I didn’t think it would happen so soon, but it did. Within a week of Reborn City coming out, the first review has appeared on Amazon. This comes Matthew Williams, Canadian science-fiction author and dear friend (I did a review for his zombie thriller Whiskey Delta). Matt also is the author of the blog Stories by Williams and is an authority on all subjects related to science and science fiction. And I’m proud to say, he’s also the guy I asked to edit RC before I got it ready to publish.
And it’s because of all of those that I was really excited to see his review on Amazon today, in which he gave RC four stars. Here’s what he had to say:
“Gangland violence, superhero-like enhancements, a futuristic setting, and social commentary that stems from a semi-post-apocalyptic theme. And then there’s a story where people come together as a family to deal with mutual loss and tragedy. What’s not to like?”
I’m glad you thought so highly of it, Matt! What do you say to taking to a look at Video Rage when I’m ready to show it to someone else?
Well, I’m glad Matt likes it. I’ve had a couple of sales so far, and from what I’m hearing, people are liking RC so far. I had a friend message me over Facebook the other day to let me know that she thought the first couple pages of RC were scary due to the violence. I was like, “I wasn’t intending to scare anyone with the violence, but I’m glad you’re reading it and I hope you enjoy the rest of the novel.” Or something to that effect.
If you wish to read Reborn City, you can find it on Amazon, CreateSpace, and Smashwords. And if you do decide to read it, please let me know what you think. I love feedback, whether positive or negative.
Also, you should check out my friend Matt’s blog. Whether it’s drones threatening to become intelligent, the latest in medical science, changes in climate, or the latest superhero movie news, he’s your guy. And if you like what you see, check out his published work, including Whiskey Delta. It’s worth the read.
A couple of weeks ago, I wrote a post about the scariest scene I’d ever written in my career. It was a pretty intense sexual assault scene, so bad that I had to go out shopping in the middle of a downpour just to find my center and write about it in a blog post (it was that bad). Two of the concerns I had with the scene was if it would deliver the emotional effect I was looking for, and was it well written?
Well, I can’t really testify as to the former question. Only readers of the story could tell me, and that novel is still in its first draft. But for the latter, I might have an answer.
The book I’m reading for class right now.
I’ve mentioned before that I’m taking a literature class that covers science-fiction literature (and a couple movies). One of the books we’re reading is called The Windup Girl by Paolo Baciagalupi, and early on it has a pretty terrifying rape scene. I found myself reading it on my couch, putting a hand over my mouth as it ended. I was thinking about it the whole rest of the day and well into the evening, trying to wrap my head around it.
And then I realized something. I felt these same emotions writing my own rape scene. Not at the same intensity, but close to it. And it was written in a similar way to my own scene as well. In fact, I thought to myself, “There are many similarities between the scene in Baciagalupi’s novel and my own draft for Laura Horn.” Now I’m not saying I’m on par with a novelist who’s won the Hugo and Nebula Awards (and besides, his scene had some sci-fi twists, making it very different from mine), but the similarities really sprung out at me, especially the emotional similarities. It made me realize that wondering whether it’s well-written–whether I included the right words, whether I was describing anything right–was the wrong thing to worry about.
Instead, I should be worrying about delivering the emotional impact that you’d expect from a rape scene. The terror, the humiliation, the pain, the anger, the crushing despair. I should be more focused on those aspects of the writing when I write those sort of scenes. If I do that, the well-written part will somehow weave itself into the scene.
So now that I’ve figured that out, I think I’ll approach those scenes very differently in the future, should I decide to do one again. In the meantime though, I think I’ll go to bed, as it’s getting quite late. Goodnight, my dear Followers of Fear (that’s what I’ve started calling people who read this blog regularly, along with those on my Facebook page and Twitter feed. Do you like the nickname?).
Oh, and for those of you who are wondering when I’m going to end this self-imposed hiatus on my writing (if anyone’s wondering that at all. I’m sure most of my readers have more important things to think about, but you never know), I promise you it’ll be as soon as my workload clears up a bit. That might not be till after final exams, when all I have is work at my job and whatever’s on TV or whatever I’m reading at the moment, but on the plus side, exams are in four or five weeks, so it’ll be soon. And then I plan on writing up a mean storm of fiction! It’ll make up for all I’ve missed during NaNoWriMo!
