1st AMERICAN BLITZ

CHAPTER 15

Boys, No. 05

Casey Fuller

"Emptiness and"

Tugging on the thin fabric of his sweat-stained t-shirt again for the umpteenth time, Casey pushed further down the humid service corridor. His canteen thumped lightly against his hip as he tried to make every step he took as quiet as possible. But despite that, and the low rumble of the rig's engines, he could still hear the sound of his tennis squeaking against the filthy metal of the deck beneath his feet. It was a noise that rung louder and louder in his ears with every step. But he tried to put it out of his mind. There were more important things for him to worry about right now.

He took a deep breath of the damp and stuffy air as he continued to make his way down the tight hallway. Though the grimy light fixtures along the wall only gave off a weak, saturated glow; it seemed like the illumination coming from them added to the already stifling heat pressing against him. In truth, he wasn't sure how much more of it he could take.

Instinctively, he increased the frequency of his shirt-tugging. It wasn't much, but it helped a little. The strangling heat was somewhat easier to bear, allowing him to continue on his solitary trek through the lower decks of the Kasanagi-Etō. And in the end, that mattered more than anything else.

While his left was occupied with making sure he didn't pass out from heat exhaustion, his right hand worked the minute controls on the GPS handheld. The perspiration on his hands was making it difficult but he managed regardless. Stopping for a moment, he took a long, deliberate gaze at the display screen then looked up to gage his surroundings; searching along the smudged, oily walls for any sign that would indicate he was near one of the platform's auxiliary control points.

Pausing in cooling himself, he wiped the back of his hand across his sweaty brow in an effort to keep the perspiration from falling into his eyes as he continued to scan the walls. It was a heavy and weary motion that mirrored just how he was feeling. I know it's here, he thought tiredly. Somewhere around here. It's almost the same design as the one Dad worked on for that Coleman company. C'mon, c'mon! I just can't be wrong about this! Still seeing nothing on the walls in the dim, narrow hallway, Casey took another couple of steps further down before stopping to look around again.

Auxiliary control's gotta be down here. One of them, anyway. If I remember it right, there's supposed to be at least five or more on the lower levels and I can't go any lower without needing scuba gear.

Wiping his hand across his forehead again, he then maneuvered it down to another thick strap that was cutting into his chest. Slipping a thumb underneath and wrapping three fingers around the top of it, he gave a good pull and tried to readjust its position. The backpack probably wouldn't have been that much of a burden if it wasn't carrying everything he had found in his weapon chest.

Including a crossbow and the bolts it used as ammunition.

With a groan, he made a quick decision to just take it off instead. His frustration was building and he couldn't afford to get frustrated. He needed a clear head to do what he had planned. Besides, it would probably be a good idea to take a short break. In fact, he was pretty sure he hadn't stopped moving since he was shoved out of the briefing room by those soldiers; save for the minute or so he'd taken to fill his canteen full of water from a restroom faucet.

Taking a hasty glance up and down the corridor, Casey got a good grip on the heavy duty strap and pulled the backpack over his head. It felt like someone had just lifted a boulder off his chest. He took another deep breath of the stale, musty air as he lowered the pack to his side and leaned against the wall wearily. It really did seem like he'd been walking forever. Maybe that could explain why he was feeling so lightheaded and nauseous. Then again, he could just be hungry. But with all the heat he'd endured getting to where he was, he really couldn't count out the possibility of heat exhaustion.

Reaching down to his canteen, he gripped it weakly with both hands and raised it to his mouth. Unscrewing the cap, he pooped it off and took a long pull from the warm plastic container. The water was lukewarm but that didn't matter. As hot as it was, the liquid felt like it came from a snowy mountain spring as it sloshed down his throat. He wanted to keep drinking, take down all the water in his canteen. But he forced himself to stop after four long gulps. He had to conserve as much water as possible if he intended to continue further down the service corridor.

Lowering the canteen and recapping it, Casey settled the squarish container down by his side and then raised a hand to wipe at his forehead again. It seemed that was all he was doing…sweating. He really needed to hurry up and find that control point so he could get out of the hot hell he'd forced himself into. Even if the reason why he had done so in the first place was noble, this risk alone made more than foolish; especially considering the circumstances.

A cold shudder made his shoulders tremble as he thought back to everything that had happened.

Much like everyone else, he had awakened groggy, disoriented and draped in what seemed impenetrable darkness with a sharp, biting pain in his right hand. He remembered nothing immediately before waking. His last full memory was of being on the private jet, eating and thinking of way to approach Leslie so they could talk while stifling yawns. He didn't even remember when he'd fallen asleep.

