[stylist] {Spam?} first chapter to share

[debby]

This is a great chapter! I'm anxious to read more. I like your character. She's tough, but resilient, but also kind.    Debby and Nova

On Oct 9, 2016 11:21 AM, Tessa via stylist <stylist at nfbnet.org> wrote:
>
> Hi, 
> This is the first chapter of one of my novels. About half my stories have 
> characters who are blind 
> Anyway I'm interested in any comments. I wrote this for NaNoWriMo 2014 and 
> am currently editing it. So basically it's finished but only the first 
> couple chapters have been cleaned up. Right now the whole thing is 60,000 
> words but as I edited new scenes occur and new people pop up so I have no 
> idea what the final size will be. My first NaNoWriMo piece was 50,000 and is 
> now over 80  so who knows. 
> Anyway this is about 3500 words perhaps too long for a chapter but it works 
> for me. 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you like it. 
>
> Tessa 
>
> SUMMER WAGES  BY TESSA SODERBERG 
>
> COPYRIGHT 2014-2016 
>
> CHAPTER ONE 
>
> The Greyhound sighed as the driver released the air brakes. He opened the 
> door, and canned air was replaced by a cool breeze heavy with the smell of 
> dust and diesel. Fran sighed too, she hated taking the bus. Oh sure, for the 
> first hour she loved it. It was an adventure, going somewhere she'd never 
> been. By the time she arrived, she was crabby, hungry and needed a pee. 
> Every muscle ached. Her nose was sick of the stink of the chemical toilet. 
> She wanted to stretch and breathe fresh air. Ruby lifted her head to see 
> what was happening. 
>
> "Lie down," Fran said as she scratched the pointed ears. "Let me get my 
> stuff together." She fastened a fanny pack around her waist, and checked the 
> seat for forgotten items. She zipped zippers, and closed pockets, before she 
> eased into the straps of her backpack. She waited while the other passengers 
> staggered onto the platform for a smoke break. 
>
> "This is your stop," the driver said. 
>
> "Yes thanks, just avoiding the stampede." 
>
> "You got anything underneath?" the driver asked. 
>
> "Yes, two large, red duffels." He just grunted and followed his passengers. 
> Fran eased into the aisle and grabbed Ruby's leash. 
>
> "Let's go," she said. Ruby, tail wagging, led her onto the platform. 
>
> She smiled. She wanted to make a good impression on whoever had come to pick 
> her up. Francis Marie Maclean, five foot four, one hundred and forty pounds 
> of mostly muscle on a sturdy frame. She had short dark hair, brown eyes, and 
> pale skin, yet to acquire a summer tan. She wore faded jeans, coffee
stained 
> after a rough stretch of highway. She would bet she wore more of her coffee 
> than she drank. The red fleece she wore over her pink "CANOE QUETICO" 
> T-shirt felt too warm for this six a.m. bus station. At her side was Ruby: 
> German Shepherd by breeding, Labrador by nature. She hadn't told her 
> employer she was blind, that she had a guide dog. She hoped if there was 
> going to be a scene, they'd wait until the bus left. 
>
> Ruby guided her around the stretching, smoking, grumbling passengers and a 
> sprawl of packages being delivered. Fran spotted her bags immediately, which 
> was why she had chosen that colour. She wasn't totally blind. She saw 
> colours, objects and people, but she didn't see fine details. For example, 
> she couldn't read or recognize faces. She could see well enough to get 
> around in familiar places, but she relied on Ruby for safe travel in new 
> areas. Besides, people were more helpful when you had a dog. 
>
> She dragged the heavy bags over against the building where they'd be out of 
> the way. They contained everything she'd need for a summer of cooking and 
> camping. There was a tent, clothes, sleeping bag and camp cot, a weeks’ 
> worth of dog food, toys and grooming tools for Ruby. She also had her 
> cooking gear: measuring cups and spoons, pre-made mixes and spices she 
> preferred, and an assortment of talking devices, thermometer, measuring jug 
> and scale. 
