Character Development: The Young Girl

From what she remembers, her brown curls were from her drug- addicted mother. Her father unknown, he could have been one of a thousand men. Life as a commodity started at the age of four. If the state penitentiary had welcomed her mother a couple years sooner she might have had a chance at adoption and a good home.

It was time for the local commodity trade show. The elders of the church preferred enrolling younger girls into their vocational education program on the farm. Her days of picking vegetables and daily devotional were numbered. The elders had taken her picture and set her sale price. The caption on the bottom of the flyer stated she was a good reliable worker. She ran on impulse to stay with the young man. The law was clear, if you run away from a state sponsored vocational education program you become a criminal.

Character Development: The young man

The young man’s tracking device ceased to function the day he turned 18. In a few months, the device implanted when he was a child would break down leaving a small scar, the only evidence of his forced servitude. Life as a commodity was over. The Vocational Education Program that bound him, as slave labor could no longer force him to work. He was a free man. His life his own, He could travel anywhere, go to college or seek employment. All traces of his life in hell erased from the books, sealed by the courts as governed by law.

The young man looked out the window; the rain was stopping. “We gotta go” he said nudging his girlfriend out of the booth. Her tracking device still functioned. She was a runner, a criminal.

Character Development: The VEP Administrator

Vocational Education Program Administrator was his designated title. His dark blue jacket hung on the coat rack next to the door. The white shirtsleeves rolled half way up his forearms. He sat behind his desk with his face in his hands attempting to calm the migraine. The job was stressful and the main reason for his divorce. The stack of VEP applications on his desk were at an unmanageable level. His staff of four overwhelmed. There weren’t enough hours in the day or days in the week to complete all of the required inspections and paperwork. His most experienced and reliable inspector was on maternity leave. She would not return for at least 4 months and there was no replacement. The remaining inspectors slow, sloppy and teetered on the line of incompetence. His boss was breathing down his neck to increase productivity. Government funding for the program was dependent on the number of VEP applicants certified in a given year. His goal was 20 percent over last year. He looked at the stack of applications, he could fabricate the reports and save time, no one would know.

Character Development- The Truck Driver

The truck was government- issue, purchased from an army surplus sale. The driver worked as a subcontractor for the Office of Financial Affairs delivering cargo to different Vocational Education Programs around the country. He wore an old tattered shirt and a leather jacket that had seen better days. He smelled of armpit, cigar smoke and fast food.

The driver laughed as he pulled himself into the cab of the truck. His cargo this trip consisted of two dozen frightened children on a one-way trip to hell. There was only three ways out of the VEP program: escape, die or parental buy-out.

Character Development: The Retriever

He was in his mid-thirties but he looked older. 10 years spent as a retriever of runners had caused not one but two ulcers to develop in his stomach. He wore a black suit as required by the agency. A 9mm .40 cal semi-automatic pistol and a badge rested on his belt. The badge gave him the authority to capture runners. Dead or alive it didn’t matter. He had a quota and he was running behind this month.

The rain pounding on his windshield was making it difficult to see. He pulled into the Diner parking lot. The signal from the girl was weak but she was somewhere in the area. He slapped the side the tracking device a couple of times before giving it a big shake. The damn thing never worked right.

Character Development- The Diner

He was tall and lean. His dark curly hair handed down from his mother; “God rest her soul”. With a heavy sigh, he wraps the food stained apron around his waist. He loathed this place; the counter, the stove, the constant smell of grease. The diner and its associated debt belonged to his dead coward of a father.

The office of Financial Affairs had no sympathy for late payments. Family debt had to paid on time or face the consequences. The wolves were already knocking at the door. He considered running away from it all but his younger brother was still tagged as a commodity. His location could be traced.

Character Development- Debt

Family debt forced mothers and fathers to surrender their children to the state run Office of Financial affairs. As commodities of the state, children could be bought and sold until the age of 18. By law, the collectors could gather children to satisfy unpaid debt using any means necessary.

Her head ached, her eyes swollen from hours of crying. She pleaded her case and promised to sell a kidney but it was too late. She looked through the 8 foot high chain link fence as the guards loaded her son onto the truck. The boy was crying. He begged not to go. She yelled out his name and cried “I Love you”. Her voice drowned out by the other grieving parents.

Character Development: The travelers

The diner was a temporary stopping place, a safe haven from the torrential downpour outside. The booth made of old wood was cold and drafty but offered a clear view of the road. Exhausted from their journey, her head of brown curls resting on his tired shoulders she whispers “I love you”.

The waitress brings the weary travelers two glasses of water and a day old cinnamon bun. The young man scratches his stubbly chin and nods in appreciation. He could offer no more. His pockets were empty.

The waitress sighs. There would be no tip from this table.

