David S. Wells's Blog: David S. Wells: Writing Beyond Fantasy

I have a new favorite show. Okay, the series is not new. In fact, it is ongoing, with a sixth season coming soon. “The Expanse” is new to me, and it replaces “The Last Kingdom” as the best series on any television platform (no disrespect to “The Witcher” or any other series that is deserving of its hype. This show is based on a series of novels by James S. A. Corey (apparently a pen name for a pair of brilliant writers) and it is so good that I want to read these books. It has action, drama, romance; and even small things that seem insignificant fire at a high-speed burn into a future view of our solar system that is epic.

Here is the basic layout, without spoilers. Earth and Luna are the United Nations (U.N.). Mars has been colonized, and its peoples have gained their independence through conflict. Their state is known as the Martian Colonial Republic (M.C.R.). Both of those states have operations and interests in the asteroid belt, which both try to control by way of water and oxygen supplies to its peoples, known as belters, who supply resources as virtual slaves to Earthers and Martians. Belters endure the yoke, but wish to cast it off, many looking to the Outer Planets Alliance (O.P.A.), which is viewed as a terrorist organization by Earth and Mars (often referred to as inners, by outers of the belt). Tensions are high throughout the solar system.

An ice freighter in the belt picks up a distress call and moves to investigate, despite the risk of a pirate lure. They find something much bigger than they anticipate. Whatever it is, powerful people are willing to kill for it, to control it. Those who seek to change the balance of the system ignite passions and prejudices through which a tremendous cast of characters must fight to find peace and order amidst threats of war and chaos.

This show is spectacular. Characters have depths they do not reveal willingly, but as the series unfolds, they become clearer, naturally. The acting is outstanding, and visuals are both real and fantastic, at the same time. The first time through, it was absolutely mind blowing, so that I could not wait to watch it again. Writing, production, directing, acting, sets and effects... there is no weakness in this series. Congratulations to everyone who has had a part in it. Be sure to check it out on Amazon Prime. 

 “The Haunting of Bly Manor?”

After all the excitement I felt for a new haunting,following the “perfectly splendid” series we all know and love as “The Hauntingof Hill House”, I still, three days after finishing the series, find myselfscratching my head, with a wtf screaming from the primal part of my brain. Wasthe series bad? No. Absolutely not! It was well written, acted, directed andproduced. In fact, it is quite an interesting story. I am simply hung up on the“haunting” part of its title.

Was there ghostly, chilly, spine-tingling entertainment inthe series? Yes. What there was of actual haunting was quite well done. Jump scares and shivers existed in this work; there simply were not enough ofthose elements to reconcile the collective with its title. I am not sure if toomuch was explained or hinted at too quickly, or if, perhaps, someone forgotthat this was supposed to be a haunting. In the end, it is a nice story, but itis too many parts love story to meet my expectations of a good, creepyhaunting. For that reason, I gave it a thumbs-down mark. With a stars rating, Imight have given it three out of five, because I did like it; it simply failed to shiver meuntil the end, as I had hoped and expected it would do.

 ���The Haunting of Bly Manor?���

After all the excitement I felt for a new haunting, following the ���perfectly splendid��� series we all know and love as ���The Haunting of Hill House���, I still, three days after finishing the series, find myself scratching my head, with a wtf screaming from the primal part of my brain. Was the series bad? No. Absolutely not! It was well written, acted, directed and produced. In fact, it is quite an interesting story. I am simply hung up on the ���haunting��� part of its title.

Was there ghostly, chilly, spine-tingling entertainment in the series? Yes. What there was of actual haunting was quite well done. Jump scares and shivers existed in this work; there simply were not enough of those elements to reconcile the collective with its title. I am not sure if too much was explained or hinted at too quickly, or if, perhaps, someone forgot that this was supposed to be a haunting. In the end, it is a nice story, but it is too many parts love story to meet my expectations of a good, creepy haunting. For that reason, I gave it a thumbs-down mark. With a stars rating, I might have given it three out of five, because I did like it; it simply failed to shiver me until the end, as I had hoped and expected it would do.

 “The Haunting of Bly Manor?”

After all the excitement I felt for a new haunting, following the “perfectly splendid” series we all know and love as “The Haunting of Hill House”, I still, three days after finishing the series, find myself scratching my head, with a wtf screaming from the primal part of my brain. Was the series bad? No. Absolutely not! It was well written, acted, directed and produced. In fact, it is quite an interesting story. I am simply hung up on the “haunting” part of its title.

