Staggering in from the cold

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Re: Staggering in from the cold

Postby mission_survivor » Sun Oct 05, 2014 7:39 pm

flygirl wrote:...Share snippits on the forum if you can!

This is my re-edit pitch submission:

Mythologies have always been dismissed as fantasy or fable. But when Mankind’s oldest documented fear is unleashed upon the world,
humanity is pushed to the brink of extinction. Amid the chaos, death, and destruction a Texas Game Warden, David Bishop and a
group of Park Rangers secure refuge in an old Spanish Mission in the heart of San Antonio. As nations fall and infrastructures fail,
Bishop continues to search for survivors and maintain social order in a decaying world consumed by the Sarcophagus Plague.
Risking life and undeath David Bishop's new mission… survival.
Most of my comments should be read with your best "BROCK SAMSON" voice. While others should be read with your best "CLINT EASTWOOD" voice. A few, and I mean a very few should be read with your best "JOE PESCI" voice.
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Re: Staggering in from the cold

Postby mission_survivor » Sun Oct 05, 2014 10:53 pm

This is the submitted excerpt/sample from Amazon

Mission Survival

Chapter 1 – Welcome to the Jungle

Cambodia 2003
The drone of the Super Stallion's rotors chopped through the pre-dawn sky. Inside its cabin six Force Reconnaissance Marines and a CIA operator wait to fast rope down into the dense Cambodian Jungle. A red light buzzes on as a hatch on the cabin floor is flipped opened. "Gloves on, get ready to hit and roll... RECON ready," Barked SSgt. Gillitzer, as the thick woven drab-green line was dropped into the darkened canopy below. The Operators quickly follow each other down the deplaning rope from the helicopter.

Once on the ground they meet up with Agent Dodd’s contact. He would provide them with transportation to their target destination. An old delivery van waited on the side of the dirt road. Agent Dodd and the Marines settled themselves inside the vehicle. Recent heavy rains had taken their toll on the roadways. The travel conditions were miserable, as the unit jostled with every bump and pothole. Hours after they boarded, they neared their journey's end. The road ahead had been washed out; they would have to continue on foot. The cargo van pulled off the path, as the Marines exited and disappeared into dense overgrowth of the tropical forest.

It was mid-afternoon by the time they reached the perimeter of the target area. Agent Dodd gave a reminder,
“You need to watch out for Khmer Rebels and Civilians; Phnom Koulen National Park isn’t too far from here."
"Oh… rebels, when you said guerrilla’s earlier I thought you meant the big ape kind," Bishop said jokingly.
The CIA Agent sternly looked at Bishop, "These rebels might not be a trained as you, but they do out number us here... and they will kill you just for your gear. You need to keep your focus, Marine." Bishop responds with a scowl, "Lighten up spook, it was just a joke."
SSgt. Gillitzer interrupted, "Bishop, stand down. You and Clayton take point. Agent Dodd, don't worry about his focus, we do that to break tension."
Dodd shifted his eyes away from Bishop to the Staff Sergeant, "I just don't want to be a casualty because of a tension break."
Bishop approaches Clayton, “See Clay, this is why I don’t like cross joint ops. They all got a stick up their ass.”
“Don’t let it get to ya Bro, they just got their own way of doing things… and we got ours.”

By early evening they reached a plateau on the mountain. Bishop listened to the water stream off the ridge and into the pool below. They hurriedly crossed a rickety bridge over the broad river.
"The camp is still a distance from here, we should be able to make it before night fall," said Agent Dodd. "Activity has been picking up, so stay sharp." The Marine Expeditionary Unit continued to trudge into the thick foliage.

"Devil Doc, I got a body here," Bishop said stopping from advancing and held point. Navy Reconnaissance Corpsman Sanchez moved in to inspect the body. He rolled the body over, Blaylock made a disgusted face as they viewed the corpse, "Man, he is fucked up."
SSgt. Gillitzer and Agent Dodd both stood looking over Doc's shoulder. "What happened to him?"
"I don't know… black arterial streaking and retinal hemorrhaging. Could be Ebola..."
The others pulled away from Doc.
Sanchez laughed, "I'm just fuckin' with ya. But seriously, I've never seen anything like this. I mean, this is like the worst case of jungle rot I’ve ever seen."
Agent Dodd quickly asks, "Biological or Chemical exposure?"
"Nothing that I know of, not like this... He's got boils on his neck and chest. It's like it's the plague." As the Navy Corpsman continued to examine the body, a boil burst releasing a heavy stench into the air; as greenish black ooze wept from the abscess. Blaylock retched in response to the horrific odor, “Damn! And I thought he looked bad...”
Agent Dodd retrieved some vaccu-tube vials from his pack, "I need you to get some blood samples," handing the empty tubes to Sanchez. "If this is what they are working on, some type of bio-chem weapon, we need to make sure we have samples for testing."

