Okay, that's it for Post Mortem for a while. I'm getting requests to finish more of the Anarchy series, so I'll be heading off to do that and leaving Post Mortem up in the air for a while.
Please remember the best way to contact me is deviantART :)
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Post Mortem #1: Waking the Dead, Ch 6
Chapter 6
The day was busy, just like every other. Thomas was going back and forth between restocking and checking.
One of his coworkers, Ralph, happened to be getting a cold and was going home within the hour, leaving Thomas to take his check stand and his shift. He wasn't a huge fan of overtime, and now he had to work from 10:00 AM to 9:00 PM.
Sighing, he texted his mother that he wouldn't be home for dinner, and proceeded toward the stand.
By the time his lunch rolled around he was exhausted, and he still had 7 more hours to work.
The break room was deserted. No one ever spent much time there, even though the place was rather large. To Thomas the back of the store was quiet and relaxing, but to the rest of the employees it was a prison. Tommy certainly didn't hate his job that much. He understood where they were coming from though; it was good to get out for a while. He didn't spend every lunch period in the break room either. He sometimes left to hang out in one of the nearby diners. It didn't matter to him, he just went with whatever he felt like that day.
Taylor strode through the doorway as Thomas got out his lunch bag.
"Hey."
"Hi." Tommy yawned. Taylor was on his lunch as well, but he never spent time in the break room. He said it was too bleak for him.
"Do you want to come with me to Reuben's?" Taylor asked.
Thomas shook his head. "I don't really feel like walking all the way over there."
"Oh yeah, you took Ralph's shift, huh?"
"Yeah. Linda practically begged me to."
Linda was there store manager who absolutely adored Thomas. She reminded him of his grandmother, so he didn't mind her affection, even kind of liked it. His grandmother had died when he was 12, and he missed her greatly.
"Sucks."
Thomas said nothing. Taylor removed his workers apron and grabbed his backpack before exiting the break room, leaving Thomas among his own thoughts.
While he knew or had seen nearly everyone that came through the check stands, the blonde girl now approaching he had never seen before, and she didn't seem like the type to be visiting Riverside. She looked as if she belonged in Beverly Hills, possibly with a Chihuahua in her purse and a guy like Charlie Sheen at her side.
"Hello," she said rather awkwardly. Her personality didn't seem to match her looks at all. She fumbled with her purse as he rang up her groceries, all the while looking uncomfortable and upset about something.
"Hello…" He was supposed to smile and be friendly to all his customers, but there was something weird about this girl.
She finally found her wallet.
"That'll be $36.84," he told her. She handed him the money in a messy pile of bills and change.
"Do you live here?" she asked him.
"Yes." He held back the need to say, of course I do, did you see any other towns around here? It would be jerky to say, and very unlike him, but something about the girl made him uncomfortable.
"Do you know where…" she pulled a paper from her pocket, "Sunrise Apartments is?"
"Sure. If you leave here and turn left out of the driveway, keep going until Birch Street and then turn right onto it. It's on that street, you really can't miss it. It's like one of those Hilton places, with a huge neon sign and stuff."
"Okay, I'll remember that. Thanks."
He finished bagging her groceries. "Do you need any help out today?"
"Oh, no, thank you."
She took her bags, smiled at Thomas, and left Geil's without another word.
By the time his shift was over, he felt as if he was going to fall over. As he approached his bike, he wondered if he really had the energy to pedal all the way home.
Instead of starting straight home, he sat down on the bench just outside of Geil's and rested, putting his feet up and rubbing his forehead.
He could only keep up small talk with the customer for so long, and the mats in the check stand floors really didn't help much. Since he'd worked at Geil's for around two years now, his feet had somewhat gotten used to the near everyday labor, but today they ached like it was his first day.
After about ten minutes, he forced himself onto his feet yet again and mounted his bike.
He'd rarely rode home this late at night. He wasn't used to the the town drenched in full night. It didn't scare him, but it all looked so different in the dark.
He didn't even see the girl until he hit her.
The day was busy, just like every other. Thomas was going back and forth between restocking and checking.
One of his coworkers, Ralph, happened to be getting a cold and was going home within the hour, leaving Thomas to take his check stand and his shift. He wasn't a huge fan of overtime, and now he had to work from 10:00 AM to 9:00 PM.
Sighing, he texted his mother that he wouldn't be home for dinner, and proceeded toward the stand.
By the time his lunch rolled around he was exhausted, and he still had 7 more hours to work.
The break room was deserted. No one ever spent much time there, even though the place was rather large. To Thomas the back of the store was quiet and relaxing, but to the rest of the employees it was a prison. Tommy certainly didn't hate his job that much. He understood where they were coming from though; it was good to get out for a while. He didn't spend every lunch period in the break room either. He sometimes left to hang out in one of the nearby diners. It didn't matter to him, he just went with whatever he felt like that day.
Taylor strode through the doorway as Thomas got out his lunch bag.
"Hey."
"Hi." Tommy yawned. Taylor was on his lunch as well, but he never spent time in the break room. He said it was too bleak for him.
"Do you want to come with me to Reuben's?" Taylor asked.
Thomas shook his head. "I don't really feel like walking all the way over there."
"Oh yeah, you took Ralph's shift, huh?"
"Yeah. Linda practically begged me to."
Linda was there store manager who absolutely adored Thomas. She reminded him of his grandmother, so he didn't mind her affection, even kind of liked it. His grandmother had died when he was 12, and he missed her greatly.
"Sucks."
Thomas said nothing. Taylor removed his workers apron and grabbed his backpack before exiting the break room, leaving Thomas among his own thoughts.
While he knew or had seen nearly everyone that came through the check stands, the blonde girl now approaching he had never seen before, and she didn't seem like the type to be visiting Riverside. She looked as if she belonged in Beverly Hills, possibly with a Chihuahua in her purse and a guy like Charlie Sheen at her side.
"Hello," she said rather awkwardly. Her personality didn't seem to match her looks at all. She fumbled with her purse as he rang up her groceries, all the while looking uncomfortable and upset about something.
"Hello…" He was supposed to smile and be friendly to all his customers, but there was something weird about this girl.
She finally found her wallet.
"That'll be $36.84," he told her. She handed him the money in a messy pile of bills and change.
"Do you live here?" she asked him.
"Yes." He held back the need to say, of course I do, did you see any other towns around here? It would be jerky to say, and very unlike him, but something about the girl made him uncomfortable.
"Do you know where…" she pulled a paper from her pocket, "Sunrise Apartments is?"
"Sure. If you leave here and turn left out of the driveway, keep going until Birch Street and then turn right onto it. It's on that street, you really can't miss it. It's like one of those Hilton places, with a huge neon sign and stuff."
"Okay, I'll remember that. Thanks."
He finished bagging her groceries. "Do you need any help out today?"
"Oh, no, thank you."
She took her bags, smiled at Thomas, and left Geil's without another word.
By the time his shift was over, he felt as if he was going to fall over. As he approached his bike, he wondered if he really had the energy to pedal all the way home.
Instead of starting straight home, he sat down on the bench just outside of Geil's and rested, putting his feet up and rubbing his forehead.
He could only keep up small talk with the customer for so long, and the mats in the check stand floors really didn't help much. Since he'd worked at Geil's for around two years now, his feet had somewhat gotten used to the near everyday labor, but today they ached like it was his first day.
After about ten minutes, he forced himself onto his feet yet again and mounted his bike.
He'd rarely rode home this late at night. He wasn't used to the the town drenched in full night. It didn't scare him, but it all looked so different in the dark.
He didn't even see the girl until he hit her.
Post Mortem #1: Waking the Dead, Ch 5
Chapter 5
Yuri felt bad for Daniel, but he was still disappointed in him.
Just about a year ago, Daniel's mother and father had been killed in a terrible pile-up on the freeway outside of Glenview. It had been a ten-car pile-up, and his parents had been caught in the middle.
They had been killed instantly, pulverized into their seats like they were part of the car.