When his eyes opened again, the plane was gone and there was nothing but pitch black to greet them. In retrospect, he was pretty sure that the food – and maybe even the drinks – on the plane had been drugged with something to knock them out so they could easily be transported to the offshore platform. But then, figuring out how they got there was the last thing on his mind after waking up in the briefing room.

Darkness and confusion; his return to consciousness was that and not much else. The moments which followed were full of feelings and smells, undecipherable sights and panicked sounds. The discordant chorus continued until the door opened and booted feet entering forced the cacophony to die down. It was then that they were confronted with the reality of their situation.

Like many others, he sat in a daze amidst the black surrounding him while the woman flanked by armed soldiers handed out warnings against disruptive behavior and speaking out of turn before she had the lights turned on. The silence that had settled over the room as she spoke was as eerie as it was deafening. Nobody spoke, nobody even seemed to move. The stillness surrounding him was almost as bad as the silence.

As soon as her words ended, the lights came on; abrupt and blinding. He remembered shielding his eyes on instinct. For some odd reason, that was when his thoughts finally sharpened enough to remember Leslie and how much he was worried about her. But before he could blink his vision clear to look for her, the woman's first rule was broken; done so by a voice he knew better than he wished.

Dropping his hand, he turned in the direction of the outburst just in time to blurrily see Jimmy Turner rifle-butted in the side of the head by a man dressed in military fatigues. At any other time, he might have enjoyed seeing the boy who bullied him so relentlessly at school – until Leslie confronted him about it – being treated in pretty much the same way. But this wasn't one of those times. What he witnessed in that moment was horrific, pure and simple. And it shook him to his core.

What had been done was absolutely unthinkable!

The act was so quick and violent that Casey had pretty much forgotten about everything else on his mind, content to just sit there slack-jawed and wide-eyed. He probably would've remained that way if Leslie hadn't responded to the brutal action when she did. Hearing her terror-stricken outcry didn't ease his nerves any at what he'd witnessed but it did fill him with a small sense of relief at knowing that she was okay. It also helped to snap him back to reality.

Watching her struggle against the other students attempting to hold her back in an effort to keep her from being pummeled like the boy now sprawled across the metal floor filled him with a sharp longing to be at her side. She'd been crying openly, green eyes searching over the motionless form of her boyfriend for any signs that he was still alive. That was aggravating to him; watching Leslie show concern for a boy that deserved none.

Despite the situation, he couldn't – and wouldn't – feel that way about Jimmy Turner. The boy had taken too much delight in torturing him on practically a daily basis. While he didn't take any joy in seeing what had happened to him, he didn't feel sorry for the jerk either. The only thing that really bothered him was seeing how much it hurt Leslie.

Casey raised his hand and wiped the back of it across his brow again, turning his attention back to an uncertain present. After a quick look up and down the empty corridor, he released a quick sigh. He had to remember where he was. Getting lost in thought like that could get him killed…fast.

Going back to tugging on his t-shirt, he leaned his head back against the grungy wall exhaustedly. It seemed like it was even hotter now that he had decided to stop to rest. He suspected that the lower levels of the platform would be warm, expected it actually. But this was just way beyond fucked up.

By shutting down the air conditioning well before they'd been brought to the rig, their kidnappers had effectively made it almost impossible to survive down here for any good amount of time. Remaining where he was – or going any further, for that matter – would only increase the risk of him having a heat stroke and passing out, or worse just collapsing to the deck dead. In other words, the entire situation seemed to carry a much more sinister purpose to it.

This sucks, he thought despairingly. With the way it feels down here, going any further might just end up killing me. It's just too fucking hot down here. Omatsu, those soldiers, they're all just complete bastards for doing this. They knew what they were doing when they disabled the AC! Looking around the dim corridor with tired eyes, he wondered just how close to the engines of the rig he was. There was no doubt in his mind that what he was looking for would be in the Power Module of the Kasanagi-Etō. There was no other place the Ballast Control Points could be.

Every type of offshore drilling platform that his father had ever had a hand in designing always included auxiliary control points just in case the main systems failed. There were usually three tiers – primary, secondary and tertiary or auxiliary. He was already aware that the primary and secondary systems for the rig would be inaccessible to him; the primary being the one's on the platform's bridge and the secondary probably being guarded by soldiers. That left the auxiliary control points in the engineering section of the platform. While he was pretty sure that there was a good chance they might be guarded as well, he had no choice but to check. He had to exhaust every option open to him. Yet now, he had a funny feeling he already knew the answer to that.