Was there ghostly, chilly, spine-tingling entertainment in the series? Yes. What there was of actual haunting was quite well done. Jump scares and shivers existed in this work; there simply were not enough of those elements to reconcile the collective with its title. I am not sure if too much was explained or hinted at too quickly, or if, perhaps, someone forgot that this was supposed to be a haunting. In the end, it is a nice story, but it is too many parts love story to meet my expectations of a good, creepy haunting. For that reason, I gave it a thumbs-down mark. With a stars rating, I might have given it three out of five, because I did like it; it simply failed to shiver me until the end, as I had hoped and expected it would do.

 “The Haunting of Bly Manor?”

After all the excitement I felt for a new haunting, following the “perfectly splendid” series we all know and love as “The Haunting of Hill House”, I still, three days after finishing the series, find myself scratching my head, with a wtf screaming from the primal part of my brain. Was the series bad? No. Absolutely not! It was well written, acted, directed and produced. In fact, it is quite an interesting story. I am simply hung up on the “haunting” part of its title.

Was there ghostly, chilly, spine-tingling entertainment in the series? Yes. What there was of actual haunting was quite well done. Jump scares and shivers existed in this work; there simply were not enough of those elements to reconcile the collective with its title. I am not sure if too much was explained or hinted at too quickly, or if, perhaps, someone forgot that this was supposed to be a haunting. In the end, it is a nice story, but it is too many parts love story to meet my expectations of a good, creepy haunting. For that reason, I gave it a thumbs-down mark. With a stars rating, I might have given it three out of five, because I did like it; it simply failed to shiver me until the end, as I had hoped and expected it would do.

Laugh with me about the irony of writing about not needing to write. Yet, that is what I am doing; not for my own need to write, my addiction--my former addiction, I should write. I have made discoveries of late that pertain to myself and my writing, and I merely wish to share, so that my readers may have understanding of where I stand and what that means, where it concerns my ongoing series of fantasy novels, and my serials (fantasy and science fiction--and even my somewhat abandoned go at a western). When I began writing, I set out to accomplish one thing, which was to write great fantasy fiction. Over time, I came to realize that writing was a form of therapy for me, an outlet for frustrations of my life. Still, there came with each success a desire to be published, and in my mind, to be a “successful writer.” I have since self-published multiple times, of which I am proud. I am aware that my strengths are tied to characters and storytelling, and my weaknesses are attached to deficiencies in grammar and proofing. I work very hard to hold high my standards, where it relates to characters and storytelling, and I work equally hard at raising my game in those latter areas. I work hard at everything that I do. I work too hard at (fill-in-the-blank) as well. Since the release of A Wayward Light, and more recently, The Last King of the Rock, I have experienced something of an awakening. I used to write to free my spirit and release my thoughts from a head cluttered with anxieties ailments. Over time, that has changed. Somewhere in my transition from crazy writer enthusiast to career-minded writer, I stopped writing for me. I started writing for my readers, which is great, except that I discovered that I was devoting ninety percent of my free time to promoting, editing and writing my novels, with the bulk of that allotment falling to promoting, thereby leaving little time for actual writing. The business side of being a writer made that acceptable to me, when my e-pubs were selling, but sales slowed to a trickle, and I began to notice the disproportion of my time spent feeding my industry, an industry that I was becoming increasingly aware was never going to feed my family. I began asking myself, Why am I doing this? I thought, Wouldn’t I be better off going back to work for a steady paycheck, than to keep throwing away time that I could be spending with my family, and doing other things that I enjoy, but have abandoned for the illusion that I might one day grasp the success that I truly seek? I had to find out, so I put in an application with a nearby retailer. With retail being my background and my strength, it seemed like a good idea. The next thing I know, I have an interview, and then, a job. It is a part-time position, and the pay is crap, but I still make a lot more per working hour than I was making as a writer. My part-time employment is almost full-time in its nature, because my bosses love my work and opportunities are there for me to pick up hours. Furthermore, I have time to spend with my family, especially my boy, who has taken a liking for board games with dad. I have rediscovered hobbies and games, and I no longer feel guilty for taking time out to play instead of writing the next story for my website, or this blog, or working on book six of The Dragon Eyes Chronicles. Please, understand that this does not mean that I will never write again. That is the furthest thing from the truth. I simply do not feel that inescapable need to write this thing or that by this date or that. I have not written a word between publishing “The Harpist’s Name” and this piece, which means I have survived without writing for just over a week, and I love it. Even so, I have ongoing projects that I intend to finish, with The Dragon Eyes Chronicles heading that list. Of course, there is The Harpist and The Box, as well as Awakening. Besides those, I have four beginnings of novels that are demanding my attention. I am going to work on them, eventually. They can wait, though. I do not need to write, and I am okay with that. 

