Let the Party begin!
As you read this I will have just seen American Sniper (or still seeing it, depending on your time zone). I am now an expert sniper. You all have crosshairs on you. DON’T EVEN TRY TO RUN!
Just kidding. WHY ARE YOU RUNNING?
So, who’s up for a drabble?
Speaking of drabbles, looks like Dead Mech is on sale for $.99! Go get that. DO IT! STOP RUNNING!
Onto the micro-fiction!
That Explains It
“Wind is sixty-five knots.”
“That’s really fast.”
“Yeah, it is.”
“Can we slow the wind down?”
“Can we slow it down? Maybe to twenty knots?”
“Uh, no. It’s the wind. We have no control-.”
“In the simulations you can slow it down.”
“This isn’t a simulation.”
“So? What does that have to do with anything?”
“Do you understand how weather works?”
“Sure. If you don’t like it then change it. Or go somewhere else.”
“How the holy hell did you get this job?”
“My dad bought me the commission.”
“That explains it.”
“So…about the wind?”
Disclaimer: YOU CAN NEVER RUN FAR ENOUGH!
Oh, yeah, it’s Party time!
But, I don’t have much time because I gots to be writing/editing my middle grade scifi/horror series! Yes, folks, you heard that right, I’m writing for the kiddies!
I WILL WARP THE MINDS OF EVERY GENERATION!
I think your kids will dig the new series. It’s Goosebumps meets the Scooby Gang set in deep space! Huzzah!
Now, on to the drabble!
Beware The Moors!
“BEWARE THE MOORS!” the old man cried.
“Does he mean the swamps?” I asked my companion.
“The swamps?” my companion replied.
“Well, yes, swamps. Are not moors a type of swamp?”
“BEWARE THE MOORS!” the old man cried again before pissing himself.
“Well, that’s unfortunate,” my companion said. “Shall we go?”
“But what about the moors? Are they swamps or not?”
“They can be made of wetlands, but are primarily grasslands like highland savannas.”
“BEWARE THE MOORS!”
The ghostly apparitions rode towards us with their scimitars swinging in the foggy night.
“Oh, those Moors.”
Disclaimer: BEWARE THE MOORS!
Well, hello there! Back for some more Drabble Party action? Oh, hells to the yes you are!
Not gonna pimp any books or audiobooks tonight. But I will point you to a guest blog post that Starla Huchton wrote for Views From The Captain’s Chair! If you are a writer and want to know a little about some serious internet marketing campaign fu, then have a read. It’s good stuff.
Now, on to the drabble!
All About The Rules
“It doesn’t specifically say that I’m disqualified if I kill the other contestants,” Jaime smiled. “Read the rules. Sure, I can be arrested, but you can’t disqualify me.”
“It clearly states that if you break any local, state, or federal laws then you are out,” Morgan said, tapping the clipboard that was always clutched in his hands. “Just because you are the last one left alive, does not mean you automatically win.”
“But I haven’t broken any laws until I’m convicted,” Jaime insisted. “Innocent until proven guilty.”
“He’s right,” Stanford sighed. “Give him the damn trophy. Then call the cops.”
Disclaimer: Sometimes it’s more about the spirit of the thing.
And here we are again, my friends. Another week coming to a close, another Drabble ready to Party. The circle of life, bitches. The circle of life…
Time to get our drabble on!
First, though, gotta plug the new stuff!
They have failed.
All that’s left are the Strains- bacteria so strong they have brought the world to its knees.
But humanity has fought on, carving out pockets of civilization in a wasteland known as the Sicklands, creating the super high-tech Clean Nation cities.
And from the cities GenSOF has been born- Genetic Special Forces Operations. An elite military branch of the government that enlists men and women with specific genetic anomalies that allow them to be hosts to bacteria that even the Strains cannot defeat. Under the watchful eye of Control, GenSOF protects the Clean Nation cities from the ever encroaching Strains and the diseased inhabitants of the Sicklands.
But now Control has other plans for GenSOF, and possibly the Clean Nation cities themselves, and it is up to the operators of GenSOF Zebra Squad, and their cloned Canine Units known as bug hounds, to find out what those plans are.
