Author's note: This is my little sister's work, so I'm not the author of this, nor do I take any credit for it. This scene took place during what happened in the last part, but she wanted to put this in before she forgot it. Sorry if there's any confusion!
I pulled the gun and turning slightly towards the door, but being careful to keep the gun pointed in his general direction, I placed one hand on a patch of motion sensitive glass beside the door.
The door slid up. I turned back towards Eric and ordered him to his feet. He rose somewhat clumsily. I stuck my gun in his back and walked him out into the hall, letting the door slid down behind me.
I walked him down the spotless corridor, steering him around corners and through barracks, finally into the elevator, another concrete box. He stood in the corner, his back to me. Perfect.
Using one hand I pulled out the syringe. Its needle sparkled as I lunged out and jabbed it into his shoulder. I press down on the plunger, emptying it.
He turned, jabbing his shoulder against me, knocking me off my feet and sending my gun flying to the other side of the elevator. Using only his legs he flipped me over onto my stomach. He set his foot against my back.
“What did you put in me?!” he shouted. The shock had given way to rage. “And where are you taking me?! Tell me now!” His voice was desperate.
“It’s too late.” I was breathless. “There’s no escape.”
The pressure of his foot eased and disappeared. I rose warily to my feet. He was standing on the far side of the elevator, breathing hard, his eyes wild.
I regarded him calmly. “Give it up,” my tone was detached. “The drug will be taking control in Between three to ten, depending on your tolerance level. You have no choice.”
I turned to the other side of the elevator and peered around for my gun. I spotted it lying in the corner and took a step towards it.
Eric slammed into me back first from behind; almost knock me off my feet. He grabbed my arm and twisted it up until it was on level with his cuffs. I screamed in pain as he forced my hands onto the small thumb pad for releasing them.
There was a soft click and the pressure on my arm eased slightly. I struck out automatically and was hurled against the wall.
I looked up rather dazed and saw the gun lying a foot away. My hand shot out desperately. Just before my fingers closed around the handle, his hand chopped across my throat and I collapsed.
Through tear-filled eyes I saw him reach out and grab the gun. I tried to call out to warn him, but I was still coughing and gagging so hard that it came out a weak croak. I could only watch as he wrapped his hand around it.
The moment he touched the gun the entire elevator shut down. The camera in the corner went dead. The elevator was frozen between floors.
A red light lit up the butt-end of the gun as it scanned his fingers. Not recognizing them, it began to make an ominous beeping noise and to glow faint green.
Eric turned towards me. “What is it?” His tone was wary.
I was still coughing but managed to make one word. “Destruct…”
He paled and threw the gun at the far wall of the elevator, but in such a confined space it didn’t really matter all that much. I crumbled on the ground in despair, there was no way out.
As I lay there something lifted me, dragged me up against the wall. Eric wrapped his arms around me, putting his body between me and the source of the oncoming explosion.
Everything was still, so still that I could hear his heartbeat and then all hell broke loose.
The gun exploded sending hundreds of tiny pieces of metal in all directions. Worse still, the rest of the electronics blew as well, an extra safety precaution to ensure that no one would be leaving the elevator alive.
Eric screamed as they pieced his back, a sound of pure agony. I clutched him tighter, letting him know he wasn’t alone.
I felt something wet pouring down my hand, glancing down I saw that it was coated in blood. It took a moment for me to realize that it wasn’t mine.
I wriggled out from underneath him, kicking and straining for all I was worth. My heart sank when I saw his back.
The shirt he was wearing had been shredded, so that it was almost nonexistence. What remained of it was so cover in blood that I was completely unable to tell what lay beneath.
The remains of my breakfast rose up in my mouth, I forced it down sternly. Now was not the time for squeamishness. I had fifteen minute till the door would open, in which time Eric could bleed to death if I didn’t do something.
I shook a deep breath, forcing my mind back to what I had been taught. I heard Nyx’s voice in my head. “Idiot!” he wheezed. “First you need to stop the bleeding. A two year old could have told you that!”
