Thanksgiving has come and gone, along with the attendant disruptions to the regular schedule. Predictably, productivity took a hit: I only managed 2K on Apocalypse Pictures Presents.
That’s not so bad, given the holiday, is it? I mean, seriously–what was I supposed to do? The turkey ate my homework. Really.
Not buying it? Yeah, me neither. <sigh>
It didn’t help matters that I went through a small crisis of confidence last week. I think I have it worked out now. I think. And if not, it’ll have to wait until the rewrite.
Your snippet awaits:
He rummaged in his backpack, pulled out a small flashlight, and shone it into the hole–a calculated risk.
Eddie stood five feet in, looked around in surprise at the sudden illumination. Gil ignored him and swept the beam around the space.
The hole was wide enough to fit four or five abreast, and tall enough to accommodate them all without stooping. The way ahead extended as far as the flashlight’s beam would show, and was clear of obstacles.
Gil stepped full inside the hole. The others followed quickly behind. Without being told, Santiago set the car hood back in place. Gil hardly noticed. He was busy inspecting the bracing that kept the hole from falling in–most of it made from chunks of I-beams, spaced every couple of meters.
Weak spot. Right. This was a damned tunnel. Someone had built it, apparently in secret–like a scene from The Shawshank Redemption, but on a larger scale. Under other circumstances, he would have found it an amazing, even wondrous piece of work. But he could not imagine that the Rattlesnakes would be stupid enough to deliberately breach their first and best line of defense–which left him to wonder who had done all this work, and how. And why. He had a few ideas, none of which he liked.
No updates for Write Club.
Excelsior. And stuff.