>
> Fran Maclean was a cook, and a good one if she said so herself. She had 
> spent years cooking for assorted outfits. She began cooking as a teenager, 
> under the watchful eye of her father's sister. Hannah brought her out to 
> camp one summer to get her out of her parents overprotective influence. She 
> had been bored until Hannah suggested she help in the kitchen. Fran learned 
> to cook by doing rather than going to school. She worked lumber camps, 
> lodges, and construction camps, large and small. She worked by herself and 
> with a staff of ten and she loved it. Hannah had mentioned that the 
> University of Calgary's Palaeontology Department was looking for a cook for 
> a dig in the Alberta Badlands and Fran had jumped at the opportunity. She 
> didn't know anything about dinosaurs, but she knew how to cook and that was 
> what counted. 
>
> The Passengers climb back aboard, the engine roared, and the bus pulled 
> away. She was alone. She had confirmed with Dr. Ross that someone would be 
> at the bus station to pick her up. So, where were they? 
>
> She hadn't told Dr. Ross she was blind, because she was certain she wouldn't 
> have gotten the job. She didn't need the job, most of her previous employers 
> would be glad to have her back, but she liked to work new places. She 
> switched jobs every summer for the new scenery and the new people. When her 
> new employer learned she was blind, sometimes things became awkward. 
> Generally she enjoyed the discussion which followed. Now, standing here, 
> breathing old diesel fumes and dust, she wasn't so sure. 
>
> There were only two long distance buses in here a day, one at six in the 
> morning, and the other, ten at night. The later bus was lousy for her prior 
> connection, so here she was. She shrugged out of her backpack and pulled out 
> her note-taker to double check her e
mail. She reread the note from Dr. Ross 
> confirming her day and time of arrival. She didn't start work officially 
> until Sunday, but she always liked to arrive several days early to get 
> familiar with the area. She liked time to set up her tent and relax before 
> starting into a summers’worth of work. She was here, where were they? 
>
> She heard a door open, and turned to see a figure approaching. Ruby stood, 
> her tail beating a tattoo on the metal down spout. 
>
> "You waiting for someone?" a man asked. He was close enough now that Fran 
> could see he was tall, wearing what might be jeans and a checked shirt. 
>
> "Yes. I was supposed to be picked up. I'm going out to the dinosaur camp." 
>
> "Ummm," he grunted. "They know you're comin'?" 
>
> "Yes." 'Of course they knew she was coming.' 
>
> "Maybe they slept in," he said. 
>
> "Maybe." 
>
> "You want a cup of coffee?" 
>
> Fran smiled. "I'd just about kill for a cup of coffee. I don't want to leave 
> my stuff . . . " 
>
> "I'll bring you one. What do you take?" 
>
> "Just cream. Thanks." She fumbled in her pocket for change but he was 
> already gone. 
>
> Fran ruffled Ruby's ears. "I'll kill them," she muttered. "I'll put pepper 
> in the coffee, or salt in the sugar dispensers." But maybe they had a flat, 
> or like the man said, slept in. They'd better have a good excuse. 
>
> She took the mug and sipped the steaming liquid. "This is wonderful," she 
> said. It was amazing what coffee could do for you. "What do I owe you?" 
>
> "Don't worry about it." 
>
> "Okay, thanks. But, if you should happen to come out to the dig, I'll treat 
> you to the best cinnamon buns you ever had." 
>
> He laughed. "You workin' out there?" 
>
> "Supposed to be. If my ride ever shows up. I'm the cook. They hired me for 
> the season." 
>
> "You cook?" she knew what he was really asking. 'You're blind and you cook?' 
>
> "I do. I'm a pretty good one too." 
>
> "Hmmm," he said. She heard the phone ring inside the station. "Got to get 
> back to work. Hope they show soon." And with that he was gone. 