Against my will a reluctant smile stretched my lips. Nyx had a way of saying thing that stuck with you. Mostly because of the bodily threats and highly insulting comments woven into them.
I surveyed the room. “Okay,” I murmured. “Stop the bleeding. How do I do that?”
“His shirt, porridge brain!” He cackled, a sound like an opera singer in serious agony. “You have a brain the size of a flea!”
I grabbed Eric and rolled him over onto his side. I didn’t dare roll him onto his back. I could tell that he was barely conscious.
Working as fast as I could, I tore off the remains of his shirt, ripping it when necessary. I pushed him back onto his stomach, shirt in hand.
“Now what?” I surveyed his back, the raw meat with blood gushing out.
“Your brains have been fried!” Nyx made a tortured sound that interpreted as a snort. “I might be wrong but maybe you should stop the bleeding. Don’t you think fat head?”
I heaved Eric back onto his stomach. A low groan escaped his lips. The sound wrenched at my heart.
I spread his shirt across his back. His blood immediately stained sections of it dark red. I grit my teeth, I really didn’t want to do the next part, but if I didn’t he was going to die from loss of blood.
I lay on his back, gripping him tightly, using my body as a barrier between his blood and the air, trying to stem the flow, with my own strength.
Something sharp in his back, dug into my skin. My jumpsuit was soaked from his blood. I tightened my arms further until they began to burn.
Closing my eyes, I rested my head against his shoulder and waited for them to open the elevator.
After what seemed like an eternity I heard a faint hiss. I lifted my head. The elevator door was slowly sliding away from the wall. The movement was accompanied by a faint murmur of voices.
I jumped to my feet and pounded on the door. “Hey!” I shouted. My voice bounced through the elevator.
The murmur cascaded in volume and the door stopped dead in its tracks. I slipped my hand through the small space already open. I felt them press it against a scanner. There was a faint beep, and the door hummed as it resumed opening.
I waited impatiently, until the door had opened far enough for me to squeeze through. There were five men there. Two were handling a cart that would either be for taking them to the infirmary or it would be used to dispose of the body.
I focused on the face of the man in front. “Eric’s hurt bad. He’s losing blood.”
He nodded. “We’re hurrying. My name’s Fred.”
I raised my eyebrow. “Fred?” I said in disbelief.
He scowled. “It’s not my fault some of the people up top have noimagination.”
I nodded, surveying him. He looked like he was in his forty’s. He was short, overweight, and perhaps a little over confident as well. At least that was what I thought until I saw the gun hanging from his belt. A field agent.
He motioned me aside to make room for the cart. When the door had opened far enough for the cart to get through they pushed it through the gap.
I shoved my way through after them. What I saw froze me in my tracks.
Eric was slowly and painfully rising to his knees. I cursed myself for being such an idiot. He hadn’t been unconscious at all.
The drug had been in effect and now that it had worn off he was back on his feet. The fire in his eyes said he wasn’t done.
Out of the corner of my eye I saw Fred draw.
Field agents are trained to kill. There would be no warning shot, no shot to the arm or leg. It would be right to the heart.
My body was moving before I realized what was happening. Moving right into the line of fire.
Fred’s finger was too far gone to stop, the bullet pierced my shoulder. A sharp jolt of agony was all I felt before my entire arm went dead. I stumbled, falling back against Eric.
Eric, already weak from loss of blood, lost his balance and fell, hitting his head on the concrete floor. I landed on top of him.
My eyes focused on the ceiling which was already fading, slowly turning into a gray haze.
A single thought formed in my dazed mind. I disobeyed my orders.
Nxy’s voice sounded through my head. “But you saved Eric.” His voice was changing, becoming softer, almost girly. “Twice.”
My head sank back on Eric’s chest as blood continued to flow from my shoulder, trickling down my arm.
“You’re a good person at heart.” the voice was now decidedly female. Someone’s hands are lifting me gently, but I can’t see them anymore.
“Teach Eric how to stay himself. With a little bit of effort you might be able to touch him. If you practice, you should be able to speak to him. ” she took on a faint feel of curiosity.
