Post by lynn on Dec 3, 2009 17:57:15 GMT -5
This is the first draft of my new draft of Big Red.
Gary stalked the perimeter of their campsite, no light source other than the gentle half-moon that was barely rising and the fire behind him. He stroked his ready weapon, hitched to his belt, like a catholic fondling the cross of the true god. Soft footfalls in the delicate white circle of light, belying Gary’s weight and height, could not be heard by his fellow campers. He was an alpha male, the head wolf of his pack, charged by his father to take care of the others. He was broad of shoulder and sharp of eyesight. He was outside the circle of the firelight. He was the first to die.
When his father looked at Gary he saw a footballer, full-forward, muscles and a hard-head, fit, good-looking, hard tackling. Gary knew little enough about football, for a country lad. Such things were well before his time. He saw the pictures his father had kept from his boyhood days, when the country was still holding on to such ideas as nationalism and tradition. Even then the teams looked strained, and you could see the bodyguards in the background. Protesters thought the resources should be going into the survival of the country.
Gary moved further away from the fire’s protection. He was confident he’d hear any danger coming, raider always rode bikes, load as hell reaching for your soul, dingoes hunted in packs, howling to each other, anything else he was sure his gun could catch soon enough. The night was quiet, he’d hear anything. It was only when he took a leak, and the sound of it drizzling onto the sand was much too loud, did he realise that the silence was… unnatural. He sipped his pants and quickly flung himself three steps to the left, trying to isolate the odour emanating from the sands before him. The moon hid its face behind a curtain of cloud-cover, destroying Gary’s last chance of seeing the source of the smell.
Lisa shivered slightly at the disappearance of the pale moon. Cam, her husband, covered her shoulders with his arm.
“Cold?” He enquired in a low voice.
She shook her head, but he found the look in her eyes unsettling. The reason for her shiver, if not cold, could only indicate something worse. He wished he’d been able to bring his guitar, the strumming soothed her brittle nerves. Lisa’s parents had been taken in a raid when she was young, and her early marriage to Cam was a way of finding some security. They were as yet but 16 and 17 year on this earth, but in these times their youth mattered less. The youthful protector and defender against the screams and renderings of her mind, Cam resented the authority Gary had used to forbid his instrument. It was not given but taken.
Lisa’s eyes flickered about the campsite, but Cam felt she wasn’t seeing the comforting fire or somewhat comical image of Dom sleeping on his side, drooling onto the sand. Her breathing was too rapid. He took her face in his hands and began to sing in his low, sweet voice, a gentle lullaby his mother had taught him… before.
“Is that singing?” Hope asked, lifting her head from the pillow.
“Probably just Cam. He says it settles Lisa down.” Caleb stretched his arms and then resettled them about Hope’s waist, gently tugging her back down towards himself.
She resisted, for a moment, but then snuggled back into his chest. It wasn’t as broad or hard as Gary’s would be- no! She tried to push the thought from her mind.
“Gary’s been gone a while.” She whispered. Trying to sound nonchalant.
Caleb sighed, and pulled away from her, and she knew she’d failed, once again. She reached after him, but he growled something and left the tent, pulling a shirt on over his head. He crashed through a saltbush as he left the campsite. Separating himself from his friends.
She felt not to follow, his anger and hurt repelling.
Caleb had walked for some time when he realised he should have run into Gary out here. In spite of Hope he quickly jogged the perimeter, a spiralling course bringing him closer to the fire. He could see Cam holding Lisa, rocking gently, and chose not to disturb them. He could see the tent he shared with Hope. He turned in the other direction and jogged off.
An unpleasant smell drifted over the campsite, somewhat like rotting corpses, somewhat like burning tires. Lisa stiffened and clung closer to Cam, and he fell silent, nose in the air. He could hear nothing in the wind but a quiet sobbing from the tent. Cam swore beneath his breath, wishing now that Gary was closer, Dom was awake, or Hope and Caleb in sight. He felt suddenly alone, vulnerable, young, but she clung to him and he made soothing gestures.
