The Journey of St. Laurent, Chapter 35

Note: Thanks to all who read, comment, and give helpful ideas. You guys are the best.

For those of you who haven’t read any of the Journey Of St. Laurent before: You are now reading an online serial pulp novel. If you didn’t start at the beginning, you may want to do so. Chapter 1:  Down By The Bay. This serial is the sequel to my first novel, Oasis.

Chapter 35 – In The Tent

Then tent smelled of dusty old canvas, like it hadn’t been put up in ten years. It was a pretty big, twelve feet by sixteen feet or so and probably eight feet tall at the peak. There was a plastic folding table in one corner with a microphone, a laptop, and several pieces of electronic equipment. Chords spilled over the back and wound out under the wall of the tent.

Placed a few feet away from the far wall was another small folding table. Jex sat behind it on a camp chair. He was drawing with a pencil on what looked like one of the maps I had seen through the window at the hotel’s café.

He made a point of ignoring us while he scribbled some kind of message on the map. He then rolled it up, set it on his lap and looked up at us. His eyes were shrouded in dark circles.

“Oh good, you’re here.”

I swallowed hard, trying to keep my temper in check. His intentions might have been honorable, but this man was a thief and a liar. He had thrown up a roadblock when all I wanted to hurt the aliens and hurt them bad. I knew deep down that’s what Jex wanted, too. Only he wanted to be in charge of everything and get the glory.

London stepped around me and folded her arms with a harumph. “Where’s the virus you stole?”

Jex looked from London to me and back again. He breathed in and opened his mouth to speak, but thought better of it. He waited an uncomfortable moment then tossed up his hands. “I won’t lie to you. I took it, and for the reason I told you last night. I can’t trust you yet.”

Rhett shifted nervously from foot to foot. I don’t think he was really ready to hear Jex admit the theft like that.

Off in the distance wafted the drone of a helicopter.

I kicked the ground. “So you kick off the trust-building exercise by stealing my property in the middle of the night?”

“I didn’t invite you here to argue.”

“So why are we here?”

“Well, I’d like to give you two the chance to help out. And, if it comes to it and we do have to use the virus, I’d like you to be on the team-”

The tent door flew open and a purple haired woman popped in. “Sir, an Army Humvee just pulled up at the gate. The driver says he’s got a Captain Somebody-or-other that wants to speak with you. What should I tell the guards?”

Jex’s eyes widened for a moment. “Really? Escort him back here immediately.”

She’s too old to have purple hair.

The helicopter noise got so closer. It was apparent that there were at least two of them flying overhead. Within a few seconds they were so loud that we had to wait for them to pass by before we could here each other talk.

Jex turned his focus back to London and me. “So would you like to join us or not?”

London rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Now you want us to help?”

I folded my arms. “And we don’t exactly have any gear or food or anything. I mean, somewhere you’ve got her dirtbike, but it’s not terribly comfortable to sleep on.”

“I’ll make sure we can find stuff for you. We need every able bodied man we can get.”

London glared at him.

He nodded back. “And every angry redhead hottie.”

I guess the inflammatory radio host in him just couldn’t help himself.

London shook her head.

Jex ignored her.

“So, are you with us? And where do you think you’d be the most help?”

I wasn’t really interested in joining his little private army an more, but I wasn’t sure what other options we really had available at the time. “Well, I’m an emergency room nurse, and an EMT. She’s already proven herself to be a capable assistant.”

London spun and focused her glare on me.

“Perfect. Rhett, show them to where we’re setting up the medical tents and introduce them-”

A serious man in a crisp uniform swept into the tent. On his shoulder were two vertical bars. He ignored London, Rhett, and myself and walked right up to Jex.

“I’m Captain Dreyer of the United States Army. Let me just say I appreciate your fervor and zest in protecting our nation. However, I am here under orders to use my company of troops to assist in the disbanding of this militia that you’ve raised. Now I know you feel like you are acting as protectors, but your nation sees you as nothing more than a dangerous armed insurrection. I’ve come to make a personal appeal to you to disband without causing any more problems.”

Color flooded into Jex’s neck. “What makes you think we’ll just pack up and go?”

