Chuck Wendig's Flash Fiction Challenge: Must Love Dinosaurs

Chuck Wendig, writer of such titles as MOCKINGBIRD, BLACKBIRDS, and CONFESSIONS OF A FREELANCE PENMONKEY (a personal favorite that you MUST read...read it!), posts a weekly Flash Fiction Challenge on his blog. This week, in celebration of the debut of his Kickstarter-backed book DINOCALYPSE NOW! Chuck's challenge involved Dinosaurs.

I LOVE Dinosaurs.

So here is my entrance into Chuck Wendig's Flash Fiction Challenge: Must Love Dinosaurs, titled: THE HUNTED.

Enjoy!

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THE HUNTED
by Christopher Meyer

Turin slid through the thick undergrowth of the verdant forest without a sound. His feet passed plants and twigs in slow, steady arcs as he prowled forward. Around him the denizens of the forest called and roared.

There was a rush of leathery wings above as an avian creature shot by.

Turin remained calm and continued on, but his grip on the spear in his right hand tightened.

There was the slightest scrape of a plant behind him and Turin froze. Turin’s lean, muscular form didn’t move an inch as he waited and listened. It was a long few moments before he began to move again.

Turin had to be careful, lest he ceased to be the hunter and became the hunted.

From the position of the sun to his left Turin could tell he was making good time. It was still morning. There was plenty of daylight left to find his prey, kill it, and return to the village. A small smile crept across his tanned, scarred face.

Suddenly a plant behind Turin shivered and cracked.

Turin spun, keeping low, and jabbed his spear in front of him. His heart raced and sweat sprang from his brow. He had been so careful. How had they snuck up behind him?

There was a flurry movement, then two feathered reptiles leapt into the air, pecking at one another before flying off.

False alarm.

Turin waited a moment as his heart slowed and the adrenaline drained from his veins. His whipchord muscles, coiled and ready for a fight, relaxed. Turin waited another moment in case the commotion had covered the noise of someone – or something – else.

When Turin did finally move it was slow. Each individual body part moved while the rest of his body remained. First his leg swung around in a ponderous arc, followed by the lower part of his torso. As the rest of his body turned his head scanned the area around him and his eyes scrutinized every detail. The spear clasped firmly in his hands followed his turn.

Nothing.

When Turin was absolutely sure that nothing was following him he moved forward once more.

After what seemed like an eternity of cautious movement Turin came upon a downed tree. The massive trunk blocked his direct path, and going around would take longer. He looked up to see the sun through the dense canopy. The giant yellow orb was almost directly overhead.

Turin couldn’t be delayed.

Turin hoisted himself up on the fallen tee, ensuring to keep his body close to the trunk so as to not expose himself as much. He led with his right side, his spear forward in case there was danger on the other side. Little by little Turin worked his way over the tree.

Turin was almost to the other side when his foot made contact with something soft and wet. A moment later his foot slipped, and Turin toppled to the ground on the far side of the downed tree. He landed with a loud thump, his spear thrown from his hand.

He cursed himself as he jumped to retrieve his weapon and backed against the tree trunk in a defensive posture. He should have been more careful, Turin told himself. He had made a child’s mistake in his rush to reach his bounty. As he scanned the area he looked up to the tree to see what had fowled his footing. A disturbed patch of moss met his gaze.

Stupid, he told himself.

Another few tense moments and Turin set off again. He moved slightly faster now, wary of the sun creeping across the sky above him. It seemed that every moment the shadows become a little longer. Sweat began to pour down Turin’s face. He tried to keep focused as perspiration stung his eyes.

Several times Turin stopped to listen when he thought he heard movement.

Each time Turin had a growing feeling of being watched, but each time there was nothing but the forest.

Turin came to the edge of a small clearing and stopped. Finally he was there. Before him sat three small craters, each piled up with soil and dead vegetation. Within these depressions were eggs the size of Turin’s fist. Returning with just one would solidify his place within village elite. Two would propel him to greater heights.

Turin’s goal sat atop the eggs.

The female Velociraptor was hunkered down over the nest nearest where Turin crouched. Her long head twitched back and forth, scanning the area around her for scavengers or larger predators. Every once in a while the female raptor would tilt her head to the side and listen.

