Reckoning (768 words)
Reckoning
by W. David MacKenzie
At the touch of a button, the scene through the binoculars snapped into focus and glowing numbers displayed the distance and declination of the target and the degrees off north. Those precision readings didn’t concern me, however. I was far enough away to avoid injury, high enough to avoid detection, and had a perfect line of sight to enjoy the mayhem to come.
Through the lenses, a preschooler pressed his face against the glass partition as the ice cream artist behind the counter swirled the hand-blended mixture around on the chilled slab. With a wrist-twisting flourish that was almost too fast to see, she scooped the entire concoction onto her mixing blade and slid it into a chocolate-rimmed waffle cone. A dark suited man entered the shop as she handed the treat across the counter to the boy's.
Without removing my eyes from the binoculars, I reached one hand into my jacket and retrieved a cell phone. It was one of several that I had for this mission. I thumbed the 2 key then hovered over the SEND button. In the magnified display, I watched the suited man gaze at the mother and child for a moment then step forward to place his order. I pressed SEND and held the phone to my ear as the ring tone began.
The man fumbled briefly in his suit pocket before producing his own cell phone. He studied it briefly then stepped away from the counter toward the store’s front window as he brought the phone to his ear.
A click, then Rafe’s voice transported me back to that summer six years ago. We were all stumbling around like a bunch of drunks, hiding our nervousness behind laughter and lunacy before putting our lives on the path to true adulthood—before things spiraled out of control. A chasm of silence grew while my mind wandered then Rafe’s voice came again and returned me to the present.
“I said, this is Agent Duardo. Who are you?” I watched as Rafe raked his fingers through his thick black hair, a habit he’d displayed in times of stress for as long as I’d known him.
“To maintain set routines and predictable schedules,” I said into the cell phone, “is to become vulnerable.” The words were verbatim from the training manuals. “It’s one of the first rules we were taught in surveillance class at Quantico, Rafe. Routines put and agent, and those around an agent, in danger.”
Rafe’s eyes met mine across two city blocks and through the lenses of the digitally amplified binoculars.
“What do you want, Reiner?”
“So, we’re not on a first name basis, any more, then?”
Rafe threw back his own silence, this time.
“No, I guess it wouldn’t do to be close to one as dishonored as I.” Rafe was making this easier on me than I’d expected.
“Reiner…”
“I’m here to admonish you for visiting that ice cream shop every Thursday for the last month. Instructor Burke would be quite disappointed in his star pupil.”
“What?” Rafe’s features twisted in confusion. “Burke didn’t teach surveillance, he…”
I thumbed the END button. No, Burke taught explosives.
In the binocular’s display, Rafe threw down his phone and held out his arms to the twenty or thirty people in the ice cream parlor, his Bureau credentials in his right hand. In the blink of an eye the diners went from calm human beings to stampeding cattle rushing for the single exit. The doors flew open and screaming mothers, teens, and grandparents burst out into the sunny afternoon.
As Rafe pushed the counter girl across the shop toward the door, I set a wide-angle view on the binoculars. I touched the 3 key on my cell phone and pressed SEND.
The ice cream shop erupted in a searing wave of orange and yellow light that rocketed Rafe through the plate glass window. It left him smoldering and broken in the middle of the street while black smoke roiled from the destroyed shop and debris fluttered down like a ticker tape parade.
I let the binoculars hang from their strap around my neck and dropped the cell phone to the gravel roof on which I was standing. They’d eventually find the phone and trace it to a dead end. I took a planner from my pocket and thumbed it open to a photo of five youthful agents posed comically in front of the FBI Academy. I withdrew the pen from the planner’s spiral backbone and drew an X over Rafe’s young and smiling face then returned the planner to my pocket and walked away.
by W. David MacKenzie
At the touch of a button, the scene through the binoculars snapped into focus and glowing numbers displayed the distance and declination of the target and the degrees off north. Those precision readings didn’t concern me, however. I was far enough away to avoid injury, high enough to avoid detection, and had a perfect line of sight to enjoy the mayhem to come.
