got on the subway. Even though no one was following them, and she was very good at spotting stalkers.
"Well, it appears that they will need your help. Fortunate that you decided to stay." Clin-san perched on the subway bench. Lotus sat next to him. "Even if their safety factors very little in your decision."
"Most fortunate," that was the safest answer.
He cast her a side-long glance. "Always on guard. "I hope your young kappa can teach you how to enjoy life." Lotus felt her cheeks get warm, but Clin-san ignored it. "The arrangements have been made. Are you sure about being a student?"
"I can take on any role." She looked straight ahead at the window of the subway car.
"But a horticultural student?"
Lotus shrugged. "I like bonsai trees."
http://members.tripod.com/~orgcrime/japgangint.htm
http://www.crimelibrary.com/gangsters_outlaws/gang/yakuza/1.html
http://www.cnfj.navy.mil/phrases.html
http://japanese.about.com/library/weekly/aa042901a.htm
http://japanese.about.com/blqow9.htm
http://japanese.about.com/library/weekly/aa072303a.htm
http://japanese.about.com/library/weekly/aa050601a.htm
TMNT: Vignettes Post 2
I work on these sections as I get inspired to tell the story. The posting order has no bearing on the final order.
Allie stood on the sidewalk and practiced breathing while staring at the building. The crumbling seven-story building only exuded a plea for restoration. The neon sign above the steps to the basement entrance said "The Snake Pit" in unlit tubes of glass. The "S" was designed to be a snake ready to strike.
She took another deep breath. She loved Mike and Zack, for their sakes she would go back to the part of her life she had turned her back on over a year ago/almost two years ago. Besides, she already gave Zack a contingency plan involving them; she should introduce herself. So why was she so nervous? Probably because nothing had been going like she planned from following Billy on. She sighed as she walked across the street and down the steps.
The door was unlocked and the hostess counter unmanned, but Allie heard sawing and hammering further in the club space. She eased into the larger space. Two stories had been combined for the club. Kleig lights hung over the main space and each was lit so that the builders of the stage worked in nearly sunlight. The second floor wasn't completely gone, it covered the foyer of the club and jutted out like a balcony.
Someone observing the construction hurried toward her. Allie's throat tightened. The girl had feathers for hair and large owl eyes. "We're closed, the construction part is rather obvious."
"I'm one of the Forsaken looking for home."
The owl-girl blinked, but the code words had registared. Yeah, Allie had found the right place. "My name is Flight of Fancy. You can call me Fancy. What's your's?"
"Allie Baker formerly of the Black Bones."
Fancy's jaw dropped. She stared Allie up and down. "Stay here," she stammered and hurried back to the construction crew. She gestered frantically at one man watching them and spoke to him animatedly when she got his attention.
The man finally walked to Allie. Startched white button down shirt and starched blue jeans, must be his idea of dressing down. He looked Hispanic under his expensive shades. "Hello, I'm Snake-eyes. I'm in charge here."
"Allie Baker."
Snake-eyes grinned. "So you're the infamous Allie Baker. The Leader thought you'd show up here. Sent an emissary to tell us to keep an eye out for you."
Allie scowled before she could stop herself. "The Leader needs to mind the Leader's business."
Snake-eyes only chuckled. "Let's go up to my office." He escorted her to one of the freight elevators jutting into the club. "This is headquarters, but I own most of the surrounding blocks. I think my real estate agent is expecting another Harlem Renaissance."
"Big cell?" Allie stuffed her hand in her pockets.
"Big enough group to qualify for one of the minorities. Right climate, huge city, right attitude. Mutates actually blend."
Allie mentally filed the idea to ask Mike how they'd feel about moving above ground. But if the Shredder founf out about the Mutates, too risky. The elevator stopped on the fourth floor, a hallway of doors. Snake-eyes's spacious office was at the end of course. "Sit down. Care for something to drink?"
"Dr. Pepper, please."
"Another caffine junkie." Snake-eyes tsked as he handed her the cold can from the minibar. "You wouldn't believe how many cases of this stuff the Pit goes through."
Allie swallowed some of the drink before asking, "Were you told what happened to me?"
"I was given Skulls's report. He and the Leader both thought you'd get back to New York to see your family if nothing else. I'm sorry about your brother." Allie must have let her surprise show, because he added. "Saw the news and their names were in the report."
"Just how detailed is that report?"
"Di said you'd react that way." Snake-eyes chuckled. "She also said to add it was only included because you were tagged and Val Tech makes tracking mistakes. Val Tech wasn't involved with your brother, was it?"
Allie shook her head. "No, he was investigating the Foot Clan."
