Saturday, September 1, 2012

Post Mortem #1: Waking the Dead, Ch 1

Alright, my newest book is here! I've also added the [unofficial blurb on back] jacket design:

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.

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