In some ways Yuri understood why Daniel had become a drunken mess. It was a horrible tragedy, and Yuri could hardly bear to imagine the same thing happening to his own parents, but he felt there would have been a better way to deal with the pain other than turning to alcohol.
Yuri worried about what his best friend had become. Daniel stayed out all night at the clubs, drinking and swapping spit with girls he'd never met before, and he thought it was all great fun.
If his parents knew what had happened to him after their death, they would have frowned upon him, and no doubt reprimanded him for the awful behavior.
Daniel wouldn't listen to Yuri when he said he was killing himself. All he knew was that the alcohol made him forget.
All Yuri could do was follow what was left of his best friend and make sure he didn't hurt himself, or get into any trouble he couldn't handle by himself. It was hard for Yuri, though. Since becoming an alcoholic, Daniel's old friends had left him, and he had replaced them with other sickly alcoholics that always seemed to be watching Yuri like they were planning something.
They knew Yuri didn't drink, so they didn't understand why he hung out with Daniel all the time, and they obviously didn't like it. All too often they would try to separate the two friends, but Yuri would never let them. He couldn't let Daniel be pulled fully into the alcoholic abyss. They been friends too long; it would be far too devastating.
Besides that, he'd have to move back in with his parents. He and Daniel split the rent of their shared apartment, and without Daniel's drug-dealing income, Yuri couldn't afford a place by himself.
He just didn't know what to do. There didn't seem to be any way to get Daniel sober. At this rate, he was going to die, and Yuri couldn't do a thing about it.
Or his town's impending doom.
***
Ray loved this town. It was perfect. It was like a mini San Francisco, complete with large population of drunken bastards that would have no idea what hit them.
It was like the perfect storm. No one would ever believe the stupid drunkards when they said they'd been attacked by a monster.
He smiled as he swigged his drink. The bar he now sat at was filled with noisy alcohol abusers, just asking for him to attack.
But he couldn't yet. He had to wait until he couldn't any longer. Wolf's orders. He had to stay low, at least until the first infected attacked.
He couldn't wait until the trucks come, though. It would be so…exciting.
Wolf had planned to release a single infected into each town a couple days after the Bloodthieves arrived, just to stir things up a bit; make people nervous, keep 'em on their toes. Then the trucks would come and pour out the infected like a faucet.
That would be fun.
The best part would be that no one would ever realize how bad the situation was, or what it was coming to. After the Bloodthieves knocked out the power to their towns, the poor citizens would have no connections to the outside world. A week after the power outage, Wolf planned for Driftwood to drop his Necrosis Bombs across the largest cities of the world, sinking the world into a state of chaos and death.
With the majority of defensive forces turned to undead, mindless, creatures (what pop culture seemed to call 'zombies'), and the infection spreading like water from a broken dam, the world would surely crumble, along with the populations sanity.
Thinking about the chaos made him fill to the brim with enthusiasm. He ordered another drink.
***
Yuri leaned up against the bar, quiet and depressed.
"You need a drink?" asked the bartender. Yuri shook his head, otherwise not answering. The bartender left him alone and moved on to a happy couple down at the end.
Ray looked over and saw the distressed boy. "What's the matter, there, kid? Too much to drink or not enough?"
Yuri didn't like talking to strangers. Not because of those old sayings, but because he wasn't much of the social type since he'd started worrying about Daniel.
When he didn't answer, the man kept talking.
"Not enough, obviously. Hey, bartender, get this kid a drink. I'll pick it up."
Yuri glared at the pushy man, finally speaking up. "Man, didn't you just see that I didn't want a drink?" He was annoyed now.
"Well you need one."
The bartender arrived with a glass of beer, setting it down next to Yuri's arm.
"I don't want it," Yuri told the bartender, who in turn looked over at Ray.
"Just leave it," Ray said to him, dismissing the bartender.
"What do you want man?" Yuri asked, peeved.
"Nothing. You just looked like you needed a friend."
"I don't need one, especially in you."
Ray was taken aback by the harshness in the young mans voice. The guy must have been having a terrible day.
Likewise, Yuri had never sounded so rude to someone before, but he didn't care this time. The guy was a creep, and he wasn't having a good day.
"Easy there, kid, I'm only looking to help you."
It didn't seem appropriate for this guy to be calling Yuri a kid. He must have been only in his twenties, himself.
"I don't need any help."
"I think that's a lie."
Yuri was getting hardcore pissed off now. "Alright, you wanna know what my problem is?" he growled. "My best friend's parents died and now he's a disgusting drunk who spends all his time with terrible people that he thinks are his friends and he doesn't even listen to his real friends anymore, and I miss him. That's my problem."
"Alright, I see."
"No, you don't. I don't see you having to follow your best friend around constantly just to make sure he doesn't throw up on himself or end up in the garbage bin."
The kid had a point; Ray had never had an alcoholic friend before.
Maybe he could help this 'Daniel' out of his misery.
Yuri felt bad for Daniel, but he was still disappointed in him.
Just about a year ago, Daniel's mother and father had been killed in a terrible pile-up on the freeway outside of Glenview. It had been a ten-car pile-up, and his parents had been caught in the middle.
They had been killed instantly, pulverized into their seats like they were part of the car.
In some ways Yuri understood why Daniel had become a drunken mess. It was a horrible tragedy, and Yuri could hardly bear to imagine the same thing happening to his own parents, but he felt there would have been a better way to deal with the pain other than turning to alcohol.
Yuri worried about what his best friend had become. Daniel stayed out all night at the clubs, drinking and swapping spit with girls he'd never met before, and he thought it was all great fun.
If his parents knew what had happened to him after their death, they would have frowned upon him, and no doubt reprimanded him for the awful behavior.
Daniel wouldn't listen to Yuri when he said he was killing himself. All he knew was that the alcohol made him forget.
All Yuri could do was follow what was left of his best friend and make sure he didn't hurt himself, or get into any trouble he couldn't handle by himself. It was hard for Yuri, though. Since becoming an alcoholic, Daniel's old friends had left him, and he had replaced them with other sickly alcoholics that always seemed to be watching Yuri like they were planning something.
They knew Yuri didn't drink, so they didn't understand why he hung out with Daniel all the time, and they obviously didn't like it. All too often they would try to separate the two friends, but Yuri would never let them. He couldn't let Daniel be pulled fully into the alcoholic abyss. They been friends too long; it would be far too devastating.
Besides that, he'd have to move back in with his parents. He and Daniel split the rent of their shared apartment, and without Daniel's drug-dealing income, Yuri couldn't afford a place by himself.
He just didn't know what to do. There didn't seem to be any way to get Daniel sober. At this rate, he was going to die, and Yuri couldn't do a thing about it.
Or his town's impending doom.
***
Ray loved this town. It was perfect. It was like a mini San Francisco, complete with large population of drunken bastards that would have no idea what hit them.
It was like the perfect storm. No one would ever believe the stupid drunkards when they said they'd been attacked by a monster.
He smiled as he swigged his drink. The bar he now sat at was filled with noisy alcohol abusers, just asking for him to attack.
But he couldn't yet. He had to wait until he couldn't any longer. Wolf's orders. He had to stay low, at least until the first infected attacked.
He couldn't wait until the trucks come, though. It would be so…exciting.
Wolf had planned to release a single infected into each town a couple days after the Bloodthieves arrived, just to stir things up a bit; make people nervous, keep 'em on their toes. Then the trucks would come and pour out the infected like a faucet.
That would be fun.
The best part would be that no one would ever realize how bad the situation was, or what it was coming to. After the Bloodthieves knocked out the power to their towns, the poor citizens would have no connections to the outside world. A week after the power outage, Wolf planned for Driftwood to drop his Necrosis Bombs across the largest cities of the world, sinking the world into a state of chaos and death.
With the majority of defensive forces turned to undead, mindless, creatures (what pop culture seemed to call 'zombies'), and the infection spreading like water from a broken dam, the world would surely crumble, along with the populations sanity.
