Bev Allen's Blog - Posts Tagged "scific-space-opera-adventure-ya"
A Taster
Instead of a new short story, I thought I'd give you an exert from "Jabin". This is towards the middle when Jabin decides the time has come for him to make a stand.
There were about half a dozen of them, the oldest no more than five. Now he was close enough Jabin could smell them, fear had opened their bowels.
He stared in horror at the little faces gaunt with dehydration, terror and bewilderment. As he stepped closer they whimpered small animal sounds and clung to each other.
On the floor was a tiny baby, it seemed to be asleep, but the one little star like hand twitched.
Gently Jabin touched its cheek and the face turned the little mouth open and questing.
He snatched his hand back as if he had been stung and suddenly realised that these were Wittenmier’s “small stock” for “specialist markets”. Anger long suppressed and long beaten down surged through him.
He picked up a couple of the blankets and went back to Hoodle, he needed thinking time.
“No! No! Not those!” he said peevishly, “She needs sustenance. I told you to fetch one of the brats.”
They’re alive!” Jabin said.
“I know, I usually throttle them before I pop them in,” Hoodle replied, “Bring one!”
He pushed Jabin back to the corner.
There was a chance who ever was attacking would win and rescue them, but they might lose, what then?
He studied the little faces before him for another second.
Behind him were the remains of another table. He picked up a leg and weighed it in his hand; then he went back to Hoodle.
"Where’s that…” the man began, but he never finished his question because Jabin hit him over the head as hard as he could. He slumped to the floor, blood running from his ear.
Jabin didn’t know if he’d killed him and at that point he didn’t care.
Very soon the power would start to drop and that would bring guards to investigate. He slammed the door shut and locked it. A rapid search of the surroundings produced a fully loaded laser pistol.
Swiftly he built a barricade of everything he could find around the children; they shrank away from him, huddling against the wall.
“Please don’t cry,” he whispered to them, “We’re going to be all right. I promise.”
They didn’t seem to understand and he thought he couldn’t blame them; he hadn’t been very convincing.
He wasn’t convinced himself, but they were so small and the world was so full of cruelty. Somehow he had to protect them. How he’d do it, he’d no idea, but no one was going to hurt them or him ever again!
There were about half a dozen of them, the oldest no more than five. Now he was close enough Jabin could smell them, fear had opened their bowels.
He stared in horror at the little faces gaunt with dehydration, terror and bewilderment. As he stepped closer they whimpered small animal sounds and clung to each other.
On the floor was a tiny baby, it seemed to be asleep, but the one little star like hand twitched.
Gently Jabin touched its cheek and the face turned the little mouth open and questing.
He snatched his hand back as if he had been stung and suddenly realised that these were Wittenmier’s “small stock” for “specialist markets”. Anger long suppressed and long beaten down surged through him.
He picked up a couple of the blankets and went back to Hoodle, he needed thinking time.
“No! No! Not those!” he said peevishly, “She needs sustenance. I told you to fetch one of the brats.”
They’re alive!” Jabin said.
“I know, I usually throttle them before I pop them in,” Hoodle replied, “Bring one!”
He pushed Jabin back to the corner.
There was a chance who ever was attacking would win and rescue them, but they might lose, what then?
He studied the little faces before him for another second.
Behind him were the remains of another table. He picked up a leg and weighed it in his hand; then he went back to Hoodle.
"Where’s that…” the man began, but he never finished his question because Jabin hit him over the head as hard as he could. He slumped to the floor, blood running from his ear.
Jabin didn’t know if he’d killed him and at that point he didn’t care.
Very soon the power would start to drop and that would bring guards to investigate. He slammed the door shut and locked it. A rapid search of the surroundings produced a fully loaded laser pistol.
Swiftly he built a barricade of everything he could find around the children; they shrank away from him, huddling against the wall.
“Please don’t cry,” he whispered to them, “We’re going to be all right. I promise.”
They didn’t seem to understand and he thought he couldn’t blame them; he hadn’t been very convincing.
He wasn’t convinced himself, but they were so small and the world was so full of cruelty. Somehow he had to protect them. How he’d do it, he’d no idea, but no one was going to hurt them or him ever again!
