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Member
Join Date: Mar 2008
Posts: 1
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Work in progress (first 1k words)
[[Not exactly edited to the highest standard. My question to you is, does it capture your attention at all? More?]]
In total I am entering the 6th chapter.
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Ch1.
"Investigators are still seeking motives after a third day at the Uruk compound. The human casualties reported as of now are minimal. However, staff claims the data lost in the explosion will take years to replace." Smoke rose to the ceiling blurring the closed captions of the bar's television. "Notice the strong walls", a tired man talking intensively through his inebriation. "Those kids didn't even know what they were doing.” The bartender nodded toward the television and motioned his shot glass upward. "Obviously they did". The screen played reels of the damage. The thick outer wall pierced by a massive car bomb, resulting in a three-story building being skeletonized by a second blast. Shortly after the subtitles continued, "Condolences to the families who lost loved ones in the attack."
Murphy stood tall, paying his tab and tipping quite well. He finished his drink at the bar and took the coaster. Murphy walked out into the airport lobby, grinning as he listened to the bartender comment on the missing coaster under his breath. "Yeah, sure, those are free...” He made his way to his flight terminal, being greeted by a chubby black man. "Hey, Murph," He said with a large smile, "You look very ready for this flight, am I right? You should have told me you were going to the bar, now you owe me one." Red's smile cut through people, no one can help but to smile right back. "Nah, you don't understand. I wanted the coaster." Murphy began to smile, giving in to Red's nature. Red raised an eyebrow, "You know, coasters don’t grow on trees..." Murphy and Red pulled out their tickets as a voice over the intercom directed them to their flight. Murphy took a deep breath, "I've never left the country before. My dad took all the foreign contracts." Red looked back, "Well, luckily we're being sent to a place with a bunch of other American contracted companies. It will probably be like working in Boston." Murphy's eyes sank, "Well I was hoping to meet some interesting people, I bet they have McDonalds." Red and Murphy boarded the airbus with their construction crew promptly following.
"Search the wreckage!" A thin brown haired Irishman yelled. "We may have lost something of significance to Dr. Glassman. You must report all your findings to me first!" Murphy's newly contracted team began cleaning the area. Looking around at each other, not knowing exactly what they were instructed to find, they began working the scene of the blast. Moving large pieces of cement and shredded steel with their hydraulic lifts. The team separated the debris into three parts: Rubble, electronics, and bodies.
Murphy was sick at the damage. The sight of bodies never bothered him; it was the smells in the wreckage. Burning electronics pushed fumes into the air: burned hair, skin, and clothes. All forcing their way into his lungs. He could taste the thick smells and wished every moment for a mask. The body count was low; a few that looked to have been working as physicians, wearing seared lab coats and melted nametags. Three grown men that looked to be civilians and several adolescents at separate ages. All male, ranging from two to fifteen years old. The computer equipment was basic, older computers, televisions, and data storage. Murphy felt a certain feeling of accomplishment. He was right, these terrorists didn't know what they were hitting. "This building was for the ill." He kept thinking. Murphy, not knowing the name of the Irishman, raised his arm and yelled in his direction, "Hey!" The still nameless Irishman approached, "What do we have here?" Murphy escorted him through the skeletonized building. Pointing out structural flaws that would need to be taken care of if they were to salvage the building. "What's your name?" Murphy muttered while stepping over broken glass and torn metal. There was an uncomfortably long silence before he answered. "O'Brien" he said. "My friends call me O'Brien... My boss calls me that as well." Murphy quickly replied, "sounds good O'Brien, lets go look at some stuff for your boss." The two men walked around a large pile of broken cement and shredded metal pillars into view of the computer equipment Murphy's team had gathered. O'Brien bent over, "Is it safe?" he asked. "Watch the monitors, they carry a charge for a while even after unplugged." Murphy replied. O'Brien pulled his clipboard close and inspected the serial numbers. Looking from hard drive to hard drive, he pocketed two of them and pointed at the pile. "This it?" He said. "If there is more of it found contact me directly." Murphy replied in his most professional tone, "Care to view the casualties? We, uh, have them, ... bagged, behind the building." O'Brien looked Murphy in the face, "No, I was the first one here." Murphy knew how hard it was on people to lose friends, although he never lost someone close. His father and mother were elderly but healthy and needed no special care/ Although his sympathy was legitimate, he never was able to look someone in the eyes and say he truly understands.
O'Brien took a deep breath and in a monotone voice quickly asked, "How many corpses did you recover Murphy?" Murphy admired the ability to shut down emotions, to set aside feelings. Murphy was never capable. "Eleven." He replied. "Six adults, five children and teenagers." Murphy started to ask, "Are you sure you don't want." "No." O'Brien said directly. "Your word is enough." He pulled out his clipboard and started writing; his face became more firm and cold. "Murphy, could you do us a favor?" "Yes." Murphy replied. O'Brien began, "If you would be so kind Mr. Murphy, as to take care of the bodies for us. Take them in a truck to garage B and just leave it there, Our staff will take it from there." Murphy told Red what to do and wandered off across the desert ground of the compound looking for the garage.
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