Thinking about the chaos made him fill to the brim with enthusiasm. He ordered another drink.
***
Yuri leaned up against the bar, quiet and depressed.
"You need a drink?" asked the bartender. Yuri shook his head, otherwise not answering. The bartender left him alone and moved on to a happy couple down at the end.
Ray looked over and saw the distressed boy. "What's the matter, there, kid? Too much to drink or not enough?"
Yuri didn't like talking to strangers. Not because of those old sayings, but because he wasn't much of the social type since he'd started worrying about Daniel.
When he didn't answer, the man kept talking.
"Not enough, obviously. Hey, bartender, get this kid a drink. I'll pick it up."
Yuri glared at the pushy man, finally speaking up. "Man, didn't you just see that I didn't want a drink?" He was annoyed now.
"Well you need one."
The bartender arrived with a glass of beer, setting it down next to Yuri's arm.
"I don't want it," Yuri told the bartender, who in turn looked over at Ray.
"Just leave it," Ray said to him, dismissing the bartender.
"What do you want man?" Yuri asked, peeved.
"Nothing. You just looked like you needed a friend."
"I don't need one, especially in you."
Ray was taken aback by the harshness in the young mans voice. The guy must have been having a terrible day.
Likewise, Yuri had never sounded so rude to someone before, but he didn't care this time. The guy was a creep, and he wasn't having a good day.
"Easy there, kid, I'm only looking to help you."
It didn't seem appropriate for this guy to be calling Yuri a kid. He must have been only in his twenties, himself.
"I don't need any help."
"I think that's a lie."
Yuri was getting hardcore pissed off now. "Alright, you wanna know what my problem is?" he growled. "My best friend's parents died and now he's a disgusting drunk who spends all his time with terrible people that he thinks are his friends and he doesn't even listen to his real friends anymore, and I miss him. That's my problem."
"Alright, I see."
"No, you don't. I don't see you having to follow your best friend around constantly just to make sure he doesn't throw up on himself or end up in the garbage bin."
The kid had a point; Ray had never had an alcoholic friend before.
Maybe he could help this 'Daniel' out of his misery.
Post Mortem #1: Waking the Dead, Ch 4
Chapter 4
"You're trucks are ready?"
"Yes sir."
"Only the creations I indicated in your letter?"
"Yes sir."
Wolf appreciated Legion's eagerness, but at times it was too much. Legion did not want to start the apocalypse with small towns. He wanted to use Driftwoods Necrosis Bombs on huge cities like San Francisco and New York City. He didn't understand the value of making the population fear their presence. All he cared about was death (who also happened to be his best friend; Death with a capital D).
Wolf was hoping Legion was being true to his word. Tiny numbers of Driftwoods' abominations were to be sent to accompany the Bloodthieves. Any more than Wolf's instructed number would compromise all their plans. There had to be enough to make the citizens wonder, but few enough so they wouldn't be seen all that often. Of course the police force wouldn't believe the citizens when they said monsters had broken into their home. There would be so few there would be little to no evidence, so they would be simply written off as mistaking an identity of a rabid animal.
"Then send them out."
"Yes sir." Legion took a large radio out of his pocket.
"Go."
***
This was possibly going to be the best money Monica had ever made. Out of all the housekeepers the Denario's had at their disposal, they had chosen Monica.
She would certainly do a good job (of course she never did badly. She was one of the highest rated housekeepers online, and proud of it). She had to prove to them that she was worth keeping for as long as they needed (hopefully a long time). She needed this money for her family.
It was up to Monica to bring income to her family. With two young siblings, her frail mother and father, and even more delicate grandmother living in one house, she had it rough keeping up with the expenses. They had no electricity, and thus light around the home was provided by small candles scattered about the house. Fortunately they still had running water, which was a blessing to the family, and to Monica. She didn't need to worry about work and getting water for her family, or cleaning the water for that matter.
The Denario's were probably the richest people living in Corona Rojo at the moment. They owned a huge, magnificent house at the top of what the locals called "chapitel rocosa", the Rocky Spire, that looked out upon the whole town.
Some of the locals also like to say the place was cursed, that the place the mansion was built on the mountain used to be an Indian burial ground.
The rest of her family believed this, but Monica did not. She didn't have time to be scared by ghost stories and hocus-pocus. She had to take care of her family. They had warned her not to take the job, but she persisted. The Denario's had promised a wonderful amount of money for a Monday to Friday job, and she took it immediately. The money she would earn would be more than enough to keep her family well fed, clean, and maybe even get back their electricity.
***
Dirga smirked at the appearance of the town as the plane descended. There was hardly any colour to it; the houses, the trees, the grass, even the roads were either brown or a light tan.
The place just looked dirty. Dirga, about to be 'Anita' among the pesky humans of Corona Rojo, was not thrilled to be here. No doubt the people that lived there were dirty as well. She may be a bloodthirsty creature, but certainly she could sink her teeth into some cleaner morsels than what obviously lived around here.
As the plane set down in flatlands just outside the small town, the engines kicked up a dust storm probably not uncommon to the area.
Reluctant to leave the air-conditioned cleanliness of the jet, she took her time unbuckling herself, getting out of the seat, and making her way to the door.
The pilot watched her leave happily.
"You're trucks are ready?"
"Yes sir."
"Only the creations I indicated in your letter?"
"Yes sir."
Wolf appreciated Legion's eagerness, but at times it was too much. Legion did not want to start the apocalypse with small towns. He wanted to use Driftwoods Necrosis Bombs on huge cities like San Francisco and New York City. He didn't understand the value of making the population fear their presence. All he cared about was death (who also happened to be his best friend; Death with a capital D).
Wolf was hoping Legion was being true to his word. Tiny numbers of Driftwoods' abominations were to be sent to accompany the Bloodthieves. Any more than Wolf's instructed number would compromise all their plans. There had to be enough to make the citizens wonder, but few enough so they wouldn't be seen all that often. Of course the police force wouldn't believe the citizens when they said monsters had broken into their home. There would be so few there would be little to no evidence, so they would be simply written off as mistaking an identity of a rabid animal.
"Then send them out."
"Yes sir." Legion took a large radio out of his pocket.
"Go."
***
This was possibly going to be the best money Monica had ever made. Out of all the housekeepers the Denario's had at their disposal, they had chosen Monica.
She would certainly do a good job (of course she never did badly. She was one of the highest rated housekeepers online, and proud of it). She had to prove to them that she was worth keeping for as long as they needed (hopefully a long time). She needed this money for her family.
It was up to Monica to bring income to her family. With two young siblings, her frail mother and father, and even more delicate grandmother living in one house, she had it rough keeping up with the expenses. They had no electricity, and thus light around the home was provided by small candles scattered about the house. Fortunately they still had running water, which was a blessing to the family, and to Monica. She didn't need to worry about work and getting water for her family, or cleaning the water for that matter.
The Denario's were probably the richest people living in Corona Rojo at the moment. They owned a huge, magnificent house at the top of what the locals called "chapitel rocosa", the Rocky Spire, that looked out upon the whole town.
Some of the locals also like to say the place was cursed, that the place the mansion was built on the mountain used to be an Indian burial ground.
The rest of her family believed this, but Monica did not. She didn't have time to be scared by ghost stories and hocus-pocus. She had to take care of her family. They had warned her not to take the job, but she persisted. The Denario's had promised a wonderful amount of money for a Monday to Friday job, and she took it immediately. The money she would earn would be more than enough to keep her family well fed, clean, and maybe even get back their electricity.
***
Dirga smirked at the appearance of the town as the plane descended. There was hardly any colour to it; the houses, the trees, the grass, even the roads were either brown or a light tan.
The place just looked dirty. Dirga, about to be 'Anita' among the pesky humans of Corona Rojo, was not thrilled to be here. No doubt the people that lived there were dirty as well. She may be a bloodthirsty creature, but certainly she could sink her teeth into some cleaner morsels than what obviously lived around here.
