Greetings!
Okay, only one more
episode of Orphan Black and my
current obsession will be on hiatus. EEK! I'm definitely planning a full
rewatch marathon so catch all the little nuances I'm sure I missed. J
Tonight's post is
from A Gentle Valor, which doesn't involve clones, but it does have a
similar theme of breeding the next upgrade to the human race. The heroine is
forced to commit a horrific act and the fallout haunts her until she has a
chance to redeem herself.
Here's the tagline:
Aggie Fyffe makes an
impossible decision and survives a hellish experience. Haunted by her choice,
she faces her demons with a little help from Zane Tetherson and earns a chance
for redemption.
And here's the
sneaky peek…
Aggie Fyffe stood, stunned,
staring in horror at the sight in front of her. Women, so many women, hooked up
to machines, tubes running to and fro like a spider's web. All in various
stages of gestation, she had no idea if any could be saved. Swallowing down
bile, she shuffled further into the lab on numb feet that tried to fight
forward progress. She didn't blame them. Her brain might not be able to handle
a closer look.
Give her a rifle, hell, any
weapon, and she could shoot to defend, maim, or kill. The sight of blood didn't
faze her. Gaping wounds, lost limbs, or severed arteries barely blipped in her
mind. Combat had hardened her against it.
But the sight of the women?
Chilled her to her soul.
She edged closer to the first bed
and bit back a curse. (Describe the visage. Unconscious, maybe comatose, her
distended abdomen had to be in the final stages of pregnancy. Aggie had no idea
how close to delivery the woman might be, but it couldn't be long off. What the
hell happened to the infants? Aggie decided she probably didn't want to know.
Her eyes scanned the row of beds.
Nine total. Logic suggested one for each month of pregnancy. Why? Again, her
brain shied away from possible answers. Movement from the farthest bed caught
her attention. Maybe she'd imagined it. She hoped so. Would be better for the
women if they weren't awake and aware.
She slowly made her way to the
last bed…oh, shit. The woman's eyes blinked, tears spilling out. Addie knew
her, not well, but she ran one of the shops on their home world. Betsy Morehead,
a nice lady who liked to sew.
Aggie edged up to the bed and
Betsy's eyes met hers. Pain-filled and agonized, they beseeched Aggie to remove
the tube so Betsy could speak. Aggie gingerly lifted the device and gently tore
the tape away. Out of her element, she hoped she didn't cause harm. Putting a
gun in the woman's hand would be easier.
Betsy gagged when the tube slid
free, coughing and sputtering until her lungs filled with air.
She grabbed hold of Aggie's hand,
her grip weak. "Thank you." Her voice croaked, but she got the words
out.
Aggie squeezed Betsy's fingers.
"What's going on? Why are you here?" Stupid question, but if she
didn't get Betsy talking, Aggie would freak out.
The machines and tubes pressed in
on her like a weight, a sick feeling crawled up her spine, and her head didn't
want to believe what her gut knew.
Betsy swallowed hard. "You
have to know. Or guess." Her eyes slid shut and Aggie's heart went out to
her.
"Why?"
Aggie needed to hear it. To have her suspicions confirmed.
Even with the
darker subject matter, this one is a joy to write. Aggie's conflict is
challenging to portray on the page and I love a good challenge. J
That's it for this
week. Catch everyone on the flip.
ML Skye
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