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Rated: · Chapter · Writing · #1127142
The first chapter of 'World of Ruin,' my WIP.
A Simple Assignment:
“Claudia Lytton.”

“Her?” Marc looked at her, as if she’d asked him which town had plague had just hit. “She’s a mercenary and a whore. Why do you want to know about her”

His audience raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I’m doing some soul-searching,” she said, clearly irritated at his summary. “Now do your job and mark me off the list. I’m in for the night, I won’t be running off to do any whoring.”

She swept past him, ignoring his stammered apology, and made her way to her usual seat near the fire, plunking down on the tattered old Naugahyde couch with a satisfied sigh. This was what she liked, being able to curl up on a couch near a nice, warm fire. Now all she needed was a good book and that jerk to watch his tongue, and she could consider her day made.

“We’ve got a job.” The voice broke her out of her thoughts, and she looked up sharply, at the man she hadn’t seen sitting on one of the chairs in the corner. John Emmerson, sitting and nursing a drink after a hard day’s work. It was a domestic pose that Claudia had never seen him assume, but it must have been common for him once. None of them had kept their old lives after the Fall.

“Why don’t you brief us all?” She demanded. “Everyone should be in by now –“

“Adam and Weiss haven’t returned from sentry duty,” her boss cut in abruptly. “Neither have Benson and Jax. There’s no sign of them in the immediate area.”

“Ah.” Claudia licked her lips. “You think they’ve found us.” Her voice trembled, but it wasn’t a question. Strange disappearances meant precious few things now.

“It’s the best bet. I want you to scout around, see what you can turn up.” His voice was level, and Claudia felt a shiver ripple down her spine. Men had died with that tone ringing in their ears.

“All right,” her voice came out weaker than she would have liked, and she scuffed a hand through her shaggy brown hair. “Location? Weapons?”

She remembered how little weapons did against them. Dennis’ head had exploded, a fine mist of blood marking the place where his head had been. His rifle had landed next to him. They moved so fast…

But that had been one of their early attacks. Dennis had been dead this past year. He didn’t matter any more.

“Standard weaponry, and you know the area. Wait for first light.” A merciful pause. He lifted his glass and took a sip, the ease of the movement proving the lie his grim voice told. “Lytton, you’re the best for the job. If they are human…”

“I know.” Claudia replied automatically, and looked down at her hands, clenched in her lap, and forced herself to relax. “You might want to negociate the price up higher, Emmerson. We’re protecting them from an actual threat now.”

He didn’t answer her, and she knew from experience that she wouldn’t get an answer. Leaning back against the hard back of the couch, she sighed, and began to think about her latest suicide mission.
© Copyright 2006 J.M Harding (chameleon at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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