To save them.
The Enclosure stood alone as if the other buildings were afraid of catching its disease. Hell, I was afraid of catching its disease. Waving grass went on forever, broken only by the long road connecting the Enclosure to the rest of the world. And the two of us. Crouching so our borrowed white uniforms wouldn’t be seen. Watching and waiting.
“Rebbsie. (I think there should be a comma here instead of a period: “Rebbsie, look.”) Look.” Tass pointed, indicating a box truck puttering down the road. The food shipment. Monitoring the Department’s records had paid off.
Boarding the truck far enough away from the building would keep
the eye level cameras that bordered the road from seeing us. It was our way
in. Our first step in saving the last living members of our species, the
Controllers. Their name for us. We preferred Trols. I
don’t think you need what I crossed out here and removing it makes this move
along a little faster, which I think is what you want.
My body reacted instantly, knowing the plan before I did. Ground flew under my feet as I ran. My legs stretched, the muscles pulling taut. It felt wonderful after squatting in the grass for so long. Strands of my dark hair flew in my face and I shook my head, trying to clear my field of vision. The pouch that hung from my neck thumped against my chest. Without looking, I knew Tass was behind me just as
without me telling her, she knew what I was preparing to do. I think it reads better without but you be the judge.
We were going to hitch a ride.
The truck sped toward us. I could see the driver’s face. He was a few years younger than me, bobbing his head to the music blaring from his speakers, his eyes hooded. He hadn’t noticed us yet, but he could (could or would? Just curious…) at any moment. After all, we were running right at him, our path forming a forty-five degree angle with the back of the vehicle. If he spotted us, hiding was out of the question; neither one of us had
was a senses Trol with the ability to
control what he saw, and the nearest shelter was the Enclosure. So, he needed
to feel it was okay for us to be there. Though, for all he knew, it was. Still.
He had to relate us to something normal. Easy. When you can manipulate
thoughts. I wonder if instead of saying what Rebbsie
and Tass can’t do, say what they CAN do, like this: “If he spotted us, hiding
was out of the question; neither one of us had the ability to control what he
saw. But we could control how he felt, make him see us as normal, like we were supposed
to be there. Easy. When you can manipulate thoughts.”
I motioned for Tass to get behind me. The rhythm of her footsteps changed as she slowed, falling back. I waited until their beat again lined up with mine before shooting a wave at him, the pulse of it gathering at the base of my skull, the pressure lifting at my right temple. [Check out that jogger. Man, she’s hot. Maybe I should take up jogging. Bet it’s a nice view from the back.] Not exactly my style, but the thought had to match the mind “thinking” it. In this case, his. Yes, I agree that you didn’t need the last line here. And I think you can remove the brackets, too. I get that she’s projecting what she wants him to feel/think. And yes! This is so much better than the first draft – which was pretty darn good to begin with.
Nice work, Brooke.Does anyone else have any thoughts? Care to submit a page from your work in progress? It doesn't have to be a first page. I'll take a page from anywhere. Do it!