Excerpt from chapter 7 of a very unfinished first book still untitled. Hope you guys enjoy. If not. Why? Jacob shut the outside door to the greenhouse and pushed Malcolm towards the produce field. A rifle pressed against his back. After a few steps Jacob stopped him and pulled the dirty rag out of his mouth. "I have a question for you. Not on current events. Just a curiosity." Jacob said. Malcolm remained silent. "What would you be if you had found a place like this in the early days after the bombs?" Malcolm looked down at his shoes and then stared off past the field. He began to slowly walk Malcolm beside the field of various produce and greens. Walking to a place that hadn't been occupied in quite some time. The only sound that could be heard was the shin high grass being pushed aside by their feet and the buzzing of various insects. The evening sun was at eye level and both men squinted to compensate. "Picture. For a moment. All of this." He continued to walk behind him and looked around the business park. "Picture it being as much yours as the person next to you. A family. Who loves you. Who will take care of you. Picture yourself in a world where you didn't accept slavery in the first place. What would you be? What would you have become? The respect you could have had without having to force people into it. By impressing or owning a fellow person. The life you had a shot at." Jacob chuckled. "Man that desert ruined you." They arrived at a small circular grassy looking area. A courtyard. With benches and bushes on either side. The group had made it so picturesque despite the ugly memories that resided there. Days of tormenting men for information. Learning the necessity of torture, and interrogation. Many of the hardest things the survivors had to do in the early years after the bombs fell, took place in this area of 300 square feet or so. Jacob showed no signs of grief. It had been awhile, but he had learned the hard way. He'd learned to never trust the guilt. "I lived in that desert you know. Lived there for most of my early life. Gilbert, Arizona. Yes sir. I know exactly how easy it must have been to go from housing development to housing development. Ripping people from their claim to claim them for yourself. My mother. My brothers. My grandmother. All lived there. I would think about that before you go as well. They were sweet people." He turned Malcolm around. Facing him away from the circular plot of turf. Jacob looked at Malcolm in the eyes. He spoke calmly, and with grace. "In your final moments. Once your brother is dead and all his people are laid to the wayside, by either us or god. You will reach into a depth of your mind you didn't know existed. You will break free of all that you have restricted yourself with. By way of judgment. By way of fear. You'll lay there, probably bleeding. Wondering 'What led me here? What mistakes did I make?' You'll note being captured. You'll note being physically bested by a 51 year old surgeon." He looked at him with a grim smile and drowsy eyes. "But most of all Malcolm. You'll note turning your back on humanity." He glanced off at the warehouse, and then back to Malcolm. His face grimaced as he pushed Malcolm on the chest with one hand and cut his hand restraints with the other all in one motion. Malcolm fell through the pseudo grass and onto a spring supported tarp with a single drain hole in the center. A fifteen foot drop. At 100 feet in diameter, the pit was bigger than the hole that led to it. The dirt walls had a concave closer to the hole. Which had a metal apparatus on top of it, making the opening smaller still. Here he would remain for now. Jacob grabbed a metal handle, and pulled a salvaged warehouse door shut over the pit. Malcolm attempting to yell through the door could vaguely be heard through the seal. Jacob spat on the door, then began to walk back to the warehouse. Where close to a thousand awaited some kind of word. It had been so long since a prisoner occupied the pit.
("...reads well, but it might be best to run this in instalments here, in a practice run perhaps..." mentioned the goblin, adding "...why, because books are mostly moving online today with readers less inclined to read at length in straight ebook format, for example mangas come out once a week, their readership far surpasses ebooks today...")