“Neither of us wants to be responsible for the spilling of American blood. Simple as that. And now the Army is here between you and the aliens.” Dreyer took a breath and his voice took a bitter edge. “And if the white house decides the aliens are a threat, we’ll be here and prepared to deal…”

Jex pounded a fist on the little table. “A threat? How many more terrorist strikes are they going to have to make before you can officially label them as enemy combatants? You’re not stupid, Captain. You know as well as I that they’re not here as friends or allies.”

“Things aren’t always as they seem, Mr. Jex. Don’t sell the U.S. Army short.”

London muttered something under her breath. I couldn’t understand it clearly, but it definitely involved a few words she couldn’t use if she were in her elementary school classroom.

“I’ll give you twenty-four hours to get moving.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a scrap of paper. “I’ll have someone listening to this frequency if you need any, well, if you need to speak with me.”

Twenty-four hours? Why not right now? What is he getting at?

Captain Dreyer turned back just before leaving the tent. “Oh, and I have to warn you. My entire company will be camped in front of the main entrance. It would be a really bad idea for you to try anything there.”

He put a hard emphasis on the word “there,” and then he was gone.

Everyone left in the tent was dumbfounded.

I scratched my head. “Did that sound to anyone else like he wanted us to attack, just somewhere other than the main entrance, and that he’s giving us twenty-four hours to do it?”

The massive Rhett nodded. “It kind of did.”

A smile crept across Jex’s lips.

The woman who was too old for bright purple hair came back in. “Sir, I just heard on the radio. Apparently the President and Senator Reynolds are holding a press conference. They’re due to go on within a couple of minutes on pretty much every TV and radio channel in existence.”

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Keep Reading! Chapter 36 is here.

No Journey Today

I just didn’t get it done. I’ll work twice as hard next week.

One of the problems is that I’m having a hard time focusing. I’ve got this great idea for a book kicking around in my head, and I’m also getting to the part of “Journey” that is the whole reason I wanted to write the book. The two creative worlds do regular battle for conscious processing time in my brain.

I need more time to write…

How Do You Organize?

I’m looking for a good way to organize all the fiction that I write/have written. Right now I just have a directory and everything gets stored haphazardly in subdirectories there.

I guess I could use a plain old spreadsheet, but that isn’t really as extensible as I want. I’ve got one submission tracker that I haven’t really tried yet, but again, I don’t think it tracks everything that I want.

Here’s what I want it to track.

• Story Title
• Short Description
• Location (Where I saved the little beast)
• Complete/In Progress
• Length
• Notes about story (i.e. submit it to Asimov’s & The New Yorker when finished)
• Date/place of publication (with a link if possible)
• List of places/times it’s been submitted

Any ideas?

The Journey of St. Laurent, Chapter 34

Note: Finally.

For those of you who haven’t read any of the Journey Of St. Laurent before: You are now reading an online serial pulp novel. If you didn’t start at the beginning, you may want to do so. Chapter 1:  Down By The Bay. This serial is the sequel to my first novel, Oasis.

Also, I broke my own first rule of editing here – I didn’t read it aloud to myself before posting. Let’s just hope I’ve kept the typos to a minimum.

Chapter 34 – Bumpy Ride

I really didn’t want to let on that London had saved out a vial of the virus, so I made sure to give Rhett the stink eye when I jerked open the door.

Rhett didn’t seem to notice. He just hurried us down the stairs and out the front.

A large military transport helicopter touched down in the middle of the pavement a couple of blocks down. Soldiers immediately poured out. Parked on the street were a number of other military vehicles, including a couple of bigger transport trucks, and several Humvees.

Did the president reconsider? Are they here to help out? Or are they just here for us? I shook my head. Of course they’re here for us.

Just outside the hotel was parked a blue and primer gray El Camino. Next to the car stood a young man in a black wife beater staring at the chopper. The wind from the rotors tossed around his shoulder length hair a bit, and he looked pretty uncomfortable.

Rhett opened the passenger door. “Let’s go.”

The long-haired kid started at the command, tore open the driver’s door, and flung himself inside.

