I had to place an excerpt of the project I was working on with the Camp NaNoWriMo website that I joined. I thought I would share it here also.
The R.A.N.C.H. Project
Research Agency of the Neural Cerebral Hemisphere
The Ranch’s Objective: Growing humans for political projects and creating human weaponry for personal and national gain
Laying in the cold dampness of the cellar dungeon, soaked and dried in their own blood lay Jase and Colin. The maniac that roamed around upstairs treated them no better than stray pets that were a nuisance. The difference being, the man keeping them captive wanted these men alive, but why?
Colin was still concerned that Jase was dead. Enough light had peered in from upstairs that now he could see Jase’s limp and bloody body in the corner adjacent from him. He would watch as the man upstairs would periodically check on his ‘pets’ and this made Colin think that Jase was alive, at least for now or their captor would have not continued to check on them both. Jase must of suffered some sort of head trauma, maybe rest was all he needed? At least this is what Colin had prayed for.
Colin knew he needed to break free. Possibly start a dialog with the man when he comes to check again. Something he had avoided till now. He wanted to break free, check on Colin and give his captor a surprise he would not see coming. He had tried every which way to break out of the chains. Whoever this crazy man was, he knew how to hold a prisoner tight.
That’s when Colin saw it, his snow pants, hanging from a hook above a wooden workbench. At least that is what he thought he saw. He could be wrong, but they certainly looked like it. This gave him more hope than he had since the plane took its final dive into the treetops.
The transceiver that he had turned on the morning Jase dropped him off was in those pants, a tiny compartment that zipped near the bottom of the right leg. Was it still there? He had never turned it off and now he was hoping that if this lunatic had saved his snow pants, his gun and other belongings would be close.
Colin heard a moan come from his battered friend, “Jase! Jase can you hear me?” He heard Jase take a deep breath and he went silent once more. This waiting and not knowing if Jase was brutally injured was more torture than Colin wanted to remember. Scenes like a movie reel kept playing through his mind of his time he was a POW and when he didn’t know the status of his men. He could do this, he thought; he would get Jase out of here alive.
The man upstairs must of heard Colin call out to Jase and immediately rushed to the trapdoor. Jase could hear a series of locks being turned and twisted out of their steel casing. Soon the mysterious man descended into the makeshift prison.
Copyright © 2014 by Neasha Hill
A Brunette's Reflection 
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