Verus let off the brake and pressed the accelerator. The old Ford Sojourn accepted the shift of his foot without the least lurch, as it smoothly pulled away from the apartment building neighboring the old tool and die factory. The blinker tick-tick-tickedat an up tempo from its manufactured setting of ten years ago, which sound was so nerve-wracking that Eve subconsciously delved into research of the model name embossed on the glove box panel to learn that was a common quirk of the vehicle type.
Again, she wondered, How do I know all that I seem to know?
That is part of who you were made to be, Eve, Verus thought in answer to a question she had not intended to share, with the curly-haired clone sounding proud of the woman’s design.
What exactly is that, Verus? Eve demanded. You have told me I am a weapon, she thought, knowing that she had interrupted his fledgling attempt at response. I need more than that. Weapons always have one or more purposes in mind upon conception. What is my purpose? I need to know.
You are part of--well, actually--you are the Duellona Project, sister weapons research program to the Mars Project, Verus shared.
Duellona, Eve contemplated, while indexing all related data files relevant to that name. Duellona only came up as an ancient name for a Roman goddess of war. I need more,she thought to Verus. In her own mind, she wondered, with a hollow sense of dread tearing at fibers of her heart tissues, Did my makers intend for me to be the goddess of war?
“Where we goin’?” Merle asked, unknowing of the exchange that was taking place between Eve and Verus.
“A m-m-m.... A m-moment, p-please,” Eve begged in a bark of retarded speech that made her words sound harsher than she meant them to be. She turned her big brown eyes on the trucker and begged again, with more intense focus on delivery, “Please?”
“Yeah,” Merle replied. “You got it, brown eyes.”
Eve heard Merle’s unspoken, Anything you need. She smiled according to her programming, which made it seem natural in spite of her worries for the purpose of her creation, and she concluded, I am a dangerous weapon, even beyond what Verus has told me. In the back of her mind, she was wrestling with a persistent command that set her to planning the appropriate opportunity to: Neutralize hostile, with the hostile being Verus. That adrenaline infusing protocol made her question the truth of Duellona being a sister program to Mars.
Eve kept her hands splayed over curves of her thighs, scarcely aware of her own touch, and yet, conversely attuned to every stitch of thread in her too-big black pants. Fifty-five percent cotton, forty-five percent polyester, she knew by fingertip contact with her cargo pockets. Go on, Verus,she told him.
Mars Project was meant to create new, elite special operatives, Verus began. He eased the Sojourn through a mild bend and counter-bend in the street and continued, Early successes encouraged the special Senate Committee responsible for acquiring funding for the project to make arrangements with its heads to branch out-
Duellona, Eve concluded.
Right, Verus replied. He lifted a hand from the steering wheel, palm up, while he shrugged and said, Something went wrong and both programs were set to be scrubbed.
The Mars Revolt,Eve thought, wondering why that empty feeling next to her heart persisted.
Verus clenched his jaw and nodded. At length, he said, Yeah. That’s what government officials labeled the botched attempt to exterminate Mars Agents.
Like you, Eve knew.
Like me, Verus affirmed. Many of us survived the threat against us. At first, we were disoriented. Our own creators were trying to exterminate us. We didn’t know why. We didn’t even know if we could trust others like us-
That’s why your protocol was to kill me, if you could not take me back, Eve interrupted, with more accusation in her thoughts than she meant to express.
Yeah, Verus said.
His head lowered and his green irises sank to his cheeks, Eve observed by mirror.
About that, he began. Then he raised his eyes, caught Eve’s firm expression and steady, measuring stare. You have to believe me, when I say that I would never hurt you, Eve.
Do I? she privately wondered.
I just wanted to get you back to my brothers- Verus began in explanation.
So badly that you sold me out to them! Eve thought fiercely. Verus crinkled his brow, but Eve never let him express his opinion, before she assured him, That was what happened back at the tool and die, wasn’t it? You were selling me out to your brothers, so they could kill me!
Eve- Verus started.
Merle cut him off to say, “I know you two are having one of your little brain-wave powwows, or whatever it is that you do. Still, don’t you think it’s time we came up with a plan, besides driving up and down city streets, like cruisin’ teenagers, just waitin’ for the cops to pull us over and ask for license and registration? I mean, it’s great that we have wheels and a sort of roof to keep us dry, but we have a serious problem, if we get stopped. Not to mention; if these clones are as organized as terrorists, say, isn’t it possible that they or someone else is tracking this vehicle right now?”