>
> She drank her coffee, savouring every drop. When she was done, she wished 
> she had a tongue like Ruby so she could get that last drop which refused to 
> roll into her mouth. Finally, she set the cup on the window ledge beside 
> her. Across from her, was a bit of green space. She'd take Ruby over there 
> to do her business.  Her bags would be safe enough. 
>
> Seven o'clock and they still hadn't come. Surely they'd have called the 
> station to say they'd be late? Dr. Ross had told her they didn't have cell 
> service, but they did have a satellite phone. She used the Voice Over 
> feature on her iPhone to find the contact information for Dr. Ross. She sent 
> him an e
mail reminding him that she had arrived and needed to be collected. 
> Of course, she had no idea when they checked the mail. Surely they couldn't 
> forget anyone as important as the cook? But why not, they'd been cooking for 
> themselves since they opened. She wondered if there was a pay phone in the 
> station. 
>
> She dragged her bags inside, then went back for the cup. The station was a 
> large, open, dimly lit room to her. She could see a few benches and hear the 
> muted buzz and rattle of a pop machine from the shadows. 
>
> "No one come yet?" he asked from the far corner. 
>
> "No. Not so far. Where's your washroom? And what do I do with this cup?" 
>
> "First door on your left. I'll take the cup." 
>
> The first door on her left proved to be small and less squalid than she 
> expected. It smelled chemical, strong enough to make Ruby sneeze. God it was 
> good to use a regular toilet again. She washed her hands and face then 
> brushed her teeth. She brushed her hair and changed her T-shirt to something 
> which didn't have food stains on it. Eating on the bus was a challenge. She 
> fed and watered Ruby then washed the bowl and stashed it in her pack. 
>
> "Is there a pay phone I can use to call out there?" she asked the far 
> corner, not certain if he was still in the building. 
>
> "Only pay phone's across the street at the restaurant. You can use my phone 
> if you like. Do you have the number?" Fran read it for him and he dialled, 
> then handed her the receiver. She listened as it rang five, ten, fifteen 
> times before she hung up. Where were they? Could they be out at the dig 
> already? What was she going to do all day if they didn't show up? 
>
> She sat on one of the slatted wooden benches. Ruby stretched out at her 
> feet. Fran waited and fumed. The station master rustled papers, made calls, 
> telling customers their packages had arrived. She wished someone would tell 
> Ross his package had arrived. She heard keys rattle and things being locked 
> up. The station master came over to speak with her. 
>
> "I'm afraid you're going to have to wait on the platform," he said. "I'm 
> closing up. Place don't open again till six." 
>
> "Oh hell," she muttered. "I'll kill them!" 
>
> "No doubt," he agreed. "I've got to get off to my day job. Want me to see if 
> I can find someone to take you out that way?" 
>
> "That would be great,” Fran said. “Thank you for all your help." 
>
> "Have you got water?" She shook her head. "Better buy yourself a couple 
> bottles. It gets pretty hot here." He pointed to the machine but she 
> couldn't tell what was water. She gave him five dollars and he handed her 
> four large bottles of water. 
>
> "Do I need that much?" 
>
> "Probably not. Your ride will likely be here soon, but you never know." 
>
> She hauled her bags out to the shady side of the platform. It was already 
> warming up. She and Ruby settled down to wait. 
>
> Eight o'clock and the little town came alive. Cars moved lazily down the 
> street, people talked and laughed and the heat climbed. Fran was glad to be 
> in the shade. She played a couple dozen games of King's Corner on her 
> iPhone. She checked her e
mail, nothing from Dr. Ross, damn it! 
>
> Nine o'clock, and she was seriously annoyed. She drank some water and gave 
> Ruby some. Her shade was shrinking and she was hungry. 
>
> Ten o'clock and she broke into the emergency stash in her backpack. She 
> always carried food on the bus. Nuts, raisins, sunflower seeds, dried fruit 
> and of course chocolate, which wasn't going to last in this heat anyway. But 
> her rations needed water, lots of water. The smell of bacon from the 
> restaurant made her mouth water, but she didn't want to leave her bags. 
