Part Two
I’m finishing up part two of Flesh Pets. For those of you who are in the preview club, you’ll be getting a parcel in the mail containing four pounds of words.
The last section will be the shortest, and the strangest, as the full effect of my main character’s actions will begin to populate the book. I can’t wait.
Here’s a section from near the end of part two, in which the main character is shot outside of the state capitol building in Baton Rouge, Louisiana, by a man of deep, deep convictions…
The bullet went through my upper chest and shattered a glass door behind me. I remember turning around and thinking, holy shit, someone just fell through that door! The capitol steps were infested with journalists and legislators, occluding my view of the glass. Every one behind me seemed just as bewildered by the crashing noise and craned their necks to see the door. When I turned back towards the street, I noticed two security officers chasing after a man, and I began to feel more perplexed. I thought it odd that security would chase after a man who just fell through a door.
Then the man turned and fired towards the officers. A news director by the name of Murphy Townsend, who was standing next to his van conversing with someone on his mobile phone, went down like a bundle of marshmallows, his phone never leaving his ear.
“That man is hurt,” I said to Peter, taking a step forward. The security detailed fired back at the shooter, popping rounds into his bullet-proof vest and knocking him flat on his back.
I took another step towards the fallen news man, and noticed a tickle in my leg, the kind you might associate with a pinched nerve or loss of equilibrium. I lowered myself onto one knee, suddenly aware that it was difficult to breathe. I felt as if someone had slipped his hand under my skin and was squeezing my lung. I suspected another breakdown was imminent, until I touched my wet shirt.
I pulled my hand away and noted the clichéd bloody hand. ‘Really?’ I asked myself, just before my other knee dropped. I listed for a moment and then rolled onto my back and stared up at the sky. A puddle of blood choked me, so I hacked it up, spraying it up so that it rained down on me. Peter was instantly hovering over me, supporting my head in his hands.
“Help me get him to the car, now!” He yelled, a cloud perfectly framing his head like a poof of bushy hair. I smiled and tried to point to it. His face blurred in different directions, like a demon, and I heard other voices coming in over me.
“No, we’re not going to fucking wait!” Peter shouted. “We need to get him to a hospital immediately!”
Several hands slipped under my arms and legs, easing me up into the air. The capitol loomed over me like a menacing, phallic needle. It seemed to be falling towards me.