This was done on purpose.

As strange as the thought sounded, it was the only thing that made any sense. There was no one guarding the control points. He wouldn't find any soldiers down here. Why would there be when it was so hot on the lower decks of the Power Module that anyone dumb enough to come down here would most likely pass out from the heat alone? Disabling the rig's air conditioning was as brilliant as it was aggravating. Afterall, why waste limited resources and risk potential damage to important systems keeping the facility afloat when you could get the platform itself to do the job for you?

All of a sudden, Casey felt very empty and even more worn out than before. He slouched against the wall back-first and slid down it to the deck next to his backpack. Everything he'd planned had been riding on him reaching the auxiliary ballast control point. He had worked out the basics of his plan while hunting for the storage chest. It all seemed so simple. Locate the auxiliary control points on the lower decks, use them to destabilize the platform, sabotage the power systems and then make his way back up top to find Leslie.

Yeah, real simple.

More than anything else, Leslie was the primary focus of his plan. She was the sole reason he had decided on his current course of rather reckless actions. If it wasn't for her, he'd swear he was suffering from some form of insanity for coming up with such a dangerous scheme that he wasn't sure would even work.

A childhood friend, it felt as though he'd known the tomboyish girl almost forever. Thick and thin, she'd been there for him; always defending him and fighting his battles. He owed Leslie more than he knew he could ever pay back. That was why he was doing this.

Even if things between them were more complicated now than before, she was still the only thing that mattered to him in this insane 'game' they'd been thrown into. Her…boyfriend Jimmy was less than an afterthought. Ever since he'd come into her life, things between them had soured; especially in recent weeks. He was sure that Jimmy had been responsible for Leslie's change in attitude and mood.

Slanting his head back against the nasty wall, Casey groaned under his breath. It wasn't as if she'd turned against him or anything like that. She still stood by his side and got in the face of anyone who had a problem with him…including her loser boyfriend. They still hung out together whenever she could spare the time, which was split between her family, her part-time job and the jerk-ass she'd taken a liking to. In truth, he wished it were as simple as her being a total bitch to him. At least that way, he could blame it all on Jimmy.

That, as it turned out, was the problem.

He couldn't blame anything on him. He wasn't trying to come between him and Leslie in any way that he could see. Hell, she'd even made him apologize for treating him like a punching bag. The boy basically grumbled his way through it, but the fact that he'd done it at all showed just how much he apparently cared about her. And that pretty much meant that her new, closed-off nature couldn't be laid directly at his feet.

So, what is it then, he inquired, thoughts agonized. What has her so worried and scared that she can't open up to me of all people? What's so wrong in her life that she feels the need to keep me at arm's length? I just don't understand. He began to lightly bang the back of his head against the wall. Her, this place, why we're here, I JUST DON'T UNDERSTAND ANY OF IT!

Despite the heat threatening to drown him with its hellish humidity, Casey pulled his knees up to his chest and leaned forward until his chin was resting on them. His determination to put his plan into motion was still in place. Yet, he felt so…empty. It was like he was vacant on the inside. Was it because of Leslie? How she had shut him out of her life? A small spark of emotion surged at those tormenting thoughts.

Tears forming almost out of nowhere, he closed his eyes and thought back to happier times in an effort to keep the misery and sorrow that'd been slowly eating away at him at bay.

-O-

"Hey Casey," a jovial voice called from across the room.

He looked up from the computer screen without surprise and directed a sideways glance to the wiry, red-haired girl perched in the sill of his now-opened window. "You know," he began, returning his attention to the screen full schematics, "my mom is gonna be pissed if she finds out that you're still climbing that trellis to get into my room. Didn't she already jump your case about it once, Leslie?"

Feigning a look of surprise as she lowered herself into his room, Leslie Thurston smiled as she sheepishly replied, "Oh crap! She did, didn't she? When the hell did my memory get so bad?"

"Dunno. Probably from the last two times you fell off the trellis and hit your head on the ground," he said with a brief laugh. "Seriously, just how many times has your head been stitched up now; two, three times? Jeez, what's it made of? Concrete?"

Leslie laughed as well as she made her way over to his bed and threw herself down on it stomach-first. "Hm…lost count. Besides, I happen to have three older brothers, for your information," she emphasized. "So I'm kind of used to getting dropped on my head. And…getting stitched back up when things don't go quite as they planned. What's your excuse?"

