New Story: Indiana Jones and the Flight of the Phoenix

Posted by IndyAntilles from spider-tp021.proxy.aol.com on November 15, 1999 at 16:54:20:

Hello all! You probably don't remember me, but I've been watching over the forum, and lately (partially spurred by the anxiety of waiting for my Infernal Machine game) I've decided to, once again, try my hand at an Indy story (the last two I posted here I thought had some flaws). Anyway, here's part (or possibly all) of the prologue. Please leave comments if you do read it (loved it, hated it, etc.). It's the only way I'm going to improve on my writing. Enjoy!

INDIANA JONES and the FLIGHT OF THE PHOENIX

PROLOGUE

Germany
1944

The deafening thunder of the rain of
artillery shells was unrelenting as they crashed
down upon the Nazi bunker. The bunkerís position
was now wide open, as the woodlands behind it
and the small town ahead of it had been leveled by
the three hour hail of artillery shells and aircraft
strikes. What was left of the army had been pinned
down the city streets, easy prey for the advancing
allied infantry.
The artificial rain had begun to let up,
now intermingled among rifle and machine gun
fire in the direction of the town ruins. A Nazi
commander screamed frantic orders to his men as
they set up a last line of defense around the
bunker, consisting of shallow trenches and the last
few stationary guns they had on hand.
Within the depths of the bunker sat
Heinrich Bremen, captain of the Nazi army. He sat
in near darkness, with only a single naked bulb to
illuminate the small desk before him. Upon the
desk sat a worn map, an ash tray with a lit
cigarette, a shot glass of liquor, and a
military-issue 9mm Luger.
Bremen took the cigarette into mouth
again, looking up towards the surface above as
another salvo of shells rocked the bunker. The
light moved wildly, casting bizarre shadows on the
walls; a thin layer of fine gray dust fell like snow
onto the desk from the dark recesses of the ceiling
above.
The constant bombardment had slowly
tugged as Bremenís sanity since its start, and now
his emotional stability began to falter, as well, as
he now contemplated the losses of life-- the
needless losses of life-- that had occurred above.
For every shell that fell he could hear the last
screams of a dozen dying men; every faint gunshot
meant another man had fallen. Now he asked
himself why he had deserved to live.
He placed the cigarette back in the tray
with a slight shaking in his hand. He then leaned
slightly to the left, picking up the Luger. The
black steel was cold, sending a chill down his
spine. The clip was unused, the gun freshly
polished, gleaming in the light of the naked bulb.
Bremen began to pull back the hammer, hearing
the soft click, then hesitated.
He placed the gun down, sliding it across
the desk. He didnít wish to leave such a mess for
his men-- or worse yet, the enemy-- to find. It was
a cowardís way to die. The Furher would never
approve. But there was another way out.
Bremen opened the small drawer to his
right, hearing the rattling of glass. He withdrew a
small glass vial, filled with ashen powder. He
looked momentarily upon it. I can almost see itís
flames...
He unscrewed the cap, sliding the shot of
liqour down the desk. He dropped a small amount
of the powder into the drink. The substance
immediately disappeared into the clear liquid. He
took the glass into his right hand, and saw himself
shaking. This had better work...
He brought the glass to his lips, pausing
only once to hear another rain of shells terrorize
the land above. The light swung again. The room
was silent, save for slight breaths escaping
Bremenís lips. With one quick motion, Bremen
gulped down the liquor.
Instantly, he felt ill. He rose from his seat,
sheer terror across his face. Something felt wrong.
He grew pale. He slapped his face, feeling the long
scar that ran down his cheek. But he felt no pain
from it as he ran his fingers down it. The naked
bulb grew dim, its light dying. Another blast from
above shook the light, and the room was plunged
into darkness with a shatter.
Bremen felt his body melt away, his
senses taking leave of his body, his last dying
thought that the concoction had not worked. There
was a thud in the darkness. Then Bremen felt
nothing.

Follow Ups:

• Good story... Tessa 07:51:03 11/16/99 (0)

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