A small piece from Chapter 12 (conveniently titled “Shit Hits the Fan” at the moment, ha) of the current WIP, the novel I hope to finish during NaNoWriMo… this is an extremely rough draft, and in fact I have hardly any recollection of writing this part at all, since I was in a writing coma at the time. Seriously. Regardless, I hope you enjoy. 🙂 — JRF
***
Vince waited.
He waited, hunkered down behind the chicken coop, listening to his own rigidly-controlled breathing, to the pounding of his heart, to the footsteps of the soldiers and the low hum of the drones, to the slamming doors and loud protests of Duo citizens and the far away braying of donkeys and mewing of nervous sheep. He smelled the musty straw of the chickens and the dirt beneath his boots, and the sharp, invasive cologne of the one of the nearby officers. A soft breeze brushed against his skin, cooling the sweat beading on his forehead and sticking his shirt to his chest. He rubbed a hand across his mouth, feeling stubble on his upper lip and chin, rough like sandpaper against his palm.
He hated waiting. It made him itchy.
He was not very good at waiting.
Eight years was long enough time to wait, wasn’t it?
He clenched his teeth, trying hard to stay still, to keep tabs on the officers and their drones, to keep from burning that image of the closed white door into his retinas by staring at it too hard.
And then he was done. He stood up, hesitated.
If the greencoats are still in there…
His hands clenched and unclenched. He took a step forward, stopped.
Waited another minute, then two.
There was still no movement from the target house. He checked the street again. Most of the patrols had moved on, vanishing amid the labyrinth that was the residential area of Una Duo. Only one pair remained, arguing hotly with a portly woman at the door of the house four units down to his right. She screamed at them that they had just done a citizenship sweep two months ago and that even for them, this was going too far. She called them a slew of dirty names, too, and Vince shook his head.
The drone over the shoulder of the man on the left fired a short stunning burst, and the woman went silent, collapsing soundlessly to her own doorstep. One of the greencoats stooped to scan her chip and make an arrest log in his Omni, while the other stepped over her prone form to investigate her house, leaving the road clear.
For the moment.
***
TO BE CONTINUED… (in a non-linear fashion)
Wonderfully written!
Why thank you! I’m glad you enjoyed!
Especially since this quite literally has not been edited in any way, shape, or form, and is also quite literally just the pure ramblings of a word sprint… which means I was just writing as fast as possible. Ray Bradbury might be totally correct when he says the more quickly you write the more truthful you are, hahah…..
Oh yeah. I like! I’m feeling Vince’s tension already. Great stuff for an unedited draft. Can’t wait for the next bit; in fact, I can’t wait to read the full thing. Just one question: do sheep mew?? Perhaps in this dark new futuristic world they do…
HA! Well, “mewing” sounded better than “mawing”… or maybe it’s “mahing”??? “Mehing”?? Which may be more accurate but just looks wrong on the page. Lol. So mewing it is, for now, at least! 😉 Glad you liked and thanks for the comment, since I put it up especially for you, really, after your comment that you actually wanted to read some snippets. Heheh. So, thanks so much for the encouragement and feedback, even if it is just on a few paragraphs! 😀
Oh, I love the image of a flock of unimpressed sheep standing round in a field all going “Meh” 😀
*snicker* That IS pretty funny… though you know after your comment I was thinking about sheep-speak, and now I’m thinking it might make more sense to say they were “bawling” – if sheep do in fact make more of a “baahh” sound. But if I say bawling, do you imagine them sobbing? Huh… who knew sheep could be so troublesome!!! Lol.