"Those guys are like roaches, you can't get rid of them. Heard they have ties to a new gang on the streets, the Purple Dragons."
"I'll remember to stay away. All I really wanted was to make sure you'd help Zack, my brother, if he has Val Tech trouble."
"Of course that's not even a question." He waited until she drained the soda can down her throat. "Now what about you?"
She threw the can and it bounced off the rim. "I can't be as involved as I was, we've been adopted and I have an obligation to help raise Zack. I'd rather them not find out."
"Well we appreciate that too. But what about you?" Snake-eyes leaned back behind his desk.
Allie blinked. She hadn't thought of what she wanted at all, typical. She stood up to throw away the can and to think about it. She wanted everything to go back to the way it was before she was tagged. She had made a difference, was doing good, and now it was all over. She wasn't sure if how she felt about Mike could make up for losing that.
It must have shown on her face because Snake-eyes sat up. "You miss it that much?"
"I guess I do." Allie took a deep breath. "But I don't see how I can. I can't let my new family or Zack know. But if I lose my skills that may endanger Zack more. Plus I like helping others, but I don't know what I can do in a cell."
"Stop trying to figure it all out yourself for starters. You were Skulls's second-in-command, right?"
"It shows?"
"Just a little. Look your life went upside down in what a weekend? You don't have to fix it in the same amount of time. You're welcome here if you need to visit or spar or train. If something comes up, you'll be available to help with it." Snake-eyes stood up. "Look at the rest of this as an extended vacation. You're a good kid, Allie, and I want you on my side, but you're wrung out. Take some time for yourself."
"That's what everybody's been telling me since San Francisco." Allie sighed.
"Well stop being stubborn and take the advice." He perched on the edge of his desk. "San Francisco? I thought you got tagged in San Diego."
"I was." Might as well continue things on the right foot and confide in him. "Val Tech caught up with me in San Francisco when a cop took me in as a runaway and potential terrorist. We worked out a compromise once Val Tech took out their precinct station and nearly everyone in it."
Snake-eyes lost control of his sunglasses and they slid down his nose. His amber reptilian eyes stared at her. "You were involved in that?"
"Not by my choice. I was making new friends and learning kung fu. Val Tech are the ones who made it personal."
Snake-eyes puched his sunglasses back in place. "Well Val Tech is staying out of New York thanks probably to the guys in the black pyjamas."
Wow, Nagi's responsible for something good. "So I guess I don't have anything to worry about."
"You'll find something to worry about." Snake-eyes chuckled, and held out his hand. "Welcome on board."
The nearly constant fluttering in her stomach settled. Something finally went the way she thought it should, and she got something good too. She shook his hand. "Glad to be back."
Allie stood on the sidewalk and practiced breathing while staring at the building. The crumbling seven-story building only exuded a plea for restoration. The neon sign above the steps to the basement entrance said "The Snake Pit" in unlit tubes of glass. The "S" was designed to be a snake ready to strike.
She took another deep breath. She loved Mike and Zack, for their sakes she would go back to the part of her life she had turned her back on over a year ago/almost two years ago. Besides, she already gave Zack a contingency plan involving them; she should introduce herself. So why was she so nervous? Probably because nothing had been going like she planned from following Billy on. She sighed as she walked across the street and down the steps.
The door was unlocked and the hostess counter unmanned, but Allie heard sawing and hammering further in the club space. She eased into the larger space. Two stories had been combined for the club. Kleig lights hung over the main space and each was lit so that the builders of the stage worked in nearly sunlight. The second floor wasn't completely gone, it covered the foyer of the club and jutted out like a balcony.
Someone observing the construction hurried toward her. Allie's throat tightened. The girl had feathers for hair and large owl eyes. "We're closed, the construction part is rather obvious."
"I'm one of the Forsaken looking for home."
The owl-girl blinked, but the code words had registared. Yeah, Allie had found the right place. "My name is Flight of Fancy. You can call me Fancy. What's your's?"
"Allie Baker formerly of the Black Bones."
Fancy's jaw dropped. She stared Allie up and down. "Stay here," she stammered and hurried back to the construction crew. She gestered frantically at one man watching them and spoke to him animatedly when she got his attention.
The man finally walked to Allie. Startched white button down shirt and starched blue jeans, must be his idea of dressing down. He looked Hispanic under his expensive shades. "Hello, I'm Snake-eyes. I'm in charge here."
"Allie Baker."
Snake-eyes grinned. "So you're the infamous Allie Baker. The Leader thought you'd show up here. Sent an emissary to tell us to keep an eye out for you."
Allie scowled before she could stop herself. "The Leader needs to mind the Leader's business."
