Friday Snippets: Glass Parking Lots

Alright - this snippet picks back up with Andrew and Iris on the road to Ashville. They have just been attacked. Iris was grazed, but Andrew fell from his horse. Whether or not he is still alive is uncertain. If you want to catch up, check out the menu bar above and scroll over the Friday Snippets section! (Isn't that cool?)

You know what else is cool: the illustration by my friend Jocelyn. Have a look. :)

Next week is our last week with Iris for a while - but don't worry, she's still going to Ashville. We'll be jumping back to Dell in Columbia where she has to find a way out of the ruined city, obtain arms and munitions and some form of transportation (read: a sweet motorcycle).

Let me know what you think and please leave a link to your own Friday Snippet!

Copyrighted, do not reproduce, material liable to change. Etc.

Shadows stepped out of the dark, moonlight silvering the indigo metal of their guns. Iris pressed her heels into her horse’s flanks and bolted. The gelding took the roadside fence in a single bound and thundered across the open fields. The men’s laughter echoed across the field. A few fired half-heartedly after her.

With a strong arm, she dragged on the reigns, pulling hard left. The gelding reared, spun on his back legs, pawing at the air. They came down hard. Iris hunched over his dark mane, whispering and patting his neck reassuringly. When the men lost her in the dark, they lit little lanterns and circled Andrew’s horse and his body.

Her heart hammered and hot shame crept over her face. Blood burned in her right eye, and she clenched her fists to stop from screaming. Andrew was still there. Lying in the road. She closed her eyes. She heard the men’s voices like a low rumble of thunder but could not make out what they said.

Andrew was still there. Lying in the road. She closed her eyes.

They dumped Andrew’s pack onto the pavement. They passed the peanut butter jar between them, dividing up the canned fruit. And then she saw them bend, hook their arms around Andrew and lift him between them. The sound of his voice telling them what they could go and do with themselves may have been the loveliest thing she heard in her whole life.

But that was when one of the men lifted his gun. Iris bared her teeth. Without a sound, the gelding streaked over the field, back toward the road. The wind threw Iris’ long auburn hair back from her face and in a moment of weightlessness, she cleared the fence again. Andrew turned and she saw the smirk in his eyes. The men holding him up gawked at her and dropped him. The gelding crashed into their midst, his hooves, cutting down the man with the gun.

Iris wheeled. One of the men reached for her. Just as she had seen Dell do when they were young, Iris slid out of the saddle, putting the horse between them. The second her feet touched the asphalt, she bounded back over, swiveling her gloved hands around the horn. Her feet caught the man in the face. She saw his teeth scatter out across the black tar. Mounting again, she darted past the other shadowy figures, slung low over the left flank of her horse.

She saw Andrew, crouched low. She caught him around the waist, clothes-lining him. She heard him grunt, but she pulled him up with her momentum, throwing him across the bows of her saddle. She rode down a boy who stood up out of the dark a pistol in his hand. She swallowed a wail as his face disappeared in the dark under her horse and she blazed on.

She rode and rode, until the horse lathered and she thought they might outrun the fear racing just at her back. Andrew’s hand clutching her wrist was the only thing that dragged her back to herself. She brought the gelding up sharp. Andrew slid off, clutching at his middle. She dropped down beside him.
“Are you hit? Move your hands, let me see!”

“Dammit woman,” Andrew groaned. He gestured to the saddle, waving his arm as she had when she grabbed him up. “That hurt.”

“I could have left you, Drew,” she said. “You big baby. I could have gone on to Ashville without you. Just for letting them take the peanut butter, I should have left you.” She could feel a laugh in her throat, but tears burned in her eyes. He looked up, frowned at the blood on her temple. He reached to touch her face and the heat from the road dazzled up around them.

“About that,” Andrew said. “I heard those men talking before you came back. They came from Ashville.”

“And?”

“They said it wasn’t a city any more.” He looked away, pulling his hand back. “They said it was a glass parking lot. Just shadows and dust and radiation.”

“What?”

So say we all.
Bri