You know what I just learned? That you can get self-published books directly through CreateSpace. I had no idea till just this moment. Says a lot about how oblivious I am, but yeah, I just found out about the CreateSpace store.
So now my books are available through the Createspace Store, and I’ve included the links to them on the pages for each of my books and below. If you wish, please check them out so you can be among the first to get the paperback version of Reborn City. Or not, it’s your choice.
Once again, I apologize for my obliviousness, and I wish you a great weekend. Blog on you later.
Four years ago, I sat down in front of my computer and began outlining a novel about a girl named Zahara Bakur and her experiences with the Hydras. Over two years, taking many breaks for homework and an after school job and reading and a five week trip to Israel in summer 2010, I finished the novel that I named Reborn City. Then, over the next two years, I refined, edited, and polished up the novel, and finally I had my good friend Matt Williams at Stories by Williams take a look at RC before going ahead with the publishing process.
Now, after nearly four years, Reborn City is available for everyone to read. Sure, the print version is a bit more expensive than promised because Amazon said the price had to be so-and-so dollars, which I think is a little dickish, but whatever, it’s still out.
I can’t believe after so long it’s finally out, but I’m very happy and I am so glad I can finally share this novel with the world. If you are interested in reading Reborn City, you can check it out on Amazon and Smashwords. And if you want to read a preview before you commit to buying or downloading a copy, you can read an excerpt here.
Once again, thank you so very much for all your support and I hope you have an enjoyable read. If you feel like it, after you finish reading it please write a review on Amazon or Smashwords. Good or bad, I really don’t care. I’m always happy for feedback. Oh, and if you can’t find the print version on the Amazon page, most likely that’s because it’s still being processed by Amazon. Come back later today and it should be there.
Have a nice weekend everybody! Here’s the book trailer for RC, if you haven’t seen it yet.
The other day I was reading a blog post by impossiblegirl123, author of Life and Other Diasters, that got me thinking. The post was about the author’s favorite books growing up, and I mentioned some of mine in the comment sections. It was then that I noticed something interesting about the books mentioned: several of them had orphans as main characters. From Harry Potter, A Series of Unfortunate Events, and Eragon to The Thief Lord and The Bartimaues Trilogy, all these books had at least one parentless child as the protagonist.
Now here’s my question: why? Why are orphans so popular in fiction, especially fiction aimed at children and young adults? It’s not something I’ve considered before, though now that I look at it the orphan trope seems pretty popular. Heck, I use orphans in Reborn City: all the main characters are orphans in one sense or another! So in this post I’m going to try and figure out why orphans are so popular as protagonists, especially when in real life orphans aren’t that lucky to be in harrowing adventures involving magic, love, and mystery (how many series did I just pin down right there?).
1. We want to think good things will happen after horrible events occur. I think that’s the more emotional reason behind the orphan trope. Everybody hopes that after a disaster occurs, such as the loss of parents, we’ll be then blessed by something extraordinary. Having orphan characters, people who have no parents and are affected by their absence in some manner, allows for us to identify with the characters and what we hope would potentially happen to us should, God forbid, we tragically lose our parents before their time.
2. Who needs parents in the way? An orphan cahracter is a parentless character. And how many times would a parent get in the way of a character if they had to set out on a probably very dangerous journey? I’d say 100% of the time. Hence, having an orphan character means parents won’t get in the way of the plot development.
3. Great introspection. Parents help to shape our identities. Orphans are therefore somewhat lacking an identity. During the course of their journeys and adventures, there is plenty of room for an orphaned protagonist to wonder about the important questions, such as “Who am I? What’s my purpose in life? Why was I abandoned to the world? Will I ever find someone who will love me for who I am? Why do terrible monsters keep coming after me?” It’s perfect for authors who love to add a little grounding introspection and character development in the middle of a pulpy action-adventure plot.
4. A morality tale. As children we’re often taught the difference between right and wrong from our parents. When you have a lack of parents, whom do you learn right and wrong from? Do you even get a chance to learn or do you have to figure it out yourself? Do you ever figure it out at all? All of us want to believe that fi we were in horrible situations, like being orphaned at a young age, we’d be just as moral and virtuous as we are in reality (which might be a contributing factor in the continuing popularity of Oliver Twist and Harry Potter, two orphaned boys with incredibly kind dispostitions). Personally I find the story slightly more interesting when the orphan in question has to struggle to be the righteous and confident hero, which will forever put me at odds with the first couple chapters of Sorcerer’s Stone, but you still can’t deny that there’s something about characters who remain good in the face of adversity that just makes you want to love them, right?