Dannick, The Awakening PT. 1

(This is a rewrite)
My name is Ghent, according to the name tag over my left breast pocket. This name is not familiar to me but at the moment I must assume it is my own. I remember nothing prior to the time of my awakening; during my first conscious moments my mind attempted to search for answers. I was not afraid but lost in blankness; there were no images to retrieve, no clue to my predicament. Limited to a space no larger than a casket, movement was minimal; I used my hands to search for a button or a lever that would allow escape from my captivity. While blindly searching the walls, a light above my head began to flash and change in color from red, to yellow, to green. The hatch released allowing external air to rush in; the sudden change in air pressure caused my lungs to take a series of unexpected deep breaths. The inhalation of fresh air was invigorating. I reached out and pushed the hatch aside. My first images of freedom were a metal grey ceiling lined with pipes and recessed lighting. Curious about my surroundings coupled with the desire to flee my confinement I sat up. To my surprise, I was not alone.

A room of strangers, both male and female from various places of origin, we looked at each other uncertain what to say. When words were finally spoken the language unfamiliar but recognizable to all. My first attempts to speak in retrospect were comical. I started and stopped sentences several times in an attempt to fix the malfunction in my brain. The words in my head English but what springs forth from my mouth is not.

I look around, nothing is familiar. A placard on the wall suggests we are in a place called Dannick. None of us remember entering the pods; our minds blank in regards to past events. Attempts to brain storm for answers ineffective; our imaginations run wild with possibilities. We can only speculate as to how, when or why our destinies collided in this place.

Our matching jumpsuits suggest we are members of a group; possibly inmates or an elite band of warriors. I prefer to think we are the later or something comparable in respectability. I do not wish to be a criminal or an escaped test subject of a mad scientist.

Not knowing what to do, this place unfamiliar, collectively we decided to explore our surroundings. Our location has no windows. I suggest we are on a military vessel or in the deep dark depths of a research facility or possibly a fallout shelter; although a logical reason for being in either of those places is not readily apparent. I step toward the only door leading in or out of the room in hopes it is not secure. My exit is abruptly halted by an older man and four armed guards. The escorts looked as if they were ready to shoot anything or anyone that stepped out of line. I step back toward my own pod in hopes of not dying before I learned of who I am or where I came from.

The older man’s name is Captain Addison. “Welcome to the Dannick” he says with all the joy of a proud father. He called us recruits and congratulates us on finding our way to the Dannick. If we are recruits why are armed guards necessary. My mind is confused. I try to remember what I have forgotten, to make sense of my circumstance. Capt Addison makes it sound as if we are here by choice. He seems nice enough but I feel as if all it not what it seems. I am a recruit for this vessel but yet something deep within says I do not belong here.

Chapter 1 Moira

Chapter 1
Huddled in a corner with blankets over his head, Gavin fell asleep to the sounds of torrential rain and howling winds. It was a pleasant surprise to wake and feel the calm of a sunny day. Tossing the blankets aside, he stood and gazed out the only unbroken window of his home. The citizens of Albiones took pride in the beauty of their town. Now, broken homes and uprooted trees were everywhere. It would take week’s maybe months to put things back the way they were before the storm.
The deadly storm had lasted the three days his wife Rachel predicted. His loving wife always had a way of knowing what was going to happen. Gavin looked back at the rocker next to the fireplace where his dying wife Rachel had sat quietly quilting the year before. With uplifting words, she promised within a year’s time new life would spring forth from devastation. His life would change for the better.
Gavin pushed open the front door and stepped out into the sun. Everything was broken.
“How could anything spring forth from this?” he muttered as he picked up a piece of his roof and tossed it out of the way. It slammed into the broken chicken coup. An unexpected cry came from the rubble. Barely audible pitiful cries that grew louder as Gavin stepped toward the heap of wood and twisted metal. He expected to find a wounded animal that he would be forced to put down. What he saw beneath the rubble caught him by surprise. She was so tiny, cold and looked half starved to death. A large bump protruded from her forehead and her left arm bent in a peculiar way.
“Too stubborn to die?” he said as he carefully removed the rubble and picked up the broken infant. “You are far from home.”
The storm had taken many lives and there were many wounded in the town. Half the day passed before a physician arrived to look at the tiny bundle that had landed in the chicken coup. The physician examined the tiny infant with bewilderment. “Gavin, I am amazed she survived this long. You have a miracle on your hands. I have set her arm and cleaned the head wound. Try to keep her still for a couple of weeks. I don’t want the fragile bones in her arm to slip out of alignment. I can do no more. If she survives, she survives. Keep her warm by the fire and feed her the milk from the woolly goat. I will return every couple of days to check on her progress”.
Gavin stared down at the broken infant as the physician walked out the front door. “New life will spring forth from the devastation.” He smiled to himself as the words from his dying wife played out in his head. He had assumed she was referring to the crops in the field or his small herd of woolly goats. Rachel had always wanted a baby but years of trying had only produced tears and heartbreaking loss; Six infants buried beneath the grand oak. Gavin picked up the sleeping infant and carefully cradled her in his arms. “My wife would have loved you dearly.” he whispered into her tiny ear. “Welcome to your new home.”
The following days the elders of Albiones made count of the survivors. Five people died from injuries sustained during the deadly storm. Tiny, cold and broken, Moira had miraculously survived. She recovered from her injuries and thrived.