National Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo) is in full effect and throughout the month I'll be dropping bits of my writing effort in here. Hope you like it! Here's an exerpt from Chapter 1- Out of Fucking Bullets:
I'm out of fucking bullets. I heard the telltale 'click' of my rifle biting down on nothing but air, and felt that old fear that I had felt so many times before. But for a split second, I stood on my pathetic, yet well-sighted, patch of land with a dumb "How did I get Here??" expression and that useless and very un-motivating, profane statement of fact clattered around my mind. I'm out of fucking bullets. I'm out of fuck- movement crossing my field of vision from left to right and back again snapped me out of my despair, or maybe it just put me into a new level of hell. There were at least three of them left, and they were charging me as if I was the last tasty morsel on the planet. I shuddered, even as I holstered my rifle, drew my baton with my right hand and my katana with my left hand, settling the curved blade with the diabolical underhand grip I knew and loved. Jesus, they were fast, the Beloved. I had been engaging them from over two hundred yards out, and I could see the littered corpses starched on the ground as evidence of my handy work. Three of us from different families, always different families, had gone on this fact finding mission and we were arrayed in a triangle formation, backs to each other with room to operate. Fuck, Dad, you said resistance in this sector of downtown was light...
"Guys, I'm out of ammo! Three Beloved left, switching to hand weapons!" I informed my companions, Rachel and Steve.
"Damn, Brandon! I've been out for a minute already. Stop being so stingy with your shots!" Steve angrily retorted, the stress of the situation bleeding through his normally calm countenance. "I've got two left, one male, one female... they've been laying low as long as the bullets have been flying. Either they've fed recently, or-"
"They've got a Leader with them," Rachel finished, grimly. "Fuck," then, with greater emphasis as her pistol clicked empty, "Fuck! I'm out! Got three left. Here they come. Switching to close quarters," Rachel was focused in, not wasting her breath, keeping the observations coming without slowing down to change weapons, eyes never wavering from the enemy. "They're not charging directly at me, either. They're using cover. All right, I'm calling it, there's a Leader coordinating their movements, I've never seen a Beloved move like this without one of those bastards calling the shots. Be smart, guys. Be. Fucking. Smart," Rachel said through clenched teeth.
"Mine are a hundred (yards) out," I calculated. "Do your part you two and we all go home. Don't get cut, none of your blood drops here or-"
"No shit, Brandon," Steve said and I could almost see his eye roll even though it was eleven at night.
"Right, Chief," Rachel added, then with as cavalier attitude as she could muster "It's too bad, anyway, Mom promised we'd dip into the hot cocoa stores. Madeline better not take my share if I don't make it back."
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