Virtual Mexico

I looked around to see a little old lady sitting on the steps of her iron gated porch. In front of me was the train tracks in Mexico that took me fifteen minutes to locate. Fortunately, I have a great view of the surrounding residential area. Too bad, I was only in my living room writing about virtual travels using Google Maps street view.

Let me just say, if you haven't been to Mexico, you are missing out. Before we had kids, my wife and I visited every year. No so much any more. But that's ok, because I wanted to relive it all in my writing. When I want to get a good description of anything, I book a first class virtual trip (on my couch, with my snacks, and computer) to where ever I need to go. It's the next best thing to being there.

My first book is a about a boy traveling from a war torn America to Mexico. If I create a sequel/prequel, it may land me in China. I've got friends teaching in China. I'm about to make another virtual trip to see if I can make a story out of it. Honesty, I love to go on real location. My second (almost edited) novel is centered around the wooded forest of a small town. Guess where I will be spending a few days gathering data?  Really, you've got to try this. A great story could virtually be written from anywhere in the world Google lets you stroll down the street. Grab a snack, crank up your writing device, and just go.

He Took IT Out

Share your first impressions of the first two pages...
BOOK: C BOY RUN: A boy with cancer must travel through a worn torn America and locate his father in Mexico
Jeffrey Skinner

ONE FOR THE MONEY

The click released the kink and the drip began its deadly drop into the boy's bare chest. The nurse offered a miniature cup of water from a silver tray.

“We don't drink the water,” the boy’s mom insisted.

The nurse put the cup back on the tray. “The water is tested weekly so there is no danger.”

If anyone had a water tap running, everyone was afraid to drink. One month had passed since the Center for Disease Control was sieged and raided. It was broadcast nationally before the Silence came. Every news analyst supported the idea that an attack on the nation’s water supply could be immediate. Milk and bread were no longer the survivors pick. The water bottle became the horde of choice.

A nurse walked past the open curtain and begins ringing a hand bell as if she was collecting change for the needy.

“I need to flush this line,” Elias's nurse said with a quivering hand.

His mother became alert. “We just started. Is something wrong?”

“We talked about this moment Elias,” the nurse said to the boy.

Karen stood up. “We can't just stop now, like this. Finish, please.”

“You will need to find a place to get treatment. They are taking over this hospital.”

“We walk five miles each day,” Karen pleaded. “Every week. Where are we going to go?”

There was a stampede of footsteps and chatter beyond the curtain. The nurse began unhooking the IV from the boy’s chest port.

She kissed Elias on his head, squeezed his mother’s hand, and reached deep to stall her emotion when the pleading eyes of a mother connected with hers. The nurse left the bedside and never returned. Karen parted the room curtain and peered out to see the makeshift lobby.

Hospital rooms were too dark so the nurses erected curtained rooms in the lobby to allow sunlight from the wall windows. Moms and dads were poking their heads out of their curtain rooms and sharing a look of dismay. These parents knew that within fifty miles of the perimeter, it would be hard to locate a hospital that wasn't taking care of wounded soldiers.

Another mom stuck her head out of her son’s curtain room. “Is the building on fire?”

Again, the nurse paced the lobby waving a hand bell and announcing, “Moms and dads, it's time.Please go home and be safe.”

Karen looked back at her son sitting up straight with wide eyes. “We need to leave honey. Get your shirt on.”

She grabbed Elias by the hand and looked deep into his life. She sobbed and like a kitten, rubbed her cheek on his smooth head.

“Don't ever forget how much I love you,” Karen sniffed between tears.

Elias flipped his shirt on and grabbed his tattered baseball cap that concealed his shaven head. Karen grabbed her son’s hand and together they dodged their way through frantic nurses and families scattering like the wacky neon patterns of the lobby carpet.

A doctor remained in the middle of the chaos, “Please be calm and safe. Look for the exits and don't run down the stairs,” he repeated.

Karen reached into her purse and stretched her arm out to the doctor with an envelope in her hand.

“Doctor Blake. Please Doctor Blake,  I think it’s time.”

The doctor took the sealed envelope and hugged Karen.

“Find peace in this new world. I pray for your journey,” the doctor said. 

As Karen and her son reached the stairs, Karen froze. Marching through the door was a small stature woman dressed in a black uniform. She extended a long gun from her shoulder and pointed it just above the face of Karen.

“My god,” Karen said before breaking into a full scream. She threw Elias behind her and backed up slowly. The woman moved past Karen in a robotic manner.

“Clear the rooms,” the woman aimed and barked. “Wounded is coming in, clear the rooms now.”

“These are the children's rooms,” a mother said with her daughter at her side. “Most of these children are being treated for cancer here. You just can't...”

The mother was interrupted by the end of the gun pointing at her face.

The uniformed woman declared without a stutter,

“Presidents orders mam, I'm sorry.”

“The president is dead,” someone cursed.

“He's in hiding,” someone else rebuked.

The uniformed woman continued down the lobby throwing curtains back and ordering nurses to prepare for wounded soldiers.

“Let’s go mom,” Elias said pulling his mom’s hand toward the dim stair well.

Footsteps echoed down the stairs like heavy rain. With each floor they passed, a commotion could be heard beyond each door. They reached the bottom floor to find military green and police blue officers corralling people at the entrance. 

“Go home and kiss your family,” a voice shouted.

“Wait here,” an officer commanded. “The fighting is getting close. You need to stay undercover of the building.”

Karen felt trapped in an uncertain situation. As military tried to control everyone, people continued to inching their way to the defective sliding doors of the entrance. Elias noticed one of the black uniform officers was separating men from women and children.

Even with military guns pointed in all directions, no one was listening. Fear was driving emotion and people were demanding to leave. Karen approached a police officer at the door who put a pistol in her face with a small tremor in his hand.

Karen's voice cracked. “Are you going to shoot people who are in the hospital to be cared for? Does that make sense?”

“I have every right to leave this building,” a man’s voice barreled. “There is no law that says you can keeps us here.”

“You have the right to leave when we can regain order and keep the public safe,” an officer reported.

A hefty man behind Karen attempted to push through the crowd. An officer retracted a metal baton and cracked the man on the leg and who crumpled to the floor yelling in pain. Still, no one backed away.As more people filed down the stairs, the agitation of the crowd swelled.