Casey just grinned without turning to face her.

"I'm just too smart," he replied smugly.

"Ohhh," she crooned. "Too smart, huh?"

"Yup."

"Alright smart-guy," Leslie chided. "You've got a big brain, I'll give you that. But if I'm not mistaken, you tried to use it against Jimmy Turner once or twice. And…how'd that work out for you again?"

At the mention of that name, Casey's hand froze on the mouse. His other, almost instinctively, reached up to the browning bruise around his right eye. It was the aftermath of his most recent pummeling at the hands of that asshole bully at school. And it was something he was trying very hard to forget about.

"About as well as it usually does," he grunted sourly, eyes still locked on the flat-panel monitor. "Man, way to kill the mood, Leslie. What, no puppies for you to kick today?"

"Nuh-uh," she responded nonchalantly, "just you I'm afraid."

He sighed loud enough for her to hear.

"Jerk."

"Bitch," she called out just as quickly.

Almost immediately afterward, they both began to laugh. Turning from the computer screen, he watched as she rolled onto her back and kicked her long legs against the side of his bed. The warmth of spring had finally liberated Bandon from that typical Oregon winter he'd liked but Leslie hated. So, it was unsurprising to find her wearing a pair of thigh-length denim cut-offs, flip-flops and a sleeveless t-shirt. Though they'd been friends from practically the day they were born, he still found it uncomfortable to see her showing that much skin. It was going to be even worse when the beach and pools around town reopened; considering that her favorite swimsuit was a two-piece, green bikini that showed enough of her to make him embarrass himself if he didn't stay in cold water.

It never ceased to amaze him that for all her tomboy ways, Leslie Thurston was the biggest girly-girl he knew – though, he'd never say that to her face.

"So," she said, breaking the laughter, "has he been fucking with you lately? Since he gave you that shiner, I mean."

His face fell as he pulled his eyes away from her still-kicking legs and turned back to the monitor. "No," he grumbled under his breath. "And do we really have to keep bringing him up, Leslie? I was actually having fun for a moment."

There was a light rustling of fabric behind him, indicating that she had shifted her position on his bed again. "Whatever," she returned; her tone suddenly serious. "Quit lying and just answer my question. Has he messed with you or not?"

"You DO remember what 'fun' is right," he questioned, ignoring her attempt to grill an answer out of him. "You know. That thing doesn't involve us talking about bullies who take delight kicking my ass on a daily basis? F-U-N? Fun? Ringing any bells? Jogging any memories?"

"Goddammit Casey!" she barked angrily. "This isn't a fucking joke to me! I'm seriously worried about you. Someone needs to do something about that dickheaded motherfucker!"

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?"

"Yeah," she replied with a bitter, none-too-merry laugh. "And I'm going to kick your ass with these feet if you don't give me a straight fucking answer!"

Casey groaned loudly as he turned to face her again, smart-aleck retort already forming on his lips…until he saw the expression she wore. Despite the threat she leveled only seconds before; he could see how troubled the look on her face was. It was pained. It was worried. Worse still…it was all too real.

"I…" he paused to swallow what he was going to say. "I… Damn. I…don't…" Casey heaved a low sigh. How the hell could he be snarky with her when she looked like that? "Ye…yeah," he finished finally. "Yeah, he has."

"When?"

"About three days ago," he said. "He just pushed me around some, called me a 'pussy' and took my money again. Y'know, the same MO as usual."

Leslie pushed off the bed and stood up. The expression on her face was more pissed than worried now. "Yeah, I know," she uttered in a disgusted voice. "And I'm getting pretty fucking tired of it."

"Look," he began, pushing his chair away from the desk and in the red-haired girl's direction, "I know this sucks royally but I don't want you screwing with him. I'm not sure what he'll do to you, girl or not. There's no telling what kind of fucked up life he's had and –"

"Doesn't matter," Leslie interrupted, folding her arms across her chest as she made for the open door to his room. "I'm done with seeing you coming home nearly every day looking like you just got trounced by Floyd Mayweather. It's time someone actually did something about that waste of space! Him. Me. Tomorrow. If the school and your parents won't help you out, then I will!"

Jerking up out of his chair, he reached out and grabbed his friend by an arm. She stopped immediately, staring back at him with an unconcerned glance. He wished he could be as unworried as she apparently was. But he couldn't. He didn't want be!

"Leslie, I…"

Her hand closed around his and she nodded. "Don't worry, I'll be careful."