Killing her would make him a king amongst his people.

The trick was pulling it off and returning to the village – alive.

Turin crouched lower, building energy in his powerful legs in preparation to spring forward and spear his prize. Every muscle in his body coiled in anticipation of the attack.

Turin was focused.

His spear was ready.

Everything was silent.

Suddenly the forest around Turin came alive.

Turin jumped in surprise and turned to see what was happening.

Five lean forms materialized from the dense vegetation. Rows of razor sharp teeth glared at Turin as the pack hunters closed in.

Turin’s heart sank. He had been the prey all along. When the raptors had picked up his trail, Turin didn’t know. His whole endeavor had been pointless.

Turin swore he would die honorably as the raptors pounced.

He didn’t get the chance to raise his spear. Turin didn’t even have time to scream.

One of the raptors, a young male, lifted its head from its prey and sounded a victory roar.

Then the forest was silence once again...

Excerpt - The Technocrat Draft

I've been writing (like a boss).

Like all great pieces of fiction, I had to leave the first part of the next novel alone for a while. I've been inundated with work, homework, and studying for a professional certification. They aren't excuses, but they are pretty good reasons.

Here and there I've worked on the next novel, THE TECHNOCRAT, and wanted to share a bit of what I've completed. I'm thinking of doing this in a chapter-by-chapter style. I write a chapter, get it edited and rewrite until beautiful, then sell each chapter individually for $0.10-0.25. Yes, that is 10-25cents (USD).

We'll see, I still have a lot of writing to do. Until then, enjoy this excerpt from the draft of THE TECHNOCRAT:

The Democratic Republic of Haven Butte

Titan, Saturn

08 January 2306

            The wind howled and moaned as it swept through the deserted streets of Haven Butte. Curfew was in effect. No one dared brave the city at night, lest they be spotted by the army and gunned down. No questions would be asked. There would be no hearings or investigations. The Revolutionary Council was clear on the curfew. Dissident elements still infested Haven Butte. The curfew was for the good of the people.

Judd Wooller watched from the window in his darkened apartment as a patrol of six Revolutionary Army troopers (more like children playing at war) and a technical moved by on the street below. Judd noticed that some of the idiots didn’t even have full kit. Some had load bearing gear while others stuffed magazines and canteens in the pockets of their cold weather clothing. They carried their weapons as if they were on a hunting trip. It was a miracle they had managed to overthrow the king and his ruling elite.

“This place is crawling with patrols,” the man beside Judd said in a whisper.

The patrol moved past and Judd breathed a sigh of relief.

“They’re gone,” Judd said.

“How long has it been?” the other man asked.

“A little over a month,” Judd said.

“Lord d’Helion wouldn’t leave his investment and us to die. . .would he?”

Judd shook his head. “We’re far from Mars, Patrick. Who knows what’s happening on the mons, or the red planet.”

Patrick’s shoulders slumped.

“But, if we wait any longer these revolutionaries will come after us,” Judd said.

“How would we get out?” Patrick asked. “The nearest city-state is over two hundred kilometers from here. Titan may be more developed in terms of terraforming than other moons, but we would still die in the wilderness.”

“Better that than be tortured to death for any connection with the previous government.”

Patrick couldn’t argue with Judd’s logic.

Judd walked away from the window and into the apartment’s kitchen. A pot of fresh coffee sat on the counter. Though it was late at night neither man could sleep. Judd poured himself a large mug of the brew and sat down at the kitchen table.

Patrick still stood. He wrung his hands and looked around the apartment as if he was watching a mouse run along the floor.

“Sit down,” Judd said. “You’re making me nervous.”

“How can you be so calm?”

“I’m not. But unlike you I can control my emotions. Get yourself a cup of coffee and sit down. It’s not like there’s a whole lot we can do anyway.”

Patrick trudged over to the counter and retrieved a mug from the cabinet overhead.

Suddenly there was a knock on the door.

Patrick jumped and let go of the mug. The ceramic cup hurtled to the floor and shattered into a dozen pieces.

“Open up,” a gruff voice said. “Revolutionary Army. Random inspection.”

Patrick cursed.

Judd waved Patrick down and got up to answer the door.