As the plane set down in flatlands just outside the small town, the engines kicked up a dust storm probably not uncommon to the area.
Reluctant to leave the air-conditioned cleanliness of the jet, she took her time unbuckling herself, getting out of the seat, and making her way to the door.
The pilot watched her leave happily.
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If you'd like to follow my work on DeviantART, please feel free to make an account, the site is FREE! Then, you can get all my updates, works, and illustrations that won't be available on this site alone.
Thanks for reading!
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All of these books are my original work. This means YOU CANNOT STEAL CONTENT, whether it be characters, storyline or plot, or anything else. If I find you distributing, selling, advertising, or claiming any of my work as your own, I will take action, whatever action that may be needed.
However, as always, fan art and OC's are welcome and appreciated.
DeviantArt and my family have records for all my work, and we can prove it was mine before you decided to steal it, so don't even go there.
Thank you for your intelligence :)
All of these books are my original work. This means YOU CANNOT STEAL CONTENT, whether it be characters, storyline or plot, or anything else. If I find you distributing, selling, advertising, or claiming any of my work as your own, I will take action, whatever action that may be needed.
However, as always, fan art and OC's are welcome and appreciated.
DeviantArt and my family have records for all my work, and we can prove it was mine before you decided to steal it, so don't even go there.
Thank you for your intelligence :)
Post Mortem #1: Waking the Dead, Ch 3
Chapter 3
The morning was calm. Not a cloud littered the ground with shadows, and only a light wind escorted the leaves through the street.
Tommy rode his bike through the swathes of leaves left behind the storm, dispersing them.
He was on his way to the coffee shop to meet his friends. It was a weekday routine they had all agreed on a little over a year ago. Since three out of their group of seven worked at Geil's, it was convenient, and usually a good start to what always seemed like such a long day. The shop itself was placed in a pretty part of town anyway, and only a few blocks from Geil's, making it one of the best hang-out spots for the group.
Thomas very much enjoyed sitting near a window and looking out. Even on overcast days, the town was so peaceful it was hard to feel depressed. The little town square that the coffee shop sat in was always filled with people, and Thomas could name nearly all of them. Having lived in this town his whole life, he'd gotten to know very many of the residents, and since few people came or went, they all knew him as well. It was all very comfortable and relaxing to him.
He could remember one time, while he was in elementary school, a few older boys tried to rob him of his Gameboy on his walk home. He had been terrified and unsure what to do. He'd never had a problem with bullies (at least at this age), and though he'd seen and heard many conversations having to do with solving the issue, he'd never experienced it first-hand. So he ran. He ran all the way into town, all the while followed by the relentless boys, whom he soon realized weren't really after his Gameboy at all, just fresh meat to grind.
He ran into Juno's, a popular deli where everyone knew him, and pleaded to the employees to help him.
They ended up intercepting the boys on the sidewalk outside and calling their parents, who arrived a few minutes later, red-faced and angry.
He never had any issue with those boys again, or any other real bullies since. He merely dealt with the periodic mocking of fellow guys and a few girls who found him to be 'too nice' or 'soft'. Those comments he just rubbed off. He didn't care what they thought about him. And they were so few anyway.
When he arrived at the coffee shop, Taylor was already there, accompanied by his 'not-girlfriend', Sierra, and Cruise's girlfriend, Olivia.
Cruise and Sierra's brother were no where to be found.
"Hello," Thomas said casually as he pushed his bike into the rack on the sidewalk. His friends had chosen an outdoor table this time, shaded by a lush tree and lined with a few bushes in front.
"Hey." Taylor scratched his head, fixed his hair. Sierra was sitting right next to him. He was hoping he looked decent. He hardly brushed his hair this morning. He woke up late, hardly had time to brush his teeth before he had to jam.
Such a dumbass... he thought, inwardly slapping his forehead. Of course, the day Sierra decides to sit next to him he has to make such a screw-up.
Thomas smiled, reading his best friend like a book. He always thought it was funny how awkward Taylor was around Sierra, not in a jerky way, but in a, hey, I'm your best friend, I have to bug you, kind of way.
Taylor had never even had a girlfriend, so of course he didn't know how to act. He had short blonde hair that stuck up like he slept in hair gel all night, and dark brown eyes that always seemed to look rather vacant. Accompanied with the fact that he was scrawny and slightly seemed to resemble an emaciated dog, or maybe even an insect, he wasn't too attractive to girls. He knew he wasn't very attractive, too, and so he mainly kept to himself, and avoided most girls all together.
Thomas was kind of the same way, though certainly not unattractive. And he didn't try to avoid girls, really. Taylor was even awkward around female customers at Geil's, whereas Thomas had no problems talking to the opposite sex. He just had no idea how to ask a girl out. Besides that, he'd never really found anyone special. Sierra was sweet, and funny, but he wasn't wanting a romantic relationship with her. He known her for too long, it would almost seem awkward if they were to date. Besides, he still wanted to see if Taylor would ever find the balls to ask her out.
He sat down across from Sierra, diagonal from both Taylor and Olivia.
"What was up with the wind last night?" Olivia asked the moment he sat down. He had forgotten about it nearly all morning until she brought it up.
"That was weird, wasn't it?" Taylor answered. "It was perfect out all day until then."
"It pushed me off my bike," Thomas told them.
Sierra gave him an amazed look. "I know, right? The tree in my backyard? That huge branch that points out toward the mountains, it broke right off! Smashed our lawn-mower. Good thing I guess, my dad didn't really want to fix it, but damn! " She shook her head. "That branch was about as big around as Cruise and it looked like it just snapped like a twig."
"That was crazy scary last night," said Olivia.
"You don't think there's going to be a tornado or something?" asked Taylor. Sierra looked at him skeptically.
"If there would have been a tornado it would have been last night. And today is beautiful. There's hardly any wind, just a breeze."
"That's what it was like yesterday, too!" Taylor argued, then shut his mouth. He couldn't argue with Sierra, couldn't risk deterring her from him. She was the only girl (besides Olivia) that would ever hang out with him. But he knew his statement spoke the truth.
"Yeah, I know…It's just very unlikely."
Olivia smiled at someone over Thomas' shoulder. He turned to see Cruise pulling up his old '76 Jaguar. The thing ran like piece of crap, spitting out smoke from the exhaust and stalling every so often, but Cruise had to keep it. It's a Jaguar, dude, he'd say. Besides, I'll get it fixed one of these days . It had been about two years since that statement.
He slammed the door shut and started up the sidewalk toward their table, winking at his girlfriend and shooting a brief smile at the rest of them.
"'Sup Tom Cruise." Taylor smirked.
"Shut up, stickbug," Cruise retorted. It seemed rude, but stickbug was actually a somewhat affectionate name for Taylor, coming from Cruise. They had grown up next door to each other for years before Cruise's house got burned down by vandals; a rarity in Riverside.
Cruise had nearly black hair and brown-grey eyes, just like the actor with the same name (and yes, Cruise's first name was Tom. He preferred be called 'Cruise' because the name wasn't common, and for Thomas' sake), but a build slightly larger. He worked out at the local gym at least three times a week after work, which gave him a status among peers as 'popular', though most people knew he was an ass. Popular kids just don't care, as long as you're 'cool', which Cruise apparently was.
Thomas often wondered why Cruise hung out with them. Taylor he could somewhat understand, having lived next to each other and played around a bunch as kids, but other than that it was strange. He assumed it was because Olivia liked them, but even that was strange, because she was one of the 'popular' kids in high school as well. 'Populars' didn't hang out with people like Taylor, or Sierra, or even Thomas. Thomas had relatively level status in high school, Taylor a bit below, and Sierra a little popular, even somewhat well known for her skills in art. But there was no real reason as to why Olivia chose them to hang out with.
Maybe she was actually smart and realized how boring the popular kids can be. Maybe she secretly made fun of them behind their backs. Maybe it was just a combination between Cruise's friendship with Taylor and Olivia's fondness for Cruise.