With that, she released his hand and gently pulled her arm away. Before Casey could say another word, she had already disappeared out the door and down the hall. A few moments after that, he heard the familiar sound of flip-flops striking against the back of her heels as she descended the carpeted stairs. He stood there, listening as she eventually greeted his mom – who had been in the kitchen making dinner – and then hastily tried to lie her way out of climbing the trellis when she confronted Leslie about how she'd gotten in to the house.

He wanted laugh. He wanted to go down there and get her into more trouble like an annoying younger brother would do. But he just stood there instead.

Feeling empty and dreading what would happen tomorrow.

-O-

Casey pulled his head up from his knees and wiped at both the sweat and tears running down his face. Not exactly the 'happy memory' he was looking for but it was better than what was on his mind a few minutes ago. The gritty reality of what was happening to both him and Leslie. He searched up and down the hallway again for any signs of life other than him and then returned to blankly staring at the wall across from him.

I wonder where she's at, he questioned desolately. How she's doing? Is she still even… No. I can't even start to think like that! Once I do, I'll…I'll… He let his thoughts trail off into nothing. Focusing on whether Leslie was alive or not wasn't the answer to any of his problems. They only drained him even more; stole attention from what should be his true focus.

Finding the auxiliary control points.

Exhaling heavily, he raised the GPS up from where his hand was resting against the deck. Sweat beaded into his eyes, stinging them and forcing him to blink. He wiped at his forehead again. There had to be some way around the heat.

Once he had cleared his vision enough, Casey gazed down at the bright LCD screen. Should he just tough it out? Push on as far as he could go despite the dangers he faced if he followed through with that decision? Could he make that choice? His life versus saving Leslie?

I'm doing this for her, he answered in his head. The only reason I came up with this plan in the first place was so I could buy time to get to her and find a way off this deathtrap. Pushing on until I die isn't the way to do it! Lowering the GPS, he tried to consider the few options left open to him. The only way I can get to those control points is to find some way to deal with this heat. Think, Casey, think! Reaching over to grab hold of his backpack, his brow furrowed in deep thought.

Alright, turning the AC back on is obviously as serious no-go. Besides, it would take way too long for the lower sections to cool down anyway. So scratch that. Pushing up from the deck, he pocketed his GPS as he hefted the heavy bag over his head and resettled the strap across his chest again. The returning weight didn't help his dilemma. The idea here is to find a way to keep cool while I'm down here looking for the auxiliary ballast controls. So…how the hell do I do that? There's gotta be something I'm missing. But what?

Pulling away from the wall unenthusiastically, Casey turned after a moment and gazed down the dim corridor. Death was all that waited for in that direction unless he could figure out a way to beat his captor's ingenious way of safeguarding the auxiliary systems of the offshore drilling platform. Rushing ahead into all that heat without proper planning was a sure way to achieve that real quick. That would equal failure and he had no intention of failing Leslie.

Let's go over it again, he forced, trying to press the fact that death really was more than just a possibility here to the back of his mind. The engines keep the lower decks close to them hot. The air-conditioning helps to get rid of some that heat. I'd imagine that even the crew who work down here take multiple breaks to prevent from passing out. Water's also a must. But that doesn't really help me out, now does it? Crud, this getting me nowhere fast.

Taking another long pull of the hot, humid air, he was quick to place a hand against the warm wall for balance as a sudden feeling of dizziness swept over him. His knees almost buckled as he steadied as best he could. Blinking tiredly, Casey shook his head as the pace of his heartbeats quickened. Not good, the thought echoed in his head. The heat's getting to me. I've gotta get outta here…come up with a new plan. Need to backtrack. Make it back to the stairwell I came down in…

The thought trailed off abruptly as realization gripped him.

Wait. Down? Yeah, down! Under! That's what I was missing! The service catwalks that –

Another bout of dizziness rolled through him. This time, it left him feeling faint. He nearly fell down to his knees. He took yet another deep breath but it didn't help to ease the sensation of weakness that was making his whole body feel rubbery and flaccid. There was no more time to plan. He had to get back to the stairway before he had a heat stroke!

With strained effort he raised his other hand to the wall, turning back in the direction he had come. The world around him was gradually growing dimmer. His heart was pounding in his chest so hard that it frightened him. Each breath he took was becoming a struggle. His lungs felt heavy, like they were filled with water. Every step he took was harder than the last. It felt as if he were trying to walk while being weighed down with logging chains.