The fading sun was slipping into the tree line, the painted blood orange sky casted an eerie light into the tropical forest. The sound of small arms fire erupted from within the dense Cambodian Jungle. The Marine Expeditionary Unit quickly dropped into defensive positions. The Marines tried to locate their targets while they waited for their team lead to give the signal to engage. SSgt. Gillitzer peered into the overgrown jungle using a near-by Banyan tree as cover. His raised hand quickly closed into a fist, freezing the Marines at their grounded positions. The bark from assault rifles continued, though not in the direction of the unit. Some screams were heard as the skirmish continued. SSgt. Gillitzer circled his hand aside his head, the Marines closed in on him. "Looks like they got some company, let’s get to the site while they're distracted. Bishop, stay with Doc until he gets those samples. Clay, you and Lock take point. Double-time RECON!" A collective Ooh-rah, was said under breath. Bishop traded his M249 Para SAW with Clayton. Blaylock and Clayton led the unit closer to the makeshift compound. They kept their weapons at the ready position while moving hurriedly with short quick steps through the overgrowth.

"Come on Doc." Bishop offered Sanchez.
"Just one more sample." Sanchez turned his head to grab the last vial.
"What the fuck!!!" Bishop exclaimed.
"That mother fucker just moved!"
Doc looked at the body, "Dude... he's dead."
"I saw his hand twitch."
"I must have made it move while I was reaching for this," Doc held up the last vial.
Another burst of gunfire stole Bishops attention. "Come on Doc, wrap it up. Shots are getting closer."
Sanchez grunts in agony and quickly pushes himself back, drawing his side arm as he slid away from the corpse. He fired a center mass shot at the dead body, as his .45 slipped from his grip. Bishop turns to look at Corpsman Sanchez, "What happen Doc?"
"That mother fucker bit me! Fuck!" Doc was holding his now bloody hand.
"Told you he was alive."
The body rocked over onto his belly and struggled to rise. Doc reached out for his 1911 pistol, now realizing that most of the flesh from his thumb had been removed during the bite. Bishop racked his Remington 870 tactical shotgun and fired into the would-be corpse' side, tumbling it into the foliage. "Come on Doc, let's go!" He helped Sanchez up from the ground. Movement was heard from the jungle floor where the body fell.
"No, fuckin' way," Bishop said as he turned around.
Swaying in the jungle the infected man stood, with two mortal wounds. Bishop fired again with the 12 gauge, leaving a gaping wound to the infected Khmer’s chest. The violent impact knocked the body back onto the ground. The body flailed trying to stand, Bishop stood at its feet pointing the barrel at its head, pulling the trigger sending a volley of shot through its skull. The ballistic trauma caused the head to explode, as the body fell limp, "...And stay dead!" Bishop said with frustration.

The gunfire from Doc and Bishop did not draw any attention from the terrorist's camp. Sanchez was trying to dress the wound to his right hand.
"Let's get you taken care of, Doc," Bishop said, no longer rushing his Corpsman.
Doc's right hand was trembling. "Fuck, it burns..."
They bandaged his wound and chased down SSgt. Gillitzer and the rest of the team.
"We heard some shots, what happened back there?" Gillitzer asked.
"You know that dead guy... He wasn't dead... And pretty hard to kill too," replied Bishop. "He uh... he bit off Doc's thumb."
"Doc, you all right," asked Gillitzer.
"I'll be all right. Can't really use this hand… Trigger finger’s still good though."
SSgt Gillitzer grinned, "You'll be all right Devil Doc. Let’s keep moving.”

The gunfire had subsided, as the screaming of men replaced the noise in the jungle. Two men shouted amongst themselves. A final shout was heard before a single gunshot rang out.
“Did he say nine?”
“No telling what he said, I mean they got Filipino, Khmer, and Afghani, Who knows.”
Shortly after, they heard the mechanical whine of a starter, as an engine struggled to start. The engine stammered and then roared to life, as they then heard a vehicle drive away.