Or die trying.
Click that pic and go get ya some AntiBio action! And!
In the post-apocalyptic, zombie infested wasteland, there is one beacon of safety in the foothills of the Rocky Mountains: The Stronghold.
For decades, the inhabitants have fortified and defended the Stronghold from zombie hordes, building their society and culture on military precision.
And chosen from the best of the best is Denver Team Alpha. DTA is the elite strike force used to rescue survivors and refugees that have made it to the hellish wasteland of Denver below. But because of the unbelievable risks, and high mortality rate, DTA has come to stand for something else: Dead Team Alpha.
Now DTA will be put to the test as something far worse than zombies comes at them out of the wasteland.
Click that pic and go get ya some Dead Team Alpha action! And!
Don’t feel like reading? Then have a listen to some audiobooks! Z-Burbia 2: Parkway To Hell just came out! Rock on!
Yep, I recycled some of the same announcements as last Friday. That’s how I roll, yo. Gotta keep up the Lazy Writer appearance. Don’t want anyone to think I work for a living.
Speaking of work, I’ll be incommunicado the next few days because I have a deadline to meet and my latest novel, Mega 2: Baja Blood, started slow. It’ll all come together, I’m sure, just going to be some long days and stressful nights. Huzzah!
Now, to the drabble!
“He has some foreign object in his throat!” the doctor yelled. “Forceps! Now!”
“I’m sorry, doctor, but we have to call Security,” the nurse replied.
“What are you talking about?” the doctor said. “This man is choking!”
“Yes, but all foreigners, even objects, must be reported to Security for investigation and processing,” the nurse replied.
The doctor stared at her. “Are you joking?”
“No, doctor,” the nurse replied. “We have to alert Security.” Then she cocked her head and narrowed her eyes. “Unless you’re part of the Resistance. Are you, doctor?”
“Uh…no,” the doctor said. “I, uh, will call Security.”
Disclaimer: Damn foreign objects! They took our jobs!
Happy Friday, Y’all!
And yes, I did capitalize the “Y” in Y’all. You deserve it!
First, a great big thanks to everyone the helped spread the word with the $.99 Z-Burbia sale! Second, thank you to everyone that helps me in any way at all!
You people rock, therefore I salute you! Or something metal like that…
Now, as you can see from the title, tonight’s Drabble Party is DEAD MECH themed. You may or may not know that my very first novel, the one that begins the Apex Trilogy, is a Drabble Novel! The one and only (as far as I know)! A novel written in 100 word sections! EXCITING!
That’s why, down below those crazy asterisks, you will find not one, not two, not three, but NINE drabbles taken straight from DEAD MECH! Yes, I know I skipped five, six, seven, eight in that count, but I needed to save time. Which I totally have lost by writing this explanation! Dammit!
And why do this mighty excerpt extravaganza? Because it’s on sale by Severed Press for $.99! CRAZY!
Bisby came up firing, his plasma cannon glowing red hot with each successive blast.
Red Legs agilely dodged to the left, taking cover behind some debris. Chunks of ancient concrete and steel filled the air as Bisby followed Red Legs’ movement, trying to aim his blasts ahead of the deader.
“Fucking stand still!” Bisby yelled. And Red Legs did, using the girder to block several of the plasma blasts. The undead machine hurled the warped and melted chunk of metal straight at Bisby.
Bisby brought an arm up to deflect the attack, the collision forcing his mech to stumble backwards.
“Themopolous,” the Doctor answered, checking Steve’s vital signs.
“Doctor? I have General Powell on secure com. I hope you have a few minutes for to speak privately?”
Themopolous glanced at the doorway as Harlow came in, sleepily stretching. She motioned at her com ear and Harlow nodded, shooing her away and taking over Steve’s assessment. Dr. Themopolous left the infirmary quickly.
“Of course, sir. I’m almost to my office now.”
“Excellent, Doctor,” the General chimed in. “I have some great news regarding the newly developed retrovirus Dr. Lisbon informed you of.”
