Year Older

Just recently having celebrated a birthday, I get to say that I am one year older. Although I am uncertain whether the second half of that common phrase applies, in other words, I am unsure if I am also one year wiser. Don’t get me wrong, I would like to think that I am wiser. I think that I have learned a little more about the publishing process than I did last year as I approach the release date of my second novel.

I remember I was watching a show a long time ago, it was about Ian Fleming, the writer of the James Bond novels. On this show, Fleming revealed that he worked on multiple projects at the same time. While writing one Bond book he would also be editing the last one he wrote, and then planning out the next one. At the time I thought I could do as he had done so easily but now I see that I can add the phrase “it is easier said than done” to my repertoire.

I have also learned that you should not use clichés when writing. I know this may seem obvious but after getting into the flow of writing, you don’t want to stop the progess to think of a brand new catch phrase that will enthrall the masses. What I do is write the clichés during the moment of creation then during the editing process, replace them with something better. I’ve learned that getting in a daily quota becomes tougher as you take on more projects. It also becomes easier to take on new projects than to find the drive to finish ones already started. A discipline is developed over time, where habits are formed that become beneficial. Now that I have been writing “professionally”, I find that if I go a couple of days without writing then start to miss the process and my characters. Along this journey of writing a three part book series you learn that it gets easier to repeat yourself than you think it is. You learn your characters inside and out, if you didn’t know them all that well at the beginning; throughout the process each character unfolds like a blooming flower.

I’m not sure if learning new things makes you wiser but hopefully as the years go by, I can figure it out as I go along, sort of the same way I write my novels. 

By Andre Alan

Writing Apology

I must apologize for not putting anything up here in so long. A friend of mine challenged me to create as much content in thirty days as possible. So with that being said, it was time to “man-up” and accept the challenge and get to writing. 

If you’re a writer then get to writing because only writing does writing. The words won’t appear out of thin air and onto the page (unless you have some special skill, if so, I NEED IT). I have so many ideas about stories that I want to write that it is hard to find time to do all of the little things that need to be done. But in preparation for a new short story series titled “The Power Array Saga” (download Part One from the EVapor ENT company website – link below) I have been trying to stay within a certain state of mind. 

When I say that, I do not mean that I am trying to stay intoxicated for the entire day from some foreign or toxic substance but I do want to try and stay intoxicated with writing. It is very difficult to put myself into the “writer-mode” and rip off over a thousand words without being distracted by something. People have real lives which intrude upon the inner worlds that we have created. 

To all the writers out there, my advice to you is to try and stay intoxicated off the fantasy worlds and interesting characters that you have created. Not everyone has the skill that some of us science fiction, fantasy writers have so be thankful for you gift and get back to writing.

~ Andre Alan

www.evaporent.com

Win on the Run part 3

VII – Calm Before the Storm

               Winnie Nikoli lay on her back for how long, she was not sure, she had lost track of the time. The straps on her ankles and wrist had long ago begun to chaff and turn her skin raw and red. The catheter was more of an irritant than anything else. She longed to get up and walk around. She could feel her muscles beginning to atrophy and turn to slush, unsure what type of cocktail mixture was leaking from the IV and being pumped into her veins. Clacking high heeled shoes marched down the hall and turned inside of Winnie’s room. She did not need to open her eyes in order to know who had come calling.

               “Are you ready for your execution, Ms. Nikoli?” asked agent Connor with arms folded. She tried to conceal the grin on her face.

               “Won’t make any difference,” replied Winnie.

               “On the contrary, Ms. Nikoli. We need this to look as authentic as possible. You will not be moving of course. We have already learned how dangerous that can be. But your body double will be seen as getting shot but she obviously won’t die. She is actually a good friend of mine, Wanda, from accounting. She was surprised when agents approached her to be a body double. Ha, ha, too funny. Anyway, when your son shows up and tries to rescue you, that’s when we will nab him.”

               “Good luck,” said Winnie with a grimace.

               “I don’t need your luck, Ms. Nikoli. I make my own. We captured you, didn’t we. Sit tight will you,” said Connor with a wry smile and a giggle. “I need to be early in order to grab a good view of your death.”

VIII – The Get Away

               Marvel Nikoli watched the attractive young agent walk out of the room, brown curls bouncing as they fell around her shoulders. He dropped silently to the floor. “That lady seems really annoying,” he whispered into this mother’s ear causing her to jump. She likely would have leapt from the bed had she not been strapped down.

