I kept my attention fixed straight ahead, ignoring the sweat that dripped down my face and the heat of the sun on my bare back, concentrating just on the ground, the knife in my hand, and the person in front of me. Derrick, I thought his name was. But that was irrelevant, a thought from the world outside the rough circle scratched in the sand. A dangerous thought. A distraction.
His feet shuffled towards me, a feint. I reacted instantly, leaned left, then springing to the right when he lunged. A feint to counter a feint. I leapt towards him but he had already turned and faced me, jumping aside just as I had done moments before. The sun was merciless. I shifted my weight, watching carefully for any sign of what my opponent would do next; a shift in his balance, a twitch of his eyes, anything that might give him away. Continue reading
“Fortress, where the hell is our helicopter?” Eric screamed into his mic. Next to him, Sato fired a few rounds at the security guards who had followed them up to the roof. Bullets thudded into the AC unit they were crouched behind.
Static crackled on the comm bead in his ear, “Raptor Actual this is Fortress, wait one.” He paused and in the break Eric fired his pistol blindly towards the roof access door. “Looks like they got held up by local air traffic control but they are on the way now, over.” Continue reading
“Mr. Drusus? Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Jack looked up from his datasheet. One of his students, a bright young girl named Anastasia, stood at parade rest in front of his desk. Her eyes were focused at something on the floor.
“Of course, Ana. Please, sit.” He pulled up her class records on his desk. “Is there something specific you wanted to talk about? Your grades all look pretty good, but that last essay of yours was not what I’ve come to expect from you.” Continue reading
This is just a quick preview of something larger that I am currently working on.
December 12, 2016
Krasnoyark Krai, USSR
63 Miles NE of Norilsk
I hate Siberia. That was my mantra as I crawled forwards, eyes squinted against the wind. I hate Siberia, I hate Siberia. The snow kept finding ways to sneak down the top of my coat, where it took longer and longer to melt as I got colder and colder. I saw the ridgeline, just ahead of me, wind howling up and over it, making the snow spray wildly into the air. My companion nudged me in the shoulder and leaned close enough to talk into my ear in his accented English. “How is it going, Typhoon?” Continue reading