The narrow corridor he'd travelled through so easily before was fast becoming a darkening maze full of half-remembered directions and misleading passages. He wasn't how he navigated through them without falling from exhaustion or just tripping over his own feet but he did. The path he took back to the stairway was as erratic as his breathing, being forced to turn back and retrace his unsteady steps on more than one occasion. A trip that had taken him barely twenty minutes initially topped out at what he blankly assumed was much more by the time he reached the stairway again.

On the verge of passing out, he collapsed just short of it; only vaguely aware of how much cooler it was there than where he'd been. With the little strength that was left in his arms, Casey grabbed up the canteen at his side, dragged it to his face and uncapped it as fast as he could. He didn't bother to worry about moderation this time. In less time than he figured it would, he drained the canteen empty; down to the very last drop water contained within. Taking a shuddering breath of the cooler air, he just lay there; wondering if he would ever see or talk to Leslie again.

As much as he fought against it, his vision was beginning to tunnel and the faint feeling from before was growing stronger. He wanted to panic but there wasn't any strength left in him to so. He tried to focus on Leslie again, use her as his source of strength and determination to continue on but his mind was too wearied to hold onto the thought. All he could do was just lie there…

…Lie there and hope that none of the other students on the platform would find him before he woke up…

In the next chapter of

1stAMERICAN BLITZ

Despite the fact she was being accompanied by her friend Nick Lang, Vikki Shaw knew that she was a dead woman walking. Always told her weight issues would be the death of her, the words she'd jokingly dismissed before now held an eerie ring of certainty. Though she knew that Nick would fight his hardest to protect her, do whatever it took to keep her alive; Vikki couldn't help but feel she was living on borrowed time and that her death was inevitable.

Yet, a surprise bump in the road turns her situation upside down and forces her to confront the morose fact that, even with the threat of death hanging heavy over her head, she can't escape the unhappy torments of her past…

Coming soon, "The Hand You're Dealt",

Chapter 16 of 1stAMERICAN BLITZ

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

In case no one figured it out, Casey Fuller is Wendy Prince's mystery person. He is the one she needs to help her formulate a plan of escape from the doomed oiled platform. However, it would seem that Casey has plans of his own. Whether or not those plans will include anyone else but Leslie Thurston (if he survives, that is) is up for debate.

Casey comes across as the smart-guy in the story so far; maybe sharing the trope spotlight with Sadie Dechon. However, he is no Shinji Mimura. I would tend to think of him as rather the complete opposite – scrawny, unattractive, unathletic, socially inept and dependant on others to fight his battles for him. He actually reminds me a little of myself when I was high school but then again, most of my characters carry some aspect of me in them. Though, I cut it short of total self-insertation which I regard as a complete low-point of writing.

I also thought it would be nice to introduce the person in which Leslie so staunchly defended – at great personal risk to herself. It was fun to write the flashback scene with the two of them in his bedroom because it gives you another look at her rugged and abrasive personality and shows that Casey is still trying to get used to her being a young woman and dressing as such. It was a bit of a 'coming-of-age' moment for him there as well as a nice slice-of-life interaction between the two of them. Casey was very fun to bring into existence and fared much better than the introduction of LaTrey Johnson. I still find myself wanting to apologize for that part of the last chapter. His character just didn't gel the way I wanted him to. He was exceedingly hard to write and, in truth, I just should've killed him off right then and there.

But, I wanted to give him some kind of character moment so I gritted my teeth and pushed him through the chapter. And I think it suffered because of that. I don't think that was the case here. Casey came across well-realized (sans an immediate description of what he looks like) and genuinely better paced than LaTrey. Of course, whether or not he'll be around later in the story is anyone's guess.

Remember. Just because I personally like a character doesn't mean he or she is going to be safe to the end. And I remember liking quite a few of the previously written characters…

Anyways, hope you all enjoy this newest chapter of 1st American Blitz. Yes, no real action again; no deaths besides Trevor's unfortunate and premature one – meaning that this story will not be for everyone. If you want plenty of action, gore and total nonstop death…there are plenty of other stories here that would fit the bill much better than this one. I prefer to think of 1st American Blitz as a darker and grittier look into how normal teenagers with normal teenage problems are pushed into becoming remorseless murderers; something a little more frightening because it strikes a tad closer to home. Each chapter represents a piece of the greater puzzle that is the plot. And it will take some time for this puzzle to be assembled. I will not rush forward just to satisfy the need for bloodshed. I did that with Trevor Gates and have been regretting it ever since.

So please stick with it if you can…if not, then I'll be happy you read as far as you did and I thank you for that.

Ciao!

Terryll