Olivia smiled lovingly at her boyfriend of three years. "Hey. We were just talking about the wind last night."
"Crazy shit," he answered. "I woke up and my Jag was completely covered in leaves and shit."
"Probably where it belongs, bro," Taylor said to him.
"Fuck you, stickbug. She's beautiful." He turned to Olivia. "Like my other girl."
Thomas rolled his eyes as they kissed. They never seemed to get the message that PDA among their friend group wasn't very welcome. It was just awkward.
"Where's Freddie?" Thomas asked Sierra as soon as the make-out session was over.
"At home. Says he's sick."
Freddie was Sierra's hypochondriac brother. He always thought he had some kind of disease or severe illness that would somehow kill him or make him so debilitated that he'd wish he would have died. Even when he had a minor cold or flu bug, he'd ask to see a doctor to make sure it wasn't a prelude for something more deadly. He happened to be very well known at Riverside Hospital for that reason.
"Uh oh," Thomas muttered.
"Yup. He found a tick in his hair last night. Says he's absolutely sure he has Lyme disease. Drove him crazy when mom said she wouldn't take him to the hospital."
"I'm surprised he hasn't walked there already."
"Me too."
After they'd had their coffee and a few various food items, it was near time for Taylor, Thomas, and Cruise to go to work.
Olivia gave her boyfriend a goodbye kiss on his way to his car, while Taylor and Thomas played homosexual.
They were holding hands while they walked down the steps to the sidewalk, exaggerating the sway of a girls walk and smiling too happily.
This was just a friendly thing they did, since they were in the same boat with the girl issues. Sierra and Olivia both thought it was hilarious. They did it quite often, too. They both found it entertaining, especially doing it after Cruise and Olivia.
Cruise was aware it was partially to mock his and Olivia's love, but he did nothing about it.
When Thomas got to his bike, he and Taylor hugged, holding each other in their arms for an extended amount of time. Cruise glared at them from his car and quickly pulled out into the street.
"Hahaha," Taylor laughed. "Well, I'll see you later." He slapped his best friend on the back and took off back up the steps to sit next to Sierra. Thomas shook his head, smiling. Taylor was so hopeless when it came to Sierra. He definitely wasn't her type, she was just being nice.
Tommy took off, jumping the curb down into the bike lane and starting towards Geil's.
The morning was calm. Not a cloud littered the ground with shadows, and only a light wind escorted the leaves through the street.
Tommy rode his bike through the swathes of leaves left behind the storm, dispersing them.
He was on his way to the coffee shop to meet his friends. It was a weekday routine they had all agreed on a little over a year ago. Since three out of their group of seven worked at Geil's, it was convenient, and usually a good start to what always seemed like such a long day. The shop itself was placed in a pretty part of town anyway, and only a few blocks from Geil's, making it one of the best hang-out spots for the group.
Thomas very much enjoyed sitting near a window and looking out. Even on overcast days, the town was so peaceful it was hard to feel depressed. The little town square that the coffee shop sat in was always filled with people, and Thomas could name nearly all of them. Having lived in this town his whole life, he'd gotten to know very many of the residents, and since few people came or went, they all knew him as well. It was all very comfortable and relaxing to him.
He could remember one time, while he was in elementary school, a few older boys tried to rob him of his Gameboy on his walk home. He had been terrified and unsure what to do. He'd never had a problem with bullies (at least at this age), and though he'd seen and heard many conversations having to do with solving the issue, he'd never experienced it first-hand. So he ran. He ran all the way into town, all the while followed by the relentless boys, whom he soon realized weren't really after his Gameboy at all, just fresh meat to grind.
He ran into Juno's, a popular deli where everyone knew him, and pleaded to the employees to help him.
They ended up intercepting the boys on the sidewalk outside and calling their parents, who arrived a few minutes later, red-faced and angry.
He never had any issue with those boys again, or any other real bullies since. He merely dealt with the periodic mocking of fellow guys and a few girls who found him to be 'too nice' or 'soft'. Those comments he just rubbed off. He didn't care what they thought about him. And they were so few anyway.
When he arrived at the coffee shop, Taylor was already there, accompanied by his 'not-girlfriend', Sierra, and Cruise's girlfriend, Olivia.
Cruise and Sierra's brother were no where to be found.
"Hello," Thomas said casually as he pushed his bike into the rack on the sidewalk. His friends had chosen an outdoor table this time, shaded by a lush tree and lined with a few bushes in front.
"Hey." Taylor scratched his head, fixed his hair. Sierra was sitting right next to him. He was hoping he looked decent. He hardly brushed his hair this morning. He woke up late, hardly had time to brush his teeth before he had to jam.
Such a dumbass... he thought, inwardly slapping his forehead. Of course, the day Sierra decides to sit next to him he has to make such a screw-up.
Thomas smiled, reading his best friend like a book. He always thought it was funny how awkward Taylor was around Sierra, not in a jerky way, but in a, hey, I'm your best friend, I have to bug you, kind of way.
Taylor had never even had a girlfriend, so of course he didn't know how to act. He had short blonde hair that stuck up like he slept in hair gel all night, and dark brown eyes that always seemed to look rather vacant. Accompanied with the fact that he was scrawny and slightly seemed to resemble an emaciated dog, or maybe even an insect, he wasn't too attractive to girls. He knew he wasn't very attractive, too, and so he mainly kept to himself, and avoided most girls all together.
Thomas was kind of the same way, though certainly not unattractive. And he didn't try to avoid girls, really. Taylor was even awkward around female customers at Geil's, whereas Thomas had no problems talking to the opposite sex. He just had no idea how to ask a girl out. Besides that, he'd never really found anyone special. Sierra was sweet, and funny, but he wasn't wanting a romantic relationship with her. He known her for too long, it would almost seem awkward if they were to date. Besides, he still wanted to see if Taylor would ever find the balls to ask her out.
He sat down across from Sierra, diagonal from both Taylor and Olivia.
"What was up with the wind last night?" Olivia asked the moment he sat down. He had forgotten about it nearly all morning until she brought it up.
"That was weird, wasn't it?" Taylor answered. "It was perfect out all day until then."
"It pushed me off my bike," Thomas told them.
Sierra gave him an amazed look. "I know, right? The tree in my backyard? That huge branch that points out toward the mountains, it broke right off! Smashed our lawn-mower. Good thing I guess, my dad didn't really want to fix it, but damn! " She shook her head. "That branch was about as big around as Cruise and it looked like it just snapped like a twig."
"That was crazy scary last night," said Olivia.
"You don't think there's going to be a tornado or something?" asked Taylor. Sierra looked at him skeptically.
"If there would have been a tornado it would have been last night. And today is beautiful. There's hardly any wind, just a breeze."
"That's what it was like yesterday, too!" Taylor argued, then shut his mouth. He couldn't argue with Sierra, couldn't risk deterring her from him. She was the only girl (besides Olivia) that would ever hang out with him. But he knew his statement spoke the truth.
"Yeah, I know…It's just very unlikely."
Olivia smiled at someone over Thomas' shoulder. He turned to see Cruise pulling up his old '76 Jaguar. The thing ran like piece of crap, spitting out smoke from the exhaust and stalling every so often, but Cruise had to keep it. It's a Jaguar, dude, he'd say. Besides, I'll get it fixed one of these days . It had been about two years since that statement.
He slammed the door shut and started up the sidewalk toward their table, winking at his girlfriend and shooting a brief smile at the rest of them.
"'Sup Tom Cruise." Taylor smirked.
"Shut up, stickbug," Cruise retorted. It seemed rude, but stickbug was actually a somewhat affectionate name for Taylor, coming from Cruise. They had grown up next door to each other for years before Cruise's house got burned down by vandals; a rarity in Riverside.