Snake-eyes only chuckled. "Let's go up to my office." He escorted her to one of the freight elevators jutting into the club. "This is headquarters, but I own most of the surrounding blocks. I think my real estate agent is expecting another Harlem Renaissance."
"Big cell?" Allie stuffed her hand in her pockets.
"Big enough group to qualify for one of the minorities. Right climate, huge city, right attitude. Mutates actually blend."
Allie mentally filed the idea to ask Mike how they'd feel about moving above ground. But if the Shredder founf out about the Mutates, too risky. The elevator stopped on the fourth floor, a hallway of doors. Snake-eyes's spacious office was at the end of course. "Sit down. Care for something to drink?"
"Dr. Pepper, please."
"Another caffine junkie." Snake-eyes tsked as he handed her the cold can from the minibar. "You wouldn't believe how many cases of this stuff the Pit goes through."
Allie swallowed some of the drink before asking, "Were you told what happened to me?"
"I was given Skulls's report. He and the Leader both thought you'd get back to New York to see your family if nothing else. I'm sorry about your brother." Allie must have let her surprise show, because he added. "Saw the news and their names were in the report."
"Just how detailed is that report?"
"Di said you'd react that way." Snake-eyes chuckled. "She also said to add it was only included because you were tagged and Val Tech makes tracking mistakes. Val Tech wasn't involved with your brother, was it?"
Allie shook her head. "No, he was investigating the Foot Clan."
"Those guys are like roaches, you can't get rid of them. Heard they have ties to a new gang on the streets, the Purple Dragons."
"I'll remember to stay away. All I really wanted was to make sure you'd help Zack, my brother, if he has Val Tech trouble."
"Of course that's not even a question." He waited until she drained the soda can down her throat. "Now what about you?"
She threw the can and it bounced off the rim. "I can't be as involved as I was, we've been adopted and I have an obligation to help raise Zack. I'd rather them not find out."
"Well we appreciate that too. But what about you?" Snake-eyes leaned back behind his desk.
Allie blinked. She hadn't thought of what she wanted at all, typical. She stood up to throw away the can and to think about it. She wanted everything to go back to the way it was before she was tagged. She had made a difference, was doing good, and now it was all over. She wasn't sure if how she felt about Mike could make up for losing that.
It must have shown on her face because Snake-eyes sat up. "You miss it that much?"
"I guess I do." Allie took a deep breath. "But I don't see how I can. I can't let my new family or Zack know. But if I lose my skills that may endanger Zack more. Plus I like helping others, but I don't know what I can do in a cell."
"Stop trying to figure it all out yourself for starters. You were Skulls's second-in-command, right?"
"It shows?"
"Just a little. Look your life went upside down in what a weekend? You don't have to fix it in the same amount of time. You're welcome here if you need to visit or spar or train. If something comes up, you'll be available to help with it." Snake-eyes stood up. "Look at the rest of this as an extended vacation. You're a good kid, Allie, and I want you on my side, but you're wrung out. Take some time for yourself."
"That's what everybody's been telling me since San Francisco." Allie sighed.
"Well stop being stubborn and take the advice." He perched on the edge of his desk. "San Francisco? I thought you got tagged in San Diego."
"I was." Might as well continue things on the right foot and confide in him. "Val Tech caught up with me in San Francisco when a cop took me in as a runaway and potential terrorist. We worked out a compromise once Val Tech took out their precinct station and nearly everyone in it."
Snake-eyes lost control of his sunglasses and they slid down his nose. His amber reptilian eyes stared at her. "You were involved in that?"
"Not by my choice. I was making new friends and learning kung fu. Val Tech are the ones who made it personal."
Snake-eyes puched his sunglasses back in place. "Well Val Tech is staying out of New York thanks probably to the guys in the black pyjamas."
Wow, Nagi's responsible for something good. "So I guess I don't have anything to worry about."
"You'll find something to worry about." Snake-eyes chuckled, and held out his hand. "Welcome on board."
The nearly constant fluttering in her stomach settled. Something finally went the way she thought it should, and she got something good too. She shook his hand. "Glad to be back."
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
TMNT: Vignettes Post 1
Author's Notes: I want to try something different with my writing style, episodic rather than tightly structured novels. If all goes as planned, each chapter will be a self-contained story happening between Bloodlines and the Ronin. A lot happens but this is as cohesive as it gets. Enjoy.
- Taro meeting and teaming up with Allie.
- Mike and Raph's fight over Allie.
- Leo and Lotus intimate.
- Allie and the Snake Pit.
- Blowing up the Technodrome.
- Zack's training.
- April and Nagi.