Themopolous froze and forced herself not to be sick.
Red Legs took immediate advantage of Bisby’s faltering and opened fire. Bisby took a graze to the right shoulder, the smell of scorched metal overpowering his environmental filters, as his mech slammed to the ground. He checked systems and saw he had been lucky, sustaining only minimal damage.
Quickly, Bisby tucked his mech back behind a half buried transport, hoping the shell still had enough structural integrity left to take the onslaught. Red Legs’s blasts began to slow, the concussions weakening.
Bisby checked his scanners and smiled. The deader was losing power.
“Okay,” he said aloud, “no more fucking around!”
“I’m ready to proceed, sirs,” Themopolous said, settling into her desk chair, apprehension clawing at her, forcing her to keep her voice even.
“Excellent. I’ll keep this brief as I know you are both busy,” the General said. “At approximately 1700 hours tomorrow, a supply train will be arriving with the inoculation for your base personnel.”
“Sir?” Capreze said, stunned.
“Yes, Commander. We have already inoculated all of the city/states and security outposts. Your base is the last on the list. We didn’t want to rush the process, seeing as the mechs are an integral part of our overall survival.”
Bisby rolled his mech to the right into a tight crouch. Red Legs circled, trying to get the advantage, its cannons glowing dully.
“Looks like you’re almost out of juice, deader!” Bisby taunted. Red Legs roared.
Bisby sprang, his mech launching into the air, twisting away from the cannon blasts. Three, two, one… The two mechs collided in a massive, ground-shaking crunch.
Bisby didn’t lose stride, tucking his mech’s left arm up under Red Legs and lifting it into the air. He brought the right arm down fast, smashing at Red Leg’s cockpit, hoping to crush the zombie pilot inside.
“Is there anything I need to have prepared, sir?” Themopolous asked, her voice audibly shaking now.
“No, no, we have everything taken care of. There will be two med techs to administer the inoculations and a small security force to accompany them.”
“I’ll be sure and have accommodations ready, sir,” Capreze said, picking up on Themopolous’ faltering poise, hoping the General hadn’t.
“Not necessary, Commander. They will only be there long enough for the techs to complete their work and for the train to refuel and re-supply.”
“Well, sir, the Doctor and I will have the base ready for them.”
Bisby raged as he pounded away at Red Legs’ cockpit hatch, so close he could smell the rot and decay.
The dead mech tried to ward off the blows, but it was no match for Bisby’s close combat skills. For every maneuver it tried to make, Bisby expertly countered, never letting the bludgeoning slack.
After only minutes, the dead mech’s power reserves gave up and the giant machine became dead weight. Bisby threw the deader to the ground and shoved his 50mm into the cracked cockpit, ready to vaporize the barely moving zombie pilot.
“Biz? Talk to me!” Rachel crackled.
“Now, I do need to verify all base personnel will be present,” General Powell said casually.
“Well, no sir. I have a team on a supply run to Foggy Bottom as we speak. They won’t return for a few days.”
“Their names, Commander?”
Capreze hesitated. This wasn’t protocol. There was no need for a First General to be inquiring about the roster; that was why he had an assistant.
“Pilot Masters, General Mechanic Rind, and our new Rookie.”
There was a slight pause. “Excellent, Commander. Thank you. I’ll let both of you return to your busy schedules.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Whatcha want, Rache?” Bisby asked, exhausted, trigger finger itching to depress and obliterate Red Legs’s zombie pilot.
“What do I want? WHAT DO I FUCKING WANT?” Rachel exploded. “I want to know that you aren’t deader food! That you are still alive and in one piece! That’s what I fucking want!”
Bisby took a deep breath and removed his finger from the trigger. “Yeah, I’m in one piece. Red Legs is out of commission.” Bisby undid his harness and opened his cockpit. “I’m descending now to retrieve the head for Themopolous.”
Bisby snorted and climbed down his mech.
If you dug that, and haven’t already purchased the ebook, then get to it!
Disclaimer: There are naughty words up there. But I guess it’s a little too late for the warning. My bad!