Terrorists! Verus scoffed for Eve alone.
Eve considered the value of the truth, while she weighed it against Merle’s astute observation that they needed a plan that involved new transportation and/or a place to lay low. Her mind raced through information about terrorists and their cells, as well as counterterror operatives. By her evaluation, I am surprised we have not been compromised already. T-SOLTS were in her thoughts, but her danger sense remained like the mild buzz of an alarm clock behind a closed door of another room. She eyed Verus. He is right, she stated in thought. We will continue this conversation later, she assured the man known as Truth.
Eve, please, Verus begged.
Thomas groaned, raised his head and put his left hand to his temple and sideburns.
“Good wakey, sleepyhead,” Merle teased. “You have a nice nap?”
“What happen?” Thomas groaned, as though suffering a horrific hangover.
That is a good question, Eve affirmed, directing her attention toward Verus, but making her thought known on a group level.
Well, Verus began in explanation, your wheelman was about to leave you, Billy Bob and me behind, until I pulled open the driver door and punched him out.
Did you try to leave us? Eve demanded of Thomas.
The man’s dark irises narrowed, until it seemed that his whites would consume them. “No! Course not,” he responded with a raspy laugh that ended in a nervous huh-huh too many for Eve to believe him.
Eve hardened her stare. Thomas, you know I can do more than communicate with you while I am inside your head, right? she lied. To herself, she thought, I am an amazing liar to go with the rest of my programming or design.
“W-W-Well, I was waitin’ for you, up until the police came,” Thomas stammered. “I-I told you, I’m not no fan of the police--especially wit’ me sittin’ in a car that idn’t mine, you know’ut I’m sayin’?”
Eve hardened her scrutiny.
“L-L-Look, jis’ let me explain, will you?” Thomas begged with extra animation in his outfacing palms. “I used to be all prim and proper,” he enunciated with the precision of a radio host. “I had a good job sellin’ Audis on the legal, an’ everything, but then I wasn’t goin’ nowhere. I kept gettin’ passed over for promotions. I was always good about it.”
“Thomas, what’s this got to do with you tryin’ to leave us behind back there?” Merle asked.
“Everything, man!” Thomas responded fiercely. “I took that crap for three years, and finally, one of the guys who passed me by asked me, Why do you let this keep happening to you? You are a fantastic salesperson, and I think you could do more here. Except by that time, I’d already made a decision to get mine, you know’ut I’m sayin’? I knew this guy, who knew this guy, who was lookin’ to get some cars.”
“Except the guy, who knew the guy didn’t want to pay for them?” Merle discerned in questioning fashion.
“Yeah, pretty much, that’s the way it went,” Thomas answered with a shrug that said, Don’t judge me.“Except this guy was the guy that got busted for jackin’ Audis, not the guy, or the guy who knew the guy, you know’ut I’m sayin’?”
“So, you got more than a little nervous behind the wheel of this Sojourn that didn’t belong to you, for obvious reasons,” Merle interpreted.
“Yeah, ten of ‘em,” Thomas replied, somewhere between a state of shame and bitterness. “Since I stole from my employer, as part of that failed enterprise, the judge let me have it, and I can’t say I didn’t deserve it, you know’ut I’m sayin’? Anyway, I cleaned up my act. I’ve got Jesus now, and we’re happy.”
Eve suggested, If we needed another car-
“Oh, no!” Thomas refused her outright. “Din’t you hear me, jis’ now? The next ten years on the streets is better than ten in the pen. I’m not goin’ back to that place, ever!”
“We may need new wheels, friend,” Merle shared.
“I said no!” Thomas shouted. “Back off, okay?”
“Do you have any idea what we are caught up in, Thomas?” Merle questioned, agitated. “I sure the heck don’t know; but what I do know is-”
Thomas interrupted, “You’re girl there idn’t right, and neither is your frien’, who punched me back there. I get that.”
“Not my friend,” Merle rumbled, making a sour expression as he eyed Verus. He returned to topic, saying, “Then you also get the kinda people hunting these two, and us by association,” Merle argued. “When it comes time, you think about where you want to be--which side, I mean. I hope you choose the right one.”
“And which side is that, man?” Thomas begged to know. “Tell me, please. Last time I looked at my life, it wadn’t goin’ all so well, anyway, but at least it was simple. Now, thanks to you three.... what? What are my choices? Do I stay with you and jack a few cars to maybe stay alive? It seems like no matter what I do from here, it’s back to the pen. Un-uh! No way! Jis’ leave me alone.”