“I’ve never spoke with another bridge before.” Her laugh rippled pleasantly through my mind. “Only with Jack and Ava.”
“Who are you?” I asked the presence in my mind. My eyes fluttered shut for a moment, before I forced them back open.
She considers the question carefully; I can feel her mulling over it.
“That’s the question, isn’t It.” she said at last. She pressed her mind against mine, leaving an impression of her thoughts, her dreams, and memories behind.
My eyes close and this time I don’t have the strength to open them. The hands and voices of the people lifting me fade away as I dive down into a deep well. The water closes over my head, trapping me in darkness.
Then they come.
Every person that I had killed hovers before my eyes.
The couple in Colorado, a senator from Michigan, three teenagers that had been unlucky enough to stumble across a Chimera base in New York.
They all bore signs of their violent end. A bullet hole through the chest, blood-stained mouths, broken necks, or a dent in the back of the head.
They stare at me with reproachful eyes and speak with one voice. “Why?” their voice echoes through the great depths, vibrating in the brick walls of the well, rustling in the wind that stirs the top of the water.
“Why? “a soft lisping voice echoes them from behind. I jerk back, but something is turning me, it is not me that is in control, the most gruesome specter still waits.
Little Zinnia nestles in her mother’s arms, who stares at me with eyes that accuse. Her blue shirt bears a small hole from which blood still pours, near the collar.
“Why did you kill my little Zinnia?” Her high voice, so beautiful and captivating in life, strikes me like a bare blade.
I find my voice with difficultly, choking on every word. “I’m not the one that pulled the trigger.”
Zinnia lifts her head, revealing the large crater in her forehead. Her golden curl stick to her bloody face as she opens her small mouth and says in her sweet lisping voice, “my blood is on your hands.”
I look down at my hands and scream. Covering them is a thick coating of blood that the water doesn’t wash away.
As I gaze at them in horror, the blood begun to creep up my arms. I stand frozen in terror as the blood seeps slowly over me, coating every inch of my body, imprisoning me in a cocoon of blood.
Zinnia’s eyes turn cruel and her hands began to transform. She stretches her little feet out in front of her and watches as they grow fur and claws. Her clothing slowly shrinks and becomes form-fitting, changing from cloth to golden fur.
Her mouth grows larger and her teeth triple in size, becoming long and pointed. Her nose is flat and she has whiskers that quiver in rage. Only her eyes remain the same brilliant blue.
Sitting in her mother’s arms is now a lynx’s, wild and unreachable. Her teeth bare and her low growl echoes throughout the depths.
Her mother calmly draws her hand across Zinnia’s furry little head, scratching her behind the ears. They remain fixed on me, Zinnia’s hatred mirrored in her mothers eyes.
She snarls and flings herself at me, her soft body striking me and her claws forcing themselves in my flesh. I try to fight, but none of my blows connect.
She hisses in triumph and swipes her paw across my face, tearing out my eyes.
I feel blinding pain and the blood pouring down my face and then nothing.
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139,653 Literary Works • 672,645 Reviews
Timmy here!
Since this piece is pretty long, or actually really long, I shall review as I go along, okay?
Comma after hand
I am going to divert your attention to Divergent for a moment (hehe, divert, Divergent - that's funny right there) because they have something similar with the needles. With what I know of needles (which isn't much at all) I thought you had to have a specific spot - like a really small target area, like a vain or something - in order to "jab" someone with a needle correctly. Otherwise, you are just injecting this stuff wherever, and it wouldn't work, or it would hurt them immensely because of its location in their body. Just a thought. Do some research to make sure you could just jab the needle in anywhere.
