Camp Nano Progress


Week 2.5

All excerpts are lifted straight from the uncut, unpolished, unedited Nano project.

This Week’s Excerpt: Cam’s POV

“Cam?  You okay?”  It’s my sister’s voice and the pound of her hand against the old wooden door that rattles it in it’s old frame.

“Yeah, sis, I’m fine.  Just taking a while,” I call out, and push away from the sink to vigorously rub the life back into my face before yanking the door open and forcing  a crooked smile on my lips.  “I’m a dead man walking, remember?”

“Stop it.  Father wants to see us.”  Something in her tone draws me up, and I frown.

“Doesn’t he always?”

“They’ve unlocked the tablet,” Kizete’s voice holds a dark warning.

“Shit,” I lean out and peek down the short hallway into the main room where I can see the shape of my father bent over Khoury’s seated frame.  Yanking my sister weakly into the washroom, I shut the door and whisper.  “You know he’s going to try something crazy, Kiz.  He’s got the fever and he looks at me like I have the answer he wants, and I don’t.  I don’t remember anything except dreams of a girl and some weird hazy memories of an empty City.  I don’t know anything.”  My eyes are intent on Kizete and I know she knows what I’m saying.  We’ve both seen our father at his worst.

“Whatever is on that tablet,” I continue, “is going to fall on us and on you.  You’re the one who…”  The one who’s band still works.  The one who has to count their emotion.  Reaching for her wrist, I check the numbers I know so well.  Enough of a padding to live at least mostly through her twenties.  If our father doesn’t kill her.

“But,” Kizete is her father’s daughter, and that fever that burns in his eyes often burns in hers, and the defiance is strong in her heart, “Khoury’s friend might have also gotten us a way free.”  She pulls back and curls her hand tightly on the doorknob.  “And I will do anything to be free of this forsaken place.”

“It’s a mistake, Kiz.  Mark my words.  This is going nowhere but down a terrible road.”  I’m tired, and frustrated.

“At least I’m doing something,” she bites those words at me, and slips out of the washroom, angry.  I don’t blame her.  If I weren’t tired and conflicted about what I’ve seen and now feeling this strange separation, I probably would be on fire for change too.  Something has settled in the pit of my stomach that makes me think that whatever we do do now, wherever we go now, it’s not going to end up well for us.  For Kizete.

I’ve lost my mother, I’m not close to my father, but I think my whole world would crumble if I lost my sister.

So I do the only thing I can do, and that’s leave the washroom and join the others.  I will do everything in my power to see that my father doesn’t cause the end of my sister chasing his vengeance.

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