               “What are you doing here?” replied Winnie in a hushed tone. She tried not to move her lips, unsure if her room was monitored or bugged although it was a high probability.

               “I went to visit Foy,” said Marvel.

               “Holy hell Marv,” sighed Winnie. “Why in the world would you do that honey?”

               Sirens and alarms burst to life as if to answer her question. The short brunette agent came running back into the room nimbly despite the high heels and Marvel saw her eyes widen in shock at seeing him standing in the corner enveloped by shadows. Before agent Connor could speak she received a shot to the chest with a dart which immediately took her into unconsciousness. Marvel unstrapped his mother from the bed. With Winnie now able to move about freely Marvel gave her a boost towards the opening in the ceiling that he had descended from. Once inside the ventilation shaft she pulled Marvel inside. Trying to move as quietly as they could while crawling on all fours, Marvel led the way.

               “Let me guess,” said Winnie in a quiet whisper, sweat made tracks through the dust covering her face. “Foy wanted to launch an attack as a diversion and then let you sneak in during the commotion?”

               “It sounded like a good idea at the time,” replied Marvel. “Why?”

               “That’s the only plan he can ever come up with,” said Winnie with a groan. “Where is the rendezvous?”

               “Just up ahead. Get ready to slide.”

               Marvel put his hands out in front of him and took a nose dive down a shaft.

               Winnie followed after waiting several seconds, giving Marvel time to move and unsure what she would find at the bottom of the ride.

               Landing onto the fresh linen of new laundry in the basement of the complex was a pleasant surprise to Winnie. Marvel had moved the cart into position earlier while sneaking through the building. Thanks to the blueprints downloaded to his PDA that was programmed by Kira, he was able to plot a course that would offer the least resistance. Not to mention the fact that the device allowed him to monitor all of the agents in the building and their current location in real time. He watched as they ran and scrambled to and fro.

               “Where to?” asked Winnie.

               On the PDA Marvel brought up a 3-D, virtual image of the building reminding him of those pop-up picture books he played with as a child. He was able to manipulate the tall, spired building with his fingers. He zoomed into the basement area by pinching the interactive layout with index finger and thumb then slowly pulling the digits apart. The thirty foot wide basement expanse swooped down like a hawk catching prey. The screen showed the empty rectangular cube shaped area with just two green balls of light positioned closely together.

               “The two green dots are us,” said Marvel. “According to Foy there should be a package in the north west corner.”

               Winnie stalked over to the corner of the room and searched behind the pipes that protruded from the grey stone walls. Searching the area, her hands traversed the wall and pushed in one of the large rectangular bricks. She was rewarded with an audible click. One of the stone blocks slid out like a dresser drawer. Winnie grabbed the back pack from the waist high compartment and unzipped it. She pulled out two, black, waterproof body suits and tossed one to Marv. They each turned around and slipped into the suits. Once they donned the gear it hung lose in several areas.

Winnie was happy to get out of the thin and poorly constructed hospital gown. She pushed the white circular button on the belt of the suit. The suit shrunk around her chocolate colored skin and fit snug like a diving suit. Still inside the hidden compartment were two helmets and two power packs. They each equipped the helmets which sprung to life instantly. The shaded visor could switch between different viewing modes, night vision and infrared. There was a compass and a GPS guided mini-map in the bottom corners of the Heads-Up-Display.

               They heard the sound of metal scraping against stone. Marvel and Winnie stared at each other with startled eyes like deer caught in the headlights. They quickly scrambled behind the bins used to transport clothes. Marvel jumped into one of the carts while Winnie stooped behind another, hand concealing the small caliber twenty two pistol in her palm that was also in the hidden compartment.

               A sewer cover opened in the middle of the room. Winnie ventured a peek around the corner, curiosity getting the better of her and relief flooded through her at the sight of Foy’s head swiveling above the opening.

               “About time,” said Winnie. She sprung from around the cart and shook Marvel as she passed by him.

               “Foy, thank the Gods you found us,” said Marvel. He leapt from the bin, leaving a trail of linen sheets in his wake.

               “Hurry up,” said Foy. His head disappeared down the hole. “Hop in.”

               They practically ran to the opening. Winnie made sure that Marvel went down the ladder first so she could watch to make sure he entered the submersible successfully. As she extended her foot over the edge, double doors on the opposite side of the basement burst open with agent Cheryl Connor at the lead.

