Creating Fictional Characters A Deadly Business (Part II)

By Mark Young

[Editor’s note: Some readers may be joining us for the first time. In the last post, I was in my office—fuming over the fact that Gerrit O’Rourke failed to show up for an interview—when heavily armed bad guys kicked in my front door and tried to kill me. You may want to hit the link here to catch up with the action before reading further. Here is what happened since we last met.]

I hear a metallic ping.

Grenade!

Someone hurls the widow maker up the stairway in my direction. I must have heard the metallic click as it was released. I backpedal into my office and leap behind a lumpy couch.  Not sure how this might shield me from a fragmentation grenade, but it’s better than trying to stop shrapnel with my bare skin.

An explosion rocks the building. Oh, man. I can only imagine what that did to my walls. If these guys don’t waste me, my homeowners insurance fees will finish the job.

Gunfire erupts outside. I hear bad guys downstairs excitedly calling out to one another. “Incoming. One of our guys went down.”

Boots again clomping across the main floor. I hear another man scream. “Two down. We’ve got—”

Another explosion rips the building. This time there is a detonation near the front foyer. More screams. I run the length of the hallway and scramble down the stairwell. As I round the corner and peer across the living room, I see three men on the ground.

Dead!

More footsteps at the front door. I raise my handgun, finger on the trigger.

“Hey Writer Man. Stand down!” Gerrit O’Rourke’s voice booms out.

“Three down in here,” I yell back.

“Four outside eating dirt. Any more bad guys?”

“Don’t know,” I yell back. “Let me clear the rooms in here. Hold the perimeter.”

“Roger that.”

I slip from room to room. Each room—empty. “Main floor clear. Need to check the basement.”

“We’ll get that,” Gerrit yells back. “Cover our backs.”

I watch as Gerrit and Alena Shapiro move past my position, heading down the stairs. Alena, her long black hair tied back in a ponytail, taps Gerrit on the shoulder. You’ve got point, babe? I’ll cover your backside.”  He nods, grinning,  before moving down the stairway toward the basement. Alena shoots me a wink. “Glad to see you’re still kicking, Young. If they take you out, we’re in big trouble.”

I nod, watching them head down stairs. Man, I’m so glad I created these butt-kicking characters. Never thought they’d save my backside like this. A few minutes later, I hear Gerrit yelling up. “All clear. Everybody stand down.”

In a moment, Gerrit and Alena emerge, rifles slung over their shoulders. I hear sirens wailing in the distance. Someone must have dialed 9-1-1. “Cops are on the way, Gerrit. You’d better let me handle this.”

He nods, putting his arm around Alena. “For the record, I tried to make the interview, Gerrit. A Marine always keeps his word. But we found out you were about to have some nasty visitors and needed to make a detour for equipment.” He hefted his assault rifle the air. “Didn’t think you’d mind.”

I shake my head, looking around at the bodies and the holes in my walls. “You made it just in time. By the way, how did you guys know this crew was coming my way?”

Willy Williams, his caramel skin glistening from exertion, pops through the doorway. “I heard that, Mr. Why. You know us! We got to make sure our Number One writer stays healthy.”

I shoot him a scowl. “You got my house wired up?”

Willy grins “Audio and visual, baby. Perimeter covered, and every room but the bedrooms and the bathrooms. You gotta have some privacy, right?”

“You’ve been listening…to me!”

Willie gives me a sheepish look. “Just kidding, Mr. Why. You remember from OTG how I slipped a daemon file in their system, so I can monitor all those bad guys. Your house is flagged in the system, and we got wind that they were planning a surprise party here—hoping to catch Gerrit meeting with you.”

“You could have called. Given me a heads up.”

“And spoil the fun. Not on your life, Mr. Why.”

Gerrit kneels down and begins going through one of the dead guy’s pockets. “We have you covered, Writer Man!”

The sirens get louder. I tap Gerrit on the shoulder. “You guys better clear out. After all, you’re living off the grid. Don’t want the cops to show up and blow your cover. I’ll handle this.”

“We’ll be listening,” Willy said, as he moved toward the front door.

I shake my head as I watch them climbing into their van and taking off. A few minutes later the first police unit pulls into view. In the distance, I see Gerrit and the others crest a hill about a mile away as they pull onto the highway. My heroes moving on to the next chapter in their lives.

Semper Fi, Gerrit. Semper Fi.

**********

Hey, Readers. It’s really weird. I keep running into these characters—Gerrit, Alena, Travis Mays, Frank White Eagle, and others—in the strangest situations. In fact, there are a few instances in which I have to drop my pencil and pick up a gun to help out. If you regularly visit this site, I promise you some exiting—and sometimes, funny—scenes. All the character from Off the Grid, Revenge and a new series beginning with Broken Allegiance (A Tom Kagan Novel) will make brief appearances on any given day. So, don’t be a stranger. Drop by for a visit whenever time allows.

Oh, one more thing. If any of you spot one of my characters—please drop me a line. It’s hard keeping track of these people all by myself. I could use your help. But be careful! These guys always seem to invite trouble, so keep your head down. Thanks for your help.

Stay safe!

P.S. If you subscribed to this blog by email, you’re going to automatically get a notice to remind you the next post just came online. You can stay up with the action and not lose any sleep over it.