Not What He Expected: One Step Above Cushion Duty
Forged Series: A World-Building Short Story
To learn more about the FORGED series, visit the Table of Contents.
One Step Above Cushion Duty
The assignment was the shits. He wanted to be on the heist team. That was where all the excitement happened. Instead, he was stuck on his ass, shuttling the goods.
The lame middleman.
Stewing about the assignment wasn’t improving his mood at all. Neither was bouncing along the broken track. If the axel of this biodiesel rust bucket of a truck wasn’t already shot, it would be by the time he arrived at the hand-off point.
A glance at the dash clock told him he’d been driving two hours already. Almost there.
He might’ve been better off not begging his dad to be included in the op. But he was tired of watching his brother go off on missions while he was tucked safely in his bed every night.
And now that she was deployed, training was jodidamente aburrido. He didn’t realize how boring training was until she was gone.
He missed Te. Missed her snarky remarks. Her quick wit. Her rare smile… How was her deployment going?
The steering wheel jerked out of his grip, and his head struck the side window with a hard thud. An awful grating noise filled the cabin.
“Mierda.”
He needed to stay focused. His thoughts about her distracted him from watching the sorry excuse for a road, and a particularly rough patch caused the truck to bottom out on the broken asphalt.
He glanced in the rearview mirror at the stacks of boxes filling the truck’s bed. He knew inside the unmarked cartons was precious cargo. Four hundred thirty-two Omnibands, the latest wearable tech from SynFlex Corp, were nestled inside, on their way to be repurposed for the Underground.
Stolen from right under the noses of the greedy corporate executives and pompous UPT security forces.
“Take that, t-urbanites!” he muttered with a small sense of satisfaction.
The boxes were askew, but it didn’t look like he’d lost any out of the back end. Hopefully, the fragile tech gear was well cushioned in their containers because that bump was seriously unpleasant.
He rubbed the sore spot on his head and maneuvered around more uneven chunks. If he lost a carton or showed up with damaged goods, his dad would never let him work another op.
But if he completed this non-combat assignment, maybe he’d be included on the next mission. Or be lucky enough to score one of the Omnis. His brother had one, and he’d watched his dad train Te how to use and disassemble the wristband device.
The trail appeared to end abruptly with a living wall of foliage.
“Que chinga?!?” What the hell? “Where’d the road go?” He slowed further and switched on the brights, revealing that remnants of the road curved. Beyond the curve were grey skies.
He let out a sigh. “Finally.”
The smooth, hard pack clearing before him was eerily preserved. Though the asphalt was cracked and covered in mossy-like growth, he could make out the bump of a century-old curb marking the edges of the parking lot. He steered alongside it and turned off the engine.
In the silence, the muffled roar of the ocean echoed, bouncing off the trees behind him.
A tract of land extended like a finger to the west. He knew a crumbling lighthouse stood sentry at the tip. Its foundations poised precariously as wave after wave pounded at the cliff walls below the bluff. He’d hoped he’d have time to explore the famous landmark. No hay chance. The drive was too slow.
He pulled out a ration bar—he might as well eat while he waited. It tasted marginally better than dirt. He choked it down and rinsed the taste out of his mouth with the warm water from his canteen.
No one joined the Underground for their food. Hell, their lodgings, gear, and supplies were all crap. Living the rebel life was not glamorous. A familiar burning of hatred for the Ryker administration churned in his gut. Or was it the brick of dirt he’d just eaten causing his stomach to ache?
He longed for the day when Te’s mission would be complete. Then, they could all live among the citizens of the country and not be relegated to the derelict ruins in the backwoods, fighting for scraps and stealing from those in power. The Rykers had stolen his life, ripped his family from their station in society, and forced them to hide. He wanted what was taken from him.
The Rykers deserved what was coming to them. They had to pay for the hardship his family had faced.
A knock on the glass made him flinch. He rolled down the window, and the coastal wind assaulted him. The salty brine stung his nostrils.
A man bundled against the gusts yanked his hat lower, shielding his eyes and obscuring his face. “Excuse me, ché, where’s the best place to see the storm?”
“From the top of the lighthouse,” he responded, internally cringing at the absurd code required to verify identities.
The pick-up man was here. His assignment? Completed.