- Lissa, Josh, Agmaraa and Zack.
- Donnie tutoring the seniors.
- Raph and Casey.
- Allie getting Skulls's bike.
- Allie trying to help and gets rebuffed.
- Allie and Sammie helping with April's breakup.
- Allie and Mike looking for Technodrome from rooftops.
- Allie setting up her Ronin stuff--the computer and users are Nickey's.
- The band breaking up and Mikey getting Jimi--lesson from Splinter.
- Zack meeting the gaming group.
- Allie helping without Turtles noticing.
- Donnie getting more pacifistic.
- Splinter reflecting.
- Leo and Lotus dating.
- Allie meeting Snake-eyes
- Allie meeting Mona.
- Inheritence.
- Leo and Raph brawling.
- Lotus setting up her apartment.
- Leo doing something alone.
- April and Casey.
- Billy's funeral from Stern's POV.
- Allie's nightmare at the farm and Splinter's counsel.
- The trip to the farm.
- Splinter's feelings on son's growing up, the outside world influence, etc.
The Ronin Edits
Need to add this section to the Ronin Chapter Twelve.
Mona surveyed the crowd from the freight elevator. The dance floor inside the Snake Pit was packed as usual. The crowd didn’t seem to mind her replacement. She spotted Allie between the elevator and the stage, near the wall. It hadn’t taken her long to show back up here.
The blonde norm spotted Mona and met her halfway. “You’re not performing?” She yelled over the amplified music.
“Nah, Snake-eyes has me on special assignment. Let’s go upstairs.”
Allie followed her meekly to the elevator. That alone was enough to make Mona’s skin prickle. The club din disappeared as they got out on the third floor dining room. Mona steered them to a booth in the back corner. “How’s Splinter?”
“Better. He’s staying awake for longer times. Donnie says we’re lucky it wasn’t a stroke.”
“So what was it?”
Allie glanced at her before shying her eyes away. “Donnie says it was a chemical imbalance, but the real reason is he’s old. He was my grandfather’s pet rat before he was mutated. They don’t like to think about it. I’m not real crazy about it either.”
Sage stepped up to their table. “Hi girls. Allie, college keeping you to busy to come visit?” The older woman put her hands on her hips.
Allie smiled up at her. “Sorry, it’s been hectic.”
“Don’t look like you’ve been eating right either. Two dinners and I don’t want to hear no back talk.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Mona saluted. Sage shook her head and left. The salamander-girl turned back to Allie. She twirled a paper-wrapped straw on the table with her peach-colored fingers. Mona could still see her pensive expression. “Your grandfather’s pet? No wonder you got involved with the Mutates.”
“Actually, I worked with the Mutates first.” Allie looked up. “How much has Raph told you?”
“Try next to nothing. Both our dates have gotten interrupted by emergencies.”
“They aren’t Mutates.”
Sage set their drinks down and bustled off again. Mona sipped before saying, “I gathered that with the way them and the guys in the black pyjamas throw down, the Foot Clan from the evening news right?” Allie nodded and Mona continued. “But how much do they know about us?”
“Nothing. I haven’t told them.” She lost control of her modulated voice. “You don’t know how they are! They’re the only ones who can do anything about the evils on the world so just stay out of their way. If they knew about Val Tech, they’d take that battle over too. They can’t split their concentration on two foes. Besides we can’t have the Shredder targeting Mutates to get to them. And Val Tech would hunt them to learn how they were mutated.”
Mona blinked as Allie lost her fire and looked miserable. “Okay, if you say so. I’ll keep my mouth shut to Snake-eyes too, but he already knows I ran into them.”
“You have to keep your mouth shut; they’ll swear you to secrecy.”
Mona shrugged. “I still don’t know where they came from, so I’m not hiding anything from anybody yet.” She took a bite of the chicken-fried steak. “Yummy. And if you don’t think Snake-eyes opinion that they’re lone wolf Mutates needs to change, I trust you. But somebody needs to level with me.”
Allie sighed and bought herself by chewing slowly. “Promise you’ll act surprised when Raph tells you?”
“He’ll never know you told me anything.”
Between bites of dinner, Allie told her the story of ninjas and elopements, murder and mutations, a hidden baby and unprepared grandchildren and inheritance, and the cycle of vengeance.
Mona finished her drink. “It sounds like a bad Japanese anime.”
“Welcome to my life. Stick around and enjoy the ride.”
“I finally found a guy who thinks I’m gorgeous now. You think I’m givin’ that up?” Mona giggled.
“Good luck trying to civilize him. Keep mum about my involvement in the Mutates when you do have to tell him.”
