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!
Well, here we find ourselves again, slave to the Drabble and the Party that it spawns!
Oh, woe to the readers and writers of micro-fiction, for it is they that keep the world boxed in 100 word segments!
For the time of Friday Night Drabble Party is at hand! Glory be to the words that are neither 99 nor 101!
Okay, I’m done.
Tonight I’m going old school with this drabble.
An Ode to HPL
He knew if he waited they would show themselves. He had heard them in the wall, crawling and scratching. The rats.
He had the landlady, Mrs. Controu, place her ear to the wall, but she insisted there was nothing. Nothing? The gall of that woman! He heard them! Heard them even as she offered up her false denial!
She was a part of it, he knew. She had set them to torment his life, to plague him with their scratching, to steal his sleep.
So he waited in the wall; waited for them to come.
But they were not rats.
Disclaimer: When dealing with vermin, please consult a professional.