The Fifteen Minute Novel is a novel written fifteen minutes at a time with each week day’s section starting with the sentence from the previous day. At least it is attempting to be a novel. For now I am just aiming at one continuous story, worked on for fifteen minutes each day. Started Friday January 1st, 2021 (in case you want to search for the beginning. I can’t wait to see where it ends up. It could be good, or it could be a mess. We’ll have to see. For now, here is today’s fifteen minutes.
Day 258: James saw Tucker reach a hand to the small of his back and slip a hand under his shirt.
James saw Tucker reach a hand to the small of his back and slip a hand under his shirt. The word gun flew through his suddenly blank mind, the kaleidoscope of his thoughts blanking to white. He watched the gun emerge from the holster at the small of Tucker’s back.
James had his weight already balanced on the balls of his feet, but instead of running to the door, James launched himself at Tucker. He slammed into the agent, his shoulder connecting with Tucker’s ribs. The agent wasn’t expecting it and was knocked sideways under James’ attack. His knees crumpled and both of them landed heavily on the floor.
Tucker turned toward him and James punched him hard in the face. Pain exploded in his hand, but James kept hitting. Tucker fought back. Something hard hit him in the face and he felt something wet and dripping. James ignored the sensation.
Tucker was planning to torture him. All rational thought left him and James fought the agent. They rolled on the floor and smashed into furniture until hands pulled them apart. James was breathing hard and swung out at the hands holding them.
“It’s okay,” Morris said. “It’s done.” The voice came from in front of him and James became aware that the hands holding him didn’t belong to Morris. He could see Morris standing behind Tucker. Hands were holding Tucker as well. There were other people in the room. James stopped fighting as thoughts began intruding.
James wondered if they were friendly or not, but as he stopped fighting, the hands let him go and those holding him stepped back/ James was free to move on his own. He thought that augured well for them being on his side. Even though Tucker wasn’t fighting, the hands kept him in check. James thought it was another good sign.
James felt a dribble of liquid on his face and reached a hand up. His hand came away stained with red.
“He clocked you with his gun,” Morris told him. “You might need a stitch or two but you should be fine. Head wounds always bleed like crazy though.”
James nodded and Morris signaled someone. The chair he was sitting in had fallen to the side and now sported one broken leg. The agent Morris signaled led him out to the undisturbed outer office.
Ten til Midnight 