Post by ∬: Erhard Strumfelder on Jul 30, 2008 18:28:07 GMT
As some of you might have previously discovered, I'm writing a novel, which I hope to complete during the summer. It's roughly two hundred pages long, and is quite a gritty spy book aimed at young people, much like CHERUB, or Alex Rider. It focuses a lot on the politics behind the situation, but is mainly about an orphan (Chris) at a boarding school, who makes his first friend (Will) at the age of twelve. Will is a lunatic, and this little story here is set just before the events of book one.
The plot for book one is as follows; Chris discovers that Will might have links to a Russian terrorist group, and realizing he has little chance in life, Chris tries to follow Will across the globe, when he finds Will is leaving. What is unraveled, is a plot between a Russian freedom fighter, the British Secret Intelligence Service, and a corrupt North Korean General who wants to start a new communist crusade, and if it means starting a war between the PRC, and USA, so be it.
Anyway, this is a bit rough around the edges, but have a look and give your opinions and constructive criticism. If people like it, I'll post a next installment soon.
01:30 MSD
Class Oscar III Submarine K- 186 Omsk
200 Nautical Miles North of Murmansk
Barents Sea
Seaman Yuri Ogienko lay on his small mattress, staring up at the shelf above, less than half a foot from his youthful face. Navy life was meant to be enjoyable, and with the new pay rises, a good financial investment, but Ogienko would happily take the cut in pay if it would end these long periods of mind numbing boredom. Most just used the time to sleep, and there were more men in this steel cigar than beds. Hell, his was still warm from the previous user. But one emotion that cut through the boredom was the undercurrent of fear. He was on a vessel not only powered by a nuclear fission reaction, but that contained no less than two hundred ICBM warheads. Those warheads had enough power to cover every inch of the continental United States. If one was to detonate before launch... At least it would be quick; being ripped apart, atom by minute atom. What had mankind created?
The twenty two year old rolled out of the small alcove, and stood up, brushing down his sailor’s uniform. He felt his chin, and rough texture met his finger tips. He’d shave, try and catch an early breakfast, then could get to his post easily by 03:00. He stepped into the outside corridor, and was surprised how busy it was, for half one in the morning. How long was till he got of this tin can? Two months. What could he pick up for his girlfriend’s birthday? A ring...? Ogienko pondered to himself as he headed towards a small bathroom, feeling in his pocket compact electric razor. He pushed into the small room, to find it empty. He head for a sink, not noticing the ceiling ventilation hatch without a grating.
Will Lloyd peered down from the darkness, into the dimly lit room. The boy smiled to himself. This would be easy, as long as he didn’t make a mess. He could throw the body in a cubical, and lock the door. Nobody would find it. He felt for the scabbard hanging from his left breast, and drew the small blade. This had been bloodied more than once. There was one small groove in the plastic handle for each life. The last count had been fourteen. Will wondered if he would ever live to that age.
He spun around in the shaft’s tight confines, then slowly lowered his feet through. He moved silently, and lowered the rest of his body down, hanging by his left hand. Feeling the blade through his gloved hand, Will took aim. The Russian was concentrating purely on his mirrored chin, and was barely moving his head. The boy aimed, for the bottom hair line, where the flesh was softest. He took in a deep breath.
It was the reflected movement that caught Yuri’s eye. What? He turned on his heel, and his eye’s fixed on a black object suspended from the ceiling, then a split second shine. The blade tore violently into his throat, punching through the muscle. It severed the carotid artery, and split the windpipe in two. Blood pumped from the wound. Yuri screamed, but there was no air in his lungs. His vision became blurred, and finally his eyelids dropped. His knees buckled and he crumbled forwards. His still coarse chin struck the basin side, and the seaman’s neck broke. The corpse struck the floor. Yuri Ogienko’s body twitched erratically, as it slowly shut down.
The plot for book one is as follows; Chris discovers that Will might have links to a Russian terrorist group, and realizing he has little chance in life, Chris tries to follow Will across the globe, when he finds Will is leaving. What is unraveled, is a plot between a Russian freedom fighter, the British Secret Intelligence Service, and a corrupt North Korean General who wants to start a new communist crusade, and if it means starting a war between the PRC, and USA, so be it.
Anyway, this is a bit rough around the edges, but have a look and give your opinions and constructive criticism. If people like it, I'll post a next installment soon.
01:30 MSD
Class Oscar III Submarine K- 186 Omsk
200 Nautical Miles North of Murmansk
Barents Sea
Seaman Yuri Ogienko lay on his small mattress, staring up at the shelf above, less than half a foot from his youthful face. Navy life was meant to be enjoyable, and with the new pay rises, a good financial investment, but Ogienko would happily take the cut in pay if it would end these long periods of mind numbing boredom. Most just used the time to sleep, and there were more men in this steel cigar than beds. Hell, his was still warm from the previous user. But one emotion that cut through the boredom was the undercurrent of fear. He was on a vessel not only powered by a nuclear fission reaction, but that contained no less than two hundred ICBM warheads. Those warheads had enough power to cover every inch of the continental United States. If one was to detonate before launch... At least it would be quick; being ripped apart, atom by minute atom. What had mankind created?
The twenty two year old rolled out of the small alcove, and stood up, brushing down his sailor’s uniform. He felt his chin, and rough texture met his finger tips. He’d shave, try and catch an early breakfast, then could get to his post easily by 03:00. He stepped into the outside corridor, and was surprised how busy it was, for half one in the morning. How long was till he got of this tin can? Two months. What could he pick up for his girlfriend’s birthday? A ring...? Ogienko pondered to himself as he headed towards a small bathroom, feeling in his pocket compact electric razor. He pushed into the small room, to find it empty. He head for a sink, not noticing the ceiling ventilation hatch without a grating.
***
Will Lloyd peered down from the darkness, into the dimly lit room. The boy smiled to himself. This would be easy, as long as he didn’t make a mess. He could throw the body in a cubical, and lock the door. Nobody would find it. He felt for the scabbard hanging from his left breast, and drew the small blade. This had been bloodied more than once. There was one small groove in the plastic handle for each life. The last count had been fourteen. Will wondered if he would ever live to that age.
He spun around in the shaft’s tight confines, then slowly lowered his feet through. He moved silently, and lowered the rest of his body down, hanging by his left hand. Feeling the blade through his gloved hand, Will took aim. The Russian was concentrating purely on his mirrored chin, and was barely moving his head. The boy aimed, for the bottom hair line, where the flesh was softest. He took in a deep breath.
***
It was the reflected movement that caught Yuri’s eye. What? He turned on his heel, and his eye’s fixed on a black object suspended from the ceiling, then a split second shine. The blade tore violently into his throat, punching through the muscle. It severed the carotid artery, and split the windpipe in two. Blood pumped from the wound. Yuri screamed, but there was no air in his lungs. His vision became blurred, and finally his eyelids dropped. His knees buckled and he crumbled forwards. His still coarse chin struck the basin side, and the seaman’s neck broke. The corpse struck the floor. Yuri Ogienko’s body twitched erratically, as it slowly shut down.
