Post by Ethan on Apr 4, 2007 19:55:15 GMT -5
this isn't quite finished...actually there is still a lot more...I just want someone's oppinion before i proceed with this possible idea.....
here it is....please critique/respond to
Prologue: In Search of Food
His heart beat violently in his under his white, button up shirt, as they ran down the deserted, but once flourishing, city streets. He was out of breath and shape. Why hadn’t he taken that gym membership when he was offered it, or taken his wife’s advice and exercised more? Gary’s forty two years proved as much as a disadvantage to him as his tar filled lungs, and arthritis stricken knees. His flabby gut weighed him down, as his folds jumped erratically with each stride of his stubby legs.
He had been an accountant, and a good one. Numbers were his forte, running wasn’t. How had he gotten into this? How had he been conned-not conned, but forced- into this predicament where his purpose was solely to gather food, or be food. The very though of them getting him made his stomach curl with disgust and fear, and the hair on the back of his neck to stand erect and stiff.
Taking heaving, inwards breaths, and relieving painful outward ones, Gary was at the back of the group. This was by orders, and not by physical ability, for a few of the members were in worse shape than he was, and they were all within his age group.
The group of mid-life morsels came to an exhausted stop at their destination.
The silent trip worried Gary, as he had been on this run before, and the journey to the spot was usually much worse than they had just experienced. Gary, who used numbers often in his daily, hectic, and dangerous life, had once come to the conclusion that, on the way to retrieve the food, they chances of not returning were two in five. Meaning that, for every five people with them, two would not come back. Of course, there were exceptions, as there are to any generalized probability. There were times where no members were lost, and also times, although Gary did not want to recall them, when the party did not return.
He looked curiously around at his fellow fodder. The nine, along with himself, were no more than the last resort; the unneeded ones; the replacables. They were expendable, cannon fodder, and, although they’d be missed when they were gone, they only had one purpose, food.
Whether it was a meal for either side, food was all they were worth. When a party member did not return, they saw it as an advantage. At the very least it meant one less mouth to feed, both for them, and them,
Now feeling an inferiority complex, Gary spoke in his wheezy, deep voice. “Tom,” he said, recognizing a familiar face.
Tom was a good friend, even from before the incident. They had worked together in the same field and office. Their families were close, and, when they both lost everything, they had stuck together and found the Alliance together, and joined willingly, signing their lives away for the “greater good” of mankind.
On second thought, what good had they done? The only thing they did was make widows of women, or orphans of children. They had even helped populate the other side. This was unintentional, of course, but the fact that it happened did not help.
“Yeah, Gary?” Tome responded, snapping the accountant out of his thoughts and grievances.
“You and Scott and Alec are with me.” He motioned to two other veterans of the food game.
Scott was in the best physical condition, and Gary always made it a point to take Scott on his side. Scott was completely bald, muscled and toned, but reminisce of the older man was still in him. Scott’s eyes showed signs of fatigue, but his face was stern, with cold brown eyes and a grizzly goatee that covered the bulk of his featured visage. Scott was forty, just out of the range in which he would have been previously “safe” from becoming a snack.
Alec, on the other hand, was a scrawny older man of forty six, and was a rookie to the Alliance. He would act as a distraction for Gary, Tom, and Scott to make an escape if the need arose, although Alec hadn’t the faintest of clue as to his position, due to the obvious fact of his own opposition. Gary felt remorse for making Alec his own human shield, but it was necessary for his own, and the Alliance’s survival.
Tom was also bald, but had wreath of thinning gray hair around his head, and wore glasses over green eyes. Tom had an enthusiastic view on life, and was a persuasive man, despite his flamboyant personality.
“What about the rest,” Scott asked, eyeing the other six.
“Right,” Gary nodded, he wasn’t thinking straight. “Umm, David,” he motioned to a short, plump Latino man, “can come with us as well, and the rest will be the second group.”
“What exactly are we getting?” Scott asked. He knew it was food, but there were different types they retrieved for different trips.
“This is a dry run,” Gary explained, “We go for bread, rice, other filling foods, instant potatoes, noodles, and the like as well. As for water, we have enough stockpiled to avoid having to gather some this trip.”