“If they start hanging here, they’re going to find out.”
Allie pushed her plate away. “I know. I’ve been trying to find a way to tell them for three years that won’t betray either side. Just give me a little more time to think about it.”
“That I can do, girlfriend.”
Allie smiled at Mona for the first time all night. “So what special assignment are you on? Or is it top secret?”
“Not top secret. I’m trying to find the Ronin and see if she poses a threat to us.”
“Good luck.” Allie stood up. “I’ve got to get back to the dorm, studying and all that. See you later.”
“Don’t be a stranger around here.” Mona thoughtfully watched Allie leave. Sage came back to the table. “Well?”
“Kept her under a light scan like you asked me to. She was telling the truth.”
“I figured she would but best to have empathic lie detector confirmation.”
Sage frowned. “On more thing, her adrenaline levels started spiking at the end of the conversation right before she left.”
“Thanks, Sage.” Mona sighed. “Damn, just when I thought I had a handle on everything.”
Mona surveyed the crowd from the freight elevator. The dance floor inside the Snake Pit was packed as usual. The crowd didn’t seem to mind her replacement. She spotted Allie between the elevator and the stage, near the wall. It hadn’t taken her long to show back up here.
The blonde norm spotted Mona and met her halfway. “You’re not performing?” She yelled over the amplified music.
“Nah, Snake-eyes has me on special assignment. Let’s go upstairs.”
Allie followed her meekly to the elevator. That alone was enough to make Mona’s skin prickle. The club din disappeared as they got out on the third floor dining room. Mona steered them to a booth in the back corner. “How’s Splinter?”
“Better. He’s staying awake for longer times. Donnie says we’re lucky it wasn’t a stroke.”
“So what was it?”
Allie glanced at her before shying her eyes away. “Donnie says it was a chemical imbalance, but the real reason is he’s old. He was my grandfather’s pet rat before he was mutated. They don’t like to think about it. I’m not real crazy about it either.”
Sage stepped up to their table. “Hi girls. Allie, college keeping you to busy to come visit?” The older woman put her hands on her hips.
Allie smiled up at her. “Sorry, it’s been hectic.”
“Don’t look like you’ve been eating right either. Two dinners and I don’t want to hear no back talk.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Mona saluted. Sage shook her head and left. The salamander-girl turned back to Allie. She twirled a paper-wrapped straw on the table with her peach-colored fingers. Mona could still see her pensive expression. “Your grandfather’s pet? No wonder you got involved with the Mutates.”
“Actually, I worked with the Mutates first.” Allie looked up. “How much has Raph told you?”
“Try next to nothing. Both our dates have gotten interrupted by emergencies.”
“They aren’t Mutates.”
Sage set their drinks down and bustled off again. Mona sipped before saying, “I gathered that with the way them and the guys in the black pyjamas throw down, the Foot Clan from the evening news right?” Allie nodded and Mona continued. “But how much do they know about us?”
“Nothing. I haven’t told them.” She lost control of her modulated voice. “You don’t know how they are! They’re the only ones who can do anything about the evils on the world so just stay out of their way. If they knew about Val Tech, they’d take that battle over too. They can’t split their concentration on two foes. Besides we can’t have the Shredder targeting Mutates to get to them. And Val Tech would hunt them to learn how they were mutated.”
Mona blinked as Allie lost her fire and looked miserable. “Okay, if you say so. I’ll keep my mouth shut to Snake-eyes too, but he already knows I ran into them.”
“You have to keep your mouth shut; they’ll swear you to secrecy.”
Mona shrugged. “I still don’t know where they came from, so I’m not hiding anything from anybody yet.” She took a bite of the chicken-fried steak. “Yummy. And if you don’t think Snake-eyes opinion that they’re lone wolf Mutates needs to change, I trust you. But somebody needs to level with me.”
Allie sighed and bought herself by chewing slowly. “Promise you’ll act surprised when Raph tells you?”
“He’ll never know you told me anything.”
Between bites of dinner, Allie told her the story of ninjas and elopements, murder and mutations, a hidden baby and unprepared grandchildren and inheritance, and the cycle of vengeance.
Mona finished her drink. “It sounds like a bad Japanese anime.”
“Welcome to my life. Stick around and enjoy the ride.”
“I finally found a guy who thinks I’m gorgeous now. You think I’m givin’ that up?” Mona giggled.
“Good luck trying to civilize him. Keep mum about my involvement in the Mutates when you do have to tell him.”
“If they start hanging here, they’re going to find out.”
Allie pushed her plate away. “I know. I’ve been trying to find a way to tell them for three years that won’t betray either side. Just give me a little more time to think about it.”