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Inspiration
Back in July-August of 2024, I participated in a daily prompt from
of with a self-imposed 30-day challenge. You can read all of my submissions here and the analysis of the process here.The submission for two prompts (7/31/24 | LIGHTHOUSE | 100 words + 8/1/24 | BOX | 80 words) were the basis for this back story. I expanded the word count from 180 to 836 to better explain the hints sprinkled in Shattered, book one of the Forged Series.
I purposely omitted most names to minimize spoilers for people who haven’t read book one yet. Once you read Shattered, you will know who the main character is in this passage. (Hint: you'll see more of him in books two and three!)
The following excerpt is one of the passages that touches on the disruptions the Underground is causing.
Cara tapped a quick sequence on their slim Omniband—the nearly invisible device was ultra sleek and pliable, molding around their forearm and taking on the same bronzed skin tone. Technology advanced rapidly, so those who could afford the upgrades traded in for a new unit every few months.
I glanced down at the Omniband strapped to my forearm, clunky in comparison. My new student model hadn’t arrived yet—some supply-chain disruptions were slowing its shipment—so Uncle Finn was loaning me his backup. He apologized for it being past its prime, not that I really cared. The Omni I wore was slightly rigid and unable to mold properly to my smaller forearm because it was sized for him. And the color morphing was glitchy, stuck on a setting that was too pale to match my skin. Despite its outdated technology and stripped-down features, this older model still functioned.
Excerpt from Shattered, book one of the FORGED Series, coming in 2025 from Provender Press
Location, Location, Location!
As a reader, I enjoy reading stories based on locations I know. I like comparing how the author envisions the area in their fiction version. For the Forged world, I used real-life locations that I’ve visited for many of the settings. You can read about where Tessa grew up and where she goes to high school.
Check the Table of Content page to find other locations (more coming).⤵️
For this scene, the main character drives along Bayshore Drive to the Cape Meares Lighthouse access road and parking lot. There is one final curve in the road before the sky opens up above the triangle-shaped parking lot. The 0.2-mile footpath from the parking lot leads to the lighthouse, Oregon Coast's shortest building (only 38 feet tall). I chose the site because it sits on bluffs more than 200 feet above the ocean, making it likely to be around after the Great Changes have raised sea levels. That, and because Miguel’s prompt was for “lighthouse.”
To learn more about the FORGED series, visit the Table of Contents.
What I’m reading
Here are some fascinating reads available on Substack that you might enjoy. (I know I did!)
Infinite & Imporable Shapes - This lovely little nugget is more polished than
claims. Don’t be fooled. He is just too modest to admit that he has released another gem.To Write Freely, Write Freehand - a recent post from
about the writing process made me think of a friend/fellow author. We grab a coffee/tea/meal together occasionally and commiserate/cheer on each other’s writing/parenting/work/life. She’s not on Substack, but you can find her here. At our last gathering, she admitted her addiction to pens and notebooks. We also talked about some sticky points she’s having in her current project. Anyway, I forwarded her this post because sometimes we need to embrace our addictions and put them to work for us!Finding Hope in the Shadows: How Dystopian Fiction Inspires Resilience -
, a fellow writer publishing with Provender Press reminds us that dystopian fiction “teach(es) us that hope isn’t about waiting for circumstances to improve; it’s about fighting for a better future. This is a particularly powerful lesson in times when many feel paralyzed by the enormity of societal challenges. In the least, dystopian fiction is comfort food. At its most, it’s a playbook.”The Thing About Climate Refugees - Somehow,
makes me laugh, cry, fume, and want to go pack up my favorite coffee mug. Also, she gives some sage (hard-learned) advice about evacuation preparedness.Microdoing Fiction - 80mg of LIES - My participation in the daily prompts from
is not consistent, but I hop into the thread on days that I am able. And in the spirit of the above post, here is the latest daily prompt that includes a submission from me.
Before you go
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Questions
What books have you read set in locations near you? Were they accurately described? What did the author miss? Do right?
What location do you want to read a story about? Or is your favorite to read?
Do you like to flash fiction? Send me your favorite flash fiction piece (you’ve read or written).
Strong storytelling.
Felt every bump in that rusty truck along with your character.
That detail about choking down a dirt flavored ration bar while dreaming of a better future? Perfect. Got me curious about Te and what comes next.
Happy weekend.