They knew what they walked into. They knew it was a trap. They knew it all, as they played into their claws.
***
here it is....please critique/respond to
Prologue: In Search of Food
His heart beat violently in his under his white, button up shirt, as they ran down the deserted, but once flourishing, city streets. He was out of breath and shape. Why hadn’t he taken that gym membership when he was offered it, or taken his wife’s advice and exercised more? Gary’s forty two years proved as much as a disadvantage to him as his tar filled lungs, and arthritis stricken knees. His flabby gut weighed him down, as his folds jumped erratically with each stride of his stubby legs.
He had been an accountant, and a good one. Numbers were his forte, running wasn’t. How had he gotten into this? How had he been conned-not conned, but forced- into this predicament where his purpose was solely to gather food, or be food. The very though of them getting him made his stomach curl with disgust and fear, and the hair on the back of his neck to stand erect and stiff.
Taking heaving, inwards breaths, and relieving painful outward ones, Gary was at the back of the group. This was by orders, and not by physical ability, for a few of the members were in worse shape than he was, and they were all within his age group.
The group of mid-life morsels came to an exhausted stop at their destination.
The silent trip worried Gary, as he had been on this run before, and the journey to the spot was usually much worse than they had just experienced. Gary, who used numbers often in his daily, hectic, and dangerous life, had once come to the conclusion that, on the way to retrieve the food, they chances of not returning were two in five. Meaning that, for every five people with them, two would not come back. Of course, there were exceptions, as there are to any generalized probability. There were times where no members were lost, and also times, although Gary did not want to recall them, when the party did not return.
He looked curiously around at his fellow fodder. The nine, along with himself, were no more than the last resort; the unneeded ones; the replacables. They were expendable, cannon fodder, and, although they’d be missed when they were gone, they only had one purpose, food.
Whether it was a meal for either side, food was all they were worth. When a party member did not return, they saw it as an advantage. At the very least it meant one less mouth to feed, both for them, and them,
Now feeling an inferiority complex, Gary spoke in his wheezy, deep voice. “Tom,” he said, recognizing a familiar face.
Tom was a good friend, even from before the incident. They had worked together in the same field and office. Their families were close, and, when they both lost everything, they had stuck together and found the Alliance together, and joined willingly, signing their lives away for the “greater good” of mankind.
On second thought, what good had they done? The only thing they did was make widows of women, or orphans of children. They had even helped populate the other side. This was unintentional, of course, but the fact that it happened did not help.
“Yeah, Gary?” Tome responded, snapping the accountant out of his thoughts and grievances.
“You and Scott and Alec are with me.” He motioned to two other veterans of the food game.
Scott was in the best physical condition, and Gary always made it a point to take Scott on his side. Scott was completely bald, muscled and toned, but reminisce of the older man was still in him. Scott’s eyes showed signs of fatigue, but his face was stern, with cold brown eyes and a grizzly goatee that covered the bulk of his featured visage. Scott was forty, just out of the range in which he would have been previously “safe” from becoming a snack.
Alec, on the other hand, was a scrawny older man of forty six, and was a rookie to the Alliance. He would act as a distraction for Gary, Tom, and Scott to make an escape if the need arose, although Alec hadn’t the faintest of clue as to his position, due to the obvious fact of his own opposition. Gary felt remorse for making Alec his own human shield, but it was necessary for his own, and the Alliance’s survival.
Tom was also bald, but had wreath of thinning gray hair around his head, and wore glasses over green eyes. Tom had an enthusiastic view on life, and was a persuasive man, despite his flamboyant personality.
“What about the rest,” Scott asked, eyeing the other six.
“Right,” Gary nodded, he wasn’t thinking straight. “Umm, David,” he motioned to a short, plump Latino man, “can come with us as well, and the rest will be the second group.”
“What exactly are we getting?” Scott asked. He knew it was food, but there were different types they retrieved for different trips.
“This is a dry run,” Gary explained, “We go for bread, rice, other filling foods, instant potatoes, noodles, and the like as well. As for water, we have enough stockpiled to avoid having to gather some this trip.”
They knew what they walked into. They knew it was a trap. They knew it all, as they played into their claws.
***