From many Brothers Grimm protagonists, to Tom Sawyer and Oliver Twist, to Batman and Spider-Man, to Harry Potter and Eragon, we love orphans in fiction for any number of reasons. The reasons we may include them in our stories may be any of the ones listed above or perhaps an entirely different reason, but the reasons are why orphans are a continuously popular trope in fiction and while they’ll still play large parts in the stories we write for years to come.
Do you have a favorite orphan character? Have you ever written an orphan character? Why do you like the character or why did you use that sort of character archetype?
This morning when I posted on my Facebook page and Twitter feed about Reborn City coming out three days from now, I joked that I couldn’t tell if I was shivering from excitement or from the cold (this year autumn seems to have passed Ohio by and let winter take over early). Later today when I logged onto the Internet after back-to-back classes and quite a bit of homework, I noticed that my sister Adi had posted about RC on Facebook and Twitter as well. It made me very happy and I was glad that she was my sister. It also made me wonder if she’d been replaced by an alien of some sort, which is always a possibility.
But you know, I’ve received a lot of support these past couple of days. My mother told me last night when we went out to dinner she might buy more than one copy of RC, and I’ve had friends, family, and classmates telling me to let them know when it comes out just so they can buy it.
This makes me very hopeful. I’m looking forward to seeing how RC does when it comes out, and I can’t wait to hear what everyone thinks of it, seeing as it’s my first published novel. I guess with the first one you always feel the most trepidation and excitement, because it’s your first time putting a full-length work out on the stands. And when it goes out, you wonder to yourself, will this be my big break? Will people love it or hate it? Will I have an excellent movie made out of it starring the actor from one of my favorite shows?
Okay, that last one was a bit much for a self-published writer with only one other book to his name, but you get the idea,
Anyway, thanks for the all the support, everyone. I can’t do any of this without you constantly reading, liking, commenting, and cheering me on. I hope that when RC comes out you like it and that you’re not afraid to tell me what you think of it, whether it be positive or negative thoughts.
(The following review has more than one spoiler, so if you haven’t finished or even begun reading The Wolves of Midwinter but are planning on it, please don’t read this till you do. Sorry I have to spoil some things, but I can’t do the novel justice in this review without mentioning one or two very important plot points. I’ll try and keep the number of mentions down though.)
This’ll be last review for a while, so I wanted it to be special, and I can’t think of anything more special to review than Anne Rice’s latest novel. Some of you may remember my review last summer of Ms. Rice’s The Wolf Gift. I’m sorry to say that I won’t be using food metaphors this time around, not just because it’s been a couple hours since my last meal, but also because I found it a little ridiculous, looking back, that I was the reviewer who used food metaphors.
Now on with the review.
Anne Rice has a talent for crafting truly extraordinary stories. In another author’s hands, they might seem mundane or boring, but with her hands she’s able to craft a engrossing novel that keeps you reading the story long after you should go to bed. The Wolves of Midwinter is no exception. In this volume of The Wolf Gift Chronicles, protagonist Reuben Golding has some unexpected developments in his life, including the visit of the ghost of a friend of his. This sets the stage for further developments in Reuben’s life as a Man Wolf, as his fellow Morphenkinder Margon and Felix introduce him, fellow pack member Stuart and Reuben’s lover Laura to some more aspects of their strange, immortal world. At the same time, Reuben deals with the changing dynamics of his family as changes in his life and in the lives of his loved ones occur and as his own immortality becomes more apparent to him, sometimes rather painfully.
What do you brood about tonight, dear Morphenkind?
What is most magnificent about The Wolves of Midwinter is that the novel is always engaging even without a central antagonist or conflict to drive the story forward. Sure, there is a dangerous pack of Morphenkinder with some very dark plans for Reuben and his pack, but they are not essential to the plot that without them there would be no story. Indeed, reading the novel you get the sense that you’re reading about several chains of events closely linked to one another like crisscrossing lines of dominoes, and that the dominoes are just falling to their inevitable conclusions in the book you are reading in your hands. I marvel and kind of envy how the novel was written that way (I wish I could write a story like that. I wonder how Ms. Rice learned how to do it?).