Through the lenses, a preschooler pressed his face against the glass partition as the ice cream artist behind the counter swirled the hand-blended mixture around on the chilled slab. With a wrist-twisting flourish that was almost too fast to see, she scooped the entire concoction onto her mixing blade and slid it into a chocolate-rimmed waffle cone. A dark suited man entered the shop as she handed the treat across the counter to the boy's.
Without removing my eyes from the binoculars, I reached one hand into my jacket and retrieved a cell phone. It was one of several that I had for this mission. I thumbed the 2 key then hovered over the SEND button. In the magnified display, I watched the suited man gaze at the mother and child for a moment then step forward to place his order. I pressed SEND and held the phone to my ear as the ring tone began.
The man fumbled briefly in his suit pocket before producing his own cell phone. He studied it briefly then stepped away from the counter toward the store’s front window as he brought the phone to his ear.
A click, then Rafe’s voice transported me back to that summer six years ago. We were all stumbling around like a bunch of drunks, hiding our nervousness behind laughter and lunacy before putting our lives on the path to true adulthood—before things spiraled out of control. A chasm of silence grew while my mind wandered then Rafe’s voice came again and returned me to the present.
“I said, this is Agent Duardo. Who are you?” I watched as Rafe raked his fingers through his thick black hair, a habit he’d displayed in times of stress for as long as I’d known him.
“To maintain set routines and predictable schedules,” I said into the cell phone, “is to become vulnerable.” The words were verbatim from the training manuals. “It’s one of the first rules we were taught in surveillance class at Quantico, Rafe. Routines put and agent, and those around an agent, in danger.”
Rafe’s eyes met mine across two city blocks and through the lenses of the digitally amplified binoculars.
“What do you want, Reiner?”
“So, we’re not on a first name basis, any more, then?”
Rafe threw back his own silence, this time.
“No, I guess it wouldn’t do to be close to one as dishonored as I.” Rafe was making this easier on me than I’d expected.
“Reiner…”
“I’m here to admonish you for visiting that ice cream shop every Thursday for the last month. Instructor Burke would be quite disappointed in his star pupil.”
“What?” Rafe’s features twisted in confusion. “Burke didn’t teach surveillance, he…”
I thumbed the END button. No, Burke taught explosives.
In the binocular’s display, Rafe threw down his phone and held out his arms to the twenty or thirty people in the ice cream parlor, his Bureau credentials in his right hand. In the blink of an eye the diners went from calm human beings to stampeding cattle rushing for the single exit. The doors flew open and screaming mothers, teens, and grandparents burst out into the sunny afternoon.
As Rafe pushed the counter girl across the shop toward the door, I set a wide-angle view on the binoculars. I touched the 3 key on my cell phone and pressed SEND.
The ice cream shop erupted in a searing wave of orange and yellow light that rocketed Rafe through the plate glass window. It left him smoldering and broken in the middle of the street while black smoke roiled from the destroyed shop and debris fluttered down like a ticker tape parade.
I let the binoculars hang from their strap around my neck and dropped the cell phone to the gravel roof on which I was standing. They’d eventually find the phone and trace it to a dead end. I took a planner from my pocket and thumbed it open to a photo of five youthful agents posed comically in front of the FBI Academy. I withdrew the pen from the planner’s spiral backbone and drew an X over Rafe’s young and smiling face then returned the planner to my pocket and walked away.
posted by WDavid | 5/24/2006 03:46:00 PM
10 Comments:
Ok, another rewrite, another POV. Let me know what you think and what corrections need to be made.
Sorry I didn't get back to you about what I felt was "too much information" on the other version. This one is good, but somehow I miss the description of the mother "with the dexterity of a trapeze artist"... maybe because I'm a mother and I can see and understand what she's doing... maybe because it gave a brought the reader a little closer to the reality of the moment and gave him a more personal touch with the characters (everybody has a mother and has probably experienced something similar with them). Perhaps you can use that mother/child scene in another story somewhere if you don't use it here. It was giving out too much information about Rafe that I didn't like. This version is better I think.