“Freeze Nikoli!” shouted agent Conner. Other agents in camouflage body armor raised their guns, taking aim as they dropped to one knee.

Winnie’s eyes widened as she saw what they were about to do. “Okay, okay, I surrender,” said Winnie.

“Take your hands from behind your back,” said agent Connor, approaching cautiously. She pulled a gas mask down over her face as she stepped closer; the other agents did the same. “Where is your son?”

Winnie heard the shouts of protest coming from the hole behind her. She knew what needed to be done. In order to keep her son, Marvel Nikoli safe and away from the government agents forever, there was only one thing left for her to do.

“I said raise your hands!” agent Connor crept forward with the pace of a snail. “Do not try anything stupid. We will drop you before you can even form the thought.”

Winnie slowly raised one hand from behind her back, fingers spread as her hand hovered above her head.

“Now the other one,” demanded agent Connor.

Before the agents could respond, Winnie quickly pulled the small twenty two caliber pistol seemingly from thin air. The last thing she remembered was pulling the trigger as the cold steel aimed at her head.

IX – Victory in Defeat

               Beep… beep… beep… Winnie Nikoli knew the sound of the machines must be her funeral anthem. She had awoken to that sound so many times; maybe they played it in hell as part of her punishment to torment her. Opening her eyes preparing to see the familiar tiles of the hospital and to her surprise it was the night sky with stars sparkling. Winnie did not know what to make of her surroundings, never before had the agents brought her outside after capturing her; maybe they were just going to execute her for real this time. She tried to sit up.

               “Easy there,” said a familiar voice in her ears. Winnie tried to sit up but something heavy was pressing against her chest. She looked down to see the sleeping head of her son Marvel and the tears burst forth uncontrollably.

               “He did not leave your side for one moment,” said Foy. He sat in a chair next to her on the roof.

               “What… Where…” the words did not come easy for Winnie.

               “Don’t worry about that right now,” said Foy. He handed her a glass of water which she down in a few large, satisfying gulps, water slipping down the sides of her mouth.

               “How did I…” Winnie tried to ask but was interrupted with a finger over her mouth.

               “You have been asleep for over a week Win,” said Foy, dark brown eyes full of compassion. “It might be easier for me to just show you.” He leaned to the side and picked up a mirror which he handed to Winnie and grasped her hand before allowing her to turn it over and see her reflection. “Brace yourself Win…”

               She slowly turned the mirror over, hands shaking and brought it in front of her face. A startling shriek of fear erupted from her lips.

               Marvel jumped awake.

               Winnie could not believe what she was seeing; the right side of her brain was missing, replaced with metal. She touched the cold steel plate tentatively, tears rolled down her face.

               “I’m so glad you’re okay,” said Marvel, hugging his mother tightly.

               She softly tapped at the plate and was rewarded with a metallic clink in response.

               “How…” Winnie finally managed to ask after getting over her initial shock.

               “They think you’re dead,” said Marvel. “We pulled you into the submersible before they could grab you. Don’t worry mom, we’re safe now.”

               Winnie lay back down on her cot and stared into the night sky with distant twinkling lights. Somehow she allowed herself to smile through the pain and the deformity that was now her face. Tears continued to flow but these were tears of joy as she stroked her son’s curly Mohawk. She thought to herself that he could keep it as long as he liked, as long as they were together.

The End.

Win on the Run part 2

IV – READ BETWEEN THE LINES

                Marvel Nikoli jumped off the rail train well before its next scheduled stop. His shoulder still ached but he shrugged it off with the help of a pain killing nano-capsule. He walked through empty and quiet streets of Stamford. Stopping in a dimly lit alleyway by a hover-bot street lamp suspended ten feet in the air; Marvel pulled the map from his mesh backpack. He knew that he had to get to Gotham in order to find safety. With fifty miles between Stamford and the metropolis that was Gotham he folded the map back into a square and replaced it inside the backpack. On the move again down the deserted streets with square cement blocks and floating robotic lamps that lit up overhead when he neared the motion sensor radius, the smart-bot-lamps flicked on, casting a long and lonely shadow before turning back off to conserve energy. He walked swiftly, expecting to arrive in Gotham by midday tomorrow. The sun made patterns of deep orange and red across the greyish blue sky. Marvel would have to find a place to sleep. His stomach loudly protested the lack of food. He sipped at the water bottle that was in the back pack. It would tough sledding since he had to rely on rations for the next day and a half. With no money and his reluctance to commit theft, the trip would be arduous.