I'll go ahead and start fresh with an excerpt directly from the beginning of the book I'm writing. It's messy, fairly unedited. I like it though. Currently I am up to chapter 12 I think. I've been jumping around to accommodate certain events. It will all come together in time. Feedback is appreciated but not necessary. I'm just happy if you've read some of it. --- Chapter one: Storage The main front door opened with such noise, it quieted anything within earshot. One big mechanical complaint to poor lubrication, rust, and general forced neglect. The door was enormous. Thirty feet by thirty feet. As the door was raised, feet and legs began to show through the bottom opening that was slowly being created. Some waited for it to raise to head level, whilst the impatient bent to go embrace loved ones, or the nearest toilet. Some were from the warehouses nearby to trade between buildings, which was constant. Some were returning from travel of various distances on private affairs. Eric was one to wait patiently. With a large pack on his back, he walked into the main area of reception and commerce. He stood for a moment and breathed in the sights and sounds that were of a familiarity to him. It was reunions with the building like this one, that had taught him a love for the place. His eyes turned to the stencil spray painted sign on the south wall of the room. "Welcome to Warehouse One. No lying. No stealing. No dying. No cooties. No pets. Cats O.K." Written in the early days of relatively calm metaphoric waters. Each member of the six remaining survivors who laid claim to the building contributed a rule. They had managed to survived twelve years. Nearly thirteen now. The main hall past the front door was always full of life. Trading shops, musicians playing acoustically, and general conversation. "So. You've come back again." Eric had heard the voice before. He turned and grew a smile at the sight of an old friend who grabbed his hand and hugged him with his other. "How are you Jacob?" Eric asked, setting his pack down on the floor and sitting on a nearby bench. "I been great. Things have been weird without you around. The rains are really putting out this month so far man, looks like I was right." Jacob replied while lighting a small joint of cannabis and handed it to Eric, who took a heavy drag. "Right on then. Fucking driver almost got us killed on the way here. They're supposed to stop in heavy rain but this guy didn't stop until it got to hurricane force shit." "Oh yeah?" Jacob said, grabbing the joint with clumsy fingers. "Yeah that burst hit us not to long before you guys got back. I was getting a little nervous. Those winds were getting a bit too heavy." Jacob observed this with a lower brow and a concerned face. "I know man, I thought about you worrying your ass off. I figured you'd be loosing it." Eric smiled. "Hey man, this shit keeps this place going." He said holding up the joint. "I'll feel a lot better in a few weeks when I can finally harvest and stop worrying so much." Jacob said. "Do your thing man, no one else would do it like you do." Eric nodded. He grabbed the joint and inhaled the last of its life. "Ive got to get you back to the rack house, I'm not the only one who missed having you around." Jacob said as he stood. "Yeah. I missed being around. For sure though." Eric's hand embraced Jacobs assist to stand, and the two walked towards the main hallway. Over which was faded signs directing traffic of the workers who once treated the building as a workplace. They both were part of the original six. The ones who managed to survive past the horizon of fear over a decade prior. They had went through a lot together. Both had shed blood for the better cause of sanctuary and hope. Eric was 36 now. He was a black man, stood over six feet, and had a bald head. He wore mostly combat fatigues that seemed to be worn looser every year, and walked with a deep structured swagger. Eric was a veteran of operation Iraqi freedom and various other campaigns in Afghanistan. He served with distinction and was traveling by bus through Indiana when the nuclear bombs rained on the innocent cities. His bus was on its way to a military base outside of Columbus to be deployed to the eastern war zones. The bus stalled and choked on interstate 65, just outside of Lebanon, Indiana. He soon detracted from his unit to assist local humanitarians in the warehouse district. The remaining employees of the renamed 'warehouse one' and other survivors in the nearby areas. Jacob, now an even thirty, was just short of six feet. He had grown muscular from his work in the fields. A careful look would reveal a skinny frame and several deep scars along his forearms and lower shoulders. Prior to the war and ensuing nuclear hellfire, he worked in the very warehouse he resided as a quality assurance clerk. Checking textbooks for damage before they shipped to schools. He was head of the cannabis field, and the manager of the crop. The lifeline of which the warehouse relied on. For its value in trade and properties of medicine. "So how is Chicago, man?" Jacob asked as the two made their way through the dense traffic of residents or forklifts busy moving through the main artery of the building. "It's dirty. Everyone is dirty. I mean, it's not like everyone is totally disgusting. But the way that city works man. The whores, the tweekers, the pimps, the liquored up people everywhere. It's just like, you know what the norm is and you can't get with it. It makes almost everybody there dirty to me." Eric digressed. "Like a different country?" Jacob said as the two wormed in and out of the way of passing survivors. "Yeah kinda. Except you can understand them when they insult you. I think it's..it might be cause they don't look like us man." Eric said and looked back at Jacob for a quick, poignant contact of eyes. "What do you mean? 