The unit closed in on the occupied Cambodian Temple ruins. Generators hummed in the near distance. Amid the ruins were recent crude structures and tents. Lighting and extension cords ran like vines through the ancient sanctuary. Though nature had reclaimed this ancient structure long ago, terrorists were now using it as a base camp. Large Bunyan trees grew from the rubble of old buildings; as vines mingled with the intricate carvings etched into the stone walls. Moss covered this once long abandoned shrine.

"The land that time forgot," said Campbell in awe.
"Yeah, too bad Ali Baba found it," said Blaylock.
"Why is it so quiet now, I mean they were just shooting..." Said Clayton
"Yeah, strange that it's so quiet now," stated SSgt Gillitzer. "Let’s do a sweep. Assault through Marines.”
The Marines snaked through the toppled ruins.

Blaylock calls out, "We got another body."
“Is he like that last one?”
“Nah, this guy’s white with a headshot. He’s wearing a MOPP”
“Get your masks on,” Shouted Gillitzer.”
The unit quickly equips their Nuclear-Biological-Chemical gas masks.

As Bishop moves through the compound he closes in on a sound. A young boy scurries from his hiding position.
A muffled shout from Bishop, “We got contact,” as he chased after the fleeing Khmer.
He quickly tackles the dark skinned boy, realizing he’s just a kid. The panicked Cambodian child struggled to break free from the much larger Marine.
He frantically started repeating, “Rakshasa! Rakshasa! Rakshasa!”

During his thrashing, the youths hand shifted Bishops mask awkwardly off his face. Bishop exclaims as he removes his gas mask from obscuring his vision.
“Kid, just relax. Hey Dodd, I need you over here,”
“Why’d you remove your mask, Marine?” A masked Agent Dodd questions Bishop.
“The little fucker pushed it up, and I couldn’t adjust it without letting him go. Besides kid’s breathing fine, and it probably scared the piss outta him.”
Dodd takes custody of the scared boy and starts to question the Khmer in his native language.
“That little shit pissed on me,” stated Bishop to his fellow Marines.
“Man, I knew they recruited them young, but damn. What he is about 10?”
“Yeah, he’s just a kid.”
The young boy is speaking nervously, while constantly looking around.
“What’s he saying?” asks Gillitzer.
“He says he’s not with them. That he just brings them food and water,” Dodd Translates.
The boy continues to call out Rakshasa.
“What does Rakshasa mean?”
“That’s like a monster… a myth.”
“Yeah? Well it’s got him spooked.”
They boy starts gibbering out again.
“Ask him what they're doing here?”
Dodd asks the boy and then translates the response. “He says they are looking for a flower.”
He then asks the boy what flower, the boy responds, “Kesorkol.”
Dodd nods, and releases his hold of the crying boy. He continues to speak in Khmer, telling the boy to return to his village.

The boy runs to the wall and starts rubbing moss over his body, “Rakshasa ku pit!” and disappears behind a section of the wall.

“Why'd you let him go?” asked Gilitzer.
“He was just a village boy. He wasn’t a terrorist.”
“What does Kesorkol mean?”
“Orchid.” Stated Agent Dodd.
“They sent us out here to stop them from picking flowers?” Remarked Bishop
“What did he say before he ran away?” Question Gilitzer.
“Rakshasa ku pit… The monster is real,” answered Dodd.
“Why did he do that thing with the moss,” asked Clayton.
“Probably to get the smell of piss off of him,” said Bishop.
“What if he warns someone?”
“No, he was really scared about something out here.” Replied the CIA Agent.
“Yeah the shooting, and us… that’s what scared him.” offered Blaylock.
“No, these villagers are used to that. It’s like the kids in the inner cities; they’re used to the sound of gunfire. Something really got to him.”

They continued to explore within the walls of the forgotten Khmer Temple.
“They got some shit from World War 2,” said Clayton, as they found some equipment.
“Man, look at the casing, that’s not from World War 2, that’s modern.”
“It’s got the Nazi logo on it.”
“What? Where?”
“Right here on the back.”
“It was Nein, not nine,” commented Gillitzer.
Gillitzer continued, “What we heard before we got in here. He shouted No, in German, before he got shot in the head.”
He approached Dodd, “Those South Americans from the photos, have they been identified yet?”
“No hard ID, but we believed them to be with them,” As he motions toward the marked equipment.
“Why would Nazi’s get into bed with Al-Qaeda?”
“Same reason they allied with Japan.”
So the Odessa Files are real,” commented Bishop.
“Masks back on; let’s find out what they were working on… and where everyone went.”