>
> Ten thirty and she finished her first bottle of water. She wondered if she 
> dared leave her bags to go to the restaurant for a pee. A dark green truck, 
> hauling a trailer loaded with a piece of heavy equipment, pulled up beside 
> her. 
>
> "Tom Peters says you're goin' out to that dinosaur camp?" the driver called. 
>
> She walked over to the truck. "I am. Are you the one who was supposed to 
> pick me up four hours ago?" She tried to smile, but she was pissed. 
>
> "No ma'am. I'm the guy who Tom asked if'n I was going home, would I give you 
> a ride out that way. If you want the ride I'm ready to go. If you don't, you 
> can sit here and wait till they come." 
>
> "I'm sorry," Fran said. "I didn't mean to snap at you. I'm tired of waiting 
> for people who don't show up. Yes, I'm going to the camp. I would appreciate 
> the ride." 
>
> He climbed out and swung her bags into the back. "What you got in there, 
> rocks?" 
>
> "No, just feels like it when you're hauling them around. Camping and cooking 
> stuff. I'm a cook." He didn't comment. "Is it far?" 
>
> "Hour and a half. I can't take you right in though, not with the trailer. It 
> won't make the turn. I'll drop you at the turn off. You'll have to walk in. 
> It's not far, a mile maybe two." 
>
> A mile, in this heat? "Can I refill my water?" 
>
> "Guess you'd better." 
>
> They walked across to the restaurant. Fran used the bathroom and refilled 
> her water bottle. She bought apple juice and doughnuts to share. She was 
> having second thoughts about the ride. She didn't know the man, but he did 
> know where she was going. The station master hadn't told her his name, but 
> he did offer to try and find her a ride. Was she making a big mistake? If 
> her body turned up somewhere, would people remember her leaving with this 
> guy? God she was getting morbid. Oh hell! She touched the knife tucked in 
> her fanny pack for emergencies. She'd never used it. She never even had it 
> out in uncomfortable situations. She wasn't sure if she could, would use it, 
> but it was a comfort to have. She climbed into the cab and settled Ruby at 
> her feet. He didn't comment just rubbed Ruby's head and put the truck in 
> gear. 
>
> His name was Mike Davies and he liked old country music. Hank Williams 
> Senior moaned away on the cassette deck the whole trip. Mike talked, could 
> he talk. He had a wife and six kids, all boys. 
>
> "Wanted us a daughter," he said. "But never got one. Wife's put out about 
> that but me I don't know. She's past it now, so there's no more comin' thank 
> Christ. A girl now, that would have been nice. Boys, they're handy to have." 
> He had a small place, beef cattle, but not many. "Land won't support em, not 
> in the numbers we need to make money. We make do. I work the roads, 
> construction in the summer, ploughing in the winter. The kids do the ranch 
> work." And on and on. But she was grateful, at least it was a ride. 
>
> The truck slowed, then pulled over. "Turn off's just ahead on your right," 
> Mike said pointing. "Just walk in. Road don't go no where’s else." 
>
> "What about my bags? I can't carry them that far." 
>
> "Haul em' up the road a little, cover em' with rocks. No one comes along 
> here cept maybe two, three vehicles a day." That would have to do she 
> supposed. 
>
> She climbed out of the cab. The sun beat down on her unprotected head and 
> reflected back at her from the barren waste of rock in which she stood. She 
> didn't see a trace of green. The only sound was the wind and the rumble of 
> the truck. The air tasted of dust and she was glad for the weight of her 
> water bottles. 
>
> Mike got out and grabbed her bags. "I'll carry em'. Sorry I can't take you 
> all the way." He walked with her to the turn off then twenty yards up it to 
> where a culvert crossed under the road. He put her bags on the far side. 
> "Can't put em' inside," he explained. "Might rain. Water runs pretty fast 
> through here at times. You got a tarp to cover em,?" 
>
> "They're waterproof," Fran said. 
>
> "Good. People on the highway won't be able to see em' because of the 
> culvert, but your folks comin' from camp will see em' for certain." 
