Young Writers Society

IX - The Departure

We both stood amongst the chaos. Mike held his neck and blood dribbled through his fingers down the back of his hand.
“We best move them before we bring the kids through here,” I said feeling sick.
“I need to find something for this.” He said. I found the first aid kit in the kitchen, opened up some cotton mesh and bandaging. I wrapped it up pretty tight, all the way round his neck. His sheen, slick finish was starting to wear, his hair was rough, face still bloody and now his neck was wrapped up.

We dragged the bodies into the bathroom. Every thriller I had ever seen reeled in my mind, hands breaking damp soil, dead eyes reopening. The bodies were piling up in the bathroom. We ran the mop over the blood.

“How close is your car?” I asked.
“It’s close. It’s a Range Rover. I will go first and pull it up outside.” As he spoke there was a new look in his eyes. I would like to think it was guilt for shooting the boy, but it may have been fear, his stony veneer was cracking.

I went out back. A sound escaped when I pulled the door open, like a gasp from the room, and not the people. All eyes found mine; even the children were sitting, all watching me with nervous wide eyes. Janey didn't come to my arms at first, she sat and now even she looked weary and old, with silent tears from tired eyes. I picked her up and wrapped her in my arms. My mind was slowing at last as reluctantly she put her kindling-arms around my neck. We were anywhere else, not here, in Hawaii, carefree.

“We are going to move, the fog is seeping in through the window. Mike's going to pull up the Range Rover and it can probably fit you all if you want to come.”

The young couple found each other’s eyes. I could see it, the doubt; they were always going to stay. Nobody asked about Joe or the truckers, they already knew. Claire was watching me and I did my best to avoid her gaze avoid the guilt that came with her tempting eyes but she found me, ousted me. I broke it as soon as I could, which wasn’t soon at all.

A box was stocked with supplies. Knives, a pad and pen. An air horn, anything I could find of use in the staff room and restaurant. I made a trip to the bacon and filled my gut again. Then lead everyone, except the young couple out to the door. Mike stood waiting.

“Ready?”

“As I ever will be.” And with that, Mike opened the door, his white shirt floated in the dark mist and he disappeared. We stood around all shaking like branches on a willow standing up to a gale. Then a blaring horn made it through the fog to us and I realised the two faintly floating orbs were headlamps feebly defying the muting effect of the fog.

With the box under one arm and Janey in the other I ran, leading the others. There were a few bodies to step over outside. The caverns of my nose burnt. Janey’s lips were clamped closed; she had listened when I told everyone to hold their breath.

Bodies scrambled into the Range Rover, closing the door swiftly behind them. The cook and Sarah were in first, then the kids were hurled in the back on their laps and somehow I ended up front, With Claire’s open blouse hanging over me, she settled against my chest with her jaw on my shoulder.

Mike eased it into reverse and moved back slowly. Then forward. The engine purred, voicing its content with the soft way Mike pressed it on. All eyes were searching, heads pressed to the glass as though the fog was inside. We may have been ten feet away from the dinner or one hundred; there was no way to tell. In a moment of recognition, I found mikes eyes, his wife straddled me, and we saw each other both aware it was futile. We weren’t going anywhere.

“Stop!” The cook called in a shrill voice. It was too late. It was like a slide show, with one slide wrongly placed.

A woman. With dark hair and red eyes. A longing stare of a lost baby, a lost mind. We hit with a thud and just hard enough to put her down, instinctly reacting - I assume - Mike pressed the pedal and the vehicle lifted over her. It might have been Tara. I only got a moment to see, but I had a feeling, it wasn’t far to wander from our home. My wife could have made it here in the ten hours that had passed since I was with her.

I sucked in a breath, blocking the scream. The tears started but I pressed them back before anyone could see, before anyone could ask me what’s wrong, before Janey could learn her mother was gone.

Mike turned the wheel and gave it a little gas leading us with conviction. But how could he? I knew we were creeping nowhere. All we had was balance, we knew the path was flat for now. We may have been by the diner; we may have been miles up the highway. There was no way to tell. Then came another thud and this time when mike pressed the pedal we didn’t move. He pressed it into four-wheel-drive and stood. The engine roared in vain, the wheels had nothing to grip. He bashed the wheel and let out a long loud “Fuck,” the kind of fuck parents reserve for the peak of desperation, a moment without consequence, a lost war. He leaned on the horn for a few seconds.

“Guess I will have to move us.”

“Wait Hon,” Claire said.

“I will hold my breath. I think we are lifted on a curb. Ross, if you hear me call, give it a little gas.” And with that, he left, slamming the door quickly behind him. Walking just outside of the car he was a shadow. The car balanced forward then he called and I reached a foot over giving it a little gas. We flew forward then I put my weight on the brake.

Mike hit the side of the truck with a thud, preceded by a chorus of screams. Two of those ghastly things had him hard up against the rear window. His face contorted, his steely eyes desperately peered inside. His head slammed against the glass, pulled back and with the second throw, it came through.

