So my notes for chapter 18 of Apocalypse Pictures Presents read as follows: “Bad things happen.”
Just so that you know what I was working with, going in. Which may be part of the reason why I only managed about a thousand words. Magic Meter moves minutely:
And yet it moves.
Hey, it’s not often I get to work Galileo references into these progress reports.
Anyway, I now have a better idea about those bad things that are supposed to happen in this chapter, so we might reasonably expect more movement soon.
Your snippet:
Multiview seemed to wind down and down forever, though she knew it couldn’t be more than a mile, even with all the switchbacks. A drop of sweat rolled into one eye, stinging. She wiped it away, gripped the wheel with both hands. The way forward was narrow and dark, and demanded that she proceed much more slowly than she would have preferred. Occasional breaks in the trees afforded glimpses toward the east, but the night was too dark for her to discern any landmarks. She couldn’t even see the glow of the fires, which she supposed was a good thing. Perhaps the containment efforts would succeed, after all.
But the possibility only reminded her how little time she had to make her escape.
It would be much simpler to just abandon Gil. So much of this mess was his fault, after all.
But Wendell’s words back at the house still reverberated within her: We’re no better than the Mouseketeers.
No updates for Write Club.
And so I keep moving on . . .