>
> "Thanks," Fran hitched her backpack higher. With all the water and juice, it 
> weighed a ton. "Let me pay you?" 
>
> "No, it's alright. I had to drive out this way anyhow. Takin' the backhoe 
> home for the weekend. Goin' to do some ditchin'. Hope you have a good 
> summer." And he turned, walked back to his truck and drove away. 
>
> Fran stood in the middle of the rutted gravel road. She listened as the 
> sound of the truck faded into the distance. It was so quiet out here. The 
> wind moaned, and pebbles rattled. The heat was oppressive, and she was 
> already covered in alkali dust. She opened one of her water bottles and took 
> a drink, then poured some for her dog. Ruby drank half and Fran poured the 
> rest back into the bottle. She'd have to remember to open a fresh bottle the 
> next time she wanted a drink. She adjusted her pack and started to walk. 
>
> The road was a gravel track between banks of jumbled brown and grey rock. 
> She had left green, growing things behind in town. Her shoes were 
> comfortable, the kind she wore in camp all summer. But they weren't made for 
> hiking. A hardened hiker would consider the road to be no more than an easy 
> afternoon walk, or would have, if not for the heat. Fran baked under the 
> relentless sun. The sweat on her skin dried almost as soon as it formed. 
> Within moments of setting out Ruby was panting. Fran decided they would walk 
> fifteen minutes then stop for a rest. She wasn't made for long term hauling 
> in the heat, neither was Ruby with her fur coat. 
>
> At their first stop Ruby drained her bowl. Fran opened the apple juice and 
> drank a half dozen swallows. She was definitely going to give Dr. Ross a 
> piece of her mind, but she had to get there before she could do that. Maybe 
> there was a good explanation why they hadn't come for her, maybe. It had 
> better be good. She soaked a kerchief in a little water and pulled it on 
> over her hair, she stuck a baseball cap on over that. It felt good for a few 
> moments. 
>
> Fifteen minutes and they stopped for another break. More water for Ruby, and 
> more juice for her. She wondered how far she'd walked, probably not as far 
> as she thought. She had read that people walk about three miles an hour. She 
> didn't think she was making two, with the road as rough as it was. If the 
> camp was only a mile in, her next stop or the one after should be her last. 
> If it was two miles, then all bets were off. Was she certain the driver had 
> dropped her at the correct turn off? That thought gnawed at her. Was she on 
> the right road? Was there a camp ahead? 
>
> At the next stop she had to sit down, take off her shoes and rub her feet. 
> They had begun to blister. She rubbed them gently, wishing she had some 
> cream to put on them. She sat in the meagre shade of a boulder, and drank 
> the last of the juice. Ruby drank a quarter of the second bottle of water. 
> Two and three quarter bottles left. Fran hoped they got to the camp before 
> they ran out of water. 
>
> At their next stop, Ruby emptied her bowl twice. Fran took a long drink from 
> a new bottle. Ruby's bottle was almost empty, but Fran couldn't have her 
> keeling over from heat exhaustion, she was too heavy to carry. Fran took 
> another drink, she'd do Ruby no good if she got sun stroke. Seated in the 
> shade resting, she heard a strange sound. It was a buzzing, rumbling, 
> distant sound. For a minute she couldn't figure out what it could be. Then 
> she realized that it was a generator. The camp would have a generator. She 
> wondered how far the sound of a generator could carry on the wind? At least 
> now she had some evidence that the camp was out here. She re
packed the 
> bottles and got to her feet. At least her pack was lighter, thank God for 
> small mercies. 
>
> Ten minutes passed and the generator sound was louder. She wouldn't stop. 
> They could push on, another few minutes. Surely it wasn't that far now? They 
> could do another ten, if only to get out of the sun. 
>
> She crossed a bridge over a deep gully. There was a sign, but the letters 
> were so faded she couldn't read them. The horizon had become oddly 
> geometrical with triangles and straight lines. She tried to make sense of 
> the shapes, then realized she was seeing buildings. They had made it. 
