(no subject)

[rabidfan.livejournal.com]

 have found if you never sleep, writing is fun.
I am in the midst of a rather long tale.  Could someone read what I have so far and tell me if I should bother with more???  Thanks!

 

Ten Mistakes

Greg/Nick

PG (‘cause I can’t write porn…it just sounds wrong)

 

Part One

 

It still surprised him, even after seven years, how cold the desert nights were.  He huddled into his thin-but-fashionable jacket, shivering.  He gave a brief, longing thought for the shearling jacket that Nick had brought back from Texas for him.  It was heavy and deliciously warm, but he’d never pictured himself in such a blatantly Western item, and had left it in his closet.  First mistake of the night.

 

He had been a little taken aback when Grissom sent him out alone again.  The last time that happened he’d spent four days in the hospital and two weeks at home.  Of course, here in the middle of nowhere, he’d surely see any trouble coming from a mile off.  Still.

There, finally, that looked like his turn off.  All he had to do is get some gas station attendant to give his prints to Greg, and he’d be back on the road.  Trash run, Grissom had called it.  That’s what he’d said the last time, too.  Greg figured it couldn’t be too bad.  Just cold and a long-ass drive into nowhere.  Not too bad.  He’d just made his second mistake of the night; he just didn’t know it yet. 

 

There, at last, was the station.  How did any business this remote make any money?  It was completely dark, save one feeble light over the pump.  Where was the state trooper that was supposed to meet him here?

 

Greg slowed and circled the tiny lot.  There was the cruiser, in back of the station.  Odd.  It was running but all the lights were off.  The hairs on the back of Greg’s neck pricked.  He reached for his phone.

 

“Dispatch, this is CSI Sanders…”

 

“Put the phone down and get out of your vehicle!”

 

Shit!  Greg nearly swallowed his tongue!  Wildly he looked around, searching for the source of the command.

 

“I don’t want to hurt you, kid, so don’t make me.  Do what I said, NOW!”

 

Greg realized someone, the trooper?, was using the public address system in the cruiser.  Why would the trooper order him out of his car?  He knew Greg was coming.  Only then did Greg see the vague shape tossed up against the station wall.  The trooper wouldn’t be meeting Greg tonight, or anyone ever again.

 

Time to act.  Get out of the car or get the hell out.  Greg crouched as low as he could behind the wheel, threw the car into reverse and gunned it.  He knew his old Jetta wouldn’t outrun a police cruiser, but he’d rather make a try than offer himself up like some crazy human sacrifice.

 

He could hear the cruiser pulling out behind him.  Why hadn’t he taken a Denali?  At least they were GPS equipped.  He was going to get lost, then he was going to get killed and no one was going to find him for a very long time.  So, that was mistake number three. 

 

“I need to seriously rethink my decision not to carry!”  He was really scared now, shaking with more than just the cold.  He’d seen no cars on the long drive in.  It was up to him.  Where had he dropped his phone?  His cushion of space earned by surprise was dwindling rapidly.  He didn’t have much time.  Where the hell was his phone?

 

Suddenly the little Jetta lurched forward, snapping Greg’s head back painfully.  He’d been hit!  Damn.  He fought to control the wildly sluing car.  Another hit like that and he’d be off the road.

 

The loud revving of the cruisers big engine was the only warning he got before a second, much harder lurch sent him plummeting over the embankment.  There was no traction, no way to steer.  He could only ride it all the way to the bottom. 

 

A wild series of images were caught by the headlights as the car tumbled to its final resting place.  The airbag deployed, knocking Greg’s arms back into his face, stunning him.  Suddenly, all was quiet.  An eerie fog from the powder inside the airbag filled the car.  Greg tried to move and felt a new blast of fear when he couldn’t make his hands obey.

 

Fumbling, struggling with his seat belt and the deflated airbag, Greg finally got the door open.  On the crest, he could just make out the shape of the battered cruiser.  Where was the guy?  Who the hell was he?

 

Greg scrambled as best he could around his own crumpled car.  He decided safety lie up and out of the ravine.  The only way out was to climb.  Only then did he realize he’d committed mistake number four.  He should have grabbed a flashlight and spent a minute looking for his cell.  Should he go back?  A quick glance behind him showed a large shape getting out of the cruiser.  A really large shape.  God.  No going back.  Greg started to climb.

 

The ascent was a lot tougher than Greg thought.  It was steep, and littered with shale and loose rocks.  The strange tingling in his arms and hands had given way to a throbbing pain, making grasping anything a challenge.  The sound of his pursuer beginning his descent was enough to spur Greg on. 

 

Half way up, he chanced another look back.  The man was silvered in moonlight.  God, huge didn’t even begin to describe him.  Not very graceful, either.  Good.  Even with injuries, that gave Greg an advantage. 

 

Greg realized now where he was.  This was the base of La Madre Mountain.  The mountain was pocked with mines from when Nevada was Silver King.  Could he get to one, maybe hide?  It seemed like his only shot.  He had to assume that the big man had a weapon.  That he was willing to kill, Greg already knew.  He had to buy time.  The dispatch operator would report his call, and they would begin looking for him.   So.  First up and out.  Then, see what’s available.

Comments

[mangojunkie.livejournal.com]

Well it sounds interesting and promising, so I would say 'Go on and write more'.
And you have a nice style of writing.

Concerning the "PG (‘cause I can’t write porn…it just sounds wrong)"... Takes some to write some =) And you don't have to if you can't.There are plenty of fics out there that are great, althought they are 'just' PG, or PG-13

[rabidfan.livejournal.com]

Yeah...my husband is in Afghanistan, so no go there!!! Thanks for the input, and the compliment.

[katydid713.livejournal.com]

I certainly want to know what happens next and the characters seem realistic and in character. BTW the above excuse for not writing steamy stories is the best on I've ever heard.

[rabidfan.livejournal.com]

I really appreciate you reading this. I'm being caught out in a lie...I said I'd never post again, and here I am! No one reads my LJ (big surprise!) and I needed some critisism, good or bad. You have all become my "lab"!!

[laureen.livejournal.com]

Seriously, I know I'd love to read more. O_O Curiousity is slowly picking apart my sanity... what happens next?

[rabidfan.livejournal.com]

Really, as soon as I know, you will too! Thanks for reading!

[just1tearforme.livejournal.com]

To echo what everyone has said, I'd like to see more of this fic.

[http://users.livejournal.com/_slytherin_girl/]

Definitely continue with that one. My interest is definitely peaked.