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Tuesday, June 2, 2015





ONCE UPON A FUTURE TIME...

 

A snippet from my #WIP

A future-punk story about man and his desire to know what comes next... (Warning, some language may not be appropriate for readers younger than 15)

 

When She Was Gone

 He typed quickly, watching the numbers and doing the math in his head as quickly as he could.
“Mother fucker.” He muttered, typing more quickly as the data tried to outrun him. He froze as the two way on the ground crackled to life. Lane reached down to pick it up, his hand shaking as her voice came over the airways.
“--- come get me, you bastard.”
Rand grabbed the radio, pushing the trigger and holding it to his lips as they trembled. Who was he kidding, every part of him was trembling with fear and revulsion, his face numb. “I’m coming.”
“No, idiot. Do not come in here.”
He smiled, and felt tears on his cheeks. “I can’t just leave you.”
“We talked about this, Rand. Let me go.”
He clenched his eyes tight, hugging the radio to his chest. He wasn’t aware he was on his knees and  rocking until he felt Lane’s knees against his back. The radio crackled again and he held his breath.
“I have to tell you something.” The words were garbled, the lines breaking up as the energy of the wormhole’s flux scrambled the radio waves. “I---tell—you—“
“No.” He shook his head, denying what it was he knew she wanted to say. “Don’t say it.”
“---love you, Rand Hazen.”
He turned his face to the roof of the tent, sobs threatening to erupt. “No. Don’t fucking say it.” He prayed.
“—goodbye.”
He threw the radio, watching it bounce into the sand outside the tent. “No! Mother FUCKER!” he screamed. In that moment he hated science. Hated his brain for telling him that she was gone and he hated himself for being the reason. He hated himself so fucking much. He broke, huddling into himself as the shadow that had engulfed Verity Pines began to collapse in on itself, shrinking again, but pulling the town, the people and everything within its borders down to its center.
“Get down.” He managed to say to his brother, pulling him down to the ground beside him.
“Rand…”
He cut Lane off with a shake of his head, too mired in self-loathing to hear a word.
“When it collapses there’ll be a shockwave. Keep your head down.”
They felt it before they saw or heard it. Immense pressure swarmed the tent, forcing them to huddle on their knees with their arms over their heads as it threatened to burst their eardrums. The sound was a freight train bearing down on them, and Rand prayed he’d lose consciousness. Wake up with amnesia that meant he wouldn’t remember her. Wouldn’t remember losing her.
“Are you all right?” Lane asked, shaking him as the pressure began to lessen.
He knew he was pitiful, a sad sack of shit shaking on the floor and crying like a pussy and he did not care. He cried and he didn’t give a damn. She was gone, and no, he would never be all right again.
 

follow my progress at www.facebook.com/authoramydeclerck




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