Sunday, June 25, 2017

Survivors - Part 2


    Cisneros felt as if he was frozen in place.
    His muscles were locked and some baser part of his mind had kicked into overdrive. Despite the triple-state glass and a well manicured sense of superiority, some instinctual piece of him froze in terror.
    "What-?" was all he managed.
    In front of him, behind the seemingly too-thin safety glass, a monster lay across a massive surgical table.
    No.
    Not one surgical table.
    Several of them. All hastily thrown together to form some semblance of a flat surface where the scientists could work.
    The creature was quite large. At least a couple meters tall and several meters long not counting the muscular tail, it could easily rival some of the large African species of Earth. However, unlike those more benevolent herbivores, this ting was designed for carnage.
    Four heavy set legs with taloned feet were curled up under its dead frame. Long, sickle like blades sprouted from thin but powerful looking 'arms' from its thick torso. Its eyes were covered in heavy ridges and everything about its head seemed to slope into a gaping jaw filled with multiples rows of shark-like teeth. And the entire thing was covered in hulking plates of black, chitinous armor that looked like they could stop an rocket.
    Men and women in lab coats poked and prodded at the corpse, but despite a sneaking fear that the monster would arise and attack them all, it laid silent upon its bloody table.
    "What-" Cisneros began again as he mentally rebuilt his composure. "-is it?"
    "We don't know." Dr. Patang responded apologetically. "We've never seen anything like it."
    "What do we know about it?" he asked without looking at the good doctor.
    Cisneros studied the thing for a long moment. He couldn't seem to tear his eyes away.
    "We're still working on an official analysis."
    Cisneros glanced over and the Doctor who visibly cringed a little. He considered throwing his weight and demanding a better answer of the little asskisser, but thought better of it.
    "Humor me."
    "Apparently the team was getting odd results. I've been with you so I haven't seen the most up to date..."
    Cisneros sighed and continued to watch the men and women work.
    "Dr. Hagashi must have been out of his mind." he commented with a hint of annoyance.
    "Sir?"
    "I just can't imagine why they would have brought this thing aboard. I don't doubt it was an exciting find, but look at it."
    As if in response, Dr. Patang joined him in staring at the mound of terror.
    At the same time, the door on the far end of the room slid open and a short, lump of a woman clad in a white lab coat emerged.
    "I mean, that thing looks like it could tear a squad of marines in half without breaking a sweat. Why in the hell would they take it aboard? Why not study it on the surface? Or tag it for later examination by a more qualified team?"
    "Perhaps-" the woman interjected. "-because it wasn't that size when they acquired our little friend in there."
    Cisneros glowered at the woman's interruption but his expression quickly softened.
    "Samantha." he said with a smile.
    "Armando."
    "I wasn't aware you were on this project." Cisneros regarded.
    "Then you probably aren't doing a good job as Assistant Director." she chided with a playful grin.
    "Dr. Connel." Patang said with respect to the woman. "With all due respect, what do you mean? Are you suggesting it grew within a matter of hours?"
    "In one sense."
    Both men continued to stare at her, expecting more.
    "Tell me, Dr. Patang, how would you classify that creature in there?" Dr. Connel asked.
    Dr. Patang considered for a moment.
    "I'm not sure. It definitely appears to be carnivorous in nature. Omnivous at the absolute least."
    "And the genus?"
    "Demented centaur?" Cisneros offered.
    Samantha giggled and Cisneros allowed himself a smile at his old friend's amusement.
    "What if I told you that it was parasitic?" she asked after a moment.
    Cisneros stared at the monster sprawled across the operating tables. Considered the sheer size of the thing.
    "You're saying that creature in there is some sort of a parasite? For what? What the hell would it feed on?"
    "That is not the primary organism. I was referring to this."
    Dr. Connel produced from her jacket pocket a small glass jar about the size of a nectarine. She held it up to the light and it was clearly filled with some sort of blood. It was a nice deep red with the exception of several dozen large, black globules that floated around in the viscous liquid.
    Cisneros stared at the goo, trying to identify the shapes in the blood. It was only after a long moment that he realized the globes were creatures.
    "So this is our culprit?" Cisneros asked with burgeoning fascination.
    Here and there, one of the globes would unfurl into a small, worm like creature. Their appearance reminded him of the beast on the table, nothing but hard bits and sharp edges, but on a notably smaller scale and resembling a half inch caterpillar.
    "Indeed. I think the team from the Icarus found these things on the surface and didn't know what they had until it was too late.
    Before his eyes, one of the worms unfolded and zipped around the blood jar at a surprising speed. It swirled about for a few seconds and, finding no exit, curled up on itself again.
    Cisneros glanced back again at the monster on the table.
    "So tell me, Dr. Connel: what do those-" he said pointing a finger at the jar. "-have to do with that?" he motioned over his shoulder.
    "I'm so glad you asked." she responded with a surprisingly threatening smile and motioned towards the door to the lab. "Let me show you."

Friday, June 23, 2017

All my Love to Sandra


Hello Lovelies,

I wanted to take a moment and acknowledge a very pleasant surprise today. In checking in to get started on Part 2 for 'Survivors', I noticed two oddities in the comments section. The first was from the beautiful Sandra Cox inviting me over to her blog. Another was from another reader that said they just came from there.

Well, being the curious muppet (read: procrastinator) that I am, I couldn't help but take a look before I dug in

To my utter surprise, I was the subject of Sandra's 'Wink and a Nod Thursday'.

First and foremost, I want to officially say 'Thank you' to Sandra. It was a completely unexpected honor and single handedly made my day. If you haven't checked out Sandra's blog, I would highly encourage you to check it out! On top of being an amazingly talented writer with a taste for Romance, she's a fellow member of the blogspot writing community and her blog is light hearted and enjoyable, serving as one of the glues that has helped bind us together with things like Wacky Wednesday and the aforementioned 'Wink and a Nod'.

So, when all is said and done, thank you again Sandra.

Now, for those that were sent here by Sandra, I just wanted to give you a quick little gift. The story that you came in on, Survivors, is part of a group of short stories that are set together to form a single cohesive narrative. While you can technically pick up the tale without issue from 'Survivors', the previous stories 'Lost' and 'Heat' will provide you more insight into what is going on. They are designed to be small and hard hitting, so take a moment to enjoy them.

Lost - 1
Lost - 2
Lost - 3
Lost - 4

Heat - 1
Heat - 2
Heat - 3
Heat - 4
Heat - 5

Thank you again Sandra and thank you everyone who took time out of the day to check us out. I hope you will all join us again.

