Bread Crumbs

Boulder, Colorado.

Now that the deed was finished, he inspected the carnage for imperfections. Much like an artist would,  before applying his signature to his creation. Satisfied that his work here would be marveled upon by the FBI's most intelligent of minds, and then feared. He moved over towards the fireplace, upon the sleek wooden floor, now swollen with the blood of it's former residents, and removed the hot iron from it's cradle.  The firelogs hissed back at him, like a cat, cornered in fear.  Turning his head slowly, he ran his eyes across the bodies beneath him, searching for a location to sign his own work of art.  The glowing red tip of the fire iron cast a  scarlet-like, transparent cloak around his head, as his arm lowered  Slowly, he extended his gritty tongue out of his mouth, and licked the abdomen of one of the female party members. A tasting of his spoils.  Then, thrust the hot iron into her side.  Steam swirled towards the ceiling fan above, from the searing dead flesh.  This ritual would be performed again and again, on the others who had had the misfortune of renting this Winter cabin.

Somewhere in the Gulf of Mexico.

A chartered Tuna boat, speeds it's way across the Gulf, as it attempts to fatigue the prize fish captured by it's fishing wire.  A dazzling display, as the tuna leaps in and out of the salt water. Inside of the boat,  Special Agent Emmit wrestles with the line, his body now tense and nervous as the mighty fish begins to wear him down.

"Pull it around port side! Emmit screams over the sound of disel engines, churning beneath him. "Come on!...Come on!....all most gotcha" he grunts as he slowly pulls the pole, inwards to him.  The deep muscles beneath his tanned arms, began to surface. Each one, clearly defined, tone.  His barrel chest filled with warm salty air. And, released with each breath he could catch.

Beyond the fits and leaps of the prize tuna, a black speck appeared just above his eye level.  Growing in size at it approached the charter boat.  As it drew closer, Emmit knew exactly what it was and what was about to happen.  He reached into his cargo pants and pulled out his wire cutters. Then cut the line, without hesitation or regret.  The Blue Tuna leaped into the air one last glorious time to get a good look at him, before disappearing back into the sea.

The captain received an inbound two way call from the approaching helicopter for the Agent.

"Agent Emmit. They want to speak to you!" the captain shouted back to him, extending his arm out to him. Then, handed him the microphone.

"Well, you've found me! Which means it must be important" he shouted into the mic.

" It is Sir. Washington sent us out here to get you. ASAP" the coastguardsman relayed.

"They got another situation in Colorado. They said you'd understand the urgency. Your needed."

The whirlwind from the hydralic rotorblades, gave off a deafing tone, as it tossed the tiny vessel from side to side.  A steel cage dangling on the end of a steel cable line that was being lowered down on deck, swayed back and forth like a pendulum.  Agent Emmit extended his strong arms upward, catching the basket in his grip.  He took one last look, where the tuna had last been. Then strapped himself tightly into the basket.  A thumb's up to the crewman over head, and upward he climbed.  Reaching into his cargo pants, he grabbed the pocket knife the Captain had given him to use earlier, slipped it through the gridlines of the cage, and dropped it back onto the wooden deck of the charter boat below.  Raising his hand to his forehead, the captain returned a firm salute to the agent.  Emmit returned the salute, along with his winning smile, that had won him his first wife's hand in marriage, years before.

Emmit remained still until the steel cage was pulled safely inside of the fuseloge. He was handed a helmet with a headset already attached. The pilot welcomed him aboard, before patching him into a secured line, directly to Washington. The rotorblades rotation increased, as the pilot then engaged the turbine engines to full throttle, with course set for the Florida pennisula.  The young co-pilot turned around to look at the Agent, as he spoke to him.

"How you boys doin back there?  Agent Emmit we're patching through to Reynolds. He's the one who called our command post.  Ever heard of him?"  he asked.

"Only by reputation. Patch him through."

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Comments

This is full of drama and action. I think you could work on show don't tell a bit... for example what does the branded flesh smell like/ Does it bother him....? What does the victim look like? Try to keep away from cliches. Not too graphic but enough to get us into the scene. The same for the tuna scene. Sea air smell? Fish smell, fisherman smell? What is around them? and so on describe these as if you are there and you will get the reader there as well. But that said...It's a gripping start to something quite ominous.

If you get stuck start with answering these questions: why, who, what, where and describe the answers.

My thinking about the scene in the cabin was to let the readers envision their own version of the carnage.  By time the killer got done with the girl he branded, she looked like Lasanga.

Again, I let the reader do all the work. Also, with the charter boat. My goal was to build a strong character. Like when he cut the line because duty called.

Thanks for your insights. Much appreciated.