The unit broke up into groups and continued to explore the compound.
“Hey Boss, we got a sealed grow tent back here…” shouted Bishop behind his mask.
“Don’t go in, he had on a suit for a reason,” stated SSgt. Gillitzer.
“Copy that,” in agreement said Bishop.
“Agent Dodd, they got something over there.”
The CIA Operative and Gillitzer approach. Doc falls to a knee, “Hey Doc, you alright,” asks Bishop.
Sanchez looks up at him, “I ain’t feeling too good.”
Bishop and Campbell help the Corpsman walk towards a protected area in the temple grounds.
“Take a rest Doc, you’re burning up man. Drink some water.”
“It’s infected,” stammered Doc.
“What is?”
“The bite.”
Bishop looks at Doc’s hand. He can see dark streaking along his forearm radiating towards the shoulder. “It’s alright Doc, we’ll get you outta here.”
A burst of rounds from an M4A1, followed by the rapid clatter of machine gun fire alerted the unit that Clayton and Blaylock had engaged the enemy.
“Soup, stay with Doc,” barked Bishop.
They rushed towards the collapse in the wall where Clayton stood operating the M249 Para SAW. Blaylock looked at Gillitzer and Dodd, “Boss, you need to see this shit. They’re all out here,” as he loaded another magazine.
Gillitzer and Dodd both took cover, “How come they’re not firing back?”
“I don’t know, but a couple of them came at us. They weren’t gonna stop…” He continued to fire controlled bursts at the threat, “Hey Dodd, are there still cannibals here?”
“No… I mean, maybe in times of starvation, but it’s not a common practice. Why?”
Clayton calls out, “I’m out, someone cover me,” as he backed away from the opening.
Blaylock continues, “Then we got some starving villagers.”
Dodd’s eyes widened as he now watched Khmer villagers tearing at the bodies of the terrorists. He quickly raised his weapon and opened fire into the crouched figures that were gnawing upon the dead terrorists.

Bishop joins up with the rest of the squad and looks at Clayton, “Started without me?”
“I need another brick. Dude, they wouldn’t stay down,” Clayton said trying to justify his consumption of ammo. Bishop drops his pack and retrieves another 200 round box magazine.
“I told y’all, they’re tough to kill. Here’s your brick,” as he passes Clayton the magazine.
Bishop re-equips his automatic weapon and replaces Blaylock at the wall, while Clayton relieves Dodd. Gillitzer notices a few of the villagers coming in from another break in the wall. He fires a burst of rounds at them. As the bullets strike, the villager staggers upon impact but does not react as though he had been shot. Instead the Khmer regained his balance and in an awkward motion quickly advanced toward Gillitzer. He followed with another burst, aiming center mass. The cluster of rounds penetrates the chest cavity. The Cambodian flails and falls to the ground.
“One down,” Gillitzer thinks to himself. He aims at the second local coming at him, quickly but clumsily. Dodd also engages Gillitzer’s target. The double bursts explode into the enemy, sending him to the earth. They refocus on a third target, and notice the first one rising again. They drop the third, and engage the first one again.
“They wearing body armor?”
“I’ve never seen body armor that pops blood out when hit.”
The Khmer had stood with his back towards them, as he started to turn around, Gillitzer tried to match his aim with the awkward movements of his target. He fires a burst aimed at the head. One round rips through the side of the neck, the second burrows into the jaw, and the final round impacts just below the eye, next to the bridge of the nose. His target crumples back and falls motionless on the temple’s floor.
Gillitzer barks out a command, “Aim for the head, conserve your ammo.”

The spastic twitching and exaggerated head sway made it difficult to target. A scream was heard from within the walls of the compound. Then a series of shots rang out through the courtyard.
“Lock, go check on Soup and Doc,” shouted Gillitzer.
“I’m on it, Boss.” Blaylock separates form the group to find the other members of the squad.