- RB

Wednesday, June 21, 2017

Survivors - Part 1


    Blip. Blip. Blip.
    Assistant Director Cisneros stared absent-minded at the acrid liquid as it dripped, drop by drop, down into his mug. The local crony here, Dr. Patang, had tried to convince him that this was this was the best cup of joe on the Daedalus.
    While Cisneros didn’t doubt the good doctor’s honesty; the little brown-nosing tool was too self-interested to not give full disclosure. However he did doubt that the liquid shit dripping out of the archaic machine counted as coffee.
    And he damn sure knew it didn’t smell like it.
    Cisneros glanced around the room as he waited for the stinking drink to finish brewing.
    All around him, cheap furniture, bad walling, dirty carpet, or gunmetal plating. Here and there an uncomfortable chair sat or a half-assed painting hung on the wall; really retracting from the environment more than they gave. It gave him the feeling of being in a lower-end office that had been shoved into a metal box.
    And really, it wasn’t far from the truth.
    Built cheap and built big, the Daedalus was one of two floating laboratories utilized by the corporation’s Xenobiology department. It housed just over two thousand biologists, botanists, chemists, computer experts, robotics technicians, and god knows what else plus the staff and crew that kept the entire dump heap in the air. It wasn’t the fastest or nicest ship in the galaxy, but with her sister, the Icarus, the pair of ships were some of the biggest and probably some of the only used as mobile laboratories and processing cities.
    At least until a month ago.
    Now the Daedalus flew alone in its lazy orbit around the Kaprelli system’s deep violet sun surrounded by the silence of space.
    Cisneros reached down and plucked up the now full mug. He took a swig only to grimace at the sour flavor. It tasted just about as good as it had smelt and, based on the look of shock and horror on Dr. Patang's face, he was glad his distaste with the drink was not lost on the good doctor.
    "I'm so sorry, sir." he quickly shot out. "I swear, it really is the best on the ship. The company doesn't really consider fresh cups to be pri-"
    "Enough, Doctor." Cisneros said flatly. "You'll forgive me if I tell you that I'm not in the mood right now."
    "Yes, sir. Of course, sir." Dr. Patang said as he adorned that same, placid, stupid smile he'd worn since Cisneros arrived eight hours ago.
    "I don't have a great deal of time." Cisneros continued in the same, no-bullshit tone. "So why don't we get this little tour started so I can get on with a very long list of other things that need to get done."
    "Of course, sir." Dr. Patang repeated again and motioned towards the door of the grimy little kitchen.
    The pair made their way through the halls of the Daedalus at a leisurely pace as Dr. Patang prattled on about meaningless inanities. Cisneros could not care less. His visit here was far from routine and he had no interest in listening to small talk.
    He wanted to hear about their findings.
    Of course, it was probably sheer confidentiality that was keeping Dr. Patang from prattling on about that. Still, Cisneros had a lean in his step and they made their way towards the C-Deck labs with more speed than any other visit would have been afforded.
    The mystery of Icarus's destruction the prior month had nagged at him since it happened. And now he might get some answers.
    Originally, it came as a complete shock. The ship had just performed a relatively routine stop to a newly discovered world known as 'Bruni'. The planet was mildly interesting for the fact it was, by all intents and purposes, considered a jungle planet despite its severe climate; prone both to blistering heat and destructive electrical storms.
    Within a matter of hours from the stop, an SOS had been issued from the Icarus.
    An hour after that, the ship was flown directly into a sun with a very small contingent of its population escaping in lifeboats.
    The incident had bothered Cisneros for the month since it had occurred. Now, with several of the life boats captured and brought aboard the Daedalus, his curiosity was peaked as to what the scientists had discovered.
    Most notably because there hadn't been any reported survivors so far.
    So whatever they had found clearly wasn't human. Or, at least, not living ones.
    Dr. Patang offered a single open eye to the scanner next to the C-Deck air locks while simultaneously holding a thumb to a reader and a badge to a scanner. C-Deck, like a number of the locations on the Daedalus, was high security and set up with multiple security points. Additionally, the labs were completely sealed off from the rest of the ship in what was, for lack of a better analogy, a steel box with a single airlock that led into the ship primary.
    This fact only added to Cisneros' surprise when the heavy lead and steel door slid aside to reveal four hardskinned marines standing at attention, rifles ready, standing in the four corners of the inner airlock.
    He glanced at Dr. Patang with an obvious look of surprise.
    "We have...concerns." the doctor said flatly, dropping the cheerful, tour-guide tone he'd been using since Cisneros arrived.
    Cisneros' eyes narrowed but he said nothing. As much of a brown-nosing little shit as Dr. Patang had been, the presence of marines suggested they had found something much more exciting than a few corpses in a lifeboat.
    The two men submitted to a thorough search and ID by one of the marines; a man who identified himself as Sergeant Holmes. They were then led to the next room: a hastily thrown together decontamination room that the inner airlock would have normally been used for had it not been filled with combat armor and firearms.
    Once deloused, they both made their way down a long hallway lined by observation chambers.
    "Now that we're out of ear shot, would you care to share what exactly your team found on the life boats, Doctor?"
    "We're not sure." he said, once again adopting that slight lit to his voice again, but not nearly to the degree he had been earlier.
    "You're not sure?" Cisneros echoed after rolling the possibilities about in his mind.
    "Whatever they are is biologic. But after that, it's unlike anything we've found before."
    Cisneros said nothing as he was led through a maze of corridors. He could see scientists working in labs on any number of different experiments; however Dr. Patang shot right by them.
    At the far end of one hall, the Doctor approached a heavy door labeled 'XL-322". Directly below it. "Restricted Personnel Only." and a keypad. The Doctor entered in an unseen code, scanned his badge again, and motioned for Cisneros to enter.
    They were standing in the viewing area of an operating theater with a door on the far end of the room. The glass was artificially dimmed and Cisneros suddenly had a fleeting sense of claustrophobia in the dark room.
    "This is all well and interesting, Doctor. But can we can on with the theatrics?"
    "Sorry, sir. As I said, sir. We're not sure what we found." Dr. Patang continued as he raised the lights and revealed the laboratory behind the triple-state glass and the monster within.
    Cisneros took an unconscious step back from the now clear glass.  
    What the hell WAS that?
    He felt his heart jump into his throat and, for the first in a very long time, he felt a sudden wash of fear fall over him.
    "But if you've got any ideas..." Dr. Patang said with the first snark the Assistant Director had heard from him, "We're all ears."

Tuesday, June 20, 2017

What's to Come?



Hello Lovelies,

First and foremost, let me throw out a belated 'Happy Father's Day'. I realized that I totally forgot to account for it this last Sunday and didn't schedule properly. Instead, I posted the final entry for 'Heat'. So, with that said, I hope everyone enjoyed their day with their dads or in memory thereof and sorry for my absent-mindedness.

Now, speaking of 'Heat'...

I'm glad that you all seemed to enjoy it. I believe that some of you already were told/realized this, but 'Heat' is actually intended to be part of a larger universe. More specifically, the same universe that my previous story 'Lost' was set in. I decided to explore just what the beasts were that Cecilia faced in her horrible exploration of that doomed ship. I fleshed them out in my mind and thought of a new scenario to introduce them outside of the writing-experiment that was 'Lost'.

The fun part? There's more to come.

It's no surprise to anyone that knows me that I'm a big fan of short stories. I like trying to make my stories punch hard and grab you by the shirt. Often, this is done in the vein of creature features, horror, or drama, and it lends itself to being problematic in making a single, arching story that people can hold on to. With that said, simply selling short stories or a compilation of short stories is always kind of so-so. Loosely knit together concepts aren't super interesting as a whole and short stories aren't economically worthwhile to readers.

So, I wanted to play with that idea.

Books like 'World War Z' and 'Bug Hunt' are actually tied together through short stories DESPITE being considered whole books. I might give this a swing with the 'Lost' universe. While I'll definitely need to think of a better name for the overarching tale, I feel like this is an interesting way to take a punch of different viewpoints and different short stories with different themes and tones and put it together into an interesting and comprehensive story.

Will it work? Who knows. Will it be fun to explore whatever these 'things' are? Definitely.

Thanks for joining us, Lovelies. We'll see you again soon.

