As usual, I'm running around like a crazy woman finishing up everything at the last moment. I'm only halfway through Operation Wrap Shit Up but I'll get it all done. I always do… even if it's not until four a.m. Christmas morning. LOL
Slow week in television, which isn't a bad thing because I had a few editing projects to finish up and I didn't need the distraction. I did manage to finish the first season of Chicago Fire and I can't wait for the second season to start arriving in my mailbox.
I have the Murdoch Mysteries holiday special ready to watch while we're decorating our tree later tonight. I'm looking forward to the Doctor Who special if only to watch the regeneration into a new doctor. Sadly, I never warmed up to Capaldi as the Doctor and I'm ready for a new face.
I still have the Riverdale winter finale to watch and I'm hoping to finish up my wrapping while viewing that episode. Considering I'll probably be going nonstop until the wee hours, I might even watch it more than once. LOL
That's it for television this week. Tonight's post is from Napalm at Night, a novella that started as a prompted fanfic where the requester asked to have the female character working as a helicopter pilot in Viet Nam and the male character as a soldier behind enemy lines. I liked the concept and wanted to put a sci-fi romance spin on the story.
Here's the mini-blurb:
Napalm at night is dangerous stuff. Jensen Wallis, an extraordinary helicopter pilot, makes her fair share of early dawn rescues after enemy forces unleash the potent explosives on her fellow soldiers. She comes to the aid of Rip Rafferty's squadron and gets them to safety, but not before the enigmatic man sets her curious nature on fire.
And a sneaky peek…
Rip thrashed on the cot, his mind filled with grisly images of men falling and the world around them burning. The cloyingly acrid stench of napalm surrounded him, stinging his nostrils and choking the air from his throat. The shit sticks to everything else, why not my insides?
A cool, wet cloth bathed his face. Is someone coating me with the stuff?
No, napalm burns even when it's not on fire.
He struggled to break free, wanted to get away from the reeking perfume of gasoline and detergent stink. His body rebelled. No… strong hands held him down. Caught between a nightmare and reality, Rip did what instinct demanded.
Wrenching an arm out and up, he caught his captor by the throat. "Get off. Now." When he couldn't move his legs, he bucked his hips and arched his back. "Get away from me."
"Shhh, gunny, take it easy. You're not in a battle right now." The female voice spoke in soothing tones then turned commanding. "Let him go. If he reopens the wound, Doc Cassidy will bust us all down a rank." The damp cloth swished over his face again.
"But, corporal, he won't stay still—"
The last vestige of nightmare melted away and he remembered what happened. Hospital. An image of a cool brunette filled his mind and he relaxed, picturing her smile. Jensen. Right. A helicopter-flying angel, waiting on the horizon to rescue him and his men.
Saving him from death.
"See, he's calming down. You each should know what he's going through. Not so long since this was you lying on a cot trying to recover only to be caught in the throes of a nightmare." She took on a stern tone again. "Go on, get moving. There's plenty to do out there." Placing a hand on Rip's forehead, she spoke quietly. "Get some rest, gunny. You'll be okay now." Her footsteps echoed on the wood planks.
Rip tried to wake up. He wanted to ask about his men. Instead, the image of Jensen flashed in his mind and he gave up the ghost. If he couldn't be more than semiconscious, spending time with an angel might chase the dark dreams away.
And hopefully keep me on the right side of sanity.
Gotta say I love writing this one. My goal is to evoke the idea of what Viet Nam might have been like but keeping the setting firmly based on a recently terra-formed planet.
That's it for this week. Catch everyone on the flipside.