You just need some time, Eve thought gently.
Thomas nodded. “Yeah. You right, girl. I jis’ need some time to sort things out. That’s all.”
We need a new vehicle or a place to lay low, Verus thought to Eve. We can’t take too much longer about this decision.
I know, Eve answered in short.
Do we walk and make conspicuous company in the rain, that way, or do we keep riding in this vehicle, knowing that it’s only a matter of time before someone finds us-?Verus asked.
Do you mean your brothers or the government? Eve demanded.
Look, Eve, Verus thought, seeming desperate to make her understand his viewpoint. I didn’t sell you out.
“Where we goin’, anyway?” Thomas asked. “Maybe y’all should jis’ let me out. Jesus’ll keep me safe.”
Merle frowned. “Thomas, I’d like to believe that. You don’t seem half bad.”
“Thanks,” Thomas grunted with a sour twist to his mouth. “Maybe I’ll look you up at the holidays; have you over to my dumpster for Thanksgiving, then.”
“Let’s hope we keep living that long,” Merle said, grinning. “If we are, I’ll be there. Maybe I’ll invite the ex.” He chuckled.
“Very funny!” Thomas snapped. “Jis’ what I need. You mus’ be some kinda’ comedian or sum’thin’, right?”
“Trucker,” Merle shared. “Lost my hat or you’d know that.” He grinned again. “By the way, I didn’t steal my rig, but now that it’s blown up, I’m not gonna haul anything to help me pay for it, either, so I might as well have.”
“Hut!” Thomas hooted. “That sucks. What’choo gonna do, then?”
Merle shrugged. “See where brown eyes takes me, I guess. I don’t much care to face my creditors, so what else am I gonna do? Same as the rest of this mismatched outfit, I’m gonna stay alive the best that I can. Country folk can survive, he half-sang.
Verus went on to explain to Eve, I arranged a meet with someone I thought I could trust.
The clone Thomas found in the dumpster, Eve guessed.
There was pain in Verus’ reply. Yeah. He nodded. That was him. His name was Jud, which was short for Judicius.
He must not have been too judicious in picking with who he shared information about us, Verus,Eve charged.
Your point is valid, Eve, but Jud was a fair man, Verus answered adamantly.
That doesn’t help us now, does it, Eve stated, almost questioning Verus.
There is more that you need to know, Verus assured Eve, but right now, we need to lose this Sojourn and find a safe place to stay.
I may have an idea,Eve thought in the equivalent of a murmur. To Merle, she asked, “Y-You kn-know p-p-peop-ple here, r-r-right?”
“Damn, girl!” Thomas remarked. “For someone who can get inside my head, you shore do trip ov’r your words.”
Merle backhanded Thomas’ left arm with a hard thump!
“Easy, du’!” Thomas growled. “I din’t mean nothin’.”
“Eve just started talking today--or is it yesterday now?” he asked, hunching down to peer out into the night. “Anyway, she learns fast, and that wasn’t acceptable, you here?”
“Yeah,” Thomas replied. “Sorry. I din’t know, you know’ut I’m sayin’?”
It’s no problem,Eve thought, subconsciously reverting to mental communications, with which she was more competent and Thomas was clearly more comfortable, even in spite of his previous expressions of uneasiness about it.
“Sorry, Eve,” Thomas mumbled. “You talk all you want. It gets easier with practice, you know’ut I’m sayin’?”
Eve smiled at the homeless man. “Thanks T-Thomas.”
Merle spoke in his low, gravelly tone. “I know a few people around here. They’re good people, too!” he assured her. “Even if they don’t have a lot, they’ll help us find a place to crash for the night; send us away well fed. In fact, I have just the person in mind.” He swayed to the middle of the seat and sunk low for a view of street signs, mumbling, “Where exactly are we?” He cleared his throat. “Franklin. Turn right up here. I’ll take us to my friend’s place.”
Verus made the requested turn.
“W-We n-need to get r-rid of this ve-hicle, be--before we get too c-close to where we’re go-ing,” Eve informed him.
“I’ve got just the place in mind,” Merle assured her. Then the trucker passed directions to Verus, until they arrived at a long wide street with canopies overhanging most of the sidewalk. “The place we’re lookin’ for is two blocks west of here, and around the bend. We’ll leave the Sojourn here and stay dry, at least compared to what we’ve done so far, anyway. If my friend’s not there, we should be able to bum a ride to her place. Before you know it, our trail will be cold again.”Eve smiled, because it was the proper response to Merle’s grin. Yet, she was less certain whether their trail would ever be cold, no matter what precautions they might take. Furthermore, she felt something strange, when Merle shared that his friend was a woman. She tossed concepts of human relations through her head, many times over, before she concluded, I am jealous of Merle’s friend.