- RB

Sunday, June 18, 2017

Heat - Final


    Stalks of corn seemed to reach out to grab for George as he ran with all the strength in his body. Dry edges and broad leaves clawed at his arms and legs and threatened to trip him up and leave him in the monster's grasp.
    furRUMPfurRUMPFURRUMP!
    The sound of a runaway train galloped behind him as the thing pursued. His head start had only given him an extra matter of seconds. Now the beast closed in with terrifying speed.
    And the ground shook as it got closer.
    George's legs pumped furiously, but he knew it was worthless. The thing was too fast, but that was part of his very mediocre plan.
    Let it chase him.
    He reached out and grabbed a handful of stalks with his left hand. He could feel the corn tearing from the ground, but it gave him some of the leverage he needed. Pivoting and pulling, he yanked his entire body hard and spun. He hit the ground hard and rolled out of the beast's path as it barreled by far too fast to grab him.
    Its scythe claws swung worthlessly over his head.
    Cradling his broken right hand, he pushed himself out of the debris and took off running again. This time at a 90 degree angle away from the thing's path as it slid and skidded through the corn field, trying ineffectively to slow down.
    Another extra few seconds.
    Another sprint as hard as he could.
    His lungs burned. His body ached. He was bleeding from at least a couple of scrapes and cuts on his arms and face. But it didn't matter.
    He had to keep it distracted.
    And maybe, just maybe, get away.
    furRUMPfurRUMPFURRUMP!
    The sound came up from behind and to his right.
    George dove forward, landing belly up on the stalks that scratched his skin, jabbed him in more places than he could count, and knocked the wind out of him.
    And once again, the beast flew past him, a force of destruction fueled by tremendous weight and speed; taking an entire swath out of the field as it did.
    It slowed, faster this time, but still not fast enough.
    Barely able to breathe, and his limbs violently shaking, he took off running again at another sharp, contradictory angle.
    In the haze of exhaustion and panic, he heard something. A wooshing sound of some kind from the sky. It didn't mean anything to his numbed mind, but it registered for some reason.
    It was something important.
    But not important enough.
    His breath was ragged now. He was coughing and gagging more than he was breathing now. He was strong and had endurance, but he wasn't a track star and the sheer terror and effort was having an effect on his untrained body.
    George's feet stumbled and gave out beneath him.
    furrumpfurrumpfurruMP
    He could hear it coming.
    Hell, he could feel it coming.
    furRUMPfurRUMPFURRUMP!
    Reaching down with his uninjured hand, he pushed off on the dry dirt hard and rolled to the side.
    A massive foot slammed down an inch away from his head as the thing failed to catch him yet again and went crashing by.
    George went to pull himself up again and found himself barely able to do so.
    The thing was already turning by the time he was able to stand.
    Still, he tried to run. And quickly realized he could barely walk.
    Another wooshing sound; this one louder with a loud hiss. It came from the field behind him where the ship had been found. Another monster perhaps? What the hell was that sound?
    It didn't matter.
    He kept going. Half jogging, half stumbling, towards the edge of his field. He couldn't keep going and some part of him told him to get to the edge of the field.
    He just had to get to the edge of the field.
    "Lel-!" he tried to yell for his wife, only to his voice disappear; hitching in his chest and cut off by a coughing fit.
    She had to get away, wherever she was.
    Only then, George realized he could see her.
    Lelena was there, just outside of the field. She was dirty but otherwise unharmed. And she looked like she was yelling at someone and pointing at the field with the barrel of her revolver.
    Who was she yelling at? he absently wondered.
    furRUMPfurRUMPFURRUMP!
    Unconsciously, George dove forward. He hit the ground hard and, for the second time, felt his breath escape him.
    Only too late, in the haze, he forgot to roll out of the way.
    He tried to push himself to the side, but too slowly this time.
    His right arm was destroyed under the weight of one of the beast's clawed feet and thrown into the air as the thing galloped past once again and back out into the open.
    Back where Lelena was.
    But George couldn't think. He couldn't feel. His mind was alight in the fire of agony from having his arm torn off and he was screaming.
    He couldn't hear his wife yelling at the marshals and their marine contingent. He couldn't hear the thunderous echo of pulse and gauss rifles that punched through the monster's hard carpace. He didn't feel the thing's spray of vile blood or the thud as the beast fell to the ground; poisoning the very dirt it lay upon.
    He didn't even remember the face of Lelena and the marine medic by her side hovering over him or his trip to medical facility nearby.
    All he remembered was the pain.
    And, lingering up from the depths of his belly, an odd sensation that his body felt entirely too hot.

Thursday, June 15, 2017

Heat - Part 4


    The thing chittered excitedly as it moved with heavy thuds away from George and over towards where he believed his wife was hidden. He felt his gut twist and he wanted desperately to do something to keep it away from her.
    She'd already shot it and it didn't seem to do more than piss it off. What was she thinking?
    That she wanted it to get away from you. Just like you want it to get away from her.
    He mentally cursed himself. He cursed his wife. He cursed whatever the fuck that thing was.
    chunkssshhrrrr
    George heard something. It reminded him immediately of a hoe being dragged through dirt and leaves. He listened for a few moments, trying to understand what it was before he decided to risk it.
    As carefully as possible, he tried to move some of the stalks so he could look in the direction of the sound and his wife. Every creak and crack of the fallen corn made his heart jump into his throat but the monster never seemed to notice.
    He managed to clear a tiny seam to look through.
    The beast, with its large, scythe-tipped limbs, was clawing through the corn. The 'hoe' thought seemed appropriate as it was punching the blades into the ground and dragging them backwards through the debris as it searched.
    Luckily, it didn't seem to have found Lelena yet.
    Instead it was aimlessly clawing at several large piles of corn. It hissed under its breath, sounding almost annoyed as it did. Any number of the piles could contain his wife and any second he could hear her scream out in pain and...
    He shook his head.
    He had to do something.
    But what?
    Lelena had said that the marshals were coming, but god knows when they would actually show up.
    Would they think this was a priority?
    It didn't matter. He had to help her before it found her.
    A thousand scenarios ran through his mind and none of them really ended well. This thing was huge, fast, and could probably tear him in two without a second thought.
    But Lelena was in trouble.
    Through the crack in the corn, he glanced back towards the house and up towards where the ship had crashed.
    The inferno had cleared and there were still the massive clouds of smoke. Maybe he could try to lose it in the smoke? It hadn't really shown any indication of being bothered by it, but he wasn't paying attention either.
    Still, the only thing over there other then the crashed ship was open fields. This thing moved like a freight train and hit like one too. Caught out in the open, he'd be dead in an instant.
    The beast chortled angrily and stabbed its claws into another downed pile of corn. George winced at the sight but nothing came of it.
    The house?
    He could make out the great wooden building just over the edge of the corn. It was sturdy and well built to survive the planet's severe winter storms. Everything on Shone III was. If he could make it to the house, maybe it would be enough to barricade inside. Maybe it wasn't strong enough to get in.
    Maybe.
    His kids were likely in there. Did he risk their lives on this hunch? And that would leave Lelena locked outside with that thing. Trapped in the field and...
    The field.
    He watched the monster as it clawed angrily through yet another lump of corn. There wasn't much left to search, which meant it would find his wife soon.
    But it hadn't found her.
    Whatever senses this beast had, at the very least, it seemed to hunt primarily by sight. It was big and strong and mean, but it hadn't tried to sniff her out or anything of the sort. Maybe it was just taking its time. Or maybe the insane plan he had just thought of would work.
    God, if you're listening, don't let Lelena follow me. Let her and the kids get out of here and let the marshals smoke this thing. And, if you got the time, keep this thing off my ass while you do. Nothing personal, just don't care to join you yet.
    George glanced up at the thing.
    There was only a single pile of fallen debris left.
    Lelena would be in it.
    Fuck it. Amen.
    Exploding from his hiding place, he crossed the couple of yards in an instant and did the first thing that came to mind to get its attention.
    He socked the thing in the back of the head.
    It screeched in anger and surprise while, simultaneously, he felt the bones in his hand splinter into a hundred pieces. Its screams were joined by his own as he howled in pain from the sound breaking of every bone in fist.
    But, rather than be paralyzed by the agony of having just punched what felt like a plastisteel door, his howls turned from ones of pain to ones of fury and George took off running. Not towards the house or towards the smoldering ship, but deeper into the field. Where everything was thick and mazelike and he might lose the beast in the endless rows.
    He ran as fast as he ever had in his life.
    And the thing followed.

