Monday, August 01, 2011


(This is an early draft of a Sci-Fi story that I've been working on. I don't have it finished, but I thought I might put up what I have. If there are misspelled words, bad syntax, etc. well, I haven't gone over it with a fine toothed comb. It sort of has a few blemishes on it for now, and I work on it from time to time.)

Fear Itself by D.W.

Cracked out on ice, keeps going through my head. Addiction eases. the saying goes. I’m out, but not out of my head yet, but near there.

A guard comes by and checks on me. “Kennedy,” he bellows towards me, but he really doesn’t expect a response. I just nod, and look busy.

I’m busy in the repository for records. I act busy to easy his suspicion, and he goes about his check points. Take each day at a time. Small steps, but I’ll get there. The domes are a nightmare. Electro shock, drugs, torture, the deformed human enemies–what am I thinking, I’m not even full human, nobody is. We’re all supplementals–part human enhanced by machines. I’ve searched files that said it wasn’t always this way. I know they’re suspicious of me. I act meek though to fly under their radar. I’m basically self-educated, but undetected. I make sure I cover any of my electronic tracks on the computer grids. After I straighten up enough to fly under the mook’s radar, they allowed me more freedom. That’s when I started hacking into their computer and learning. A little at first, storing what I could in my cranial chips that I refitted myself. The chip implants I used as a storage, I also fitted a few friends to increase storage capacity. As hours pass I think of my wife, Janna and boy Nathan, that diverts my attention from grave matters that are about to happen to change this world. It calms me down so that I focus, as hard as that may be. Gradually, gradually. I’ll get there, freedom will prevail for me and my family under the domes. Hopefully that will come true for some of the other down dwellers as well, the ones I call friends.

A noon clarion bleeps and the first bomb goes off. It was nearly deafening when it explodes. Time twists out of joint, and I dry swallow a handful of pills. The ringing in my ears sets my head spinning, a ringing vertigo haze, and people and guards scattered like ants coming out of a disturbed mound. A guard comes around the corner and I clothesline him, knocking him sprawling to the ground. I grab his phaser, and crack him over the head with the butt of it. He’s out, and I scramble.

“Kennedy,” this way, yelled one of my co-workers. I turn around as I see him get shot in the back.

“Bastard scum,” I yell, and fire back that direction. As the second bomb goes off, it’s deafening. Nothing but a loud roar of white noise inside my head now. Deafening silence, and shadows moving in slomo. Two guards come round the corner, and I take cover inside a crevasse as they run past.

“He-yah,” I stand up and gun them in the backs. Another mook grabs me from behind, and I throw him over my head. One of the workers now has found a gun and starts shooting anything remotely looking like a Marveen. He gets shot, and falls towards me. I grab his body as a shield and run towards the exit sign. People are scrambling in all directions. Two mooks comes towards me, spraying plasm all over the area. The dead body takes the brunt of it, I crouch down and spring towards the first one. I head butt him in the nose, hear a crack, and blood sprays. He goes back into the other one’s chest, but another drone is on me, and I swipe my foot under him, tripping him to the floor. I gain a bit of time, and I’m running away. I hear others within the domed caverns, “He-yah, he-yah, for freedom!” They are yelling the battle cries. Faster, faster. Ahead I see smoke, debris, and chaos. I check my vitals on my wrist, my heart is pumping wildly about to explode, and I take to the shadows.

I stay close to the perimeter of the domes, and low. I grab a mook’s jacket and helmet to disguise myself. I try to avoid detection and for the most part, it works. When cornered I spray the area. In one light burst, oh my God, it flashes on me, I’ve taken out some of my own. Unintentional. What’s it called? Collateral damage. I say a prayer and move on. The guards have got their pets out now. They are clawing and mangling some of the workers. I hear the horrid screaming and cries. It sounds like a zoo burning down. I know though that I can’t do anything short of a few laser blast as my blaster needs recharging. Now’s not the time for sentimentality, if caught that would mean my head on a stick. That’s what happens to revolutionaries down here. This age is mad. I’ve got to save my skin until freed. I’ll come back for my family. It’s not a perfect plan, but what is?


At 7:05 AM, Blogger Tom Floyd said...

Makes me want to know .....who is holding this guy as a slave type....and who is bombing I want to know what happens next????? Just keep us in the loop man, and post more.

At 8:36 AM, Blogger El Vox said...

Tom, I'll try too. I know I'm a slacker so staying engaged is damn hard. :) Oddly, a western story sort of reared its head more fully realized, so I'm not sure which is going to take precedence. The SF story is more loosely structured in my head, or less worked out. But thanks, and I'll try to update my story.


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