Copyright 2013 David S. Wells

I have begun a new segment of "Awakening." Sorry for the delay. I will try to finish and post within the week. Thank you for your patience. My artist unexpectedly finished my cover for The Last King of the Rock. Publication and Promotion of that work has set me off my pace by a couple of days. I will catch up soon. Thank you.-David S. Wells

I have begun a new segment of "Awakening." Sorry for the delay. I will try to finish and post within the week. Thank you for your patience. My artist unexpectedly finished my cover for The Last King of the Rock. Publication and Promotion of that work has set me off my pace by a couple of days. I will catch up soon. Thank you.-David S. Wells

Eve had paced the length and width of the office, forward and back, ten times, which had helped her become accustomed to the feel of pants-legs on her person. Distance was four-point-five-seven-two-zero meters, both ways. She knew that upon entry, recognized it as easily as she identified mahogany panels and molding, now mostly mold, in the northeast corner of the room, and black marble flooring that still held its shine, despite years of neglect. It was as clear to her as the lone, southward-facing window, now murky from neglect, might have been, when this office and its industry were still thriving.
How do I know the exact dimensions of this room? Eve wondered.
Eve considered her query, even delved into the void she encountered every time she questioned her nature. Is it nature, when I was made? That new unknown brought her back from the depths of nothingness, saved her from what seemed infinite pitch, without return.
I will have my answers, she knew, as she set her brown eyes upon the figure lying at the center of the room, now zip-tied and defenseless against her. Eve regarded her prisoner askance. He is dangerous, just as I am dangerous, she held in focus, to deny her temptation to crouch beside him and tease his black curls in play that might be more programmed behavior than personal fancy. His muscles danced, as he began stirring and waking. Their tango twitches intensified, as Verus opened his green eyes and discovered that he was securely fastened at wrists and ankles.
Eve stooped beside Verus, caught a palm full of his hair, along with the nape of his neck, and helped him into a sitting position. I wanted to give you first chance to tell me who I am, who you are, and why there are four clones of you, Eve thought to Verus, while she barked as many words as her clumsy tongue would form for her. Most important, why have I been hunted since my awakening?
Verus nodded in concession. I’ve been meaning to tell you-
Stop meaning to!Eve thought, with more emotion than she knew she possessed. “Tell me!” she demanded, amazed by the clarity of her spoken words.
Verus squinted, and his dark stubble moved like a wave, upon his tan skin, in conjunction with the tightening of his right cheek. You and I, and all clones like me.... We are all parts of two separate, but linked, government programs.
We are weapons,Eve assessed, as you have told me.
Yes, was the candid response. Verus went on to say, My brothers and I were part of a development project known as the Mars Program.
Eve researched that name for all data. Access to information about it was limited. She only learned, The program failed with the Mars Revolt.
That’s what the government wants everyone to think, Verus assured her.
What is the truth, Truth? Eve blasted him in thought. She was finding it difficult to maintain her patience with Verus. In the back of her mind, alarms were sounding, and her inner voice was repeatedly screaming, Destroy hostile subject!
Eve, we need to move,Verus urged.
He’s right, Eve knew. “No,” she answered. I asked for the truth, Verus. She spoke, saying, “I  will  have  it.”
Verus explained, They are coming, Eve. We don’t have much time.
“Yet, you  wa-waste  it,” Eve reminded him. Only the word waste checked her delivery.
You’re right,Verus confessed.
Before he could say more, Merle loudly called up the steps, in his southern drawl, “Brown Eyes, we got trouble.”
Eve turned to leave.
Verus shouted in thought, Free me, Eve! I can help you.
Eve paused. She wondered, Why do I want to trust this man?
Verus went on, I know I’ve withheld things from you, and-
Eve cut off his plea, saying, “T-Trust is hard, T-Tru-uth, Truth.” She exited the room.
Verus shouted after her, in her mind. Eve, it’s complicated. Still, I can help you. You don’t understand-
You are right, Verus,she returned to him, because you have left me to figure it out for myself. I will be back, and I will have my answers, she promised.
Verus persisted in his attempts to sway Eve to release him, but she blocked out his thoughts and turned her attention to Merle. Halfway down the steps, she met the trucker, who was halfway up, with the homeless man behind him. Merle’s long, silvered brown curls bounced with his steps, until he came to a stop. He peered up at Eve, with a grave expression on his face. His blue eyes, still ringed in by pale-white and lined skin, from where his aviator shades used to keep off the sun, were grave with worry.
Merle blew a breath that caused his Fu Manchu mustaches to flutter. Then he thumbed toward the homeless man and said, “Thomas says there’s an old police scanner in the four-by four-”
“Cops are comin’!” exclaimed Thomas, who had traded his mismatched and raggedy pants and fleece jacket for black fatigues from a captive Verus clone. “We got to go!” His eyes were wide and bulging, above his freckly cheeks.
