Blog Migrated

I've been having exposure and technical issues with Blogger. I have been unable to get assistance of any kind from blogger. I set up a wordpress blog and have migrated my blog there. I'm leaving this blog up since there are several links from other sites (specifically Chuck Wendig's.) I won't be updating this blog any more and will be deleting most of the posts.

Head over to article94.wordpress.com for my new blog.

Apocalyptic Bounty Hunter part 3

Chuck's doing this weird phone-a-friend in the future thing. I worked a tiny bit on Apocalyptic Bounty Hunter it's by no means a complete chapter, but here it is nonetheless:

"You gonna' move, or what?"

"I'm just resting, chill the fuck out!"

"Yeah, well, do you wanna end up like Sam?"

Ashlee's eyes snapped open. "Don't you fuckin' say her name!" she screamed, before clamping her jaw shut. "You hear me, cue ball?"

"Yeah, I got your attention now?"

Rising to her feet, Ashlee whispered, "Asshole."

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Before the collapse, she was always aware of her surroundings. Bigots were everywhere. That feeling had saved her from more than one 'unfortunate situation.' It wasn't that she felt fear, quite the opposite, she could hold her own. It was the stigma and the constant discrimination.

"Yeah, well. Shit! Look out, out, out!"

She rolled on the boulder and came face to face with one of The Afflicted. He simply stared at her. 

There's no time for this... She thought. The KA-BAR seemed to materialize at the thing's throat. She pressed her lips together tightly as his neck erupted in a spray of blood as the knife traversed his throat. She wiped her face off on her shoulder and flicked the blade to rid some of the viscera clinging to the blade.

"Holy shit! You're a stone cold bitch!"

"Can it, Quentin. I am so over this mission." She flicked her KA-BAR once again before sheathing it. "How's my exit?"

"You're golden all the way to zone Alpha-One."

Alpha-One was the area directly north of the boundary between Human and Afflicted territory. She should be able to bribe her way across. She would pay her way in sugar, gold or blood - whichever was easiest.

Warrior's Blood

I'm a little bit heavy on this one, because I wanted the story to be perfect. Chuck is celebrating his latest store item and the flash fiction challenge reflects it. My fictional cocktail for this challenge is Warrior's Blood. It is derived from rice wine, rare herbs grown near the South China Sea and the blood of a freshly slain jungle animal. Which animal? You'll have to read to find out. At 2,147 words, enjoy Warrior's Blood:

***

The astral landscape preceding the Hainan dawn found a young Warrior beginning his day with the usual regiment of calisthenics.

As he had days previous, Liao made his way to the square where meals were prepared.  He selected his course and took his place with the already seated Shui.  The older man stood as Liao approached.

“Liao - you’re overdressed.  Finish your meal. Much has to be accomplished today.”  Before Liao could answer, Shui turned and walked off.

Over his shoulder, Shui called out, “Eat.  You’re going to need the energy." And he was gone.

***

Liao followed and found clothing and equipment laid out for him.  Beside the clothing was an assortment of knives and a survival belt.  They were going on a hunt and Liao’s pulse raced at the prospect.

They headed into the densest part of the forest surrounding the village, away from the Great China Sea.  Base camp was a three hour trek into the woods, giving them time to find their camp, engage in the hunt, kill, clean, cook and eat any quarry they could find.

Shui’s familiarity with the area kept them from getting hopelessly lost.  The path was overgrown with a dense growth that resisted blades used to cut the path through the surrounding jungle.  Infrequent breaks in the dense overgrowth revealed towering hardwood trees, the tops of which would have been difficult to see even if the branches and foliage were less dense.

Fairy Tale Remix

Chuck is doing Fairy Tale Remix. I was originally trying to make "Little Mermaid" work, but I just wimped out and went with "Little Red Riding Hood." This isn't specifically part of The Afflicted, but I wrote in in third person in case I decide to integrate it. I went with the original written version, so don't expect a happy ending. At 968 words, I give you the zombie apocalypse:

***

Samantha "Red" Gregg awoke from her sleep. She had prepared for the mission for days in advance, but the day had finally come. She gathered her long red curls into a ponytail. The mission was simple, deliver the cure to her mentor, lovingly called "Grandma," the director of a facility that would aerosolize and distribute it. After years, the zombie threat would be neutralized once and for all. The mission itself was expected to be uneventful, as the facility was hidden in the green wood of West Virginia. The trip from Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania to the facility had to be completed on foot as to not bring notice to her movements. She holstered her trusted Glock 17, packed enough rations for the trip there and back, retrieved the cure in its aluminum case and walked through the guarded gates protecting the compound from the horrors they witnessed beyond. Her mission had begun.

***

The journey was mostly uneventful. Samantha had the reoccurring feeling she was being watched. At one point she stopped and surveyed her surroundings. In the bushes, she saw a human refugee. His clothes were filthy and he had a long dirty beard.

"Help me!" He called out to Samantha.

Drawing her weapon, she pointed it at the direction of the voice. Cautiously, she replied, "show me your hands!"

Apocalyptic Bounty Hunter, part two.

There will be five distinct plots in my 2015 quasi-zombie story, The Afflicted. I've been writing them from flash fiction prompts on Chuck Wendig's site. You've already read the beginning of the first two plots in Welcome Home and Strawberry Roulette. Part one of this plot is here. Enjoy the 950 word addition to Apocalyptic Bounty Hunter:

* * *

Ashlee leaned against the carcass of a burned out bus, gasping short shallow breaths. She knew her lack of planning would cause her difficulties, just not this much. She had already left behind her Colt AR-15, where she downed the General. Even with the extra magazines, she quickly ran out of ammunition. Even her beloved Glock, a gift from her deceased wife, was useless without ammunition. Currently, it was safe in its holster. It cried out to be used, but those cries were those of an old toothless junkyard dog. She had depleted her entire supply of 'teeth' getting this far.

After unexpectedly eliminating her first target, she tried to flee, but found herself trapped in the compound. She was beseeched on all sides by soldiers infected, but not currently in the throws of madness the virus bought. Nonetheless, these "men" were a force to be reckoned with, even without the General's leadership. She had finally escaped the compound, but still she fled from he General's conscripts. They were few now, but it only took one to end her mission.

As she gathered her composure, she recalled the disaster that led her to be a mercenary, hunting not the afflicted, but non-symptomatic people just like her.

It was fifteen years ago. A pharmaceutical conglomerate wanted to market an untested weight loss drug. The Food and Drug Administration was staffed by corrupt, greedy opportunists. They pushed through the drug based on what they called "endowment funds." It was a bribe - plain and simple. The amount had to be obscene based on the rapid deployment of the drug. It was marketed aggressively and the side effects weren't discovered until it was too late.