“That I can do, girlfriend.”
Allie smiled at Mona for the first time all night. “So what special assignment are you on? Or is it top secret?”
“Not top secret. I’m trying to find the Ronin and see if she poses a threat to us.”
“Good luck.” Allie stood up. “I’ve got to get back to the dorm, studying and all that. See you later.”
“Don’t be a stranger around here.” Mona thoughtfully watched Allie leave. Sage came back to the table. “Well?”
“Kept her under a light scan like you asked me to. She was telling the truth.”
“I figured she would but best to have empathic lie detector confirmation.”
Sage frowned. “On more thing, her adrenaline levels started spiking at the end of the conversation right before she left.”
“Thanks, Sage.” Mona sighed. “Damn, just when I thought I had a handle on everything.”
Wednesday, March 23, 2005
Plot Bunny
His lawyer murmured something about appealing. The din from the crowd behind him mingled with the roaring in his ears. Guilty? He stared at the men and women in the jury box. How could they think he could do that to anyone much less to Sarah and the baby? How could the whole country?
The judge banged her gravel, sitting high above and safe behind the big wood desk. He guessed they weren't finished. Well, neither was he.
His lawyer tugged on him to sit down. He couldn't, they had to hear what he had to say. They were wrong. "You're wrong," he croaked. His voice cracked and he started again. "Sarah's killer is still out there. You just let them get away. I didn't kill Sarah or Lance!"
Peter fell back in his chair. The roaring in his head finally broke and he covered his face with his hands.
The judge banged her gravel, sitting high above and safe behind the big wood desk. He guessed they weren't finished. Well, neither was he.
His lawyer tugged on him to sit down. He couldn't, they had to hear what he had to say. They were wrong. "You're wrong," he croaked. His voice cracked and he started again. "Sarah's killer is still out there. You just let them get away. I didn't kill Sarah or Lance!"
Peter fell back in his chair. The roaring in his head finally broke and he covered his face with his hands.
Wednesday, March 09, 2005
Let Us Give Thanks Post 2
"He'll burn the garage down before that happens."
"What is wrong with you? You've been less depressed faced with having to eat Vinnie's cooking."
"Oh now you're worried about how I feel. Imagine that, I'm worried that your playing detective is going to get our friends killed!"
Metal clanged on the tiled floor some where in the vegatable section of the grocery store. A spring hit the ceiling, and even more metal bits hit the floor.
"Well, now we've moved from depressed to hostile."
"SPARKS! Bring me some paper towels, now!" Tala bellowed from the back of the store.
Charley let go of the grocery cart and put her hands on her hips as she glared at Throttle. "You can't send Modo and Sparks into the other pits on race day. The other crews will assume they're spying and hurt them. And don't even say they wouldn't; no one is as noble as you!"
Her anger didn't seem to touch him. "Valid point. Maybe we should talk to the concession stand workers."
Sparks skidded to a stop beside the cart. "Where's Tala?" He hugged a roll of paper towels.
"What is wrong with you? You've been less depressed faced with having to eat Vinnie's cooking."
"Oh now you're worried about how I feel. Imagine that, I'm worried that your playing detective is going to get our friends killed!"
Metal clanged on the tiled floor some where in the vegatable section of the grocery store. A spring hit the ceiling, and even more metal bits hit the floor.
"Well, now we've moved from depressed to hostile."
"SPARKS! Bring me some paper towels, now!" Tala bellowed from the back of the store.
Charley let go of the grocery cart and put her hands on her hips as she glared at Throttle. "You can't send Modo and Sparks into the other pits on race day. The other crews will assume they're spying and hurt them. And don't even say they wouldn't; no one is as noble as you!"
Her anger didn't seem to touch him. "Valid point. Maybe we should talk to the concession stand workers."
Sparks skidded to a stop beside the cart. "Where's Tala?" He hugged a roll of paper towels.
Friday, March 04, 2005
Zy's Novel notes
Personal Journal
9.19.1010/5 August 1997 (Set the date after she's been with Murdock for a few months)
Murdock says I need something to relieve stress, something removed from the self-defense training. I think he's just tired of listening to me practice 'cause he recommended painting.
I haven't played with colors since grade school, but he bought me a complete art set at the last station. Chalk, pastels, oils, charcoals, watercolors, brushes, easel, and a dozen different sized canvases. I don't think anyone has ever spent that much money on me.
I suppose that means I'm going to have to use them so not to hurt his feelings. But I'm not taking lessons.
9.19.1010/5 August 1997 (Set the date after she's been with Murdock for a few months)
Murdock says I need something to relieve stress, something removed from the self-defense training. I think he's just tired of listening to me practice 'cause he recommended painting.
