Flash Fiction # 224 -- Saving Everywhere. Part 8: Plans

(Previous)

The man waved his rifle.  "Sit down!  Get down where you belong!  You know the drill!"

He kicked the door closed and leaned against it.  I watched his hand on the rifle -- but then I became aware of something odd.  The others were acting strangely.  Not one of them showed any sign of worry.

The guards outside trampled past and continued to yell.   People hurried in and went to their bunks or gathered in groups at various areas. I had the impression of other prisoners hurrying to their own barracks.  Our guard kicked a chair aside and knocked over a small table.

"Sit down!" he shouted again.

We were all sitting.  I looked at Tom who gave a placid nod.

The other guards had moved on.  Our visitor stood with his back to the door and remained quiet before he nodded.  He picked up the table, then took the chair he'd kicked and brought it to the table.  He sat there, leaning the rifle against the wall beside him.

"This is the new guy?" he said, a quite calm voice.  Tom nodded.  "You really riled things up when you arrived and the nons reacted."

I didn't know what to say, but I could tell there was something more going on here. 

"This is Mark.  He's a protector and half fae," Tom explained.  Well, apparently I didn't have to say anything at all.  When I looked at Tom with a little shock, the man patted my arm.  "Don't worry.  Collins is one of us, but hiding in the troops.  We have a couple others as well, but not enough to take over."

"They are good at keeping things in hand, though," Bailey added.  "We have to be very careful, especially since the others are looking for a reason to kill the nons, at the very least."

"And their actions when they sensed what I am did not help," I said, worried again.

"If they had moved towards any of the guards, there would have been dead," Collins said, and ran a hand through his short hair.  He looked harassed and worried.  "They usually keep to themselves and are rarely out in groups during the daylight.   We have to be careful."

"Can you talk to them?" I asked.

"I can try, but most of them don't trust me."

"Some of them don't trust any of us," Smith said.  He'd been mostly quiet and had watched me as though he thought I would suddenly change into something else.

Oh.

They had to be worried about were-creatures.  Ones like Tommy Creston -- I didn't mention killing him -- had been able to hold on to his human form and change when he wanted to.  Others never had that much control.  I realized, though, that they would have no clear way to tell if I was lying about who and what I was or not.  Tom seemed to know if I was telling the truth, but I might be more than I was willing to admit, right?  Or what if Tom really didn't know?  I thought I could sense it in him, but my knowledge of how magic works was not all that good, either.

I had told them the truth about me.  I didn't need to say more.

I listened while they talked to each other.  The night had set in and I sensed cold outside, but we were doing fine here.  Some of the others had gone off to bed, but I thought they were listening, too.  Then Bailey and Smith both left the table.  Before too long, it was only me, Tom, and Collins left.

"I suggest that you stay quiet and mostly inside for the next few days," Collins said.

It was not an order, which made me feel a little better.  It also made sense.  I was willing to wait for a day or two to see if any of the others arrived.

"I am worn out still," I admitted.  "It won't hurt to just stay quiet until I figure things out here."

That told them I didn't entirely trust what they'd said, but since I had the same feeling towards me, I didn't think they'd make much of it.  Tom nodded and that seemed to settle things.

He showed me to a bed of my own, lower bunk and all.  I settled in and watched as he went back to the table and talked to Collins for a while.  I could have heard what they were saying if I'd really tried, but I was really tried.  I worried about nightmares again, and that kept me awake for a while.

I slept through most of the next day, then when outside and stayed by the door, where I could duck out of sight if I needed to. The heat outside was draining, though, and I went back in to eat dinner with the others.  They asked me questions and I told them about the adventures I'd had.

Slept again, but I awoke  late in the night to the sound of another truck arriving.  I think I would have rushed outside if Collins hadn't grabbed hold of me.

"Stay here.  I'll find out.  You can't go out there, Mark.  If you did, people would ask why I wasn't doing my work as a guard, you know.  And that might lead to all kinds of questions we don't want asked.

"Ah."  He had a point.  "You can go out?"

"Just to the edge of the building and take a look.  Stay here."

I nodded and waited by the door while he went out and then back again not long afterward.  I could tell from the look on his face that it was not the news I'd hoped for.

"Not your friends, I fear," he said.  "They dropped something off to the nons this time."

"Get some rest," Tom said.  He looked worried.  "I get the feeling that things are going to change soon."

And probably not for the better, I thought.

To Be Continued....

1000 Words

NaNo Week 1

We're one week into NaNoWriMo.  I've written somewhere over 60k and Raventower & Merriweather 2: War is going very well.  It is fun to write about 10k a day for a few days, but this is not something I can keep up for the entire month.  There will come a time when the flow of story words will slow down again, though I'll probably stick to about 5k a day. That's still about 2k over my usual average of 3k.  I'll push, in other words, but not as much as I do over the first few days of the month.

What's the point?  I'm sure some of you are wondering that one.

The point is that it is fun.  Yeah, I could write that 60k over 20 days instead of 6, but that would be just a normal sort of day for me.  Sometimes changing things up for a few days is not only fun but helpful.  For me, it is a chance to look at writing from a slightly different perspective.