Hi Mom...Thanks for the comments. Yes, I liked that trapeze artist allusion too and was sorry to see it go, but it was extraneous in this version. I'll keep it in my "library" though and will try to use it again someplace else. The whole scene with the mother and child could stand alone as it's own self contained descriptive piece. I just signed up for another class "Writeriffic: Creativity Training for Writers" so maybe it will get recycled and expanded there.
Well I have been thinking about this story (the previous version, not this one) all week. I don't think I like this one better, with the new pov. I think this pov, since it tells us who the bad guy is, takes away the suspense. The only thing left to guess about is how will they stop him.
I think another reason there is no suspense, in my opinion, is because you tell us in the first paragraph there is going to be mayhem. You should leave us guessing longer.
I also think it is a stretch to think that just because Reiner mentions Burke that Duardo is going to suddenly evacuate the building. It appears like Duardo is simply receiving a phone call from an old acquaintance. Reiner would have to be a known criminal to get a reaction like that.
Did Rafe really lock eyes with Reiner that quickly? It seems unlikely.
Personally, I would use a pov where the bad guy is simply "the watcher" or something like that. Because you are going to have to work your way through multiple FBI agents it might be an interesting read to use first person on each of them as they become the next target, adding memories from "the watcher" about each agent as you go.
I also miss the lengthy detail of the mother and boy in the ice cream shop, but for different reasons than mom I guess. I don't know if Rafe died in this version but you said he was going to survive in the other one. I think there needs to be more collateral damage. You gave the reader just enough to connect with the mother and boy. Wouldn't it be just terrible if one or both of them died? Hee hee.
I think that is all for the critical analysis. Now for the typos.
"A dark suited man entered the shop as she handed the treat across the counter to the boy's." The boy's what? Mom, I guess.
"Routines put and agent, and those around an agent, in danger.” Put an agent not put and agent.
OK just a side note now. I do like the possibilities of this story. But it almost sounds like very many other FBI stories or movies I've seen. Kind of generic. I have grown fond of your uniquely sinister stories and this one doesn't seem to fit that profile. I'm not trying to squeeze you into my box but just wanted you to know how much I enjoy the more original stuff.
Here are some comments from my classmates on my story...
amandaW writes: this unique piece grabbed me from the beginning and wouldn't let go. Its the first non semi autobiographical... I hope.. story I've run across and is extremely creative. Although sometimes hard to follow, the wrap up makes it clear as to what's happening. Looks like you've found your voice and your genre. great job! Amanda
Jeff writes: David, this is great! I love this kind of stuff. Really well written. I hope this becomes a novel.
FiremansFlame writes: You did a great job here - I was hooked from the get-go! I agree with Ann. I, too, hope you write the whole book! Keep up the great work!
mnm writes: This is really terrific, David! You pull us right into your story with great description and you make it move with your excellent dialogue. I would be so interested in reading the whole thing. Is Duardo your main character?Keep writing!
Here is the instructors comments...it takes the form of inline notes and suggestions...i make a few responses to her comments in [] but that's only for this blog, she has not seen those comments.
Your Instructor--Ann writes: WDavid,
I like to comment right in the piece as I read, giving you a running commentary on my reactions as a typical reader and also as your instructor. It’s a good way for you to see the effect of your words on readers as the piece unfolds. It allows me to make suggestions too.
It’s been a pleasure working with you. Keep writing!
All my best,
Ann
Reckoning (I like your title)
At the touch of a button, the scene through the binoculars snapped into focus and glowing numbers displayed the distance and declination of the target and the degrees off north. Those precision readings didn’t concern me, however. I was far enough away to avoid injury, high enough to avoid detection, and had a perfect line of sight to enjoy the mayhem to come. (lots of clues here that this is a military situation, but I’m not sure yet if I’m in a plane, a tree, or on a cliff. I hope you’ve decided that a bit of mystery will help your opening.)