Monday, June 12, 2017

Heat - Part 3


    The thing, shoved carefully into the back of the spacecraft, began to chitter softly as it pulled itself forward from the back of the cabin.
    "George?" Lelena called again before coughing against the smoke and heat.
    She was far enough away that she could barely make him out through the billowing smoke. With the flames extinguished, the clouds dominated the area, choking and blinding them both.
    But George didn't notice. His attention was in front of him.
    Sharp, sickle-like blades, tipping the edges of long, gangly limbs hooked themselves around the exterior door. They dug into the metal with ease. The beast pulled itself forward with a sticky, sliding sound and a soft, chittering hiss.
    "There you are!" Lelena shouted, squinting through the smoke. "I've called the marshals and told them what happened. They're on their way here!"
    George glanced at his wife for just the briefest of seconds and then back at the horror unfolding from the ship's entrance. He didn't dare tear his eyes away from the monstrosity for a moment more.
    And Lelena noticed it.
    "Honey?" she asked.
    Aside from the scythe-like arms, it walked on four legs; giving George the impression of a twisted centaur. Powerful jaws opened and closed behind slime covered teeth that were hidden under deadly, fanged mandibles. A long, lashing tail smashed against the inside of the craft and further mutilated the soldiers' bodies inside.
    And those eyes.
    Deep and cavernous, like staring into pits. They glew softly in the black smoke, only drawing more attention to their soulless gaze. A foreign, terrible intelligence glinted at the edges of their ebony pools.
    hiiiiiiissssaaragragragRAGRAGRAG
    The creature seemed almost to laugh as it unfolded itself just outside of the craft's door. It was as tall as the ship, a good ten feet. George couldn't help but wonder how the beast had fit into the cramped space, much less with a half dozen armored soldiers.
    BBOOMIARNG!
    The gunshot ricocheted off the thing's carpaced head and it let out a deafening screech. George jumped in surprise as the creature shook itself and clawed at its face where it had been hit. While there was no blood, there was a streak across its hard shell.
    He glanced back to see Lelena, sidearm in hand, with a look of terror and determination on her face.
    "RUN, STUPID!" she yelled.
    And so George ran.
    Lelena took two more shots before they both took off towards the fields. The shots were drastically less effective than before and it didn't even seem to notice the third bullet. They bounced off like the thing was made of solid plastisteel. It locked eyes on its attacker and pursued.
    They were just climbing the wooden fence when it began to barrel after them.
    The ground shook and shuddered with each step. It made George think of a runaway train and, not a moment later, it proved just how true that analogy was.
    Lelena and George had just entered the endless rows of corn a mere seconds after passing the fence, when the beast caught up and went through the barrier. The ironwood splintered like it were made out of loosely-held together toothpicks and George felt more than a couple embed themselves in his neck, back, and arms as shrapnel was sent flying.
    The beast barely slowed down.
    It slammed by them, throwing them to either side. George hit the ground with a soft crack. He grimaced and yelped, wondering if had broken something, only to be buried a moment later by a rain of corn stalks as the creature's tail cut away entire swaths of crop.
     He was about to push himself back up when he heard it slide to a stop. The loud crashing suggesting that it took half the field with it.
    For a breath, all was silent. Then, slowly, it begin to tromp its way back in his direction.
    George elected not to unbury himself.
    There was, of course, the chance that the thing knew exactly where he was. Or Lelena. But, covered in corn and hidden under the hot, scratchy stalks, hiding seemed a better idea.
    He could hear it moving around. It was so heavy, but moved with surprisingly grace. A constant, low hiss seemed to be interjected only by a trilling purr that punctuated a soft clawing at the felled corn.
    It sounded like it was hunting for them. And if it was hunting, it didn't know where they were. At least to a degree.
    As the thing moved closer, he thought about his wife; hidden somewhere unseen nearby, and muttered a silent prayer to no one in particular. He held his breath as the beast stepped directly over him.
    That was when he heard the click of his wife's gun cock.
    And so did the creature.

Saturday, June 10, 2017

Heat - Part 2


    The orange-red flames roared with unyielding intensity and the world seemed to devolve into a twirling maelstrom of heat, pressure, and smoke.
    George held his arm up in front of his eyes, but it didn't seem to do much.
    The closer he got to the ship, the worse it got.
    The ship's automated systems were already hard at working deploying fire-foam and many of the flames were extinguished with undignified slurps as the foam bubbled up from the damaged hull. Still, while the fire wasn't out of control, he felt himself glancing nervously back at the edge of his fields and the dried out stalks.
    He didn't have much of his crop left. It would be a damn shame to lose it to this.
    George shook his head at the thought.
    He tried to push forward again, to get closer to the dying spacecraft, but still found that it was too hot. More and more fires were going out, but he just couldn't progress into the wall of heat without feeling sick and dizzy.
    So he waited.
    The ship in front of him was relatively small. It didn't really look like it was space worthy even before it took a nose dive through the atmosphere. It was circular, and bulky, with a blunt nose and heat shields just about everywhere he could see. The thing was built like a bullet. No windows, no wings, and, from what little George knew about ships, some pretty weak looking engines.
    Honestly, it would surprise him if something like this could get off the ground.
    Plus, it was small. For all the fire and damage it had wrought, it looked to only be slightly bigger than his truck. He wouldn't expect more than a dozen people could be sardined into that thing at one time.
    Where'd you come from? he thought to himself, staring at the blocky chunk of metal.
    Maybe he could get a better idea if he could see some of the decals or logos on the ship's hull, however that was a moot point. The fire suppressant system continued to belch out foam all over the surface of the craft, putting out progressively more and more of the inferno that covered it. The foam, coupled with the dirt, grime, and ash from the ship's crash-landing obscured just about any finer details there were to see.
    He stood there for another long minute, just watching the craft, when he started to notice the waves of heat that had been coming off of the thing seemed to be diminishing. It was still sweltering, but he didn't feel like he was standing in hell itself.
    George stepped closer. And, as he did, the ship let out a long, dying hiiiiiiiiiiisssssssssssssss.
    He stopped short, trying to find the source of the sound. A moment later, a cloud of white gas burst from the crater and the edges of a door appeared on the outer edge.
    The door hissed again and tried to open, only to get stuck after a few inches. George started to move forward again only to catch himself.
    Who's ship was this? Why was it here?
    A resounding BANG echoed on the door, as if someone hit it with a sledgehammer, and the metal frame buckled. The door fell forward and slammed into the dirt and the thing behind it went with it.
    At first, George thought it might have been some kind of robot. Easily 7 to 8 feet tall, the thing laying on the door had two arms, two legs, and a head, but that was the only thing 'human' about it. Everything else was hard metal, whirring gears, and flashing lights.
    It was also covered in blood and had massive gouges carves out of it here and there.
    It wasn't until George really thought about what he was seeing that he was able to put his thoughts together. This thing was a military hardskin. An exoskeleton that soldiers wore in combat. The massive armor could stop pretty much all small arms fire and make it so the men and women wearing them could literally walk through hell and back again without a scratch on them.
    So why did this one look like he'd been through a meat grinder?
    "Hello?" he yelled at the hardskin. "You ok?"
    There was no response.
    George couldn't move any closer to the ship. It was still far too hot and, even being as close as he was, he felt sick and like his skin was going to start blistering just standing there. So instead, he circled slightly to see inside.
    He immediately wished he hadn't.
    Even just moving to the side, he saw that the downed soldier was one of several. He could make out at least four others shoved into the tiny compartment. There might have been more, but George couldn't make it out through the blood.
    It looked as if a mad-man with a chainsaw had been doing ballet in the closed space. Every soldier that he could make out had been torn apart. They lay here and there in pools of their own viscera. Broken faceplates, shredded armor, missing limbs. And all of it had been sprayed around the inside of the cabin.
    George, who prided himself on being a strong redback who busted his ass outdoors everyday and being better than any of those 'slickers' in the core worlds, promptly fell to his knees and threw up right there in the field.
    hisssssssssgrrrrrrrrrongh
    His stomach was still heaving when he heard the noise. He tried to look up, only to vomit some more.
    hiiiiiiSSSSCRA!
    Spittle still on his lips and tears in his eyes, George glanced back to the ship and realized there was something moving inside. He had missed it at first, mistaking it for a pile of gore in the back of the darkened ship. However, now, plain as day, he saw something pulling itself up from the far end of the craft.
    And it was like a monster out of a madman's worst nightmares. A thing of teeth and claws and glowing eyes and armor. A thing of sharp edges, pain, and death. A thing that easily stood taller than the hardskinned soldiers and filled the far end of the cabin.
    A thing that was softly hissing and staring him dead in the eyes.
    "George?" he heard Lelena calling from somewhere behind him.
    He did not call back.