Rhett held the door and motioned for London to climb in. “Come on, we’ve got to get moving.”

London hesitated then gave me a questioning look.

I shrugged and motioned to the open door as well.

She climbed in.

I hopped in the back, careful not to let my right thigh bang into anything, which was harder than you might think, because the bed was partially full of random scrap metal and logs.

I pushed some trash away so I could have a place to sit next to the cab. “Why do people even buy these instead of getting a real truck?”

Rhett jumped in on the other side. “I know, they’re ugly as sin.” He hit the top of the cab twice.

The car sputtered to life and the driver punched the gas.

My head jerked with the motion and I steadied myself on a big piece of rusty something-or-other. I hope this crap back here doesn’t shift too much.

As soon as we pulled away from the curb, one of the Humvees started up and pulled onto the road behind us.

Our driver must have seen it too, because he floored it again. The acceleration felt kind of like the stretching of a rubber band, but it was enough to slide several pieces of wood and metal toward the tailgate.

I hope his driving smooths out. I really don’t want to chance anything with the vial. I braced my arms on the sides of the bed and fought the urge to continually stare at my Velcroed pocket. Deep down, I was certain that Rhett would notice.

The Humvee stayed about thirty feet behind us, no flashing lights, no commands to stop, and no gun waving. The driver didn’t seem too concerned with catching us or stopping us. It was more like he was only shooing us out of town.

Two more giant military helicopters flew overhead.

Of course, the twerp at the wheel of the El Camino must have thought this was a life or death chase. That, or he was just a really bad driver. He took turn after turn too fast, and braked seemingly at random. Every time he did something crazy the heavy garbage shifted around.

Still, I was able to hold on for dear life and keep the pocket with the virus from any of the shifting refuse.

Untill we hit the mother pothole just out side of town.

Our driver slammed on the brakes sending a load of metal and logs my way.

I extended a foot to redirect the path of the biggest log.

The car bounced down and up what had to be a six inch deep hole in the road. My butt and legs were airborne and stuff was shifting under me.

I twisted mid-air as best I could and my left cheek came down hard on something solid.

The contact was going to bruise and it might even be bleeding. At least I knew the vial would remain intact.

Yet another victory that feels like an injury.

The Humvee cruised over the pothole without even dipping.

Rhett pounded on the hood again and shouted something about slowing down.

Our driver must have figured it out because he took the edge off the speed for the rest of the short trip.

The Humvee stopped and turned around at the last curve before the camp.

Rhett looked over at me and made an attempt to shrug.

Everywhere I looked were trees, split up by the occasional cleared field. The terrain was all gentle hills that backed up on genuine Appalachian mountains. It would have struck me a quite picturesque if I wasn’t so worried about, you know, pretty much everything.

Last night I had been suprised at the number of people that had gathered to such a remote place on such short notice. And if I had been shocked last night, I was completely blown away in the daylight.

The field was filled with row upon row of campers, tents and RVs. There had to be at least two hundred of them, with probably a hundred and fifty more non-sleeper vehicles. Whoever had organized the camp had really done a good job. Over against one side there were several guys digging pits. At the far end of the field was the hill and behind it, the mountains.

The El Camino slowed and we bounced onto the field.

To my left I noticed a man playing catch with a little boy. The boy looked happy, but the man looked like death warmed over. He was wearing faded jeans and a polo shirt. Every time he tossed the ball, he would look first over his shoulder at a gun that was sitting on a camp chair and then at the sky. His eyes were dark with puffy bags underneath. Still, he kept on his fake smile and played ball with his son.

It occured to me that he could have been anybody. He wasn’t a paramilitary nutjob of a gun worshiping lunatic. A week ago he was probably just an accountant or a real estate agent or a programmer. Now he was just a dad looking for a way to protect his kid.

The more I looked around, the more I noticed that he was the norm here. Not the camo pants and dog tag crowd. Just regular men and women joining in the fight that the government wasn’t willing to risk.

And why not? What are they afraid of?

Rhett pounded on the hood again and the car stopped next to a big canvas tent.

We jumped out of the back.