“Good evening, sir,” the ragamuffin soldier said. “Identification please.”

“I need to get it,” Judd said. “Please come in.”

The soldier at the door and a second trooper strode into the flat. Judd took note that neither man kept both hands on their assault rifles.

Judd pulled his and Patrick’s identification cards out of a drawer and presented them to the first soldier.

The boy glanced at the cards and then at Judd.

“These aren’t authorized identification cards,” he said.

“We’re contractors,” Judd said. He neglected to mention their nationality. “We got stuck here during the revolution. Every time we try to apply for new ID’s we’re turned away.”

The soldier looked at each of them with a suspicious eye.

“Run the cards,” the first soldier said. “They could be on the kingdom database.”

The other trooper produced a handheld scanner and ran each card. The device chimed and displayed the readings.

Judd Wooller knew he was in trouble when the two soldiers shared a look and their demeanors changed.

“We’re going to need you to come with us,” the first soldier said.

“Is there a problem?” Judd asked.

“You’re Olympian.”

“Is that a crime?”

The soldier leveled his assault rifle at Judd’s midriff. “The Olympus Mons Technocracy supported the King and his regime. We have specific instructions to bring you in for questioning.”

More like interrogation, Judd thought.

The second soldier moved to secure Patrick, and the first soldier looked to watch.

Moron.

At that moment Judd launched himself at the first soldier and tackled him. The trooper fell hard and let go of his weapon. Before the man could react Judd pummeled his face with punches. The soldier’s companion turned to see what was happening, only to have Patrick smash him across the face with a mean right hook.

Before Judd could grab the dropped weapon four more Revolutionary Army soldiers barged into the apartment and leveled their weapons at Judd and Patrick.

Judd and Patrick raised their hands in defeat.

They were roughed up before being cuffed with zip ties and shoved out of the flat and through the apartment building. Dark bruises were forming on Judd’s and Patrick’s faces, and several cuts to their faces and heads bled. To Patrick’s credit he remained straight faced and dry eyed.

“We didn’t want trouble,” the first soldier said as he wiped his bloody nose. “We just wanted to ask some questions. But now you’re in for it.”

“I’ve spent my time in the military,” Judd said. “I already know what’s going to happen.”

The six soldiers shoved Judd and Patrick outside into the cold, dark night. The roads were slick with packed snow – there had been no municipal services since the King had been overthrown. Patrick slipped and fell flat on his back.

“Get up,” one of the troopers said.

Patrick tried to get his feet under him, but his bound hands made it difficult. He strained his head up as he fought to stand – and stopped.

“Get up,” Judd said, his voice a harsh growl.

Patrick wouldn’t stop staring at the sky.

“What are you looking at?” another soldier asked.

They all turned their attention up. Above them Saturn dominated the sky. Slim, bright streaks decorated the scene with brilliant colors.

“It’s just a meteor shower,” a soldier said.

Judd’s eyes widened as realization sunk in.

“They’re here.”

“What?” the first soldier asked. “What are you talking about?”

The soldiers began to move their prisoners again when the first units hit the ground.

Still Rollin

Another day of marketing the book. Stopped and said hello at Legend Comics. Sold two more copies of Der Sternvolker at Krypton Comics here in Omaha, and the Barnes and Noble off of 144th and L in the Oakview Plaza is looking into carrying it. Books-A-Million off of 132nd and L wanted to carry it, but for some reason can't. They might have to become a CreateSpace Direct member. We'll see.

So I'd say all in all that it was a successful day. Still waiting to hear back from The Bookworm and The Game Shoppe, but it all takes time. Patience is key here. The managers at these store do have other things to do...like run their stores.

So where am I at right now with writing?

The novella Run is in the hands of a friend being edited and I should receive it back any day now and will begin working on reworking and rewriting. When done, Run will be available as both an eBook and as a trade paperback.

On the Facebook page I asked if people would read a short story set in the "Der Sternvolker" universe and critique it. Several people voted they would, and I set out to write that short story.
Here is the beginning.

And here is the end.

The short story (to be named) is 4,356 words in its first draft. I've set it aside for now and will revisit it with a first edit in about a week.

More good stuff to come, so keep your eyes peeled.

Until next time. . .