>
> "Hup up!" she called to Ruby. "Let's go." She wanted to get off the road, 
> get inside, out of the sun. She wanted to find Dr. Ross and tell him what 
> she thought of him and his disorganization. She smiled at the prospect. 
>
> Ruby whimpered. Fran ignored her, and hurried forward. She went sprawling 
> over something lying in the middle of the road. She swore and pushed herself 
> to a sitting position. 
>
> "Ruby!" she snapped, then hesitated. It wasn't Ruby's fault. She hadn't been 
> paying attention to her dog. She was too damn fixated on giving Ross a piece 
> of her mind. What the heck had she fallen over? And God she hoped no one was 
> watching. 
>
> She reached out and touched the obstruction. "Oh sweet Jesus," she whispered 
> as her hand touched skin. It was a body, a naked body so far as she could 
> tell. The smell was awful, the sickly sweet stench of dried vomit, and worse 
> the throat clogging sour reek of diarrhoea. God, she'd fallen on it! She 
> scrambled away on hands and knees. She ran frantic hands over her front but 
> she seemed to be clean. 
>
> She dropped her backpack and fanny pack. Whatever was wrong here she didn't 
> want any of that stink on her things. 
>
> "Ruby," she called. Ruby whined and nudged her gently with her nose. Fran 
> hugged her friend. "Good girl," she murmured. "You're a good, good girl. 
> Your owner's an idiot, but you knew that. Now, just lie down a minute while 
> I figure out what's happened here." 
>
> She went back to the body. She didn't want to touch it, but she needed to 
> know if it was alive. She touched it. Bare legs, hips and buttocks covered 
> in filthy cotton shorts. Just the touch of them had her scrubbing her 
> fingertips raw in the dust. Naked from the waist up, the skin of legs and 
> back was sunburnt and blistered. A bearded face, a man, a nearly naked man 
> lying in the middle of the road. Where was everyone? When she was hired, she 
> was told she'd be cooking for a group of a dozen, so where were they? Why 
> had they left him out here? 
>
> She touched his neck to feel for a pulse. "Thank you," she whispered as 
> blood moved beneath her fingertips. She couldn't smell alcohol or the fruity 
> scent of diabetes over the other odours on him. What was wrong with him? Was 
> it contagious? Nearly naked suggested that he had been in bed when whatever 
> it was hit him. Why was he out here? Had he been trying to get to the 
> outhouse, or was he trying to go for help. Had he been lying out here in the 
> sun all morning? She pinched the skin on the back of his hand into a fold 
> and waited for it to collapse, but it remained upright for much too long. 
> Dehydration, and it was bad. He'd need more help than she could offer, and 
> soon. 
>
> She shook him and he groaned. He's got to have water. She grabbed a bottle 
> from her pack and poured water into her thermos cup. She eased him onto his 
> side, resting his head on her thigh. She trickled water into his mouth. She 
> felt him swallow, once, twice, three times. He lay still for a minute, then 
> gagged and threw up all over her. 
>
> "Son of a bitch," Fran muttered as hot puke soaked into her jeans. "I should 
> have known that was going to happen." She moved the cup and bottle away and 
> held his head as he continued to throw up. Finally he lay coughing and 
> sputtering weakly. 
>
> "I'm going to give you some more water," she said. "I don't want you to 
> swallow it. Just hold it in your mouth for a bit." She held the cup to his 
> lips and he took a mouthful. "You're badly dehydrated," she said. "I need 
> you to talk to me, to tell me what happened here. Let that water soak into 
> the tissues in your mouth. If you swallow it you'll throw up again." He 
> swallowed and in moments he was christening the other leg. 
>
> "My kids," he gasped, his words so garbled she could hardly understand him. 
> "Help my kids." 
>
> "Oh my God,” she whispered. Kids, dehydration killed little kids. "How many 
> kids?" she demanded. "Where are they?" She shook him sharply when he didn't 
> answer and that brought on another bout of vomiting. 
>
>
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