Cruise had nearly black hair and brown-grey eyes, just like the actor with the same name (and yes, Cruise's first name was Tom. He preferred be called 'Cruise' because the name wasn't common, and for Thomas' sake), but a build slightly larger. He worked out at the local gym at least three times a week after work, which gave him a status among peers as 'popular', though most people knew he was an ass. Popular kids just don't care, as long as you're 'cool', which Cruise apparently was.
Thomas often wondered why Cruise hung out with them. Taylor he could somewhat understand, having lived next to each other and played around a bunch as kids, but other than that it was strange. He assumed it was because Olivia liked them, but even that was strange, because she was one of the 'popular' kids in high school as well. 'Populars' didn't hang out with people like Taylor, or Sierra, or even Thomas. Thomas had relatively level status in high school, Taylor a bit below, and Sierra a little popular, even somewhat well known for her skills in art. But there was no real reason as to why Olivia chose them to hang out with.
Maybe she was actually smart and realized how boring the popular kids can be. Maybe she secretly made fun of them behind their backs. Maybe it was just a combination between Cruise's friendship with Taylor and Olivia's fondness for Cruise.
Olivia smiled lovingly at her boyfriend of three years. "Hey. We were just talking about the wind last night."
"Crazy shit," he answered. "I woke up and my Jag was completely covered in leaves and shit."
"Probably where it belongs, bro," Taylor said to him.
"Fuck you, stickbug. She's beautiful." He turned to Olivia. "Like my other girl."
Thomas rolled his eyes as they kissed. They never seemed to get the message that PDA among their friend group wasn't very welcome. It was just awkward.
"Where's Freddie?" Thomas asked Sierra as soon as the make-out session was over.
"At home. Says he's sick."
Freddie was Sierra's hypochondriac brother. He always thought he had some kind of disease or severe illness that would somehow kill him or make him so debilitated that he'd wish he would have died. Even when he had a minor cold or flu bug, he'd ask to see a doctor to make sure it wasn't a prelude for something more deadly. He happened to be very well known at Riverside Hospital for that reason.
"Uh oh," Thomas muttered.
"Yup. He found a tick in his hair last night. Says he's absolutely sure he has Lyme disease. Drove him crazy when mom said she wouldn't take him to the hospital."
"I'm surprised he hasn't walked there already."
"Me too."
After they'd had their coffee and a few various food items, it was near time for Taylor, Thomas, and Cruise to go to work.
Olivia gave her boyfriend a goodbye kiss on his way to his car, while Taylor and Thomas played homosexual.
They were holding hands while they walked down the steps to the sidewalk, exaggerating the sway of a girls walk and smiling too happily.
This was just a friendly thing they did, since they were in the same boat with the girl issues. Sierra and Olivia both thought it was hilarious. They did it quite often, too. They both found it entertaining, especially doing it after Cruise and Olivia.
Cruise was aware it was partially to mock his and Olivia's love, but he did nothing about it.
When Thomas got to his bike, he and Taylor hugged, holding each other in their arms for an extended amount of time. Cruise glared at them from his car and quickly pulled out into the street.
"Hahaha," Taylor laughed. "Well, I'll see you later." He slapped his best friend on the back and took off back up the steps to sit next to Sierra. Thomas shook his head, smiling. Taylor was so hopeless when it came to Sierra. He definitely wasn't her type, she was just being nice.
Tommy took off, jumping the curb down into the bike lane and starting towards Geil's.
Post Mortem #1: Waking the Dead, Ch 2
Alright, here goes Chapter 2.
Remember, I am looking for editors, since the only real proofreading comes from me (and many of these chapters have not been edited yet, anyway). If you'd like to help out, shoot me a message or comment!
Chapter 2
Crest despised Feara. He knew she hated what she was, and that she hated everyone around her, including him.
She had no idea the power Wolf had given her. Instead of helping them rise to greatness, she was pitying the poor humans she devoured.
Fool , he thought. She was lucky she did what she was told, or he'd do something about her. Wolf would let him, too. He knew he was Wolf's favorite of his small army of Bloodthieves.
Unlike Feara, he embraced the fact he was a monster. It gave him power. It made him almost invincible, and to the humans who didn't know his weakness, he was invincible. He didn't care that he killed people. He couldn't wait until his next feeding.
The humans had no idea what was coming, and it made him well up with a dark happiness, knowing that he would be apart of the genocide. He could hardly wait to hear the screams of fear as the terrified humans began to catch on. He wanted to feel their despair when they realized they couldn't escape.
Just thinking about it made him antsy in his seat.
Couldn't this plane go any faster?
But it didn't matter. He had strict instructions to feed as secretly as possible until Legion's 'delivery' arrived. Then he could commence the terror among the small town.
He grinned, allowing for his teeth to change shape and sharpen into gleaming fangs.
He was already hungry.
The quiet co-pilot looked back at him, keeping a nervous watch on Crest.
Wolf wouldn't mind if he had a mid-flight snack, right?
***
Blanca loved her job, and loved where she lived. Life really couldn't be any better for her.
Well, she wished she were a slightly more prominent author, but she was working on that.
Her favorite part of her job was that she didn't really have to go anywhere. She could sit in this beautiful park and write for as long as she wanted, and not feel the need to have to be somewhere.
Since her boyfriend had broken up with her (over the fact that she spent so much time writing her books and not spending time with him), she really had no attachments to anything other than her books.
Sure, she had friends, but it was mostly to ease the mind of her mother, who believed her daughter was too solitary and concerned for her well-being.
Her mother just didn't understand. She wasn't antisocial, she just preferred the company of her books, and her characters. They would never break up with her, or be mean to her, or leave her for any reason.
She did realize, of course, she couldn't live with the sole accompaniment of her creations, and so she did go out with friends, just every now and then, to have a drink, to watch a movie. They'd even taken a week to go skiing (which happened to be Blanca's other favorite hobby besides writing).
Now that winter was coming up fast, she'd spend more time skiing and less time writing, both to ease her mother's mind and to take a break from her near constant work (because even when you love something, breaks are necessary).
Living in Clearview, Minnesota was the absolute perfect place for her. In the summer, it was delightfully sunny and often a very mild temperature, making it the best time to venture out to the park for some writing. In the winter, the snowy mountains were a mere half-an-hour drive away for some skiing and snowball fights. As well, she found it comforting in the winter to sit in front of the television with a cup of hot cocoa and write.
As for her social status in Clearview, it was great. She was well-known among the small population, and so had her own tiny fan-base right where she lived, along with thousands of fans outside clamoring for her next release. It made her absolutely full of glee that she had so many people who loved her, even ones she hadn't, and probably would never, meet.
It was somewhat ironic-sounding to her mother that she had this view of her fans, considering she seemed so anti-social, but Blanca had to constantly argue and prove to her that this was not the case. Blanca saw it as proof of her companionable impulses that she loved her fan-base and did not shy away from the attention.
Yet still her mother pestered her.
As she finished the last sentence of her book's final chapter, she noticed a strange noise, getting louder every second.
She looked up through the tree's of the park to see a small plane of some sort traveling across the sky.
That's strange , she thought. There were no airports around Clearview (the closest one a good 4 hours in the opposite direction the plane was heading), and she'd never really seen any plane pass over Clearview before, save for a very small of number of flights from Canada to the faraway airport.
Still, it didn't seem suspicious. It appeared to be a private jet. Probably some rich person making their way to Canada.
She continued writing.
Remember, I am looking for editors, since the only real proofreading comes from me (and many of these chapters have not been edited yet, anyway). If you'd like to help out, shoot me a message or comment!
Chapter 2
Crest despised Feara. He knew she hated what she was, and that she hated everyone around her, including him.
She had no idea the power Wolf had given her. Instead of helping them rise to greatness, she was pitying the poor humans she devoured.
Fool , he thought. She was lucky she did what she was told, or he'd do something about her. Wolf would let him, too. He knew he was Wolf's favorite of his small army of Bloodthieves.
Unlike Feara, he embraced the fact he was a monster. It gave him power. It made him almost invincible, and to the humans who didn't know his weakness, he was invincible. He didn't care that he killed people. He couldn't wait until his next feeding.