“I need to find something for this.” He said.

My mind was slowing at last as reluctantly she put her kindling-arms around my neck.

Her what arms?

I made a trip to the bacon and filled my gut again.

Just confirm—this is cooked bacon, right?

The cook and Sarah were in first, then the kids were hurled in the back on their laps and somehow I ended up front, With Claire’s open blouse hanging over me, she settled against my chest with her jaw on my shoulder.

Sagging sentence.

“Stop!” The cook called in a shrill voice.

“Guess I will have to move us.”

“Wait Hon,” Claire said.

Oh dude, seriously, recipe for disaster. >_<

Took me awhile to come back to review this time. x] Sorry about that. Almost finished though, so I'm gonna do these reviews back-to-back. As for some basic things with this chapter:

1.) The characters seem too comfortable with the handling of the bodies and the gore I notice. There's some repulsion present, but not enough that fits the realism. I'd like to see a little more attention paid to this little area of the writing.

2.) Fix stiff dialogue. Use more contractions.

Easy enough, now onto some quotes!

“I need to find something for this.” He said.

*face/desk* How many times? Please tweak back, JP. I feel like this is tug-of-war and I'm asking you to go through the trouble of returning the sentence to its original state. It's one sentence. I didn't even bother correcting, I just wanted to highlight in red what I'm referring to.

I would like to think it was guilt for shooting the boy, but it may have been fear(.) His stony veneer was cracking.

My mind was slowing at last as [she] reluctantly she put her kindling-arms around my neck. We were anywhere else, not here, in Hawaii, carefree.

Other than the awkward placing of the word 'she', I think this sentence following it seems a bit awkward in itself. It's a little incomplete and out of place. I could tell what you were meaning to say, but I don't think you worded it correctly here. Elaborate some.

Mike's going to pull up the Range Rover

You could just say vehicle, or car. When you repeat the type of car that it is it seems a bit pretentious. The reader remembers what kind of car it is.

Claire was watching me and I did my best to avoid her gaze(,) avoid the guilt that came with her tempting eyes(,) but she found me, ousted me.

I made a trip to the bacon and filled my gut again(,) then lead everyone,(<--remove the comma here) except the young couple out to the door.

This seems very nonchalant the way he says this. Is he even thinking of what this means that he's craving raw meat? Tons of raw meat? Also, you make no other indications of this violent hunger coming over him. It's just a meager detail you seem to toss in for the sake of it. But it seems like quite an important detail to the story in the same. I might lead into this fact a little cleaner.

We stood around(,) all shaking like branches on a willow standing up to a gale.

We may have been ten feet away from the diner or one hundred

In a moment of recognition, I found Mike(')s eyes(.) His wife straddled me, and we saw each other both aware it was futile.

My wife could have made it here in the ten hours that had passed since I was with her.

Had it really been that long in the story? I honestly had little sense of time-lapse. I knew hours had passed, of course, but not that many.

Now, there's an area in here where Ross mentions the lady in the street could be Tara. Could be, as in he doesn't know, is not sure, and has no solid evidence. Then once Mike runs her over, Ross has this huge reaction, and yet it was never proof that it was his wife. He had only an inkling of it. This just sort of happened to contradict itself in a way, and I thought I'd point it out.

Then came another thud(,) and this time when Mike pressed the pedal(,) we didn’t move.

Now, as for the way you ended this, my only suggestion might be to liven the writing it up a little. It all seemed too simple and abrupt. You explained and described very little when Mike was attacked by people affected by the fog. That's probably one of the main places I can think of in particular where the chapter lacks. Compared to your earlier chapters however, I might also say that this wasn't one of your strongest. It was packed with a lot of speed and motion, and maybe that's one of the reasons, but I think you could have maybe taken a more mindful approach to the way certain littler details were written out.

Other than all that I've mentioned though, I think this chapter is strong enough to definitely hold its own in the editing process. There's room for some minor tweaks here and there, but I don't see anything particularly alarming to fret over. I'll go ahead and move on to chapter 10 though now. Or maybe after I have a little break. x] I'm feeling rather accomplished and what-not.

-Smylin'

So! Let's get this show on the road.

A woman. With dark hair and red eyes. A longing stare of a lost baby, a lost mind. We hit with a thud and just hard enough to put her down, instinctly reacting - I assume - Mike pressed the pedal and the vehicle lifted over her. It might have been Tara. I only got a moment to see, but I had a feeling, it wasn't far to wander from our home. My wife could have made it here in the ten hours that had passed since I was with her.

I sucked in a breath, blocking the scream. The tears started but I pressed them back before anyone could see, before anyone could ask me what's wrong, before Janey could learn her mother was gone.