Thursday, June 8, 2017

Heat - Part 1


    The sweat poured down George's face. It burned as it dripped into and pooled around the edges of his eyes and forced him to blink away bleary eyed tears. All the while, the sweat seemed to do nothing for the heat.
    The God. Damned. Heat.
    Drawing himself up from where he was crouched in front of a particularly dusty stalk of corn, he looked at the meager crop that surrounded him.
    Corn grew in lopsided rows in every direction. It went as far as he could see and being in the middle of the field always gave him the eerie feeling of being watched. He liked to blame the scarecrows, but knew it had more to do with the tight corners and easy hiding places. His sister had scared him one too many times growing up not to be half-nervous in the fields.
    Now, with the twin suns of Meia and Leia high overhead and the end of the harvest only a week away, he couldn't wait to be done with the damned crop until the following year.
    Having both Meia and Leia in the sky for the last year had played havoc with everything. The days were hotter and shorter. The nights were colder and longer. The frost decimated entire fields in a single night and the heat-induced drought had suffocated more plants than he cared to think about.
    His harvest would be a lot smaller than he wanted. Still, he couldn't help but feel lucky in the face of it all.
    At least he wasn't on one of the contested worlds.
    As a rule, George tried to ignore the news coming out of the more centralized systems. The news talked of little else than the political turmoil, the evils of one side or the other, and the men who died by the thousands in the name of their government.
    He supposed that in the war between the Federal Democracy of Planets and the Honorth Allegiance, he should care more about the FDP since they controlled Shone III; the little planet he called home. Yet, between one corrupt system and another, he really just didn't care.
    Men fighting for power and money. People dying in the name of lost causes. Homes and planets destroyed in that hunger and avarice.
    The thought of hardskin boots tromping through his fields and soldiers setting fire to his barns crossed his mind. It twisted his stomach into knots and his lips into a scowl.
    He spit.
    "Fuck 'em." George said to no one in particular.
    "Fuck who now?" Lelena asked as she appeared from behind a dusty stalk and walked towards him.
    "No one, dear." he said, his tone softening.
    "Aww. You're no fun. Here I thought that was an invitation." she responded in a singsong voice.
    His gaze drifted up and down his wife's form and a smile crossed his lips. She was filthy. Her overalls were ratty and covered in dirt, her shoulders were bright red from working under the sun, and her her face was beginning to wrinkle like leather.
    And she made his heart skip a beat.
    "Hey there, sexy." she said, walking up and wrapping her arms around his middle; a cloud of dust puffing off of them from the contact.
    "Hey yourself."
    "Got a cigarette?"
    "Maybe. What's in it for me?"
    "Kiss?"
    "Yea. Ok."
    He leaned down and kissed her. Her lips tasted of dirt and salty sweat, but he didn't care. She was his and he was hers and if he was bothered by a little bit of field dust, they'd chose then wrong life together.
    "Mmm. I like that." Lelena chided with a silly smile.
    "Yea?" he asked, drawing one of the last hand-rolled cigarettes from his vest pocket.
    "Yea." she agreed, pulling out the silver lighter from her pocket and lighting up.
    They shared the tobacco for a long minute before either of them spoke again. This time, it was less lovey dovey and more business. But George was ok with that.
    "We lost another cow." Lelana remarked solemnly.
    "Was it the old brown one that Jeffrey was telling us about the other night?"
    "That's the one."
    "Not the first." George sighed. "Probably won't be the last before year's end."
    "Mmm." Lelena said in way of agreement as she took a long drag.
    George reached over and plucked the cigarette from his wife's fingers. He took a drag of his own and flicked the butt into the dirt, careful to avoid the dried out corn stalks on either side of them.
    "Come on." he said with a squeeze of her arm as he ground the burning embers under his boot. "We should get cleaned up. I'm sure Jeff and Nadia will be demanding dinner by the time we get there."
    "Let 'em wait. Those kids do nothing but eat."
    "They take after their Daddy." he said with a smirk.
    George leaned down to give his wife another kiss when a deep shadow passed over head. It moved straight through the light of Meia and Leia and, not a moment later, was associated with a high pitched keening noise.
    They both stared up in shock.
    An orange red fireball plummeted from the sky at a sharp angle. Bursts of flame and sparks jetted out from its belly and a glittering trail seemed to stream from all sides.
    "Is that a ship?!" Lelena asked in shock.
    As if to answer her question, the flames began to peel away from the spacecraft's nose and reveal the metal hull. It was searing red and heat billowed off of it even as the fireball dissipated. It was only then that George realized the 'glitter' he saw were chunks of metal tearing from the ship's surface.
    "It must have hit the atmosphere at too sharp an angle." George said before turning to his wife. "Go get on the horn and get the marshall out here. Ambulance too. Those folks might need help."
    "And what are you going to do?" his wife demanded.
    "Go and help."
    They stared at each other for a long moment, the echoing screech of the dying craft punctuating the silence between them. It was broken by an echoing crash! and WHUMPFH! as the craft hit the ground just outside of their fields and burst into a brand new inferno.
    "GO!" he shouted as he turned to take off running.
    He could hear her heading in the opposite direction as he ran towards the burning wreckage that was billowing smoke and fire in fields just past his farm, slapping corn stalks away as he went. He escaped the corn field, ran out onto the open road, and headed towards the mass of twisted metal and raging heat.
    More God. Damned. Heat. he thought to himself.

Tuesday, June 6, 2017

A Buzzing in my Ears - Audiobook Considerations



Hello Lovelies,


As I've been twittering away behind the scenes work, a question occurred to me.

 Do any of you have experience 
self-publishing AudioBooks?

In short, I had a friend that was reading the 'Lost' story the other day and she made repeated comments about how much she would love to experience it as either an audiobook or as an audio-play. Me, being the whore-of-audiobooks that I already was, felt a tad surprised that I had never genuinely considered the possibility of turning stories into audiobooks. For some reason, I always thought that you needed to have a big-name publisher behind you to get any traction.

After a cursory search, I was rather pleasantly surprised to find that the opposite might be true, however it still looks like it might be more complicated than simply doing a regular self-publish of written works. It seems that Amazon ACX might be the ideal option (much like their e-book publishing), but I'm not sure. A review of their system looks like I might need to select and pay specific narrators whereas I actually have a couple of voice-actors who are close friends of mine and who I'd prefer to work with early on.

That said, if I were restricted to certain narrators and decided to maybe just publish the audio at a minor cost (I'm thinking, like, $0.99 or something...something just stupid cheap), I'm not sure how one would go about appropriately selling that product.

With the exception of Xenophobia (which is still heavily in rewrites), I can't imagine too much more that would qualify for audiobook status yet, so it doesn't seem worth it to pursue some sort of corporate publisher and would much rather be able to self-publish smaller works...perhaps like a collection of short stories or something.

So, I wanted to bring it up to you.

I know some of your are amateurs like myself and some are a great deal more talented and more experienced. Have any of you had experience with creating and/or selling self-published audio books? Have you used ACX or do you have any strong recommendations?

As always, I'm doing research for myself, but I always love to bring your opinions into the fold. I cherish your honesty and your insight and they're a great deal more trustworthy and comforting than my standard google searches.

Thank you as always.

- RB

Sunday, June 4, 2017

Making Excuses and Writing Exercises


Hello Lovelies,

I'm sorry for having been absent for the majority of the week. Every day I kept saying 'Today I'll get something out there. Today I'm going to release more 'Kappa in my Closet''. And each day, I reveal that I simply suck.

Overall, I really don't have more of an excuse other than I'm wholly unsatisfied with the content I'm producing for 'Kappa...'. Part of this has to do with my own writing comfort level. Anyone who has been around for a while knows that I tend to specialize in tension and drama and action. It's where I naturally flow to and the light hearted spirit of Kappa is giving me some trouble. I still intend to try and produce more and work through the writer's block, but for now, I've got nothing.

So, with that said, while we're talking about writer's block, I wanted to share a little find of mine that might be helpful for some of YOU.


One problem that tends to stop a lot of writers cold is inspiration. I've personally tried my hand at creating writing prompts and trying to help inspire other writers (and myself) to new creative endeavors, but unfortunately my own capabilities are limited by my own inspiration.

And that's where WritingExercises comes in.

I just found this the other day (my lovely wife thought I would enjoy it) and I have to say, I fully intend to play with this on days where I'm not sure how to move forward. The website hosts a number of random generators including plots, opening lines, character jobs and traits, exercises, scenarios, and more. Overall, it's basically a free way to get your brain buzzing, get the ball rolling, and figure out how you can move forward...even if it's just as a training exercise.

So, for all of the lovely word-smiths in the audience, I'd encourage you to give it a look. Maybe it will help you think of your next big novel or maybe it will simply inspire you for a little bit of training. Either way, I found this incredible cool and helpful and I hope it does the same for you.

I'm off to combat with my own inadequacies and likely produce something other than 'Kappa...' for the moment, but I will not let it defeat me! I hope you have a pleasant day.