The humans had no idea what was coming, and it made him well up with a dark happiness, knowing that he would be apart of the genocide. He could hardly wait to hear the screams of fear as the terrified humans began to catch on. He wanted to feel their despair when they realized they couldn't escape.
Just thinking about it made him antsy in his seat.
Couldn't this plane go any faster?
But it didn't matter. He had strict instructions to feed as secretly as possible until Legion's 'delivery' arrived. Then he could commence the terror among the small town.
He grinned, allowing for his teeth to change shape and sharpen into gleaming fangs.
He was already hungry.
The quiet co-pilot looked back at him, keeping a nervous watch on Crest.
Wolf wouldn't mind if he had a mid-flight snack, right?
***
Blanca loved her job, and loved where she lived. Life really couldn't be any better for her.
Well, she wished she were a slightly more prominent author, but she was working on that.
Her favorite part of her job was that she didn't really have to go anywhere. She could sit in this beautiful park and write for as long as she wanted, and not feel the need to have to be somewhere.
Since her boyfriend had broken up with her (over the fact that she spent so much time writing her books and not spending time with him), she really had no attachments to anything other than her books.
Sure, she had friends, but it was mostly to ease the mind of her mother, who believed her daughter was too solitary and concerned for her well-being.
Her mother just didn't understand. She wasn't antisocial, she just preferred the company of her books, and her characters. They would never break up with her, or be mean to her, or leave her for any reason.
She did realize, of course, she couldn't live with the sole accompaniment of her creations, and so she did go out with friends, just every now and then, to have a drink, to watch a movie. They'd even taken a week to go skiing (which happened to be Blanca's other favorite hobby besides writing).
Now that winter was coming up fast, she'd spend more time skiing and less time writing, both to ease her mother's mind and to take a break from her near constant work (because even when you love something, breaks are necessary).
Living in Clearview, Minnesota was the absolute perfect place for her. In the summer, it was delightfully sunny and often a very mild temperature, making it the best time to venture out to the park for some writing. In the winter, the snowy mountains were a mere half-an-hour drive away for some skiing and snowball fights. As well, she found it comforting in the winter to sit in front of the television with a cup of hot cocoa and write.
As for her social status in Clearview, it was great. She was well-known among the small population, and so had her own tiny fan-base right where she lived, along with thousands of fans outside clamoring for her next release. It made her absolutely full of glee that she had so many people who loved her, even ones she hadn't, and probably would never, meet.
It was somewhat ironic-sounding to her mother that she had this view of her fans, considering she seemed so anti-social, but Blanca had to constantly argue and prove to her that this was not the case. Blanca saw it as proof of her companionable impulses that she loved her fan-base and did not shy away from the attention.
Yet still her mother pestered her.
As she finished the last sentence of her book's final chapter, she noticed a strange noise, getting louder every second.
She looked up through the tree's of the park to see a small plane of some sort traveling across the sky.
That's strange , she thought. There were no airports around Clearview (the closest one a good 4 hours in the opposite direction the plane was heading), and she'd never really seen any plane pass over Clearview before, save for a very small of number of flights from Canada to the faraway airport.
Still, it didn't seem suspicious. It appeared to be a private jet. Probably some rich person making their way to Canada.
She continued writing.
Post Mortem #1: Waking the Dead, Ch 1
A few notes: yes, formatting is screwed up. It's what I get for copying and pasting this from my dA.
There aren't that many warnings about his book, just foul language, blood and gore, and disturbing scenes occaisonally.
Enjoy!
Chapter 1
"This is what you were created to do."
"Yes. I understand."
"You're sure you have the ability to do this? This may be be only one
ground-zero, but it's importance is unparalleled. The town is small for a reason."
"I know."
"The pawns will spread in all directions. They will reach far."
She hoped this conversation wouldn't last much longer. She'd heard this
information multiple times before; the only difference now was that he was
speaking to her directly. It made her feel important, but at the same time,
used.
She nodded. "We all know they will."
"Good. You're aware of your mission? You must fit in until Legion's delivery
takes hold. Feed in secrecy. Let no one know your intent."
"Yes sir."
She didn't want to do this, but denying Wolf was like denying God. Nothing ever
ends well.
Besides, Wolf and his…well, she didn't know what to call them. Mercenaries was a
good word for most. They had created her. They had taught her, nurtured her, and
been her family (she didn't find 'family' the best term for their relationship,
but she could not think of an appropriate alternative). They were all she had,
and while she wasn't thrilled at all about her new mission, she would get nothing out of denying it. If she even got a chance to leave, she would have no where to go. Wolf
was the one that supplied her with places to live and food to eat. Scissor was
the one that fed her when she craved blood.
The humans outside their secretive headquarters would never understand, or care
for that matter. Humans were afraid of what they didn't understand. To them, she
was a monster, not a girl (she never really thought of herself as a girl either,
but she couldn't quite live with the sole fact that she was, in fact, a monster.
She added the lie of being a girl to her mind to keep on living). Other than
that, she wouldn't even be able to handle herself. Not in the terms of living on
her own. Knowing she was out there killing innocent people and hardly even
realizing it would be too much. She feared death, but she'd surely find a way to
bring an end to her life, to spare the humans that were all, to her, prey.
She would have killed herself by now if she'd had the guts. But the creature
inside her wouldn't allow it. She believed she didn't want to die, because the
creature told her so. She was scared to die, because the creature did not want
to be killed.
She halfway hoped that on this new mission, given directly by Wolf himself, that
a human would come along and kill her, that someone would find her hunting,
infiltrating a home to steal the blood of innocents, and kill her.
But they'd need silver. It would be all they could use. Lead bullets would be a
mere thorn in her side. And the humans would never know her weakness.
Thinking of hunting the poor humans of Riverside made her feel sick to her
stomach. She'd killed many people her lifetime, but she never got used to it,
and she never would.
"There will be no one there to assist you, as in the past," Wolf continued to
inform her.
"I understand. I will be fine by myself."
"Don't think I'm unaware of your hatred toward me and yourself. You were made to
do these things, and you have no choice, and I'm sure you realize it."
That was Wolf. Able to read minds like a licensed psychic. Still, she was
stunned he saw right through her facade of bravery and compliance.
"I…" She knew it was inappropriate to stutter before him, but could not find the
words to continue. She had no idea what to say in response. She expected a
backhand from her master, but to her surprise, he only smiled.
"I'm glad. You have a brain. You may prove to be a very key component in this
chess game."
It angered her every time he called it that. To him, killing innocent people was
just a game. And the worse part? He never lost.
***
This was Thomas' favorite part of the day: riding home from work. His friend
Cruise always teased him about it; it being the fact that Thomas loved the
scenery. Cruise said it was 'unmanly', and 'something only chicks would enjoy'.
But Thomas didn't care at all what Cruise said. Everyone knew the guy was a
stuck-up ass. Thomas was only friends with him because he happened to be friends
with Cruise's friends.
Thomas wasn't like regular guys anyway, and he didn't mind it. He enjoyed being
different from the flock of sex-craving, messy, inconsiderate jerks that roamed
his hometown of Riverside. Cruise was one of these, and look how he turned out;
he hardly had any friends, and the few he had hardly liked him.
That's not how Thomas wanted to be. Ironically, Thomas had few friends as well;
the difference between him and Cruise was that everyone liked Thomas, he just
happened to have few people he considered to be close friends. He could live
with this. He didn't want to be a popular guy everyone crowded around, he was
too solitary for that, and it would make him extremely uncomfortable if that were to happen to him.
He was happy right where he was, both in social status and in the world.
The road home was beautiful. It was rural, full of greenery like lush trees and
bushes, but with just enough houses to make him feel not so alone.
While he was a solitary person, he despised being completely alone. It made him
feel as if he had no one to run to, no one to fall back on. But this road was
just a perfect mix between quiet and social, a place that made him feel
genuinely comfortable.