When he arrives where the others are at, he finds their corpsman huddled over Campbell, blood pooling on the ground. He approaches from behind, “Doc, what happened to Soup?” The Corpsman did not answer. Blaylock could see that his arms were moving quickly, and thought that the battlefield medic was giving care to treat Soup’s wound. When he stood just behind Sanchez, he realized that his Corpsman was not giving care, but instead the cause of Campbell’s injuries. He grabbed Sanchez’ shoulder; in attempt to pull him away. Sanchez quickly bit hard into Blaylock’s hand. The Marine pulled his hand away from Doc, removing a mass of flesh from the side of his hand in the process. Instinctively he covered the bite wound; and watched in horror as Doc returned to his meal.
The last rays of light were vanishing as darkness rapidly consumed the jungle. Time seemed to slow down for him; his blood pounded like thunder in his ears. Blaylock was in shock as he just continued to stagger backwards. He could hear the others engaged in their battle, he turned his head to look at them and then turned back towards Doc.
He walked back towards the squad, “Doc’s eating Soup.”
Gillitzer broke attention from his target, and looked at Blaylock, who had a distant look in his eyes. “Lock… Lock… What happened?”
Blaylock blinked a couple of times, and then repeated himself, “Doc’s eating Soup.”
His CO violently shook him, “Lock, report!”
Blaylock regained his composure, “Doc killed Campbell. He’s eating him. Just like them.”
“Bishop, you and Lock secure Doc.”
Bishop took a roll of paracord from his pack.

The two Marines returned to find Doc still hunched upon Campbell.
“I’ll restrain him, you tie his arms,” Bishop tosses the 550 cord to Blaylock.
Bishop quickly slips his arms under Doc’s arms to grab him in a full nelson; he secures the hold by clutching his wrists behind Doc’s head. He pulls him away from Campbell’s body, while Blaylock takes the paracord and binds one of the Corpsman’s hands. Bishop tried to talk with Doc while he restrained him; Doc showed no signs of communication. He continued to thrash as they secured him, having to bind his legs to keep him from attempting to stand. They hog-tied him and left him on his side. He grunted as he continued to attempt to bite them.

Gillitzer, Dodd, and Clayton returned as Bishop was treating Blaylock’s wound. “I think we got the last of them. How’s he doing?”
“Doc took a piece off Lock’s hand. Soup is dead. And Doc, Doc is… I don’t know. I can’t get him to talk.”
“How you holding up Lock?”
“This is some fucked up shit, man,”
“Yeah, you alright?”
“I’m good.”
“Let’s take care of that hand.” Bishop starts to dress Blaylock’s hand as Clayton approaches.
“Fuck Clay, what happened to you,” Bishop asked the gore spattered Marine.
“It got real close and personal for a tick.”
“You uh," Bishop gestures with his hand, " a little piece of something… Okay you go it.”
Clayton spits out, “They taste worse than they smell.”
“Clay, set up Comms so we can call for evac.”
“yeah, I’m on it Boss.”
“Bishop, You and Dodd find out what you can about that grow-tent. Gather any intel that you can find. We’re losing light fast.”
Bishop nods, looks at Dodd and motions towards the tent.
Clayton opens Campbell’s pack and starts to set up communications.

Agent Dodd and Bishop return to the grow-tent.
“There're more MOPPs inside.”
“But that inner chamber’s open, it could be contaminated.”
“I’m gonna take the bubble suit off that guy over there, and I’ll go in there.”
“The mask ain't good enough?”
“Just go back to the others, once I open this chamber, I could contaminate this area. Just stay clear and keep your masks on.”
Bishop agrees to Dodd’s plan and returns to his team.

Gillitzer is covering Campbell’s body with a pancho, when he sees Bishop returning. “What happened to Dodd?”
“He’s still back there,” Bishop continues to inform his CO of Agent Dodd’s plan.
“Y’all got the comms up?”
Clayton shakes his head, “Transmitter’s fragged.”
“Stray shot from Soup, I guess.”
“Bishop, did you notice this before?” Gillitzer points out gunshot wounds on Doc.
“I guess that’s also from when Soup was shooting.”
“But look at the wounds, they're not bleeding. And Doc doesn’t have a pulse.”
“He’s not dead, I can see him moving.”
“Yeah… But he still don’t have a pulse. I can hear him grunting like that, but I don’t see him breathing either. No chest rise, no inflated belly,” he shakes his head.
“What are you saying Sarge?”
“I don’t know… I’m just saying.”
“OH FUCK! Exclaims Blaylock, as he stumbles backward. He trips over a raised tree root. He falls to the ground losing his weapon. Bishop and Gillitzer had followed him with their eyes and now turned to face what made him react. The poncho slid down from Campbell’s body, which was now sitting up. His eyes were open as he raised his head and turned toward the Marines. Campbell violently lunged at them but was tripped up by the poncho and his innards as they tangled in his legs. He hit the ground hard; unfazed he just belly crawled using his arms to creep towards them. Bishop and Gillitzer quickly drew their weapons as Campbell viciously chomped at the air. They called out to him as he slithered towards them. Bishop struggled to take the shot. His CO did not. A single .45 Cal round screamed out from the 1911, shattering the frontal bone of Campbell’s skull and exploding out from the occipital bone. Campbell collapsed, as Bishop mentally struggled with Gillitzer’s decision, “He killed Soup… No, Soup was already dead. But he still shot Soup.”
Gillitzer could see Bishop trying to come to grip his actions, “Soup was dead, that, was not Soup. That is something from this jungle. Same thing with him,” as he pointed to Doc.
“No, that’s Doc. He’s just… sick.”
“Doc's already dead.”
The generators started to sputter, “Bishop, find some fuel for the genny,” ordered Gillitzer.