- RB

Monday, May 29, 2017

Defeated by Memorial's Day Weekend


Hello Lovelies,

I wanted to take a moment and acknowledge that I've been missing for the last couple of days. This was, unfortunately, self inflicted. I originally had content for the last couple of days in the form of a short story that was based on something less than fiction. The intent was to end with the final piece coming out today on Memorial's Day. However, at the last minute, I elected to remove the story and, due to the demands of the weekend, I had nothing to replace it with.

I sincerely apologize.

In short, the story was a piece that revolved around my older brother. I believe I've mentioned him before, but he served as an Army Ranger. The piece I was going to post revolved around a few very real instances for my brother and what he experienced in the name of the American people. However, I elected to remove it because it also ended how his story ended: in his death. I won't go into the finer details, but it was simply something I wrote that it was too tender to release, even a few years later.

With that said, I know that many Americans see this day as a day to barbecue and stay home from work, but I'd like to provide a reminder. Whether you believe in your government or not and whether you agree with what our leadership is doing or not, the boots on the ground are men and women who are willing to put forth their lives in honor of something greater. Remember them and remember everything that they do and remember those that have been lost both in and out of the field of battle.

To all of our Veterans, Thank you. You are remembered. And to any Americans who live beneath their cloak of protection and willingness to give their lives, may you honor them in your own way.

Thank you all, I promise we have more coming soon. I just kind of screwed up my own timestable the last few days.

- RB

Wednesday, May 24, 2017

Lost - A Reexamination and What's to Come


Hello Lovelies,

First and foremost, I wanted to take a moment and say 'Thank you'. I'm glad that all of you enjoyed 'Lost' so much; particularly since it was experimental. In short, I had read something that got my brain buzzing: 'What language does a deaf person think in?' It got me thinking about what it would be like to remove one of these key elements in description; i.e. one of the character's senses. Since I could easily go either direction, deaf or blind, I felt that a blind character would be able to translate a more thrilling story for the little creature feature running around in my head.

Who knows, maybe I'll do a deaf one sometime. Need to think on that one.

However! All the same, I'm glad you guys enjoyed it. I know a few of you were requesting more and I'm debating on it. I feel it's likely that if I revisit Cecilia's world, it may be as a collection of short stories revolving around the 'creatures' and mankind's interaction with them. Yet, I'm still not sure. I was actually growing very close to Cecilia and Gordo both. Cecilia in particular was actually supposed to die at the end. My intent was to end with the same sound of her heart beat slowing down as it had sped up at the beginning of the story; specifically as she died in the vacuum of space where there is, ironically, no exterior sounds.

But I just couldn't do it.

I chewed on it and considered how to get there and I just didn't want to. As many of you pointed out, Cecilia had been desperately hurt and writing and reading her pain was actually kind of taxing on an emotional level. I wanted her safe and I wanted her to escape the 'creatures'.  I wanted her to get out of there.

Also, I love Gordo. He is fat and fun. But I'm just making excuses here.

I unno, maybe I'm a bit crazy, but I have a bad tendency of creating a situation and characters and just kind of going along for the ride. It's almost like I'm finding out the story as it comes out of my fingers...at least for the good ones. Might need to get checked out for schizophrenia, but hey.

That aside, I may revisit it, but I'm not sure. The likelihood of hitting the overarching world is more likely than returning to Cecila herself, but I'll let you know. For now, I promised to return to 'Kappa in my Closet' and I feel like I owe it to all of us just because the story will be a bit more light hearted than the panic-fueled world of 'Lost'.

So, let me leave you with this question. 'Lost' was born from an experiment...a test of my own writing skills to see how well I could cover a blind character's interaction with the world without writing her as 'LOL! I can't see! 8D' My question to you is this:

Have you ever done any experimental pieces to 
stretch your writing capabilities?

As always, I'd love to hear from you, the readers. Have a wonderful day and I look forward to you joining us again soon.

- RB

Monday, May 22, 2017

Lost - Final Part


    ClunClunClunClun
    The marines ran down the hall at full speed.
    Having exited the hive, their boots clunked heavily on the hard metal of the corridor and their armor rustled as they moved.
    While the rotten egg smells had gone, there was a now a bizarre scent of anti-septic cleaner that had been overwhelmed by the stench of blood and excrement. The results of the fighting. It covered more of the walls and floor than any of them cared to think about.
    Cecilia clung tightly to Gordo as they went.
    To her amazement, he never tired. He was like a statue of man and muscle and determination. Even with her in his arms, he never even seemed to slow and he always stayed in the center of the seven other marines.
    A precious package protected on all sides.
    "How long, corporal?" the woman yelled as they ran.
    "Two minutes, Sergeant Raynor!" another man shouted in return.
    A screeching roar echoed through the hall and the beast that it came from was almost instantly blown away; the echoing booms of five pulse rifles exploding all around her. She tried weakly to cover her ears, but they had barely recovered from their last onslaught and the jackhammer thuds made less difference than before.
    The monster made a single heavy thud followed shortly by an undignified squelch as one of the marines ran through its remains.
    "Right here!" the corporal shouted.
    They turned hard and barreled down the way at top speed. It was only then that Cecilia realized that the constant klaxon that she had expected to hear was now fading. It was replaced with something else.
    Voices.
    Human voices.
    There were screeches and roars and the occasional boom of a pulse rifle, but the echoing sounds of people quickly grew louder and louder. The sounds of congregation. Of panicked people talking quickly. Of babies crying and people shouting and the sounds of people hurriedly shuffling about.
    "Private! Report!" Raynor yelled.
    "Civvies are boarding now, Sarge."
    "The hell took so long? We're supposed to be leaving."
    "Took those techies longer than expected to put the hunk of junk back together. Was supposed to be decommissioned, ya know."
    "So I keep hearing." Raynor growled through her teeth. "There's a little medbay on the shuttle right?"
    "Sure."
    "Five minutes more." another marine yelled.
    Raynor slapped Gordo's arm.
    "Alright, Gordo. Get her on the ship. Hawk. Follow them and give her a once over."
    "Sir." a female marine responded.
    "We'll hold the line while the rest of them get loaded. Be ready to drop what you're doing if we have another wave of these assholes make a break for it. I think they know what's coming."
    "Sir." Gordo said in confirmation before dropping his voice to a slightly more gentle tone. "Alright, little lady, let's get you some painkillers."
    Cecilia whimpered in response and felt tears begin again. This time it wasn't pain. It was joy. Raw and unmitigated, she felt entirely grateful for the huge man holding her and the men and women around her who promised to fight to the last breath to keep her safe.
    Gordo and Hawk made for the ship.
    She felt them shoving past people. More than a few of the other passengers barked and guffawed for a moment, but quickly silenced their complaints as Gordo and Hawk pushed their way through. They were all panicked, talking rapidly and easy to upset, but no way were they going to pick a fight with the marines. Certainly not marines carrying an injured civilian.
    Soon they were through the shuttle and Hawk was closing the door to the medbay while Gordo gently placed her on the table. The fear and chatter quickly dimmed as Hawk latched the door.
    "Easy, girl. We got you." he crooned reassuringly.
    "Thanks Gordo." Hawk said as she approached Cecilia.
    "No problem." he responded before softly taking Cecilia's hand in his own gargantuan paw.
    "Alright, honey." Hawk said in a quiet tone. "Talk to us."
    "Cec...cecilia..." Cecilia offered weakly.
    "That's good. Your name's Cecilia?"
    Cecilia nodded in response.
    "Alright Cecilia, my name is Private Juliana Hawk and the big guy who carried you here is Private Romero Gutierrez."
    "They call me Gordo." he offered with a soft chuckle and a hand squeeze.
    "Only cause you're so fat." Hawk said sarcastically.
    "Ha! My old CO tried to make me run once." Gordo snarked before leaning down close to Cecilia's ear. "Once."
    Cecilia giggled a little at the dumb joke and immediately doubled over in pain. Her voice escaped in a half scream but the two marines were there to hold her.
    "Easy sweetie. We got you. Relief's coming." Hawk said. "Don't move."
    She felt a prick in her arm and, at once, a wash of euphoria, numbness, and just a hint of nausea ran through her whole body. It spread from her arm to her stomach and up the back of her neck to her head just as her fingers began to tingle.
    Cecilia let out an audible moan as her entire body physically relaxed.
    "There ya go." Gordo said with a laugh. "That's the good shit, ain't it?"
    "Mmmyea." she moaned softly.
    "It's alright, you're safe." Hawk said reassuringly with a soft touch to her hand. "We're gonna do some tests. Scans and such to make sure you're not bleeding out on us inside. But first I need to know, did they do that to you?"
    "Do wha?" Cecilia asked drearily through the haze of drugs.
    "The aliens. Did they do that to your eyes?"
    "Eyes? What about my eyes?" she asked, reaching up tentatively tentatively to make sure they hadn't been plucked out.
    Hawk quickly took her hand.
    "They're still there. You're ok. I'm going to guess you were blind before all this happened?"
    "Blind?" Cecilia confirmed with a half of a nod. "Blind."
    She waved a hand in front of her eyes and made a rude noise with her lips before saying, "No lights on."
    Cecilia could hear both of the marines audibly sigh in relief.
    She let out another moan as a fresh wave of drugs bounced around inside her brain. Those same silvery gray eyes slid shut.
    She could hear Hawk talking and she could feel Gordo holding her hand, but it didn't register anymore. She felt the shudder of the ship as it roared to life and a soft lurch as the ship left its dock. It didn't matter though.
    The drugs were too powerful and she was too weak at this point. And, more importantly, she was safe.
    She was going to be ok.
    Cecilia slipped away into a deep, dreamless sleep.
    She was safe.