The novel is going nicely.  I've found their voices again.  There has been only one odd problem.  Normally I would write an outline and set it aside for awhile.  This time I leapt straight from the last bits of outlining and straight into the story.  This has created a strange little problem.  I start writing something and think I've already done it -- but no, I had only done the outline part.  It just feels as though I just did that entire scene.

I'm sitting at 61809 and I have a clear afternoon, I think.  Time to get to work!

Flash Fiction # 223 -- Saving Everywhere. Part 7: Trouble

(Previous)

Tom and the others moved to the far end of the building and huddled together, talking.  That annoyed me, even though I couldn't blame them for not trusting me yet.  I wanted to yell and be rude and --

Have a temper tantrum?  I suspect it was way past my nap time.

I looked at the beds and crossed to the nearest set of bunks, throwing myself down on it.  I knew the bed belonged to someone else and right then I didn't care.  I had been cramped into that little cage for too long and even letting my legs stretch out and relax brought a moment of agony.

I was too weak and emotional for all of this.  I needed to think this through.  I had been home, and had hoped -- which made this so much worse, I supposed.  For a brief moment, I had thought I would go home and pretend to be normal again.  Yeah, just me and my flying, talking cat.

Okay, that wouldn't have worked out so well.  I worried about Edmond.  Where had he gone?  Was he hiding in the woods?  While the rest of us were large and noticeable, including Lord Snow, a little black cat might have slipped away into the woods when he realized things were not going well.  He was smart.  He would survive.

The others were smart, too.  I needed to stop panicking about them.  I had the feeling Tom had told me the truth that sometimes people arrived later.  I held onto that thought as I drifted away to sleep.

I was aware of Tom leaving the room and the others going on about their business.  I drifted farther into sleep, glad for the escape --

Only it wasn't really.  I had nightmares about the others dying and I wasn't there to help them.  I tried to reach them, but I couldn't even find where they had gone, though once I thought I heard Maggie cry out and then fall silent.

I sat up too fast and hit my head on the bunk above me.  I couldn't have slept long, but I swung my feet over the edge and sat on the thin mattress, staring at the floor again.  At least that was more restful than the nightmares.

Tom and some others came in a little later and waved him over to a table. They were a grim looking group, but I supposed being trapped here would do that to someone.  From the looks they gave me, I suspected I might be in trouble.  No surprise there.

"This is Smith, Bailey, Westerfield, and Franklin," Tom said.  "They keep watch over the other four barracks that we use. There are about two thousand of us here, not counting the nons --"

"Nons?" I asked.

"Non-humans.  We don't have much contact with them and they seem to want to keep to themselves.  We don't press it."

I got the distinct impression that I shouldn't ask more questions about them.  This was a divided camp -- divided into three, in fact, as they explained it to me.  The prisoners like us, the nons and the people running the camp."

"You are a Protector," Westerfield, leaning over the table to stare me in the face.  She had the eyes of a fanatic; gray, piercing and rarely blinked.  "A Protector won't be much help here."

"Probably not," I agreed.  I knew better than to back down before a stare like that one.  "Unless, of course, the guards move against you."

"Or the nons," she snarled.

"Yes, or the nons."

"Unless you side with them."

"That all depends on what you do, doesn't it?"

She sat back, still snarling, but I thought a little less antagonistic.

"I have helped others in other places," I said.  Then I shook my head.  "But the truth is that I only recently found out what I am and was sanctioned.  I am not trained."

That won nods all around the table.  Maybe it had been obvious that I didn't know what I was doing.  I really couldn't say that I cared much.  I did want some answers, though. 

"What happened here?" I finally asked.

They told me a tale about problems starting in my home state and spreading.  Were-creatures began to go wild and attack everywhere, and then to make matters worse, anyone who tried to stop them with magic got rounded up and sent to the camp.  It was not the most logical move, but here they all were.

I nodded, feeling much the same way about dumping me here when my friends and I had helped save them.  "The town where I grew up, there was a Sheriff named Creston.  Only later I found out he was really a fae named Darman and he'd been creating the were-creatures."

"Darman," Tom said.  He frowned a little.  "Isn't that Lord Cayman's brother?"

So he knew more than he was saying.  I nodded.  "Yes. And he's come back now with help. That's going to be trouble.

The others agreed.  There was not much we could do from here, though.  I learned that they had various plans for escape, but the problem was the desert. 

"We could take over the camp, I think," Bailey said with a glance at the door.  "But we need transport and they're very careful about not letting us near anything."

"What kind of powers do the people here have?" I asked.

"Minor bits and pieces of things," Tom said.  "I can't say about the nons, though.  They might have more powers."

I nodded, trying to think what to ask next --

Shouts came from outside and suddenly the door slammed open.  I was already starting to stand and lifted a hand, but Tom caught hold of me.  The men at the door were shouting and waving their rifles, telling us to back up to the chairs.  We did.  All but one left, his rifle still raised.

I knew there would be trouble soon.

To Be Continued....

996 Words