The only part of the novel that I didn’t care for was when Reuben gets a little surprise gift a few months before Christmas, he seems to accept the implications rather quickly and give into the demands his family puts on him without much of an argument. I would’ve rather seen a more in-depth exploration of how he reacted to this surprise gift (not to mention how Laura takes it), but the rest of the novel moved along very well, so that was the only complaint I really had. And when you compare it to the rest of the book, it seems a little bit trivial.
My favorite portion of The Wolves of Midwinter was the last hundred or so pages, starting with some terrifying and unexpected events at a Morphenkind Yuletide celebration, followed by some tribulations in the life of Reuben’s brother Jim, and ending in a joyous celebration at the end of the Christmas season that almost makes you want to cry but instead makes you marvel at how masterfully crafted the ending of the story is.
For The Wolves of Midwinter, I’m giving it a 4.4 out of 5. The storytelling and language, the plot, the characters and how they deal with events as they (sometimes literally) hit them, made this a truly enjoyable read. I hope to read more of Reuben’s story in a future volume of The Wolf Gift Chronicles. Either that or another novel in the Songs of the Seraphim series, I love those books.
Oh and speaking of which, congratulations to Ms. Rice for her Song of the Seraphim novel Angel Time getting made into a TV show like Stephen King’s Under the Dome was this past summer. No word yet on when that’ll be happening, but I can already see it in my head and I bet it’s going to be great. I’m kind of seeing Christopher Eccleston as Toby O’Dare and Mehki Phifer or Omar Epps in the role of Malchiah. Don’t know if that’ll actually happen, but I definitely wouldn’t mind if it did..
I’ve decided to post excerpts of my published work on separate pages. From now on, readers can click on any of the pages for the books I have out and read excerpts from the final drafts of each novel/short story collection. So if you’re interested in getting a sneak peek at The Quiet Game, Reborn City or Snake, you can scroll above, click on any of the pages for those works, and find a link to an excerpt.
I hope you get a chance to take a look at them. Each excerpt is carefully selected to give you an idea of what you might be reading should you decide you might want to purchase a hard copy of my published work (or e-copy, as it is these days).
I’m signing off now, but I want to let you know at some point during the week, besides more countdown posts for Reborn City and the usual Weekly Exercise, I also plan to write a reflection piece or two on themes in writing and perhaps a special Halloween post. Oh, and my last review till the Doctor Who 50th anniversary special.
Until then, have a good night everybody! See you later in the week and happy reading!
I got my homework done earlier than I’d expected today, so I’m writing up a blog post to mark up how close Reborn City is to coming out. I’m so excited! I still can’t believe it’s been over four years since I first started writing the story.
To classify RC, it’s dystopian science fiction, but it’s a different science fiction than anything we see in the market these days. Unlike The Hunger Games or Divergent, the world of the story is (at least in my opinion) close enough to this world that we don’t have to totally suspend our disbelief in order to enjoy the story. Instead of just going “Crazy events must have happened to create a state that murders its children from the districts” or “I’m sure there’s a great economic/political/cultural reason behind why Chicago is divided into factions”, I try to make the world slightly more believable. For example, racism, gang violence, and Islamaphobia are still major problems in this world, and the technology, although sometimes pretty incredible, is mostly recognizable to any citizen living in the developed world.
There are things that make the world of RC different though. For instance, buildings can change shape in the future, cars rely on vegetable extracts for food, and hoverbikes have just come into being. Not to mention that some gangsters in this novel have abilities beyond the ordinary. But most importantly, at this point the world of RC is mostly made up of city-states and small nations, and because of the Third World War, most nations and city-states are demilitarized. Now there’s something you don’t see everyday!
Well, it’ll be up to the readers whether or not this world I’ve created is more believable than the worlds of other authors. And they may let me know in any reviews that RC gets. At any rate, I’m just excited for them to read it.