Saturday, May 20, 2017

Lost - Part 3


    CLANG!
    Cl-BANG! BONG! BANG!
    Cecilia's fall was short lived. Sliding down the cold metal, she found herself ricocheting off the sides of the tunnel. Slamming this way and that, she tumbled downward for what felt like an eternity but only lasted for some twenty or thirty seconds; smashing against her broken ribs and almost assuredly breaking some more bones along the way as her already abused body was beaten about like a undignified pinball.
    She came to stop at the bottom after a short, vertical fall straight down onto something surprisingly soft and squishy.
    Not that she noticed.
    Curled in on herself, all she could do was wail. Her sobs heaving her entire body and only making the pain from the fall that much worse.
    Losing her hearing not ten minutes ago was stressful and a bit painful. This was all pain. Lots and lots of pain.
    Her ribs felt as though several knives had been jabbed into her torso and her hands mindlessly wandered to see if she actually had been stabbed by something. She wasn't. On top of that she found that she couldn't quite turn her head and her left arm didn't seem to be responding the way it was supposed to and didn't seem to be sitting in her shoulder correctly. Anything didn't feel directly broken or dislocated started to feel swollen and her joints began to feel locked.
    Cecilia thought this might be what it would be like to have been run through a blender.
    The room she was in smelt odd. It was like rotten eggs with a hint of fresh manure that had just started to age long enough that the scent wasn't as sharp or nauseating. The ground was warm and wet to the touch; with a little give but more elastic then anything else. Around her, there was the sound of movement; squishy, sloshy sounds that didn't sound human.
    Still...
    "...help..." she barely whispered.
    But no help came.
    There seemed to be a stirring of activity. Some movement far off.
    Too far, she thought. 
    And so, curled in on her self, her body weakly heaving from the abuse, as she passed out from the pain.

    Cecilia was awoken in a start by the sound of pulse rifles.
    In a second of panic, her hands snapped up to her ears to protect them from the roaring booms, but she had forgotten about her left arm. It barely responded and, instead, sent shooting pain up her spine that took her breath away from a moment.
    This, with the fear of the rifles and the sheer shock of everything else, was too much.
    She screamed. Loud, long, and hard.
    It was a horrible, desperate cry. Primal in its intensity and singular in its purpose. It begged anyone, any human that could hear it, anyone of the same species: please help me.
    Save me.
    The pulse rifles, still loud, seemed to ebb. As if someone had stopped firing.
    "Did you hear that?"
    "I think we've got a survivor!" Cecilia could barely hear a young woman shouting.
    Yes. YES! she thought, her mind begging her to find shelter. To find her own kind and escape this nightmare.
    She tried to push up off the ground. Tried to escape.
    She couldn't.
    Her left arm wouldn't support her weight and, when trying to push off with just her right, she found that the pain in her ribs was too much. She screamed again just from the effort.
    "Over there!" a man shouted.
    Cecilia tried and failed again. Tears were streaming down her face as she fought against the agony. She could hear the roar of the rifles growing louder and the sounds of men and women running.
    Along with something else.
    There were roars and hisses now. They seemed to come from the very walls. To unfold from the darkness around her like shadows given some monstrous kind of life. They must have passed right over her while she was out cold earlier. Or they just never cared about her to begin with.
    Now they cared.
    "I think I see someone!" the woman shouted.
    "HELP!" Cecilia managed to scream before doubling over on herself again. She coughed and her mouth filled with the startling taste of copper. Blood.
    "We're coming!" someone else shouted.
    "There!"
    "Son of a bitch! More!"
    The hissing at Cecilia's sides changed to violent roars that were cut short with the blaze of pulse rifles some short distance away. She felt their warm blood splash across her back and hair and the sticky, slick feeling made her retch. A half-second later, two heavy thuds shook the ground she laid on and did not get back up.
    "Cover me!" the woman yelled. "I'm going for her!"
    "We've got you!"
    The marine sloshed and squished her way towards Cecilia and, a moment later, she felt warm, soft hands wrapping around her good arm.
    "I've got you, honey." the woman said with surprising tenderness. "Come on."
    "I...I can't." she sobbed. "Hurt...my ribs. My arm."
    "I know, sweetie. I know." the woman said softly tugging her up to a sitting position. "But we can't leave you here. They're going to destroy the ship. We have to get you off."
    Cecilia, who had been curled in on herself, her eyes shut, finally glanced up in the marine's direction.
    The marine gasped when she did.
    "Oh sweetie...how are you down here?"
    "Fell."
    "Down the air shaft?"
    "Mmm."
    The echo of pulse rifles intensified suddenly.
    "We gotta go!" the man yelled.
    "Gordo! Rifle slung! We need a lift!"
    "You got it, Sarge!"
    The ground shook as someone else came running; his armor and weapon clanking and clattering along.
    "Holy shit." the man began. "Is she...?"
    "Obviously." the woman said shortly. "She's pretty banged up and I don't trust her to be able to get out of here easy. Gonna need you to carry her."
    "How did she get down here?" he asked shortly. "How is she even still be alive if she's..."
    "Not now." the woman barked.
    "Sir." the man said shortly before leaning down next to Cecilia.
    She felt a second pair of hands wrap around her. Bigger. Warmer. Cecilia unconsciously leaned into them and sniffled.
    "This is gonna hurt, darlin'." the big man said. "So I'm sorry in advance.
    All at once, Cecilia felt herself leave the ground. Pain shot through her as the marine scooped her up and she screamed in response. The man cooed her softly and cradled her to his chest and she sobbed.
    But, her unconscious mind countered, she was safe. He was big and warm. He smelt of gunpowder and sweat and grime. His arms were large and hairy and muscled. She could hear his heart pounding, heavy and steady, in his chest. He was one of many marines with their guns and their grit and their determination to keep her alive. He was human and he would keep her safe.
    She felt the sobs calm slightly and she held tight to his armor.
    "Fall back!" the woman shouted.
    "Let's go!" the man yelled in unison.
    Cecilia held tight as they moved. They were surrounded on all sides by the other marines; seven others from what she could tell. They moved in unison, fleeing the hive as quickly as possible. And, as they moved, she heard whispers.
    "Did you see her eyes?"
    "My god...how did she get down here?"
    "Do you think they did that to her?"
    "Enough chatter!" the woman barked.
    "Sir," an unknown male voice said, "We only have five minutes til the last dropship departs."
    "Then let's not miss our bus." the big man holding her said.
    "MARINES! WE ARE LEAVING!" the woman shouted. A moment later, the entire group took off at a run.