Merle puckered his mouth and flipped a hand, while he nodded affirmation and said, “Somebody called in a disturbance at this old tool and die factory. They’ll be here any minute, now.”
Eve considered risking further interrogation, shook her head against the idea.
Merle quietly advised, “These boys left their wheels out front.”
Thomas, pull it around back, quickly please, Eve decided. Merle and I will be down in a minute.
Thomas and Merle looked to one another, before the trucker nodded and said, “It’s alright. We’ll be quick. I promise.”
Thomas’ lips hung loose, as if he was about to be sick. He firmed up those liver-colored lines by mashing them together. “Shore,” he agreed. “Don’t wait too long. I don’t got much love for the police, you know’ut I’m sayin’?”
Merle clapped a hand to his arm, nodded again. “Go on.” After the homeless man left, the trucker confided, “We can’t stick around, Brown Eyes. We have to leave.”
Eve tugged up the left sleeve and then the right of her too-large and Verus-fit top. Then she motioned for Merle to accompany her into the office, where she had left the man called truth.
“Talk!” Eve barked, as she entered the room.
Wind brushed her face. It came in through the open window, along with spattering drops of rain. Verus was gone. In his place were broken zip-ties.
“Damn!” Merle cursed. “I knew I should’ve used those thick chains I found in that old maintenance closet.” He pounded his thigh with a hammer fist.
Eve’s danger sense was heightened above normal, but whether that was due Verus’ escape or approaching police, she was uncertain. Police could be dangerous to me, but....her doubts about hazards from men in blue were justified. Five Veruses, who were secret government weapons, did not heighten my pulse rate, before I neutralized them, she reasoned.
Sirens wailed from the streets outside the open window.
Merle started toward that gaping exit, but Eve caught hold of his trailing hand. “Come,” she said. “Th-This w-way.”
Merle flashed a million-dollar smile for her and said, “You’re gettin’ pretty good with yer words, Brown Eyes.”
Eve squeezed his fingers to express her approval and led him to the steps.
“Your voice is almost as pretty as you are,” the trucker complimented her, afterward adding a nervous chuckle and finishing, “if you don’t mind me sayin’ so.”
“Shh!” Eve breathed, while holding up her closed fist as a signal to stop.
Merle stifled and ceased moving.
Tires squalled to a halt, outside the side entrance. Car doors opened, while another vehicle scratched pavement, in coming to a stop. As handles released another pair of vehicle doors, a masculine voice said, “You know the situation. Break-in, with shots fired and a possible homicide. Team one is going in through the front. This entrance is ours.”
Eve shoved Merle up the steps. “Go,” she hissed.
“Window, after all, huh?” the trucker questioned quietly.
“Yes,” Eve replied, while she hastened upstairs after Merle.
They came to the window, where Merle positioned himself to assist Eve and insisted, “Ladies first.”
Eve peered out, waited. The rain was cool, and it smacked against her face, as heavy drops that fragmented into glassy shards and stung her eyes. She clasped the proffered hand in a strong grip and shimmied out the window opening. Eve carefully set her feet on the slippery sill and stretched for the roof. It, too, was slick with water, which flowed as streamlets down both of her forearms, from her wrists. She grabbed onto palm-wide and sloping corrugations, crossways, and pulled, anyway.
“Wait,” Merle called. “We’re goin’ up?” he questioned.
“Yes,” Eve grunted, as she pulled herself onto wet tin and slithered about to help the trucker up.
Merle caught hold of her hand, and she curled her arm to bring him up to her level, before he strained a muscle to make his ascent. He grinned and shook his head, while he wriggled onto the roof beside Eve. Then he said, “You are somethin’ amazin’, Brown Eyes. Don’t you ever forget that, ‘cause I sure won’t.”
Eve hopped to her feet and caught Merle to lift him again. “Th-Thanks,” she stammered.
Eve gazed out in all directions. Thank you, Thomas, she thought, as she spotted the old four-by-four. It was just as beat-up and third world as the homeless man had described it to her, but it would serve to see her and her party safely away from the old tool and die factory. Especially, since Thomas had the foresight to park up the street from here, Eve knew.
Vehicles with active strobes and doors ajar filled spaces between the factory and surrounding buildings, the nearest of which was nine meters away from the rooftop upon which Eve and Merle were standing. Lights played magenta-white-blue off dull walls, across the alley. Meanwhile, officers in navy uniforms were packing into a diamond formation down below, as the point prepared to enter the side door.
Merle squatted with his forearms on his knees and his fingers knit in a clasp. “Now what?”
“J-Jump,” Eve answered.
“No way!” Merle rasped, shaking his head emphatically. He squinted through the torrent and determined, “That’s ten yards, at least.” He wagged his head against attaining the distance, as he explained, “You may be able to jump that far, but I sure can’t.”
Eve brought up her hands beneath his dangling fingers and squeezed them in a reassuring way. Then she pressed her forehead against Merle’s and promised, by thoughts, I can get you across, but you have to “trust me.” She spoke the last pair of words, over which she held mastery.