Many people call using double sentence endings the mark of an amateur, because they aren't necessary. Look at the sentence. How is it worded? Like a question already, correct? So if you want your character to ask the question, but yell it, then you use the exclamation mark - since it's already worded like a question, so the reader will, erm, read it like a question to begin with, even if there is no question mark at the end. If you want it said calmly, then use the question mark. Simple as that.
technical: in-between
To make this not a compound sentence, and because the middle part would be very wordy, I think you could use the beautiful em-dash here after well to make the sentence continue to flow.
comma after exploded
So I have a few comments, and then I shall leave you. One brief thing on Nyx, first off. Since we have no idea who this person is, or how they relate to Phoenix, I think you should have a miniature introduction to the person - or have the introduction in previous chapters so we know what she's talking about. You just threw the name out there, and didn't explain yourself at all, and that took me for a loop. So just give us a sentence introduction, or even part of a sentence - just some quick blurp about who he is, or what his affect on her life has been, and you'll be doing good. I really like his personality and voice, though, and how she remembers those key things he said. Funny how we remember things in the nick of time. Seems strange, but we do.
So you are having trouble keeping a decent length of paragraphs? Meh, not an issue, really. Look at you work, and then look at an individual paragraph. Is it a single idea, and the next paragraph isn't connected to it? If you answer yes, then there isn't anything wrong with your paragraph - if you go by the rules and technicalities, that is. But IAMTRUANT is correct. Your paragraphs are too short, as a rule. Some of them are longer, but most of them are little blurps. In action scenes, you can get away with shorter paragraphs because shorter sentences dominate in those scenes, but you still need to have a varying amount of paragraph lengths. So just look at a particular paragraph - any paragraph, doesn't matter. Look at the idea, the basic frame of the paragraph. Got it? Good. Now look at the sentences that express that idea - the expansion of the idea, if you want to call it that. Now, since we are assuming the paragraph is too short, what can we do to make the paragraph longer? The answer is pretty straightforward. More expansion. It's the obvious answer. In time, your paragraphs will find their comfortable length almost naturally, but until then it may be difficult struggle to make your paragraphs varying length. When you're all done, remember one thing: No matter how short your paragraph is, whether it's one sentence or a gazillion, if it expresses an idea from beginning to end, you're all set. It's a complete paragraph - 100%.
Amazing job on this one, Christina. Fun read, and very action-packed. You have a thing for that, you know.
~Darth Timmyjake
Hey, Christina! I promised your sister I would review this so... here I am! Hee hee.
Okay, so as your sister will tell you, I loooooove helping with the structural aspect; eg. Sentences, their length, if they could be simplified. So that's what I'll do. Very good work, by the way, I enjoyed reading it. You're family if full of superb writers!
This actually funny, because Therese are story of mine called Truant, and one of the first reviews age ever dud was telling me about paragraphing. To construct a paragraph, you need 3+ sentences, and I've noticed you don't always. This is all one sentence, and I found it dragged on a little. So I'm going to help split it up, like so:
I pulled the gun and turning slightly towards the door, being careful to keep the gun pointed in his general direction. Then I placed one hand on a patch of motion sensitive glass beside the door.
See? Fairly easy. And if you quite long sentences like this one, why not play around with it? Make it simpler, make it shorter. This story is a work in progress - you can mold it any way you want to. This is your world. You control it. So have fun! Don't "stick to the guidelines". If you want a monkey to be able to breath on the moon, do it. (I'm not saying actually have a monkey breathing in space... But I mean, be free to do what you please!)
So. Have you ever heard of a compound sentence? This one of them. Strip away bits and pieces of the sentence (temporarily) and test to see if bits of your sentence make sense when parts are removed. The bit that didn't make sense was the "another concrete box". Do you mean they see another one? They pass one? They go through one? The action is unclear here. Try to think how to make it clear
Okay. Here is another example of a compound sentence. If I take out the middle part (which is the removable part), it doesn't make sense. Just think of it like a sandwich. The outside parts are the base, and the bit between the commas are the filling. You have bread, bread, filling - so the sandwich has fallen apart. So it needs to be like this:
Worse still, an extra safety precaution to ensure that no one would be leaving the elevator alive, the rest of the electronics blew as well.
Just remember: The inside part is extra information.
Seeing as you are listing this, I think you should present it like so:
Every person that I had killed hovers before my eyes: the couple in Colorado, a senator from Michigan, three teenagers that had been unlucky enough to stumble across a Chimera base in New York.