Through the lenses, (add “I could see”—otherwise it sounds like the preschooler is looking through the lenses) a preschooler pressed (press) his face against the glass partition as the ice cream artist behind the counter swirled the hand-blended mixture around on the chilled slab. With a wrist-twisting flourish that was almost too fast to see, she scooped the entire concoction onto her mixing blade and slid it into a chocolate-rimmed waffle cone. (great details) A dark(-)suited man entered the shop as she handed the treat across the counter to the boy's (boy) [oops, the word "mother" got deleted by accident in my editing].
Without removing my eyes from the binoculars, (the contrast between the ice cream cone and the promise of mayhem is mysterious and exciting) I reached one hand into my jacket and retrieved a cell phone. It was one of several that I had for this mission. I thumbed the (“2”) 2 key then hovered over (“hovered over” isn’t quite right. It implies that your whole body is hovering) [I'll try the word "paused" as that seems to convey the propper meaning] the SEND button. In the magnified display, I watched the suited man gaze at the mother and child for a moment then step forward to place his order. I pressed SEND and held the phone to my ear as the ring tone began. (this is really interesting!)
The man fumbled briefly in his suit pocket before producing his own cell phone. He studied it briefly then stepped away from the counter toward the store’s front window as he brought the phone to his ear.
A click, then Rafe’s voice transported me back to that summer six years ago. (Nice transition to an earlier time, useful for filling the reader in) We (had all stumbled)[i consciously chose not to use "we had" because i thought it was passive voice and weak, perhaps i was wrong] were all stumbling around like a bunch of drunks, hiding our nervousness behind laughter and lunacy before putting our lives on the path to true adulthood—before things spiraled out of control. (The two uses of “before” in the last sentence are one too many.)[i thought that reusing "before" added emphasis] A chasm of silence grew while my mind wandered then Rafe’s voice came again and returned me to the present. (I’m not sure you need all of that last sentence. Why not just write, “Rafe’s voice came again and returned me to the present.”)[because i liked the chasm of silence metaphor]
“I said, this is Agent Duardo. Who are you?” I watched as Rafe raked his fingers through his thick black hair, a habit he’d displayed in times of stress for as long as I’d known him.
“To maintain set routines and predictable schedules,” I said into the cell phone, “is to become vulnerable.” The words were verbatim from the training manuals. “It’s one of the first rules we were taught in surveillance class at Quantico, Rafe. Routines put (an) and [another typo in editing] agent, and those around an agent, in danger.”
Rafe’s eyes met mine across two city blocks and through the lenses of the digitally amplified binoculars. (confusing. How can he look in the right place if you’re two blocks away and presumably out of sight?)[yes, i can see that this needs work. i liked it because i thought it was a powerful image of Rafe recognizing the speaker's voice]
“What do you want, Reiner?”
“So, we’re not on a first name basis, any more, then?”
Rafe threw back his own silence, this time.
“No, I guess it wouldn’t do to be close to one as dishonored as I.” Rafe was making this easier on me than I’d expected.
“Reiner…” (four dots to an ellipsis at the end of a sentence)[duh, i knew that]
“I’m here to admonish you for visiting that ice cream shop every Thursday for the last month. Instructor Burke would be quite disappointed in his star pupil.”
“What?” Rafe’s features twisted in confusion. “Burke didn’t teach surveillance, he…”
(Your use of dialogue is terrific. You don’t overdo it. You rightly assume that we can keep track of who’s talking without a lot of “saids.” You use the spoken words to develop the action in a very potent way. Really terrific.)[the dialogue was what i felt was weakest in this story and i struggled over it for a long time, so this comment really pleased me]
I thumbed the END button. No, Burke taught explosives.
(I’ll stop my comments here [due to the 500 word limit]—although I did read to the end. Is this the whole story or only the first scene in a novel? With the other three students, you’ve got plenty of material. I hope you go on. You can’t leave the main character as the bad guy unless there’s another hero to pop up later. I’ve been very picky with my comments, mainly because this is quite good. Your oblique hint with the name Burke is great. Now we know these guys are not only trained, but they’re intelligent. That’s good “showing.” I hope you’ll take your writing seriously, WD, and write the whole book. I vote yes! –Ann)
Ok, this is me again. I was really happy with the instructor's comments. I seek and value the comments of my family but having the instructor's comments, suggestions, and praise is a big ego boost and helpful too.
