Blazing Bins Novels & Stories

I had spent many sleepless nights in there, afraid someone would break in. When they saw the inside, they were stunned. The room was pitch-black, and nothing was visible. There wasn't even a light. The teacher explained that it had been abandoned for years and the school used it as a trash dump.

By this time, I was seated on the air conditioned bus as it weaved through traffic. “I told him I would,” I explained. “That money could really help Ace with a rehab program. Or I could pay off Blue Hades and be free of that place.” “Okay honey. First, Ace can pay for his own damn rehab. Second, you will always owe Blue Hades money. That’s how it works. You need to take that money and run the hell out of here. Skedaddle out of town as fast you can with that cash, girl.” I stared out the window and dreamt of actually being able to do that. Even Catherine didn’t know all my secrets. “Sure,” I said softly. “That sounds great.”

She followed closely behind him and the two disappeared into the forest. "Did you notice?" Weaver asked and Alex nodded. "Her brother is blind. That's probably why she thought it best to talk it out." Alex said and Weaver nodded. "Don't tell the others about the male being blind. It'll provoke some of the others to try and run him off." Alex said and Weaver nodded in understanding. "I'll take a group to start setting up markers upon our new territory." Wever said and Alex nodded wondering how someone who couldn't see had survived this long. He had help from his sister but he didn't seem to rely on her. . . .

The automated waste-disposal trucks from the neighboring city of Oakhaven didn’t care about pack politics; they cared about the industrial refuse that a high-functioning pack produced. I reached the staging fence just as the dull hum of a heavy engine vibrated through the soil. My vision was beginning to blur—a side effect of the Liquid Silver—but I focused on the large, lead-lined bins waiting at the edge of the neutral zone. These were for hazardous medical waste, designed to block the chemical signatures of experimental shifter treatments. To the pack’s infrared sensors, a lead-lined bin was a blind spot. To me, it was a carriage.

I abandon the stash collection of numerous zigzagged bladed twin daggers I was gawking at and begin heading towards her. Sometimes, I get too lost in my head whenever I am talking about weapons. When I reach her, she points at the array of a few oddly shaped, bogus fat guns before us that I have never seen before. They are just five. Their barrels have very transparent curved channels that look like empty see-through water pipes, transversing all way from the mouth of their barrels throughout the rest of their bodies. “What are these?” I ask, lifting my hands to touch them. “They do not have a name yet, but I love calling them the ‘Blitz’ because of the swift balls of molten silver they can