There was a scuffling and she smell grew stronger. Lisa froze, eyes glazed as she stared at something over his shoulder. Cam turned his head slowly to the side, and then trailed his eyes upwards in disbelief. The dripping red from its muzzle told him perhaps he was now in charge of the expedition. He should have brought his guitar. It may have made some sort of weapon. Looking at its claws and teeth and shining red eyes Cam knew he was about to be demoted.
“At least we’ll go together.” Lisa murmured comfortingly in his ear as she held him to her chest.
The single scream woke Hope from her sobs with a start. She scrambled from the tent, grabbing her knife as she did so. When she saw the monster towering over her friends she didn’t hesitate, flinging the knife with all the force she could muster at its hind-quarters. It went in an inch and then stuck. The creature squealed a moment and then growled, rounding on her. Then she saw it had Cam already, dangling from its massive forepaws limp like a doll. The blood dripped from his shoulder socket, empty, fingers poked from the creature’s teeth as it crunched. She vomited. The beast turned fully and moved towards her. She was paralysed, and stared at it.
Lisa screamed again, this once a battle cry, and shoved a flaming brand from the fire at the beast, trying to knock Cam from its arms. It roared again and turned back to her.
Hope fled.
Dom woke to the war about him, finding his foot drenched in blood and an insane girl fighting a behemoth for the bloody remains of an animal he didn’t recognise and the smell and the sounds drove him to his knees as he stumbled towards their van. He knocked his knee on a protruding boulder and cried out from the pain. He ran headlong into the van in the darkness and the red light in his head distracted from the nightmare he’d woken into. He scrabbled for the door handle. The screams from the camp were following him, but he couldn’t place them, he spun about to see, to find them, but twisted his knee and fell again. The smell was overwhelming. A low thud sounded in the sand beside him. He couldn’t look up. There was a foot beside him, hairy, clawed with a single, long, black shining killing spike on the middle toe, and longer than any animal foot had a right to be. Blood dripped to the earth near his face. He breathed in the tangy metallic tint on the air and lay, shaking. Above him Lisa’s scream stopped short suddenly with a crunch.
Dom’s body released the contents of his bowels into his pants without his consent. The crunching stopped, and Lisa’s torso dropped across his back heavily. He felt something wet sniffing at his head, and his hair stood on end.
He fainted.
What dy'all think?
Gary stalked the perimeter of their campsite, no light source other than the gentle half-moon that was barely rising and the fire behind him. He stroked his ready weapon, hitched to his belt, like a catholic fondling the cross of the true god. Soft footfalls in the delicate white circle of light, belying Gary’s weight and height, could not be heard by his fellow campers. He was an alpha male, the head wolf of his pack, charged by his father to take care of the others. He was broad of shoulder and sharp of eyesight. He was outside the circle of the firelight. He was the first to die.
When his father looked at Gary he saw a footballer, full-forward, muscles and a hard-head, fit, good-looking, hard tackling. Gary knew little enough about football, for a country lad. Such things were well before his time. He saw the pictures his father had kept from his boyhood days, when the country was still holding on to such ideas as nationalism and tradition. Even then the teams looked strained, and you could see the bodyguards in the background. Protesters thought the resources should be going into the survival of the country.
Gary moved further away from the fire’s protection. He was confident he’d hear any danger coming, raider always rode bikes, load as hell reaching for your soul, dingoes hunted in packs, howling to each other, anything else he was sure his gun could catch soon enough. The night was quiet, he’d hear anything. It was only when he took a leak, and the sound of it drizzling onto the sand was much too loud, did he realise that the silence was… unnatural. He sipped his pants and quickly flung himself three steps to the left, trying to isolate the odour emanating from the sands before him. The moon hid its face behind a curtain of cloud-cover, destroying Gary’s last chance of seeing the source of the smell.
Lisa shivered slightly at the disappearance of the pale moon. Cam, her husband, covered her shoulders with his arm.
“Cold?” He enquired in a low voice.
She shook her head, but he found the look in her eyes unsettling. The reason for her shiver, if not cold, could only indicate something worse. He wished he’d been able to bring his guitar, the strumming soothed her brittle nerves. Lisa’s parents had been taken in a raid when she was young, and her early marriage to Cam was a way of finding some security. They were as yet but 16 and 17 year on this earth, but in these times their youth mattered less. The youthful protector and defender against the screams and renderings of her mind, Cam resented the authority Gary had used to forbid his instrument. It was not given but taken.