While he was looking for gas cans, Bishop heard the report of his CO’s sidearm. He knew that SSgt. Gilitzer had ended Doc’s suffering. At least one of the generators stopped working as part of the compound went dark. Every sound from the darkness seemed to be amplified. Bishop was nervous as he hurriedly searched for fuel. He found a partially filled can and was returning to divide its contents among the three generators, when the last one shut off. He turned on the LED light that was mounted on the rail of his M4A1. In the near distance he could hear groaning, or was his mind playing tricks on him. The shadow play from his light mount and motions made things appear to be moving. His pulse pounded as he hastily returned to the generators. He could see beams of light emanating from where his teammates were. He emptied the can as equally as he could into the thirsty machines. He started one of the generators; it lit up the perimeter of the compound. As he was pulling the starter line of the second one, the panicked barking from M4A1’s rang out from within the courtyard walls. Flashes from muzzle fire strobe from between the ruins, as the generator sputters to life. The interior lights flicker on, now he can see the shredded bodies of the terrorist scurry and skitter throughout the Temple grounds. The heavy fire from the SAW reverberates in the night air. He fires up the last one, as the tents now are supplied with power. He could see Dodd’s shadow moving in the sealed grow-tent. He calls out to his fellow Marines. Burst of rounds echo around the fallen temple, as well as Semi-automatic shots ring out. Agent Dodd comes out from the tent towards Bishop.
He calls out to Bishop from the encapsulated suit, “C’mon let’s go! We got what we need.”
“We need to find the others.”
“Where are they?”
“I saw some muzzle flash over there, I think it was Clay. I think Lock and SSgt. Gillitzer are still over there.”
“Okay, I’ll head towards them, and you get Clay. We’ll meet at the breach where we came in at.”
“I don’t think splitting up is a good idea, I mean these things don’t go down easy.”
“More will show up the longer we take.”
Bishop concedes, “Alright, be safe.”

Agent Dodd ran in the direction where Bishop reported Gillitzer and Blaylock to be located. Bishop headed toward Clayton’s position. When he arrived at the ruins where he last saw muzzle flash, he discovered a handful of those things tearing into Clay. The fallen Marine’s throat had been ripped open, as silent scream of air escaped. Bishop raised his assault rifle and fired into the heads of Clay’s assailants. He kicked the lifeless bodies off his friend, and grabbed him by his ILBE ruck and started to drag him. A series of shots fired made Bishop release Clay’s body and assist in defense. He fired controlled bursts at a few of the ghoulish terrorists before needing to reload. With a full 30rd mag, Bishop continued to search. He dispatched a couple more before finding SSgt Gillitzer, he was heel stomping the head of a fallen terrorist, “Hey Boss, you alright?”
“Yeah, this thing almost got me.”
“Where’s Lock?”
The Staff Sergeant shook his head, “The bite is infectious. Are you bit?”
“No, what about Agent Dodd?”
“I’m not gonna leave my Marines to turn into these things.”
“Where’s Agent Dodd?”
“He didn’t want to wait. So I told him to go on.”
“He left us?”
“No, he’s setting up some rigging to we can rappel down from the water fall. We need to get Clay.”
“He didn’t make it. I was pulling him when I heard your shots.”
“Did you shoot him?”
“No, those things killed him.”
“C’mon, I don’t wanna have to fight another undead Marine.”
Bishop led Gillitzer to Clayton’s body. The Sergeant took out his sidearm, carefully aimed and discharged it. He then removed one of Clayton’s ID tags and slipped it into his pocket.
“Let’s get to those falls. We’ll comeback for their bodies.”