'They don't look like us?'" Jacob asked cautiously. Eric looked back once more and hesitated. "They're all still scared." Eric murmured. "They have reason to be, they're in bad company." Jacob replied, stepping up and over a small wood bridge that ran above a series of yellow pipes. "Yeah. I guess." Eric murmured as the two passed through a large door to their left hand side. Labeled at the top was a single faded word. "Storage." The warehouse had transformed, everything had been rearranged or modified in some way. One million square feet divided by half. Half shipping conveyors and light picking lanes. Half storage and bulk shipping. The storage racks, previously accessible by only forklift had been cleared of palletized books to make room for an elaborate network of pallet wood bridges, pulley elevators, and improvised ventilation shafts. Residences built from whatever remained in the nearby area, affectionately referred to as 'rack shacks', occupied a majority of the metal scaffold looking racks. Children ran and played in the various levels of the complex at an irresponsible speed, mothers or siblings running after or with them. The elderly frequented the lifts and the shacks at ground level, along with the leftover pallets of textbooks and the general foot traffic of people trying to get to or from the main artery of foot traffic. Fifteen feet above the ground was the first level of the rack shacks. An almost solid block of condensed housing which would total 500,000 or more square feet if you could manage to squeeze all four separate sections together. Most residents had only 300 feet squared to their name, but everyone made clever use of the custom nature of the development. Each level was separated by ten feet. The first three were mostly residential. Private dwellings and bathroom facilities. Ten feet higher than the third level of residence was a six foot wide pathway that stretched the entire length of the storage section of the warehouse. It was made out of salvaged catwalk from the shipping half of the building and went through the ugly holes punched out in the concrete walls that separated the four sections of housing from each other. Along the catwalk, a few huts of cardboard and planks scattered across the sidelines of the walkway. The winter homes of the souls who dared to live near the ceiling to absorb extra heat during the winter. It was also home to a large portion of the warehouses cat population. Which had near quadrupled in the years past. They were a noted soft spot in the minds of many survivors. Thanks in large part to the lack of trained veterinary personnel, which stood firmly at one. The ceiling itself had scattered spools of wire coming in from the dense network of solar panels on the sky side. The wires ran along the support beams to the ground level, then into yellow painted conduit pipes on ground level. Warehouse one was home to a lot of people. The population of people had swelled soon after the remaining survivors managed to pull together with those who remained nearby. Those who once had sustainable homesteads. Those who had travelled seeking society. Those who had their own nearby warehouses.
Continuation/conclusion to chapter one. I find that I'm rewriting 90% of this stuff as I go. This section is new. The next chapter might not be, but it is what it is. I wonder if ill ever get this thing finished, it seems like an endless correction. Last weeks writings seem infantile compared to the updated vision. I'm sure I'll find something I can be happy with for longer than a week. I hope I'm not the only one who does this. It feels so counter productive. --- The two passed the rack house. Both in continuous conversation, catching up with one an other. Eric was heading to the back side of the rack shacks to the large bulletin board that kept everyone up to date on the electricity limitations, shower availability, and future meetings. Not every resident frequently checked it but if you wanted to tap the grid of electrical power, it was essential. Otherwise you would eventually be found and punished. The white board in the center was worn from years of write-then erase daily updates. Some parts of the board were unusable from the accidental use of permanent marker. Showers were usually without serious limitations, but the electricity availability always fluxes this time of year. "Due to the lack of solar energy getting through. Power usage remains in the red until further notice. Abstain from non essential electronic use. Violation of this notice may result in reassignment, temporary housing relocation, or (in extreme cases) expungement from the building. Thanks for your cooperation. - Tom the tan man." "Aw shit." Eric sighed. Looking at the center white board. "I'm