If you’re interested in reading Reborn City, it’ll be available Friday, November 1st, and will be available on Amazon and Smashwords. The print paperback version will be available for $6.99, while the e-book version will be available for $2.99. And I’ll be using the Kindle Matchbook program, so that if you buy a copy of the e-book, you may be eligible for a discounted or even free copy of the print paperback version (at least I think that’s how it works). Anyway, I hope you/’re as excited as I am and I can’t wait to hear what you think when you get the chance to read it.
I didn’t get to do this with The Quiet Game (I forget why), so I’m doing it with Reborn City. Guess what:
Yes, seven days! Reborn City will be coming out November 1st in both print paperback and e-book formats. It’s been a long process, but it’s finally almost time! And I could not be more excited. Well I could be but I’m pretty sure it would involve illegal drugs, so I’ll stay at my normal levels of excitement.
You know, it’s been over four years since I first sat down and started writing Reborn City. I had an idea for a novel–possibly one with a sequel or two–on the way home from the library while listening to a CD with a lot of rap and rock music. I stopped by a Dairy Queen for a treat and started thinking about how to develop this idea, which had street gangs at the center of it and a sci-fi twist. Then at my sister’s birthday, after the cake and presents had been put away, I started writing some notes down in a journal. Then I started researching, and typing a manuscript, and then after many breaks and a lot of painstaking work over the course of two years, I finished the manuscript. Another year and a third of editing, eight months spent emailing chapters to my dear friend Matt Williams and making more adjustment based on his suggestions and the final copy was done. Finally I created a cover on CreateSpace (which you can see above) and I sent it all off to the copyright office.
A few months pass by, a book trailer comes out, and now we’re finally at the end of this long journey. I’m hoping for wonderful things to happen with this book. I’ve poured a lot of blood, sweat, and tears into RC, and I hope people really like reading it. It’s not as scary as some of my other work, so that may appeal to less fear-loving readers. And it’s sci-fi dystopian fiction, so considering today’s market that’s good to have.
But there’s more to it than that. The novel tackles some powerful themes, like racism and Islamaphobia, drugs and gang violence, and a number of other issues. And I’m hoping its those themes that will resonate with readers and help them fall in love with characters, rather than some dashing heroine and a couple of good-looking guys rebelling against a government that’s pure evil (how many franchises did I just describe there? I think I got Twilight in there too).
So without further ado, I’m going to give you guys a treat in honor of RC coming out. The first treat is the RC book trailer, which is right underneath the next paragraph. Immediately following the video is an excerpt from Chapter One of RC, for all your reading pleasure. I hope you like the video and the excerpt and that you’ll be interested in reading the actual book afterwards.
Also, if you haven’t already read them, please see my interviews with Zahara Bakur, Rip, and Jason Price, three very important characters from Reborn City. They’re very amazing people…though two of them did threaten to kill me for various reasons.
Reborn City, former Nevada
28 Anno Bombus (2056 CE)
June 28
Zahara and her family had decided to eat out at a restaurant in North Reborn that served kosher meat, the closest they could get to halāl. “I know it’s for Jews mostly, but it’s a very nice place and the Jews were very nice to us in New York.” Zahara’s father, Emir Bakur had said when he’d suggested it. “They know they don’t have to fear Muslims anymore. And the Chaplinsky family in 4F was nice enough, right?”
However Emir had taken a wrong turn on the still-unfamiliar streets and highways and they had somehow ended up in West Reborn. The sight of the place gave Zahara chills, and it just wasn’t the reports of gang violence: the area had a grittiness that Zahara didn’t like. The cold brown houses, the rusty lamp poles, the cracked, light-grey concrete. West Reborn looked unkempt, uncared for, like the city had kept up the other areas of the city but had forgotten about this one. The only buildings that looked in any good condition were casinos, bars, and strip clubs, displaying three-dimensional holograms of cash prizes and sexy women drinking beer while looking at passerby with bedroom eyes. The sight of them disgusted Zahara.
In the front of the car Emir and Aaliyah were arguing, trying to figure out how to get back to where they were going. Zahara closed her eyes and tried to let the music from her filepiece filter into her right ear. Surrendering to the small device, she wondered if she’d ever get out of this city and get back to New York where she belonged. Somehow, Zahara had a feeling she would never come to like Reborn City, no matter how much she lived here.