London kicked open the door before anyone else could get to it. She scrambled out of the car, and glared back. “And if you ever even talk to me again, I’ll break your smug little nose.” She slammed the door.

The long-haired kid drove off.

I pointed to the car. “What was that all about?”

London folded her arms. “Don’t want to talk about it.”

Rhett narrowed his eyes and stared at me for a second. “Before we go in, I gotta know. How dangerous is that virus, really?”

I shook my head and tried to stop wondering what the long haired kid had said. After all, I had Rhett’s full attention for a second.

Maybe if I lay it on thick, he’ll be willing to help, whether Jex likes the idea or not. “There’s no cure. It works fast. It tore apart Oasis in the matter of a few days. And the people that have been infected are, well I don’t even know how to describe them. They’re soulless, restless, and violent. They don’t seem to be able to think other than use what is already a part of their muscle memory. And they don’t feel pain. For lack of a better word they are zombies and they are fleshy virus spreading machines.”

London frowned and touched my shoulder.

Rhett raised his bulky arms and cracked his knuckles. “So why are zombies better than aliens? What if it gets out?”

I shrugged. “A zombie can’t fly a spaceship or pull a trigger. It can’t strategize or make deals with coward politicians. And yes, it would be devastating if the virus infected a large city, but I don’t know how else to even the odds.”

He clenched his jaw for a moment, then nodded to the tent. “Well, let’s see if we can’t figure out what he did with your WMD.”

I looked over at London. “You ready?”

She lifted a balled fist. “Oh, I’m ready. Are you?”

“As ready as I’m going to get.”

We followed Rhett into the tent.

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Keep Reading! Chapter 35 is here.

Tools of the Trade: Backing up

I’m sure everybody here has lost a hard drive or two. We’ve all experienced major crashes. I have lost all manner of half finished stories over the years. The only real protection you can have against this is to back up your work regularly.

My first solution

My first backup solution was a little thing called synctoy. Synctoy is available for free from Microsoft. Synctoy was neat, and did what I wanted, but was ridiculously slow, like 30 minutes slow. I haven’t tried it for a while, so maybe they’ve sped it up by now.

My next solution

I used to use Toucan, as it’s a part of the PortableApps.com suite and it’s really easy to use. The only problem: it is slow, slow, slow. It took like 20+ plus minutes to back up my open projects directory. Granted, there’s all sorts of stuff in there, including the testing web server I use for work and many file-intensive web scripts .

Speaking of PortableApps, I use a fork of that project called geek.menu. It automatically integrates with Truecrypt, so that when I plug in my backup drive, it prompts me for a password. If I type it in right, it mounts the encrypted portion of the drive (which is where I keep all my backups) and loads up the menu in the system tray. Form that menu, I can run a portable version of OpenOffice, firefox, Toucan, all sorts of stuff. It’s totally slick, and makes me feel like a worthy nerd.

Anyway, as I said Toucan took forever to run (albeit it ran a little faster than synctoy), but I was willing to take the time, because I did not want another data calamity in my life. It also had the benefit of being portable, which for no good reason makes things attractive to me.

Enter rsync

Then I learned about rsync. It’s a super powerful (yet easy to use) backup tool. The problem is that it’s command line only. While I’m not such a graphical interface snob that I refuse to use command line tools, I do avoid it whenever possible. (I’m only a level 20 nerd I suppose…)

However, I located grsync, which is a rsync with a windows GUI frontend.

Grsync performs the exact same same operations as  synctoy and toucan, but in 1/20th the time. That’s right, it backs up my open projects directory in less than one minute.

Here’s the settings I use for grsync:

Did I mention it’s fast?

So anyway, that’s the tool I now use to backup my work. I backup onto a 128 mb Toshiba USB external hard drive. I haven’t tried to run it from the external drive yet, so I don’t know if it’s portable.

download grsync for windows

How do y’all protect your work?

StoryHacking Again.

Sorry for the long absence. I’ve dropped about four other projects and now I’m ready to focus again on this site and on fiction. The next chapter is almost done and it’ll be up on Friday. I’ve got some other ideas for the blog, too. More on that as I figure things out.