sorry man. We can head up to the roof with my pad and charge up some stuff if you want." Jacob said with a hand on Eric's shoulder. "Nah. I guess the quiet would do me good. Nothing like coming home to some good tunes though." Eric lightly punched the white board out of frustration. "It's because of the sunshine he isn't getting up there. Thomas has been doing a great job though. Haven't had a single spike since you left." Jacob said. "He's taken it as serious as his first day for six years." "Well fuck. Okay let's go drop off my stuff and maybe I can hit up chow town. I'm feeling some of those fancy ass breadsticks." Eric and Jacob turned and headed to the closest pulley lift. Both men stood in the center of the six by six wooden lift. Jacob closed the pallet wood gate and let out a whistle towards the higher levels of the racks. Slowly but surely, the lift cleared the pavement. Eric had his hand on one of the ropes that were secured to the main nylon that was connected to the pulley system at the top. "So how's Linda? Better yet, how's her cats?" Eric chuckled. "It's becoming less and less of a problem. She told me the other day that she believes they've spayed or neutered nearly 60% of them. We had an incident a week ago. One of the little kids threw one off the fourth tier. Cat broke a leg, Linda was pissed. Yelled at the kid and everything." "Oh I can only imagine." Eric nodded. "I had to step in and get her out of there. The kid knows not to do that again. He was crying man. Linda just didn't get that enough was enough." Jacob sighed as he and Eric cleared the highest level of the lift, which soon came to a halt. Standing near the edge was a younger man, with a near enormous structure. He stood at the turn crank pulley system that lifted the manual elevators. He was part of the dozen or so men who had been designated to run the lifts. "Eliot, right"? Eric said. Looking at the man. "Yeah. Either you two are fatter than I remember, or it's near end day." Eliot laughed. Both Eric and Jacob laughed with him. "I think were about an hour away man. Hang in there, bet you'll be glad to hear about my idea I'm pushing at the next meeting." Jacob said, both him and Eric beginning to walk towards the catwalk. "Oh yeah. What's that?" Eliot asked. "I'm going to see if I can't get you guys to rotate. That way you won't be cranking the same lift all day. At least it will be a change of scenery." Jacob shrugged. "Yeah. It would be nice. When is the next meeting?" Eliot called. Jacob stopped and called back. "We were thinking later this week. Maybe Thursday. Keep an eye on the board." The two walked the catwalk atop the rack houses. Going through one of the holes in the concrete walls before taking makeshift steps down to the third tier of housing. Then through the wooded passageways to Eric's home. Along the way, Eric was greeted by those who hadn't seen him in awhile. It was obvious that the warehouse lost quite a bit when he wasn't around. "So have you been taking Snoop out every once in awhile"? Eric asked. "Of course dude. I'll bet he will be exited to see you." Jacob said with a smirk, as the two stopped at Eric's door. Eric looked around to make sure no one was listening. "They took it all. Said we could come back in a week. He gave me the location of a farm just south of the suburbs. Said they would hook us up with what they can spare, which sounds like a lot. Unless that one guy was bullshitting, we should be up to our ears in corn once we get it all back here." "Good. No complaints about the quality"? Jacob said with an extremely serious look. "God dammit man. That guy was just fucking with you. It was what, two years ago? If they want to grow better stuff, and worry about it. They can. " Eric scoffed sarcastically. "My bad. It's my job to worry about it. Good things trade for good things." Jacob sighed. "You're right, but stop worrying. Please dude." Eric put his hand on Jacobs shoulder, then hugged him. "I'll catch you later. I'm gonna take snoop out, then I'll probably get some food, then sleep. I'm tired as hell" Eric proclaimed. "Sounds good, I'm going to go check the field. Make sure that everything is in good order. Then probably eat up. Can't say I've been sleeping much though." Jacob said, looking at the wooded floor. "You will. Once you can finally clip and sit. You'll be fine. Later man." Eric patted Jacob on the shoulder, opened the door and embraced his favorite dog. Which barked and panted, and tried to get out to smell everything it saw. Jacob turned and walked towards the closest set of stairs, and climbed down to the ground floor. Sighing relief at the return of an old friend.
("...keep an eye on the hitcount then, for that doubles up as your readership here, however, I'm not the right type of creature to be advising you anyway..." replied the goblin who understood forum readership well, but had no experience is adapting books to it, adding "...I mean I don't know what will work these days, only that clearly what has worked for that publishing world to date won't work any longer since their readership is falling, so perhaps you'll have to experiment between their book writing ways there and these post writing ways here, if it helps, think of a tablet rather that ebook reader as the way these posts will be mostly read...")