After a few more minutes of her parents arguing about which direction, Zahara opened her eyes again, prepared to tell them they should just check their phones for the directions. Her eyes widened as she saw an arm swing up from the sidewalk and throw a rock at the windshield. The glass cracked as the rock rebounded off the windshield and into the road. Aaliyah and Zahara screamed as Emir braked the car and jerked at the steering wheel. The car skidded to a screeching halt, the nose pointing towards the middle of the road.
Zahara saw her father unbuckle his seatbelt and before she could stop him, stepping out to inspect the damage. “What in the name of Allah—?” he said, but stopped as he heard the click of a jackknife being opened. He turned around and saw two men, one of whom was holding a long, deadly-looking blade. Leaning forward in her seat, Zahara could make out the details of the two men: both of the men had a ruddy tan complexion, were wearing green clothes, and had looks on their faces that said they did not like making new friends. On the neck of one Zahara could make out what looked like a tattoo of a pitchfork with a sombrero hung over the right prong.
One of them, who was large and muscular, spoke to Zahara’s father. “Hand over yo’ fuckin’ money an’ yo fuckin’ car.” he said with a Spanish accent. “Ya got that?”
“Sure!” said Zahara’s father, holding his hands up defensively, looking so unlike the corporate lawyer he was. “Just take it easy, okay? Just take it easy—!”
“Hurry the fuck up!” said the other man. “Who ya think yo messin’ with, estupido?” This man was thin and gangly and had a strange leer on his face, like he would rather punch Emir than talk to him.
“Okay, okay!” said Emir, backing back up to the door and turning off the engine. Zahara’s mother Aaliyah saw this and as her husband stood back up out of the car, unbuckled her seatbelt and opened the car door.
“Mother!” said Zahara in English. Aaliyah looked behind her to where her daughter was sitting on the edge of her seat, fists balled in her lap, chewing her lower lip. “Don’t go out there!” Zahara hissed; Zahara rarely used English with her parents and she was only using it now because she didn’t know if these two men in green were fans of Muslims or not. Either way, it was not a good time to find out.
Zahara’s mother looked at her daughter as if she’d gone mad. “I don’t have a choice, Zahara.” she said in Arabic, pushing a loose lock of hair back under her hijab. “Our car is being stolen.” She opened her door and slid out of the seat. Zahara watched with disbelief as her mother closed the car door. Did her mother think things would go peacefully?
Suddenly the skinny gangster stared at Zahara’s mother and pointed at her hijab. “Hey Manny!” said the skinny gangster. “Check out the headscarf. Musulmàns!”
The fat gangster, Manny, stared at Zahara’s mother, then turned back to Emir, his expression livid. “So, you thought you’d get the jump on us, huh?” he said, thrusting the knife at Zahara’s father. “Fuckin’ terrorist! Let us jack ya car an’ explode us too?”
Zahara winced. Fuckin’ terrorist. She had been right, these two men hated Muslims.
“No, that’s not it at all!” said Emir, looking terrified as the skinny gangster pulled out a gun. “Please, you have to believe me—!”
“Shaddup!” yelled Manny, stabbing Emir in the belly. Emir went rigid as the knife plunged into his belly, then collapsed as Manny pulled the blade out. Blood poured out of Zahara’s father, pooling around him in a big red circle.
Aaliyah screamed in horror, staring at her husband as tears flooded down her cheeks. “Emir!” she cried. “Emir—!”
The skinny gangster pulled out his gun and shot Aaliyah in the forehead; her eyes rolled into the back of her head as Zahara’s mother fell lifeless to the ground. Zahara gasped, trying to keep her tears and screams inside herself. If the gangsters saw her they’d kill her too. And maybe…just because she was a teenager and a girl…they’d do other stuff to her, too. Zahara shuddered to think of what they’d do to her if they did that too.
Manny was kicking Emir’s lifeless body casually, making sure he was dead. “Think they’d play us, did they?” he said to his companion. “Fuckin’ terrorists.”
“Yeah, well they’re shittin’ in hell now.” said the skinny gangster. “Shows what happens when ya mess with Diablos.”
“Yeah.” said Manny, looking up from Emir’s body. “Come on, let’s go—wait a minute.” Manny’s piggy little eyes fixed on Zahara in the backseat of her parent’s car. Zahara squeaked as Manny took two steps towards her. “Yo, Che. Come check this out.” Manny called to his friend, followed by something in Spanish. Zahara nearly froze up as she realized she’d been discovered.