Merle cocked his head sideways and rumbled, “I don’t know. Even if you can jump it, I don’t think you can carry me across, too. We need to find another way down.”
Merle, I can toss you,Eve informed him.
Merle snickered. “That easy, huh?”
Eve grinned, not with cockiness, but as a matter of programmed confidence. “Yes,” she responded matter-of-factly. Eve pulled Merle to his feet and instructed him, Stand as though you are about to do a standing long jump-
“Only you’re gonna throw me, instead, right?” the trucker questioned, incredulous.
“R-R-Right,” Eve answered. Landing is up to you.
Merle drew a deep, fill-the-tires sounding breath, assumed the stance required and gasped, “Alright, Brown Eyes. I’m ready as I’ll ever be.”
Relax, Eve cautioned him in thought.
Eve crouched low, so that her thighs made horizontal lines. Then she wrapped her right arm around Merle’s waist and hooked her fingers under his belt, while she placed her left hand on his near hip, just below that leather band. Her chuckle was natural, even if it sounded anything but, when Merle said, “Easy darlin’. I’m gonna start thinkin’ you like me, if you keep on what you’re doin’. Well, I’m just foolin’,” he added to disguise his pleasure.
“I d-do like you, M-Merle,” she assured him. Then she thought, I am worried that you will not like me, if I fail to make this throw.
“What do you mean-?” Merle began, alarmed.
Worry about your landing, she scolded him, as she put her strength to the test.
The feeling of her muscles going taught, and then releasing exhilarated Eve. She smiled for the pleasant burning sensation in her arms and legs. She was content to see Merle cross the open distance between the factory roof and the neighboring apartment complex.
The trucker flapped his arms, she supposed for balance, until he landed with a scratch and scuff of his boots and the right slipped from beneath him. Then, he bounded into something resembling a somersault, which ended in a floppy-armed sideways roll. He put a thumb in the air.
Eve sought after the meaning of the sign, in the process, bypassing its context to Roman Emperors, to get to its modern significance. He is okay, Eve decided, even as he rolled onto shaky legs, grinned and waved, with a wink.
Breathing was easier, after that. That is odd, Eve determined. My response was too similar to one driven by emotions.
Eve put her new concern behind her and backed up to make her running jump. She had no recollections of athletics in her background, other than martial arts. Her friends had always encouraged her to go out for softball, basketball and soccer teams. The high school track coach had approached her about running and jumping, but she had no memories of competing, or even declining those invites.
That was Niccola,she thought. Niccola would have raised too many questions, by shattering high school marks in all sports and obliterating world track and field records. I am Eve, and scientists made me,she decided firmly. In the back of her mind, she felt something that made her more focused and determined to survive and succeed in her life, while she questioned, To what purpose did they strive to create me?
Eve broke into a sprint that lasted ten strides. Then she leaped for the apartment rooftop. She floated on the wind, almost flying on it, as she sailed toward Merle.
“Oh, hell!” he swore, while he ducked and Eve floated over him. As she lightly touched down on concrete, he poked his head up and said softly, “New Olympic Record, right there. Wow!”
Eve smirked and waved for Merle to follow her to the door. It opened easily. No one can get up here, except by using the stairs, Eve reasoned. She smiled again, for the ways she and Merle had arrived at this building.
Wasted steps did not fit Eve’s hurry and haste, so she sprang to the landing without using them. When she glanced back, Merle was hobbling down behind her. He waved her on and called quietly, “Keep on, now. I’ll catch up.”
The stairs wound back. Eve padded down, being thankful for her soft steps, but still regretful that Verus-sized boots failed to meet her footwear need. A door opened onto a hallway that ran north-to-south, and intersected at the midpoint of the building by an east-west corridor that likely held the exits. In fact, Eve was certain of the layout, as if she was studying the building blueprint.
I am seeing the floor plan,she realized, without checking up. Thomas is parked by the east exit. How did he know I would come this way? Eve wondered, as she turned toward the exit she needed. Interior lights reflected off the window glass of the door, which obscured her view of the four-by-four. She might have slowed her paces, but her danger sense was low.
As Eve released the door and it swung open, with a clack and a squeal, she saw a driver she did not expect to see. Through trailing beads of rain on the passenger window, she saw the dark curls and whiskery face of Verus. She stopped, causing Merle to bump into her.
The trucker caught Eve and saved her a fall. Meanwhile, Verus reached into the passenger seat and tugged Thomas upright, while he twitched a thumb to the back. Eve hesitated.
Merle sidled past her to open the rear door. “Come on,” he said. “We have to go.”
Eve might have thought Verus was a clone, but she was in no danger that she could tell. It is Verus, and not a clone, she decided. Still, I do not know if I can trust this man.
Verus barked the thought, Get in!
“Whoa!” Merle exclaimed. “What are you doin’, drivin’?”It is okay, I think,Eve thought, with a touch of her fingertips to the trucker’s shoulder. We have to go. Get in.

Copyright 2013 David S. Wells