This week, because of Nationals and the fact that Kimberly and Kristen are gone off to have fun without all us (sniffle), I thought we could go easy this week for How I Write and post our favourite scene so far in a current WIP. This small snippet of the scene I’m going to post is from Not Quite Dead and it’s where we meet Trip for the first time.
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Shoving her fists into her pockets, she limped her way through the thick foliage. Over the years, as nature took back the city, marshland had become commonplace. They were everywhere now, feeding off the flooded sewer and subway systems. What had taken centuries to build had taken a few months to be destroyed. Heavy rains overloaded the pump, spilling the water into the streets and houses. Buildings corroded. Rioters broke into stores and empty houses.
A sign, half covered in rust and weeds stuck out on a diagonal. Trespassers will be shot. Survivors will face the Eaters.
Or at least, that was what she thought it said. It was horribly written on old, reused street sign, some letters drawn backwards or missing altogether.
Despite the sign and willing to take her chances, Sera kept on the small animal- or zombie-worn trail. She hadn’t gone far when she heard the snap of branches.
“The sign says keep out. What? Don’t you have eyes or are you just mad?” he snapped. “Well? Speak up now. I’m not a mind reader. There’s no need to be rude when spoken to…unless an Eater has bitten your tongue off that is.”
Sera heard a click and felt the press of something against her head. She swung around to face the voice and jolted back so suddenly that her leg gave out from under her when she came inches from a man hanging upside down in the trees. His face was so close to hers she could feel his breath against her cheek.
“Well hiya, Sweets. All in one piece, I see.” The man known as Trip shot her a toothy grin.
Reaching up, he got a grip on the tree limb and twisted his body so that he could drop back down to the ground. His hat had fallen from his very blue head of hair. He snatched it up off the ground and rolled it off his wrist, flicking it up onto his head. With a quick adjustment, he tipped it forward, spearing blue hair up against the rim.
“Now, I know you’re not deliberately trying to be obtuse. I find you. Not the other way around. That was the arrangement. You don’t do what you’re told very well.”
“And blue isn’t your color,” she spat back at him. He’d dyed his hair since the last time she’d seen him.
“I thought it was time for a change. Change is good. It adds character.” He spun around in a shuffling dance, hands out to the side. Instead of the shirt and vest he usually wore, he had on a leather jacket, worn at the elbows, over a pair of faded jeans. “You like?”
“I think you should be focused on something other than your looks.” She massaged her calf, checking quickly to make sure she hadn’t torn the wound open. She understood the ironic statement the moment it came out, but she needed to look differently in order to survive.
Not like a ridiculous peacock among the partridges.
“Eh.” He rolled his shoulders. “Look, darling, I know you may not get the concept of trying to do something ‘normal’ but here’s the dealio, you really should at least try to blend in. You’re not doing yourself any favors by walking around looking as though you’ve jumped off a petri dish.” A dark brow, pierced with a metal bar, lifted. His mismatched green and brown eyes sparkled with amusement, or perhaps she just imagined they did because of the charcoal liner.
“I don’t need fashion tips from you.” She shoved up off the ground, dusting the dirt from her legs.
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Don’t forget to check out my accountability partners in crime: Danie Ford, Emma G. Delaney, Kimberly Farris, Kristen Koster