The gentle breeze through his hair was a perfect end to a long day at work.
While working at a grocery store was hardly difficult for him, being as likable
as he was, it was still tiring, both physically and mentally. Since Geil's was
the only grocery store in town, everyone around went there, and it seemed
like they all went every single day. Thomas didn't understand it. And worst of all,
he was one of those employees that did everything. He restocked, he cleaned, he
checked, he bagged, he organized. The only things he didn't do were the
specialty jobs, like deli clerk or baker.
Riding his bike home was like an escape from the monotony.
The sun was setting to his left, sinking below the Rocky Mountains and into the
western ocean. The twilight cast shadows many found eerie, but to Thomas they
were like pets he wanted to reach down and touch. Nothing of the darkness of
night concerned him. It was only a phase the world went through. Thomas found it
nothing to be feared, only to be understood.
As he approached home, a strong wind gusted, sending a shower of leaves over him
and nearly causing him to lose control of his bike. He could hear the dry leaves crunching as they passed through the spokes of his wheels, and under them.
Another gust sent him stumbling down off the sidewalk and into the empty street where the leaves swirled like a cyclone. It
mildly concerned him. It was always so pleasant in the fall, but now was like a windstorm. Another gust forced him to put a foot on the ground and stop his bike. Leaves battered him from everywhere, like a swarm of small birds attacking a falcon.
It was such a contradiction to his previous thoughts that it scared him. It was like nature was telling him it wasn't to be merely loved, it was to be feared as well.
***
"It will take at least a week, possibly two, for the trucks to reach your
location. Until then, I expect you to avoid attention. Kill quietly. We must
scare them before we strike. More mayhem is more control."
Wolf's voice came out of nowhere, startling her and forcing her to stop in her
tracks.
Her master was following her to the plane; probably making sure she wouldn't
back out and run away at the last second. Wolf knew all her secrets.
"I'm counting on you for this."
She nodded, unable to find words. She wasn't looking forward to this at all. She
wished she could just live in solitude in the home Wolf made for her; there, at
least she wouldn't have to kill people.
But life would never be easy for a Bloodthief.
The plane ride was terrible. The pilot was a young man Wolf had kidnapped a few
months earlier, and he did not enjoy the people he was not forced to attend to.
He knew what she was. She could see him fidgeting in his seat, keeping a
near-constant watch on her.
The plane was a Wolf's own private jet, swift and compact. She sat near to the
pilot, wishing there were some way to comfort him, but knowing all too well
there was nothing she could do.
The young man wore a collar around his neck. If he did anything Wolf did not
approve of, he'd be left with a mere stump where his head used to be.
She longed for a way to escape from this mission. If only that collar didn't
exist, she could make the pilot land and they could both escape. She could live
in the mountains, she supposed; there were few people to hurt there, only
animals. It couldn't possibly be that bad.
However, she knew something would go wrong. Wolf would find her, and kill her
for her betrayal.
She had no choice but to continue on with her mission.
***
The wind that night was vicious. It whipped at Tommy's bedroom windows like an
angry hound tearing at a rabbit hole.
It was strange. There had been very few clouds in the sky that day, and
certainly no warning for this sudden windstorm. It sounded now like it may have
starting raining, but he was too nervous to get closer to his windows to see.
The wind seemed about to break through the glass and snatch him out of his home.
He pulled the covers closer to his face and turned over, unwilling to view the
storm any longer.
It was like some bad omen.
Anarchy Prologue with Jacket Released!
And the prologue is posted below. Please remember, I use this only for posting finished works or WIPs. For updates on where I'm at in certain projects, you'll want to find me on deviantART (KyraMcKinley).
Thanks!
Also, for people who are just starting this series, I've got to make a few things clear in the rating:
VERY disturbing scenes
Very intense blood and gore
(Near) rape
Very foul language
Use of drugs/alcohol
VERY intense violence
Prologue:
Returning from a scouting party, Mishel Cresten was both a survivor and a witness to the bloodshed of his hometown. He watched the savage murder of those he'd grown up with, those he'd known and loved for years; worst of all, his wife.
As he burst into his home, he'd observed the slicing of his wife's throat; her blood painted on the wall, forming the all too well known World Kings logo; his children screaming in utter terror as the Anarchist headed toward them.
He grabbed his wife's murderer by the neck and snapped it, angry and fuming like a raging bull.
Forcing his children out of the house, he quickly gathered the survivors of Winsor and ran.
Covered in ash from the burning buildings behind them, the small group of survivors ran like a herd of rabbits fleeing from the snapping jaws of hungry coyotes.
Their hasty retreat did not go unnoticed. Leaving the town in ruins, the coyotes pursued the fleeting survivors down the mountains relentlessly.
Nearly half the survivors were hunted down on the way down the mountainside. The few left followed Mishel and his children to the east, toward the well-armoured town of Fort Mills, sitting about a mile out in the flatlands at the base of the Winsor mountain range that Mishel now traversed.
It was a long-shot; Fort Mills was notorious for turning away outsiders. They were one of those cities only accepting of those born within their walls, or with an identifiable clean background.
Mishel hoped they'd make an exception this time, or the entire population of Winsor would be exterminated.
He ushered his followers out of the mountain and across the flatlands.
This would be the most dangerous part. He knew many of the Anarchists had guns. He hoped they also had bad aim.
As the group made their way toward Fort Mills, the wave of Anarchists erupted from the forest like a small flash flood.
To his dismay, not only did the Anarchists have guns, but motorcycle-like devices that sped across the flatlands toward them, whipping up dust like a tornado.
Gunshots rung out. Mishel and the others flinched as the ground around them exploded from the bullets hitting the dirt.
A few fell to the shower of lead.
Some were taken down by the cycle-riders.
Blood littered the flatlands as the survivors were cut down one by one.
Suddenly, Mishel heard his young son cry out.
His sister had fallen. He wasn't sure if she had been shot or not.
The stampede of survivors did not allow for stopping and turning back. His eyes welled with tears for his beloved daughter as he forced himself to move on.
To his surprise, a young boy behind them scooped his daughter up in his arms and ran with her.
She was still alive, her arms wrapped around the boys neck tightly.
Relieved, Mishel found the energy to grab his sons hand and run faster than he knew he could.
They had almost reached Fort Mills. The guards were firing back at the Anarchists, but it didn't deter them. Left and right, Mishel's friends were cut down to the ground. The men on motorbikes used sharp-edged weapons to slice at them, while the chasers on foot fired shotguns and rifles.
Mishel felt buckshot break the skin on his arm. The person running near to him fell to the ground, back gaping and filled with pulverized muscle tissue.
Just a little bit further.
He looked back to see the boy holding his daughter beat down. Two bikers had surrounded them, taunting them with their guns. The boy was horrified, but held on to the girl tightly, protecting her the best he could.
They soon pried her from his arms and placed him on the back of a bike.
Mishel had no idea why they would want to kidnap people, but it didn't matter. They were about to take his daughter, and he wouldn't let that happen. There weren't enough survivors left to hold him back.
He instructed his son to head for the gate before turning around and heading for his daughters assailant.
He jumped the biker like a rabid wolf, clawing at his gun. He could see his daughter run away, following her brother toward the gate. Fort Mills guards were quickly outnumbering the Anarchists, who began to slow their advance.
He saw his children be swept inside the walls of the fort, just before a horrible, sharp pain pierced his back.
He couldn't breathe. Blood began to flood his lungs, choking him. He could taste the metallic fluid in his mouth, felt it ooze from the corners of his mouth as he fell to the ground.
The Anarchist looming above him pulled the knife from his back and ran north. The biker kicked him before driving away in the same direction.
He could no longer take a breath. Blood bubbled in the corners of his mouth as he thought of his daughter and the angelic boy that had saved her from death. He wished that boy had been saved somehow as well. He needed someone to look after his children, now that he couldn't.
A tear fell from his eye as the spirit that so loved his children left to be reunited with his wife once again.
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