Fred...thanks for all of the detailed comments. They're really helpful and at least one of them was echoed by my instructor (the locking eyes thing).
Obviously, this third one was what I submitted for my assignment. In the end, it's the one that I liked best as it balanced in the middle between cold/hard and soft/squishy. I thought it gave enough info for you to know there was a history between these two characters but didn't give it all away.
Yes, the first paragraph tells you the Reiner is expecting mayhen, but you don;t know what type, or why, or even if RReiner's going to cause it or just observe it.
I think the connection between Burke and an impending bombing is pretty tight, actually. Reiner has behaved in a threatening manner, made threatening comments to the people around Duardo, and alluded to explosives. I think Duardo would be foolish to ignore the threat, even if it later proved to be false.
The POV was the hardest decision for me on this piece. I hate rewrites and I rewrote this piece three times to examine three different POV's. That says something about how important I thought POV was to the story. One lesson we were taught is that you can't (or perhaps shouldn't is a better word) change you POV in a story. With First PErson POV the reader is the main character and you can't get into the minds of any other character. So, a first person POV that skipped from one agent to the another as "the watcher" offed each one might be ok, but you'd never really get into the mind of "the watcher". Besides, you'd be killing the POV character, the reader, in each segment. The only constant character in the completed piece would be "the watcher" so the story need to be told from "the watcher's" POV.
Ther'e a lot of backstory and forward story that takes place on either side of this isolated chapter. Reiner was part of a group of friends but something happened to get Reiner kicked out of school...I haven't quite figured out exactly what it was, but Reiner at least feels like it was wrong and it's eaten at him/her until he/she snaps and starts to take it out on the other agents who were part of the clique by showing them how inadequate they are and how Reiner is better than them. In the end, Duardo convinces Reiner that the clique didn;t have anything to do with the explusion and together they track down the real culprit...probably an instructor at the academy.
Anyway, I guess all this is moot because I don't believe that I have the tenacity to write a long piece. I also lack the plotting skill, but I'm going to be working on that.
As for the piece being a rehash of other stories...I accept that as entirely possible. I'll have to work on my originality a bit more. :-) The piece started off with the ice cream scene and the rest just grew up around it. Maybe I need to go back to the ice cream again, add in all the details that you and Mom both enjoyed, and see if it takes me someplace else this time.
Thanks again for all of your feedback and assistance!
Here are some new commentson my story from my online classmates.
steph writes: wow you had me hooked and what is really interesting is i never would have guessed where you where headed when you released your single paragraph about the ice cream great job!!
Kris writes: I was so scared that the little boy's ice cream cone was going to blow up in the beginning paragraph that I was tense the entire time I read your story. Great job keeping the tension and keeping me in suspense wondering what was going to happen next. Excellent writing.
Teresa writes: You've got me on the edge of my seat. Is this little boy going to get blown up? I want to read more! I signed up for Writerrific, too. I'll see you there.
Mame writes: I loved the tension you created from the very beginning of your story. You show a real knack for suspense. There were only a couple of grammatical things that got me but a good editor would probably catch them before publishing. I can't wait to buy the book and read what happens to the other 3 guys or find out just who the bad guy is. Great work!
Kat writes: Wow - I felt like I was right there in the middle of the action! And I want more!!!! Excellent, excellent, excellent!!!! :) I signed up for Writeriffic too - see you there!
BG writes: I've been waiting for this the whole 6 weeks. I knew it would be great! I love stuff like this, and I want to know what happens to the other guys. Thanks for not leaving us hanging and letting us read to the end. I too wish there was some way to stay connected. Everyone's been so supportive and helpful.
Here's the last comment on the "Reckoning" piece fromthe classroom discussion board...
Quincy writes: So, when's your book coming out?!? You're a talented guy. Great story. You've got me hooked!
I was so pleased to read all your class comments on this piece. See, I told you that you could write! Now you see that other people think so too and that is so important to keep you going. I think this would be a good piece to enter into that pop fiction contest.
Post a Comment
<< Home