Quickly Zahara unbuckled her seatbelt, threw open the car door and ran, throwing her filepiece as a distraction. Manny and Che jumped back as the filepiece hit the ground, probably thinking it was a grenade or something. By the time they realized their mistake, Zahara already had a head start on them. They set off after her, angrily yelling in Spanish at her. Zahara turned around, saw them catching up, and ran faster, determined to get away.
As Zahara ran, bumping into people and flying past holograms, she began to cry; her parents were dead, she was miles away from any familiar place and with no familiar people to help her. The heartache she was feeling was so intense that she could just keel over and die, but she wouldn’t die here, and she would not let herself be caught by the gangsters chasing after her. She’d get out of West Reborn, find the house (she still hadn’t thought of it as “home” yet), and then she’d call New York and get help. Or maybe kill herself. Either way, she had to get out.
The gangsters were only a few feet behind her. But a few blocks ahead there was a police station. Maybe, if she was able to get there, she’d be safe. She could tell the police what was going on, they’d arrest her parents’ murderers, and then she could go back to New York—
Suddenly Zahara tripped on a shifted slab of concrete and fell. Thrusting her hands out in front of her, Zahara cried out as she scraped her hands and knees. She tried to stand up again but then someone grabbed her shirt from behind and yanked her up. Zahara stared into the faces of Manny and Che, the Hispanic gangsters who had murdered her parents. Che grabbed Zahara’s arms and twisted them into a painful armlock.
“Hello, Little Miss Terrorist.” said Manny. “Thought ya could get away so easily. Thought the po-po would help ya out. Wrong!”
Both of them laughed cruelly, and Manny brought out his knife, holding it close to Zahara’s jugular. The blade gleamed with the blood of Zahara’s father still fresh on it. Che and Manny laughed harder at the expression on Zahara’s face. “The po-po are just pussies.” said Che. “Fuckin’ pussies. They couldn’t catch us an’ throw us in the clink, an’ they would never help a fuckin’ Musalmàn. Besides, even if they would, them assholes can’t see us. It’s dark out, ya know.”
Manny pressed his face close to Zahara’s, grinning wickedly. The foul smell of his breath wafted over Zahara’s face, making her want to puke. “And the nearest streetlamp is right ovuh there.” he added, cocking his head in the direction of the lonely streetlamp.
With a great effort Zahara twisted her head away from the knife. “Somebody help me!” she screamed.
“No one’s gonna fuckin’ come to your rescue, Little Miss Terrorist.” said Manny, pressing the blade to Zahara’s neck; a little bit of Zahara’s blood trickled onto the knife, mixing with Emir’s. Zahara whimpered as Manny pressed his face even closer than before, so close she could see the pupils in his beady eyes. Behind her Zahara could feel Che’s hot breath on the nape of her neck.
Suddenly Manny’s free hand swooped down and grabbed the button on Zahara’s pants, undoing it in an instant. His hand reached into her pants and began feeling around.
“No, please.” said Zahara, tears spilling from the corner of her eyes. “Please don’t do this—!”
“Shaddup!” said Manny, looking up from what he was doing; Zahara felt the blade of the knife dig a little deeper into her neck. “Ya shaddup an’ try ta enjoy it. Maybe aftowards we’ll let ya kill yoself, got it? But no bombs; ya might hurt someone.”
Che giggled as Manny worked Zahara’s pants off, exposing her white underwear. As he did Zahara felt the fight go out of her. She was going to die and painfully too and at the hands of her parents’ murderers. She’d never see her friends again, she’d never see her parents again, and like the two men had said, no one was going to help her—
“What ya mothas doin’?” said a voice. Zahara looked away from Manny as a figure dressed in a black hoodie and jeans stepped into the lamplight. Manny paused and then stood up, pulling the knife away from Zahara’s neck.
As he did Zahara felt her energy disappear. Black edged into her field of vision as Zahara strained to discern the face of the newcomer. But the darkness took her and Zahara couldn’t see his face. The last thing Zahara thought before she fainted was that she would’ve liked to see the face of her potential rescuer.
That, and how embarrassed she was that her pants were lying uselessly around her ankles.
Rami Ungar The Writer 