A Continuation: Novel Installment #2

Well, I need to keep up with what I've been writing.  I've written a lot since I posted the first part of my book in the comments section on another post back in February.  So, here's a little bit more.  I'll try to add these in every blog from now on.

   The LARCO guard stood, shuffling his feet against the cold.  Every so often someone would walk up, flash a card at him, then step through the gates.  He coughed, shivering despite his coat.  At least he had a coat.  Many people didn't.  A young man approached him and flashed a card, then headed for the gate.  The guard drew his club, rushing over.  The man turned just as the club hit with a dull thud.  He doubled over.  The guard dealt another savage blow.  "That is not a valid card," he roared, winding up again.  The man cowered behind the card.  "Yes it is," he groaned.  "It's a temporary… I just got it."
    The guard looked.  It was indeed a temporary.  But… that wasn't the original card…. was it?  He wasn't sure.  No matter, the card was valid.  He picked the man up from off of the ground.  "Sorry, friend," he said.  The found man dusted himself off.  "It's okay," he mumbled.  Walking through the gates, he dropped his temporary through the shredding grate.


   Damian rubbed his arm, wincing slightly.  Those clubs hurt.  He hated wasting a temporary, but the guard hadn't fallen for his fake.  He walked down the hall, climbed the stairs, and turned left.  There was a small elevator, made for sending small loads down a shaft to the generator room in the basement tunnels.  He stepped inside, pulled the lever, and sat down.
   The ride was boring.  LARCO ads played continually, advertising for everything from hardhats to coat hangers.  Damian sighed, waiting fro the doors to open.  They did, and he stood, peering out.  Nobody.  He walked out, unzipped his jacket, and pulled out a pistol.  Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a long container.  It was meant to hold medication, but Damian had modified the metal tube to fit onto his gun.  He screwed it on to the end of the pistol.  If he had to kill anyone, it would at least be silent.  He jogged down the tunnel, following signs leading to the reactor where the building produced energy.  There was a set of large doors at the end.
  Damian turned the handle and carefully pushed the door in.  Seeing nobody, he quietly stepped in.  Standing ahead, the was an armed guard overseeing an engineer working n the reactor as a scientist typed away at a worktable.  Damian groaned inwardly.


That's where I'm stopping for now, but there'll be more next blog.  Here's where I drew my inspiration from for the tunnels and the reactor room.  Gorgeous, I know.