               The downtown district of Stamford was like any other city with tall buildings and countless plexi-glass windows. Virtual reality and 3-D billboards hovered in the air. A television with its screen facing the street so passerby’s could catch glimpses of the major news networks. The image on the screen had Marvel’s mouth gaping in shock. The images projected on the paper thin, ninety nine inch screen made him clench his fist at his sides in anger as he fought back tears.

               Major news anchor and international celebrity, Roger Luck’s large head and greying hair was on the news. The bobbing head was next to a square image in the top right corner of the screen and contained a mug shot of his mother, Winnie Nikoli. Thanks to the captions scrolling along at the bottom of the screen, Marvel read what Roger Luck was reporting.

               “Most wanted fugitive, Winnie Nikoli, has just been captured by secret service intelligence agents and has been convicted in a military court of law. The sentence will be carried out tomorrow at sunset, death by firing squad.”

V – I SEE YOU

               Marvel Nikoli easily scaled the roof of the one story building and found an opening on the gravel roof top that would allow entrance to the convenience store; his previously held qualms regarding theft long ago abandoned. After prying open a lock on the triangular roof-window with his butterfly knife he slid down the rope that was tied to a pipe sticking out of the gravel rooftop. Marvel slid down with a practiced ease, touching down on the shining floor tiles silently. He was sure there was no alarm system. He had watched the owner shut down the store and drive home. His conscious made him vow to somehow find a way to pay them back however. Marvel loaded up the black mesh back pack, water and food; roasted cashews were his favorite. He also secured extra batteries and first aid supplies. Finished packing the essential goods, he crawled up the rope with the ease of a centipede.

               “Stop,” said agent Conner. “Rewind.”

The surveillance tape being played on a fifty inch flat panel in the convenience stores tiny back room quickly skipped backwards. Marvel Nikoli was now moving quickly in reverse, sliding back down the rope and walking briskly backwards as he took out items from his backpack and returned items to the shelf.

               “Stop,” interrupted agent Simpson. “We have seen enough. Thank you for your time mister Wardruff. We will make sure we catch him.” Ali quickly turned on his heels and exited the small store.

               Agent Connor said thanks and goodbye and handed over a business card for the owner. She exited the convenience store and informed the local officers that they would no longer be needed on this investigation. They were not happy about being overruled in their own jurisdiction but her badge spoke volumes. She strolled toward the tactical, armor plated hover- SUV suspended several inches above the pavement, floating on blue streams of ion propulsion jets.

               Simpson gazed out the window, reclining in the tan brown, plush leather seats with a furrowed brow and his chin resting on his fist, seemingly in deep concentration; the thinking man pose.

The car barely moved as agent Connor entered the vehicle and sat down on the butter soft leather. “So what are you thinking,” asked Cheryl.

               “He has to be coming,” replied agent Simpson. “He will likely have seen the news report of his mother’s scheduled execution and he will not allow that to happen. We did a psyche profile on the boy while we had him in our custody. He will come to us.”

               “How can you be certain that he will not see through the ruse and decide to stay away,” asked agent Connor. “He might figure that it is a trap. He must know that we need his blood in order to engineer more of the anti-virus.”

               “Even if he does suspect a trap, he will still want to get his mother away from us and the doctors and the hospitals. It is one of the things that he confessed that he and his mother hate with a passion about their blood condition, the endless stream of doctors and hospitals. He was probably already planning to come pay us a visit and rescue his mother but now with this, we know the timeline has been sped up.”

               “Well then… we will need to prepare,” said agent Connor.

               “Exactly,” said agent Simpson. His dark eyes finally looking at Cheryl and her deep green pupils dilated as she diverted her gaze after catching a glimpse of the destruction that Ali Simpson was willing to unleash in order to recapture Marvel.

VI – Enemy of My Enemy

               Four knocks, followed by three quick, light taps in rapid succession would alert the people behind the dark grey metal basement door that Marvel was an ally, as long as the password had not changed.

               A small rectangular viewing port slid open in the middle of the door and hard, dark brown eyes stared out into the hallway at Marvel. When the brown orbs finished surveying the character in front of him he nearly cursed in shock and realization, eyes widening.

               “I don’t believe it,” said Foy Charleston with a gasp. He quickly slid the viewing window shut.