I haven't played with colors since grade school, but he bought me a complete art set at the last station. Chalk, pastels, oils, charcoals, watercolors, brushes, easel, and a dozen different sized canvases. I don't think anyone has ever spent that much money on me.
I suppose that means I'm going to have to use them so not to hurt his feelings. But I'm not taking lessons.
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
Exercise 1 from Page After Page
The qualities of your ideal writing guidebook.
Gives me real-world examples of how a writer juggles a paying job and the writing life with family and friends.
Gives me ideas I can apply to my writing, a new approach or just a new way of looking at the process.
Inspires me.
Exercises that I haven't seen or tried before.
The qualities of your ideal writing class.
Classmates who aren't afraid of telling the truth.
Strength to tell the truth.
Not to mix poetry with fiction. They are two different styles of writing.
Time to work in class.
What are all my best writing student-like qualities?
I love to read.
I love to learn, I want new ideas to bounce around in my brain.
I want to challenge myself.
I want to share my passions.
Gives me real-world examples of how a writer juggles a paying job and the writing life with family and friends.
Gives me ideas I can apply to my writing, a new approach or just a new way of looking at the process.
Inspires me.
Exercises that I haven't seen or tried before.
The qualities of your ideal writing class.
Classmates who aren't afraid of telling the truth.
Strength to tell the truth.
Not to mix poetry with fiction. They are two different styles of writing.
Time to work in class.
What are all my best writing student-like qualities?
I love to read.
I love to learn, I want new ideas to bounce around in my brain.
I want to challenge myself.
I want to share my passions.
Friday, January 28, 2005
Let Us Give Thanks Post 1
Shopping Scene
“Can’t we just go back to the scoreboard?” Charley’s voice edged on panic. She willfully brought it under control. She wasn’t falling apart in the store, she wasn’t.
“We gotta get the groceries,” Sparks said. “This is the only time we’ve got for it.”
“You know he’s right.” Throttle patted her back as Charley leaned over the grocery cart with a groan. “Besides, it gives us a chance to discuss possibilities.”
“Those guys discussing the money in front of me at the concession stand sounded suspicious.” Modo set two vegetable cans into the cart.
Sparks fished them back out. “Wrong size, Dad. We’re going to need frozen for enough to cook with.”
“That’s what your reciepe said.”
“For four servings. You eat four servings in one helping.”
“What’s with all this servings stuff?” Modo tugged on his breastplate.
“Charley and me started nutrition class last month.” Sparks took Modo’s hand and led him toward the freezer section of the store. “And I think it’s that Mitch guy.” He said over his shoulder. “He didn’t have anything good to say about Charley’s dad.”
“True,” Throttle mused out loud. “But Mitch was qualifiying with me and Kormick was in the grandstand with the timers.”
Charley straightened and pushed the cart into the cleaning products aisle. “This isn’t one of Limburger’s pathetic schemes.” She grabbed dishwashing soap and threw it in the basket of the cart.
“So you don’t have any faith that we can solve it?”
She sighed. “It’s not that easy. It’s….” A beeping noise started and Throttle was oblivious to it concentrating on her. “Your vest is beeping.”
“I hate thins thing,” Throttle growled. “It’s like a leash.” He pulled the cell phone out of his pocket. His face grew distressed as he realized he couldn’t fit it inside his helmet.
Charley held out her hand and he dropped it into it relieved. “Hello?”
“Ms. Davidson. Is Throttle there?” Detective Jefferson sounded uneasy. Nobody wanted to deal with the fragile Charley.
She could handle this. She wouldn’t fall apart. “He can’t take his helmet off. What do you need?”
“We finished processing the garage. I’m afraid forensics had to take most of your bedroom furniture for analysis. We packed your clothes in your living room.”
Charley knew the horror stories of cops and searches and wondered what shape her clothes were in. “Thank you.”
“I just need a list of anything missing. So we can determine if burglary took place.”
“Do you really think burglary is why he broke in? Everything I have that’s worth anything is the garage equipment and it wasn’t touched.”
“He may have taken trophies.” Detective Jefferson took a deep breath. “Just get a list to us as soon as you can. I’m still looking into the attack on your friend. Good-bye.”
“Bye.” Charley handed the cell phone back to Throttle. “They finished with the garage and still working on Vinnie’s attack.”
“Sorry, it’s hard to ID the guy chocking the life out of you from behind.” Vinnie dropped the paper bag that the store provided to keep frozen food cold longer into the cart. It bounced off the floor.