The ":" is used for lists, so just keep that in mind
And that is all from me, my dear. Such a good job! You should be proud of yourself
Hi Christina!
I have to be honest though, I am a little bit confused as to where this slots in with the previous story but I am going to review it nonetheless. It won't affect my reviewing capabilities, I promise. I have to say though, this was pretty gory. Surprisingly gory! I definitely did not expect this from you, but I think the gore did work for this story, and you managed to put it in there very well as well. As for the idea of the gun responding only to Phoenix's touch as well as the explosion and her stopping the blood flow with her own body - genius, the lot of it. I enjoyed reading this a lot!
I am happy to be back here and reading more of your story
much more than your siblings works... Just kidding
Or am I? D:Let's get down to business!
This sentence is a bit run on because it has so many commas in there, and not enough sentence endings. I did a few little tweaks to switch it up a bit below. It's just a suggestion, but I was thinking something along these lines:
I pulled the gun and turning slightly towards the door. I was careful to keep the gun pointed in his general direction, with one hand on a patch of motion sensitive glass beside the door.
I think you mean 'slide.'
Between three to ten what? Minutes? Seconds? I am also a bit unsure of what this drug actually did. It made him seem unconscious, but only for a short while, apparently. So, is it supposed to put him to sleep or knock him out of so? I got a bit lost as to its purpose. And if it was to do something along those lines which should've given Phoenix time to take him back to headquarters, it wouldn't have worked. Eric wouldn't have been knocked out for long enough for her to be able to take him anywhere. So maybe you should extend the length of time they are trapped in the elevator or mention the reason she injected him to match a shorter time period. If I am making sense, that is xD
I think you mean 'knocking'.
*nonexistent
Maybe this sentence would work better with a semi colon instead of a comma?
Minute should be plural in this sentence.
Hm, I don't think a comma is needed here? Also, a small detail like showing us her impatience would be nice to include. Is she shifting from foot to foot or tracking the slow retreat of the elevator doors with her eyes? Small details are things readers love
I got a little bit confused as to who the consciousness was that pressed against her mind before the memories or imaginations of the people she killed appeared? Was it simply supposed to be her conscious or was it someone else she had previously killed? I felt a little bit lost and confused there, so maybe this could use a bit more description to make more sense? Otherwise, the rest of the story I was easily able to understand!
I felt it was a bit unrealistic that Fred and Phoenix had such a chill conversation when an emergency was at hand. Maybe they had their introductions quickly, which is believable. But then the whole thing about his name being Fred and upper management lacking creativity... maybe that could be done as he is rushing the cart into the elevator, maybe yelling the last statement over his shoulder. Otherwise the sense of tension and emergency is lost in the dialogue.
I know this wasn't the most helpful review ever, and was more nitpicks, but I am partly strapped for time! I hope this was a help, and that you keep writing. I would love to read more of your stuff
And get on YWS whenever you're ready to!Deanie x
Hi Therese!
It was refreshing!
Yay! We both have a little sister. Only yours writes XD I wish.
Anyways, go ahead and tell her that this is really good! The descriptive imagery was sending chills down my spine even though I haven't read any other chapters/segments. I was captivated the whole way through, which has been hard for me lately
I must admit I was a little confused by the end, but I'm sure it's because I'm missing information from the other chapter.
I only noticed one error--I could have missed something; I read very fast--" Her golden curl stick to her bloody face as she opens her small mouth". I think that maybe "Her golden curl" is supposed to be "Her golden curls". I'm not sure XD
Anyways, if you decide to keep posting these... and if your little sister keeps writing them... I definitely try to come back when I have the time. I just wrote it down on my formerly-tiny list. Now it's getting kind of lengthy!! XD
Anyways, tell her I give her a massive thumbs up and a 'Happy writing!' She did awesome!
Hey thanks for the review! My sis just read over it, and she was really happy with this review. The nitpick will be taken care of, PRONTO, and she also said that she would try and make everything seem less confusing. Thank you!