               Thick, heavy locks un-turned and un-latched on the inside of the thick metal door with several dents and a dull finish. The door opened and a wide smiling, six feet three bald head man grabbed Marvel and yanked him inside of the room. Foy stuck his head out into the abandon streets of the sunny afternoon and looked around to make sure no one was watching or following and then slammed the door shut and locked it. Foy turned around and wrapped Marvel in a fierce hug.

               “It’s good to see you again lad,” said Foy. He held Marvel at arm’s length, hands tightly gripping the young teen’s shoulders. “Look at you. You’re almost as big as me. Last time I saw you, you were a little thing still pulling on mum’s apron strings. Where is Win anyway?”

               “That’s why I’m here,” replied Marvel in a grave tone. “They got her. She sacrificed herself to get me out. I need your help.”

               “Come quickly,” said Foy. “Follow me to the basement.”

               Marvel visibly released the knots in his muscles ever so slightly at the excitement of being around trusted friends after a slow yet constant jog fifty miles through the night in order to reach Gotham. He stumbled as he ducked into a hidden corridor located near a fire place in the den. Foy was there to catch him.

               “We gotta get some food in you,” said Foy.

               “No time,” replied Marvel. He straightened with a cracking in his young bones that made him feel older than just fifteen. “We will need to move soon. Her execution is scheduled for 6:00PM today.”

               “What the hell!” exclaimed Foy. “That’s only five hours from now.”

               Descending a flight of tightly curving stairs lined with concrete walls they emerged onto a balcony. Just over the edge of the railing was a deep twenty foot expanse with a concrete floor, computers lining the east and west walls while rows of cubicles were set up in the middle of the room.

               Foy walked over to a small shaft elevator. Marvel followed and closed the chain link fence acting as a door and they descended to the bottom. When the elevator came to a stop, Foy cupped his hands in front of his mouth and made cawing bird sounds that carried around the room. Heads appeared from closed doors and popped over the makeshift cubicle walls. Marvel was unsure how large this place could have been but then again he was surprised to find this under a seemingly normal two story family home, the size of the place was deceiving.

               “Kira, I need you to scan the local and international news channels for anything on a high priority target, Winnie Nikoli,” said Foy to a young woman in glasses at the cubicle closest to the elevator. She nodded a quick and wordless reply then the crème colored skin woman with a shadow of pink fuzzy hair on her shaved head ducked below the office dividers. A clacking away at the keys was the only other sound in the basement expanse besides the low hum of electronic equipment.

               “What’s going on?” asked a lanky caramel skinned man, who was six foot five wearing a well fitted grey suit; Marvel thought it resembled a Halloween costume.

               “Here,” said Foy. He placed a hand on Marvel’s shoulder, “is a longtime friend of mine and he is in need of some serious help.”

               “Sir,” shouted Kira. Her closely shaved head popped up from behind the cubicle wall. “You are going to want to see this.”

               A stream of people flooded the cubicle, tightly packed together trying to view the thirty inch computer monitor that sat on a wooden desk. An article was displayed with the headline, Wanted Chemical and Biological International Terrorist Captured. A photo of Winnie Nikoli was displayed. She held a blade in her hand while standing at the center of a ring of security officers in the rail-train station in Stamford. This picture was of course going to be taken out of context but as the old adage went, a thousand letters can’t account for one portrait, or something along those lines thought Marvel.

               “Ok people listen up,” said Foy, voice echoing around the room. “We need to find out where she is being held and launch a hostage rescue.”

               “I have already located her,” said Kira. “She is at the Short Island Hellcatz detention facility.”

               A collective gasp spread throughout the gathered listeners; followed by a low murmur of voices and fearful conversations.

               “That place is a fortress.”

               “It’s guarded by a battalion of Marines, Rangers and SEELs.”

               “It’s an impenetrable island,” said another person. “I even hear they have sharks with lasers beams mounted on their heads to patrol the water.”

               The last statement was met with small bits of forced laughter but still served to convey the veritable destructive prowess of the base that they planned to assault.

               “Let’s get to work people,” said Foy over the commotion in a tone that abruptly halted the idle banter with authority. “I will need a battle plan in sixty minutes.”

               Everyone scrambled to comply and flew back to their respective stations. The place was transformed into a beehive of activity.

               Foy clamped a hand onto Marvel’s shoulder and smiled down at the young man. “While that’s being done let us get an IV in you so we can get you some food and fluids the quickest possible way,” said Foy. “You will need to get as much rest as possible before we head out.”

               Marvel nodded and followed Foy into one of the side rooms that resembled a clinic.