Good morning one and all. Welcome to Wednesday. I always find Wednesdays to be my most productive day of the week. I don’t know about you. It seems to me that I have finally managed to dig myself out of whatever hit my desk and inbox on Monday morning and after playing catch up on Tuesday I have a game plan and am focused. Thursday I always realize how much I have to do before the weekend and can sometimes get off track, but Wednesdays I usually feel in control. Plus no one really calls with emergencies on Wednesdays. Monday and Thursday tend to be panic days. Hopefully this Wednesday will be as productive as planned. So shall we get started on our productive Wednesday with a little writing prompt? Fabulous, let’s begin.
I know exactly the story I want to use this in. I think the corporate name changed in the basic story outline i did a while back (although outline is a far more grandiose name than the five or so page free fall of words for a story idea I put down when the idea hit me actually deserves). I could just never find the character for it. And without the character I couldn’t figure out what angle to tell the story from. I think this might be a definite option. Let the evil giggles commence.
Wednesday, August 11th: He struggled to his feet.
He struggled to his feet. His left leg didn’t want to support him and threatened to buckle from his weight. He leaned against the wall allowing his good leg to take some of the weight off of his injured one. He ignored the smear of blood his hand left on the white tiles. It couldn’t be helped.
He concentrated on his injured leg. He felt along the leg around the wound. He was fairly certain the bullet went completely through. He thought that it might have missed the bone as well as anything vital. The blood was still dribbling into the bandage, but it wasn’t spraying a though an artery were hit.
It was a small mercy but he would take it.
The injured muscle wasn’t happy with taking his weight and it would hurt but he was certain the leg would support him long enough for him to escape.
If it didn’t, his leg would be the least of his problems.
He glanced at the smear on the wall, hating to leave evidence of himself behind. He glanced back and compared to the blood pool where he rested and wrapped his wounds the wall smudge was the least of his trail. He knew he couldn’t clean it all up. Someone would know that something happened.
Luckily his DNA records had been deleted from ServeCorps databanks. He was of no use to them if his actions could be traced by anyone with a high enough clearance to check the records.
‘I’ll be no good to anyone if I don’t get moving,’ he thought. He grit his teeth, pushed off the wall and leaned forward slightly to let gravity aid his first few steps.
‘I’ve had worse,’ he thought as his thigh muscles screamed at me. He took a deep breath and felt the bruising along his ribs and back. Even though his leg was demanding most of his attention, the rest of him felt as though he spent a couple hours inside a cement mixer with a sack of bricks for company.
He grit his teeth against the pain and kept moving.
His progress was slow but steady. He could see his exit come into view. Better yet, he could hear no signs of pursuit. He suspected the others thought him dead. He hoped they were stupid enough to declare it a victory and go off in celebration before coming back to clean up. They seemed to be that level of stupid from what he had seen so far.
‘But it only takes one bright spark,’ he reminded himself as he continued chugging forward like the little engine that could.
As stupid as this lot seemed to be, they had been smart enough to cause problems for ServeCorps which is why he had been sent in.
‘Or someone is a problem,’ he corrected. He doubted this lot was doing much other than following orders. He allowed himself a weak smile at the thought. Technically he was doing the same thing so he had few stones to cast in that regard. He reached the doors and took a second to pat himself down, making sure he still had the data cubes on him. There was no use escaping without them. They were the whole point of the exercise. They were safe and sound in the pocket where he stashed them. As his hand fell away he searched the area.
Not a creature was stirring.
He pushed the door open slowly and slipped out of the exit and into the concealing shadows of the darkening evening light.
Ten til Midnight 