Lisa’s eyes flickered about the campsite, but Cam felt she wasn’t seeing the comforting fire or somewhat comical image of Dom sleeping on his side, drooling onto the sand. Her breathing was too rapid. He took her face in his hands and began to sing in his low, sweet voice, a gentle lullaby his mother had taught him… before.
“Is that singing?” Hope asked, lifting her head from the pillow.
“Probably just Cam. He says it settles Lisa down.” Caleb stretched his arms and then resettled them about Hope’s waist, gently tugging her back down towards himself.
She resisted, for a moment, but then snuggled back into his chest. It wasn’t as broad or hard as Gary’s would be- no! She tried to push the thought from her mind.
“Gary’s been gone a while.” She whispered. Trying to sound nonchalant.
Caleb sighed, and pulled away from her, and she knew she’d failed, once again. She reached after him, but he growled something and left the tent, pulling a shirt on over his head. He crashed through a saltbush as he left the campsite. Separating himself from his friends.
She felt not to follow, his anger and hurt repelling.
Caleb had walked for some time when he realised he should have run into Gary out here. In spite of Hope he quickly jogged the perimeter, a spiralling course bringing him closer to the fire. He could see Cam holding Lisa, rocking gently, and chose not to disturb them. He could see the tent he shared with Hope. He turned in the other direction and jogged off.
An unpleasant smell drifted over the campsite, somewhat like rotting corpses, somewhat like burning tires. Lisa stiffened and clung closer to Cam, and he fell silent, nose in the air. He could hear nothing in the wind but a quiet sobbing from the tent. Cam swore beneath his breath, wishing now that Gary was closer, Dom was awake, or Hope and Caleb in sight. He felt suddenly alone, vulnerable, young, but she clung to him and he made soothing gestures.
There was a scuffling and she smell grew stronger. Lisa froze, eyes glazed as she stared at something over his shoulder. Cam turned his head slowly to the side, and then trailed his eyes upwards in disbelief. The dripping red from its muzzle told him perhaps he was now in charge of the expedition. He should have brought his guitar. It may have made some sort of weapon. Looking at its claws and teeth and shining red eyes Cam knew he was about to be demoted.
“At least we’ll go together.” Lisa murmured comfortingly in his ear as she held him to her chest.
The single scream woke Hope from her sobs with a start. She scrambled from the tent, grabbing her knife as she did so. When she saw the monster towering over her friends she didn’t hesitate, flinging the knife with all the force she could muster at its hind-quarters. It went in an inch and then stuck. The creature squealed a moment and then growled, rounding on her. Then she saw it had Cam already, dangling from its massive forepaws limp like a doll. The blood dripped from his shoulder socket, empty, fingers poked from the creature’s teeth as it crunched. She vomited. The beast turned fully and moved towards her. She was paralysed, and stared at it.
Lisa screamed again, this once a battle cry, and shoved a flaming brand from the fire at the beast, trying to knock Cam from its arms. It roared again and turned back to her.
Hope fled.
Dom woke to the war about him, finding his foot drenched in blood and an insane girl fighting a behemoth for the bloody remains of an animal he didn’t recognise and the smell and the sounds drove him to his knees as he stumbled towards their van. He knocked his knee on a protruding boulder and cried out from the pain. He ran headlong into the van in the darkness and the red light in his head distracted from the nightmare he’d woken into. He scrabbled for the door handle. The screams from the camp were following him, but he couldn’t place them, he spun about to see, to find them, but twisted his knee and fell again. The smell was overwhelming. A low thud sounded in the sand beside him. He couldn’t look up. There was a foot beside him, hairy, clawed with a single, long, black shining killing spike on the middle toe, and longer than any animal foot had a right to be. Blood dripped to the earth near his face. He breathed in the tangy metallic tint on the air and lay, shaking. Above him Lisa’s scream stopped short suddenly with a crunch.
Dom’s body released the contents of his bowels into his pants without his consent. The crunching stopped, and Lisa’s torso dropped across his back heavily. He felt something wet sniffing at his head, and his hair stood on end.
He fainted.
What dy'all think?