Charley steadied the cart. “Nobody’s blaming you. I’m just glad you’re okay. What did you get?” She rooted in the bag? “Three five-gallon buckets of ice cream?”
Vinnie slapped his head. “I didn’t get you, Sparks, or Tala any. Your favorite is the green, right?” He jogged back to the freezers.
“Mint chocolate chip,” Charley yelled after him. “What are we supposed to be getting?”
Throttle returned from wherever his mind had wandered. “Hmm, dinner rolls, I think.”
She steered the cart to the bread section of the store. “What are you thinking about?”
“Putting Sparks and Modo to finding names to Modo’s picks. Sparks could do the hyperactive kid thing before the race. Vinnie and Tala want to explore the tunnels more.”
“You expect to do all that on Race day? Those mechanics will think they’re trying to steal secrets.”
“What I really expect is the murderer to do something stupid and expose himself, but it’s always a good idea to have contingency plans.”
“Can’t we just go back to the scoreboard?” Charley’s voice edged on panic. She willfully brought it under control. She wasn’t falling apart in the store, she wasn’t.
“We gotta get the groceries,” Sparks said. “This is the only time we’ve got for it.”
“You know he’s right.” Throttle patted her back as Charley leaned over the grocery cart with a groan. “Besides, it gives us a chance to discuss possibilities.”
“Those guys discussing the money in front of me at the concession stand sounded suspicious.” Modo set two vegetable cans into the cart.
Sparks fished them back out. “Wrong size, Dad. We’re going to need frozen for enough to cook with.”
“That’s what your reciepe said.”
“For four servings. You eat four servings in one helping.”
“What’s with all this servings stuff?” Modo tugged on his breastplate.
“Charley and me started nutrition class last month.” Sparks took Modo’s hand and led him toward the freezer section of the store. “And I think it’s that Mitch guy.” He said over his shoulder. “He didn’t have anything good to say about Charley’s dad.”
“True,” Throttle mused out loud. “But Mitch was qualifiying with me and Kormick was in the grandstand with the timers.”
Charley straightened and pushed the cart into the cleaning products aisle. “This isn’t one of Limburger’s pathetic schemes.” She grabbed dishwashing soap and threw it in the basket of the cart.
“So you don’t have any faith that we can solve it?”
She sighed. “It’s not that easy. It’s….” A beeping noise started and Throttle was oblivious to it concentrating on her. “Your vest is beeping.”
“I hate thins thing,” Throttle growled. “It’s like a leash.” He pulled the cell phone out of his pocket. His face grew distressed as he realized he couldn’t fit it inside his helmet.
Charley held out her hand and he dropped it into it relieved. “Hello?”
“Ms. Davidson. Is Throttle there?” Detective Jefferson sounded uneasy. Nobody wanted to deal with the fragile Charley.
She could handle this. She wouldn’t fall apart. “He can’t take his helmet off. What do you need?”
“We finished processing the garage. I’m afraid forensics had to take most of your bedroom furniture for analysis. We packed your clothes in your living room.”
Charley knew the horror stories of cops and searches and wondered what shape her clothes were in. “Thank you.”
“I just need a list of anything missing. So we can determine if burglary took place.”
“Do you really think burglary is why he broke in? Everything I have that’s worth anything is the garage equipment and it wasn’t touched.”
“He may have taken trophies.” Detective Jefferson took a deep breath. “Just get a list to us as soon as you can. I’m still looking into the attack on your friend. Good-bye.”
“Bye.” Charley handed the cell phone back to Throttle. “They finished with the garage and still working on Vinnie’s attack.”
“Sorry, it’s hard to ID the guy chocking the life out of you from behind.” Vinnie dropped the paper bag that the store provided to keep frozen food cold longer into the cart. It bounced off the floor.
Charley steadied the cart. “Nobody’s blaming you. I’m just glad you’re okay. What did you get?” She rooted in the bag? “Three five-gallon buckets of ice cream?”
Vinnie slapped his head. “I didn’t get you, Sparks, or Tala any. Your favorite is the green, right?” He jogged back to the freezers.
“Mint chocolate chip,” Charley yelled after him. “What are we supposed to be getting?”
Throttle returned from wherever his mind had wandered. “Hmm, dinner rolls, I think.”
She steered the cart to the bread section of the store. “What are you thinking about?”
“Putting Sparks and Modo to finding names to Modo’s picks. Sparks could do the hyperactive kid thing before the race. Vinnie and Tala want to explore the tunnels more.”
“You expect to do all that on Race day? Those mechanics will think they’re trying to steal secrets.”
“What I really expect is the murderer to do something stupid and expose himself, but it’s always a good idea to have contingency plans.”
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