1 ) Ross has been living with Tara for years, so, to be honest, I think he'd recognize her even if she was a mutilated zombie creature. Not only does logic point to immediate recognition, but it would make Ross's successive emotional reaction that much more traumatic. Not that the description of the reaction is perfect as it is: I don't think he should be feeling that way at all, considering his primitized feelings for described in earlier chapters. In addition, Ross immediately knowing that the ghoul was Tara would allow for more dramatic statements, such as the obvious but efficacious "It was Tara;" even that would be a much better substitute for the three irritating fragments you use in an attempt to precipitate mystery.
2 ) "Instinctly" isn't a word. I think you mean "instinctively."
3 ) "It might have been Tara" contradicts with "before Janey could learn that her mother was gone;" the first is more ambiguous, but the second is absolutely certain, and there doesn't appear to be any transition between the two. It's like I said before - if you're sure that your wife is dead, say it; no one cares about "if"s or "maybe"s or "might"s.

I will hold my breath. I think we are lifted on a curb.

What's with him and not using contractions here? He sounds like a robot.

We flew forward

Huh? Why would they be flying forward if Ross only put a little bit of pressure on the gas? Were they perched on a hill? In that case, why were they stopped in the first place, and why would Mike tell Ross to gas it? Doesn't really make sense.

With Claire’s open blouse hanging over me, she settled against my chest with her jaw on my shoulder.

Um...and Mike approves of this? Why isn't he saying anything? And Ross? Does he feel any guilt, especially in Mike's presence?

In a moment of recognition, I found mikes eyes, his wife straddled me, and we saw each other both aware it was futile.

Normally I don't correct grammar as much, but this sentence was so incredibly bizarre that I felt I should make an exception.
1 ) "In a moment of recognition?" It should be clearer what they are recognizing.
2 ) "mikes" should both be capitalized and made possessive.
3 ) What is "his wife straddled me" supposed to be meaning here? I can't determine any purpose.
4 ) The rest of the sentence makes no sense. Period.

“It’s close. It’s a Range Rover. I will go first and pull it up outside.” As he spoke there was a new look in his eyes. I would like to think it was guilt for shooting the boy, but it may have been fear, his stony veneer was cracking.

It's weird how the context suggests that this new look in Mike's eyes was stirred up by the mention of his car and nothing more.

I'd also like to comment on something from last chapter that I didn't get around to: the cause of the fog. It's so hackneyed, so predictable. All it does is build on the cliché of immoral scientific experimentation. Frankly, I find it in addition to be unrealistic: today's scientific community would never do something like that without notification or further testing; if something bad happened, they would be in massive legal trouble. Besides, why do they want to do it in the first place? They're annoyingly cryptic about what they want to learn from the ordeal.

One chapter to go. I've got this.

-Kafka

Part nine!

Specifics

1. They're going to waste time moving the bodies? Really? I thought they wanted to go jump in the truck nice and quick, why not just make the kids close their eyes? Speed is more important than decorum right now.

2. What does he think of the bodies piling up in the bathroom? That sentence felt too tagged on there and detached. I'd like to see what's going through his mind and the craziness here. Also, how are you not tempted to have a scene where he lets the last body fall and then steps over it to wash his hands in the sink? So much space for nice description and atmosphere there. You could have the water running red with the blood even as he's trying not to watch the blood draining out of the corpses.

3.

“It’s close. It’s a Range Rover. I will go first and pull it up outside.”

This dialogue feels really stiff. Try to spice it up a bit, make it sound real. Maybe try something like, 'It's close, the Range Rover, third on the left. I'll- I'll go out first an' pull it up alongside."' Rememberr that dialogue tells us more about your character than anything else. It's their individual voice and it needs to not sound like a computer speaking.

4. Is Claire an idiot? I'd like to see more of her personality because it's just occured to me that she saw the guy eat bacon raw and she's still turned on to him? She's barely even had any exposure! I can understand the general desire that she might feel for him, but no man who just ate a pack of raw bacon is hot. And I'd be starting to put two and two together and worry how soon it was gonna be before he turned. Basically, she really needs more depth and her actions may need tweaking in places as they're coming across as unrealistic.

5. You'd trust your six year old daughter to hold her breath would you? I sure wouldn't. I'd have a hand clamped over her mouth and let somone else carry the box. Children don't realise the full severity of these things, not always. Not when they're desperate for a breath of air and they don't know why they'e not alowed to breathe and they're scared and nothing makes sense.

6. Uh what? Throwing the wife/mother in like that, whether it was her or wasn't didn't work. It seriously did not in any way work so please re-think it?

Overall

I found the car stalling and the body crushing too typical too be honest. Too preedictable and too horror movie esque. I know, it's hard to be original in this business, but really? There was no surprise at Mike's death and because of that I didn't care which is your biggest problem with this. Your descriptions are good, you've got some interesting plot going on here and your lead character at least and that Sabre guy have provided entertainment in the way of characterisation. However, your deaths are never going to cut it when the side characters are brought in only as and when they're needed to impact on Ross.

I'll reserve further comments until I've read the next section, then I can give you a more final view,

Heather xxx