===

(Hello Lovelies, I'm glad you've been enjoying this little romp. There will be one more after this and then we will see about returning to 'Kappa in my Closet' along with a few other things! All I can say in my defense is that I was inspired because of the upcoming 'Alien: Covenant movie. Not gonna lie, I'm enjoying my version better. haha! See you soon.)

Thursday, May 18, 2017

Lost - Part 2


    BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM!
    The pulse rifle kicked like she was holding a jack hammer upright. The barrel jerked up and ripped itself out of her hands. The room reverberated with the sound of a dozen explosions.
    A moment later, there was a thud as the creature hit the ground. The entire floor shuddered with the impact.
    Cecilia barely registered it.
    Her hands quivered and her entire body shook with terror. The BOOMs from the gun had been replaced by a high pitched ringing that threatened to drown out her hearing. She strained to hear anything but the penetrating 'tiiiiiiiiiiiing' in the throbbing pain in her ears.
    It was just too much.
    Curling up right there on the floor, Cecilia began to rock herself in place and sob uncontrollably. She screamed and clawed at her own ears as if the action would restore what was lost. As if it would stop the pain in her ribs and hers. As if it would bring back her hearing.
    Whatever it was. The thing. The creature. It had stopped moving. Stopped advancing. Even if it hadn't, Cecilia couldn't imagine her response would have been much different.
    After all, she couldn't hear.
    And so she cried.
    She stayed like that for an indiscernible period of time; eyes shut down and hot tears running down her face. Body convulsing through heaving sobs and soft wails.
    But she also listened.
    She listened for anything; trying to hear anything else but that high pitched ringing sound. She didn't care past that.
    Just stop the ringing. Stop the pain.
    In anger, she kicked the gun at her feet. It clattered away.
    It was that clatter that was the first new noise she was able to register.
    Her sobbing stopped and she opened her eyes.
    Reaching out, she grabbed the butt of the discarded pulse rifle and dragged it back. The rifle clattered back along the grooves of the floor and she openly gasped with joy. She pushed it back and forth a few more times just to be sure she heard it right.
    Soon, more things returned. She could hear the klaxon now. Its wailing scream high in the distance. After that, she could make out the sound of running and things moving through the halls above. She could hear a few terrified screams.
    Slowly but surely, the ringing abated.
    Throughout it all, the the thing never moved.
    Cecilia let out a long, controlled sigh, followed by a much less controlled whimper, and pushed herself from the floor.

    Cecilia had considered taking the gun with her, but quickly elected not to. She'd rather have her hands open and her ability to move around unimpeded. More importantly, she couldn't bear the thought of firing the thing again.
    The sound was just too much to handle. She'd rather deal with trying to run from one of those monsters.
    She had no idea what the creatures were that were loose on the station. They were big and ran around on all fours. They had great and terrible claws that raked grooves into the floor in shrieks of metal and they roared with a fierceness that made lions sound like pussycats. They seemed to be able to climb the walls and ceilings as easy as they walked on the floor.
    And they were loose.
    Cecilia could hear them running around above her. They moved like rhinos; thumping and galloping and slamming through whatever was in their way.
    It made her glad to be down here. Wherever here was.
    More then once she worried the floor would give way or she'd find one hiding in a shadow somewhere. But the moment never came.
    While she initially thought she was in some sort of a hallway, Cecilia quickly realized that there weren't any doors. After a quick walk, she realized that there was some kind of piping or conduits running along the wall and she had to squeeze through a few areas to keep going. Doing so was agony with her broken ribs.
     All the while, there was a vague, nauseating smell that seemed to waft in little puffs of breeze.
    Perhaps a maintenance tunnel?
    As time droned on, she was surprised to find that the world above got quieter and quieter. She groped her way along the tunnel and the sounds of galloping on metal started to fade. The screams stopped. The klaxon dulled into a soft wail. If she strained her ears against the growing silence, she started to hear a rustling sound. Almost like-
    Cecilia, following the noise, took a step forward and found nothing to catch her. She fell forward and her head slammed hard into cold meta. She immediately lost what little footing she had and slid forward.
    Down.
    Her screams echoed off metal as she slid down the slick, angled tube towards infinite.

Tuesday, May 16, 2017

Lost - Part 1


    Bbmpbbmpbbmp
   “mmnyh”
    Bubbmpbubbmpbubbmp
    “Uhh...wha?”
    Bubbabumpbubbabumpbubbabump
    "Wher-?"
    All at once, reality seemed to explode into existence in a flash of pain and sound and smoke. Cecilia's senses burned and she found herself on the ground, clutching ribs that were alight in agony and seemed to have a bit more give than regular, non-broken bones should have.
    Around her, the world wailed.
    A klaxon screamed its warning for all who would hear, barely drowning out the sound of men and women screaming, boots stomping on hard metal, pulse rifles firing, sounding like a jackhammer on a steel drum, and the roar of something monstrous and unknown in the distance. All of it was muffled even more by the crackling booming of fire.
    She sat up quickly and screamed.
    "Ellen?! Kera?!"
    She couldn't remember what happened or how she got here, but she knew she wanted to find her sisters and quickly. Had they been with her? Were they ok?
    It didn't matter though. She had bigger issues.
    All around her, an inferno raged. The fire licked at her skin and she had no idea how to get away from it. Each time she breathed in her lungs were being seared with smoke and she felt herself coughing and hacking; an action that was getting progressively faster and therefore worse as she began to hyperventilate. The world seemed to close in around her as the panic threatened to send her over the edge.
    "ELLEN?! KERA?!"
    tunktunktunktunk!
    Someone running towards her?
    "Ma'am!" a voice screamed barely audible over the roar of the fire. "This way! Come this way! We have to get you out of here!"
    A marine.
    "I can't!" she said quickly, the panic only taking a firmer grip. "I-I can't!"
    It was all she could muster. The world burned with fire between them.
    "You have to! Come on! Please! Just run towards me. Run as fast as you can. I'll be here to catch you!"
    Her throat tightened and, despite the blazing inferno around her, Cecilia's palms went cold and sweaty. She shut her eyes tight.
    "Alright." she said, her shaking voice betraying her. "On three."
    "On three." the marine agreed.
    "One." she began.
    "Two."
    Before she could muster a 'Three' there was an echoing crash and a screeching roar as the metal of the hall bent and screamed in defiance of a preternatural force. The marine screamed back, firing the pulse rifle at something. They were silenced a moment later and all fear of fire was wiped away as the marine was slammed into Cecilia's chest, thrown like a ragdoll, sending them both sprawling backwards. The combined force and weight sent them clean past the flames and down a chasm that was open in the floor.
    Cecilia hit the ground below with a sobbing cry as the marine, dead weight, crushed her with their bulk; broken ribs burned and stabbed in protest of the pressure.
    "Get off!" she yelled and pushed against the dead marine. "Please get off!"
    Above her, she could hear the thing. It scrabbled and moved across the metal of the hall above with the sound of someone raking a dozen pickaxes against a grated chalkboard. It seemed to blend into a terrible crescendo of oncoming death with the klaxon as she desperately clawed at the body that weighed her down.
    She kept pushing, kept trying to get the corpse off of her shattered ribs and weak body. She felt the load soften slightly as the heavy pulse rifle clattered down next to her.
   The creature was just crawling through chasm she had fallen through, growling softly under the klaxon and the claws, when she managed to free herself from under the dead marine and scuttled backwards in terror.
    Cecilia only escaped back an inch or two before she hit the wall.
    Above, the creature seemed to realize she was trapped. It made its way slowly, carefully, down to the next level; it's growl growing into twittering, high pitch that reminded her of a cat stalking a bird.
    She shut her eyes tight, sobbing.
    Her hands fell to the pulse rifle on the ground beside her.
    She had never used one before. No official training of any kind. But she knew the concept of a gun. You point it at something and pull the trigger. Hopefully you have the right end pointed towards what you want to die. 
    The creature roared. Maybe it recognized the threat of the gun. Maybe it was just done playing with her. It scrabbled forward with that same high-pitched, gut wrenching sound of claws on metal.
    Cecilia grabbed the weapon's stock, raised the gun, and squeezed the trigger; praying it was even vaguely pointed in the right direction.
    Pulse rifle's are so much louder when you're the one firing them.