Welcome to F.C. Irish's Flight Log

Feel free to comment, discuss, add, or challenge anything on this blog. The idea of the Flight Log is to find our common culture amidst the regional differences. I'm looking for a clear understanding, and everything I write is meant to facilitate discussion toward that goal. Enjoy.

09 September 2015

Just a Little Taste...

LT. McMichael 
Entry 1

With the transcription of pen and ink to pixels complete, and two scenes edited so far, I wanted to give everyone a taste of what to expect from TR 893, more commonly referred to as Thomas Overholt. The second story in a series of six, the Green Coyote continues the saga where Victor Briggs left off.

What follows is an excerpt from the first scene. To set the scene: It is the present day, on a train headed north from the border toward California. Overholt and Teresa Aberdeen (a Lady J) are in the process of locating a shipment of cocaine when Tom stumbles upon the bodies of Amtrak guards stripped of their uniforms. He has Teresa call in the bodies to the authorities on the train, and has made his way onto the roof to avoid the legitimate guards. To his surprise, the imposters also took to the roof, but they are unaware that he is making his way toward them...


            "Hold on a second." Tom pulled out one of his peacemakers, taking careful aim at the center guard.  The hammer cocked back, rotating a new round to the barrel.  He squeezed the trigger.
            *‘No!’*  Tom’s bullet went wild, slapping the train roof between the man’s legs.  *‘Was that a gunshot?’* 

            “I told you to hold on a second!”  The three men returned fire, peppering the metal around him.  He took a second shot dropping one of them, before slithering to the gap behind him.  Safely behind cover he turned his attention back to the Lady J.  “Thanks for that, now they know where I am.”
            *‘If it makes you feel any better, I think I found the drugs.’*  Tom ducked as another storm of lead passed over his hiding spot.
            “Not really, but I’ll manage.”  He lifted himself up only to drop again, forced to keep down as more bullets came his way.  “Fuck this!”  Tom slid the door to the car open and walked inside brandishing his pistols.  The passengers screamed at his sudden arrival amid a gunfight.  “This ain’t no stick up, and I ain’t no terrorist.  I’m in the middle of stopping a cartel from shipping a hell of a lot of coke north.  Now if you’d please move to the side of the car, I gotta get up there to get these bastards.”  They pressed themselves against the windows, screaming as he ran past to the end of the car.
            Tom opened the door and glanced up in time to see one of the impostors kneel down at that particular gap.  Without a second thought he shot the man, stepping aside as the lifeless body tumbled into the doorway.  “That’s an Amtrak Guard!  He’s killing the guards!”  The hysterical woman clutched at her children, squeezing them as Tom turned around. 
            “No ma’am,” Tom’s talking skull only furthered the woman’s anxiety.  “You see, him and his buddies are the ones who killed the guards.  I’m just killing them for killing the guards.”  She screamed again.  “It’s not like that!  I am doing a public service, like taking out the trash and such.”  The back door of the car slid open, revealing a mass of legitimate Amtrak police.  “Shit…”  Tom holstered his weapon, putting his hands in the air.  “Hold your horses now boys,” he began to back away, stepping over the body until he rested against the door.
            “Freeze scumbag!”  Four guards had their pistols aimed at the Reeferman while their superior addressed Tom.
            “Listen, I’m on your side.”
            “I said freeze mother fucker!”
            “This just isn’t gonna work for me,” Tom put his hands down.  “I mean, you come in here guns drawn, passengers are already freaking out, and you go and start cursing like that.  I mean seriously, what the fuck.  There’s no decency in the world anymore.”
            “Put your hands up!”
            “Do it or we’ll shoot!”  Tom threw his hands up in exacerbation.
            “Car full of people,” he turned around, “and this dumbass is gonna start shooting shit.”  Tom flung the door open to everyone’s surprise.  “I’m out of here, there just ain’t no manners anymore in this country.”  He slammed the door shut and disappeared from the porthole.  No one moved until the car lurched, bringing the Amtrak officers back to reality.  They rushed for the door, opening it to find that the Reeferman had disconnected the cars.  The head officer stepped out onto the platform.  As he raised his gun to shoot Tom he heard the slide of a pistol smack shut.  He looked up to see the last impostor aiming down at him.  A gun fired.
            “Holy shit,” the officer exhaled as the would-be assailant fell backward onto the roof.  Looking ahead on the tracks, he could see Tom spinning his peacemaker before sliding it into the holster.
            “I told you,” Tom yelled, “I’m on your side."


Sadly, something happens to our operatives at the end of the scene that changes Overholt, sending him down the road of vengeance.

I must admit it is a relief to have the hardest part of the process behind me, and I look forward to bringing this Reeferman to life and to your eLibrary in the coming month or so. Until then, keep checking in for new posts and news.

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