They ran through the dark jungle until they reached the ridge with the cascading water. The anchored repelling line let them know that Agent Dodd had been there already.
“I don’t think he made it,” as Gillitzer focused his light on a torn piece of bloodied white material. As they stopped to attach their rigging harness, they could hear movement from the jungle.
“Jump and go, Marine…” shouted the Staff Sergeant.
Before he finishes securing his line, Bishop sees two figures tackle Gillitzer. Bishop stops to take aim at them, as he raises his M4A1 he hears a growl as something crashes into him. Bishop and Agent Dodd topple off the edge of the waterfall; the Marine slams onto a ledge, loosing consciousness.

David Bishop woke in a dead sweat. The former Reconnaissance Marine’s heart was racing and his hands trembled as he instinctively reached for his .40 Glock 22 from the holster on the nightstand. It only took a moment before he realized when and where he was, and releasing the grip of the gun and reached for the light switch. He could see his dog now attentively watching him, “Relax Rasputin, it’s just a nightmare,” he grumbled, more for his own benefit than the dogs. “It’s only a nightmare,” as he looked at his scars and picked up the chain of dog tags.
Most of my comments should be read with your best "BROCK SAMSON" voice. While others should be read with your best "CLINT EASTWOOD" voice. A few, and I mean a very few should be read with your best "JOE PESCI" voice.
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Re: Staggering in from the cold

Postby zombreach » Mon Oct 06, 2014 8:56 am

I read through your sample and really enjoyed the tension and pacing. It was well written and kept my interest. However, (if you don't mind a bit of criticism) the dialogue takes up a lot of the script. I think there needs to be more breaks in the conversation, adding detail on the area and the characters.

BTW, If you ever need help editing, I am a grammar Nazi. :BFG:
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Re: Staggering in from the cold

Postby Red Star » Sun Oct 19, 2014 11:56 am

Sorry I didn't post on this sooner. Interesting story, perhaps some of the info could have been revealed later on though. Not bad at all Sir, keep on it and enjoy being creative! :mrgreen:
Time to get up, you're not dead yet...
but you certainly will be if you don't move your ass!
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Re: Staggering in from the cold

Postby Kavorkian » Tue Feb 24, 2015 11:25 am

Okay so looked over you're sample like you asked and it's pretty good. A few things though

Marines in an operation like the one you describe would never get in a vehicle to get closer to their objective. There are too many liabilities. A vehicle is very easy to track, it's one big target, and the operators have absolutely no tactical awareness while riding in it. They would either get inserted closer to the objective or go on foot all the way. Also, under no circumstances would I allow an OGA's asset to be my driver or be involved at all. Again, too many liabilities. When it comes to planning something like this it's important to eliminate any unknown variables you can control. Unless the local has some extremely valuable info that requires him being there, it's not gonna happen.

Speaking of your OGA. In an operation like this, he would more than likely come from the CIA's special activities division and specifically from SOG. Think of them as the paramilitary arm of the CIA. These guys are almost exclusively recruited from Special Operations and tier 1 units like Delta and DEVGRU (Seal Team 6). That said, your character Dodd would have a lot of past experience in units similar to the Recon Marines and would not only integrate into the group well but understand the culture enough to know when guys would joke around to ease tension. In your chapter you're making him appear too much as an outsider with little understanding of the Marines. The Marines wouldnt refer to him as "Agent Dodd" either. It's usually just the first or last name and rarely would you expect it to be their real name. Anyone listening would learn a lot from just hearing "agent Dodd"

The other thing I noticed was the dialogue between the characters. Zombreach is right on the dialogue from the writers perspective but in terms of a military operation, there is way too much conversation. The closer to your target you get, the less you and your men would actually speak. SOCOM units spend countless hours training together. You get to the point you where you know your role and function as "one". Very little speaking is done when approaching a target because we all know what we're supposed to do.

Last two things. In their situation paracord wouldn't be used to restrain someone unless absolutely necessary. They would have with them disposable restraints. Especially if it's an operation to capture an individual. And finally, night vison would be used before any tactical lights. Lights work both ways. They reveal not only what your looking for but you as well. If a bad guy is hiding in the woods. The first thing he's take aim at is the bright shiny light.

Hope that helps.
Professional soldiers are predictable, but the world is full of amateurs.
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