MENTOR: Lindsey Sprague
ALTERNATE:
Elbie Johansen
TITLE: AFTERTHOUGHT
CATEGORY/GENRE: YA Sci-fi
WORD
COUNT: 86,000
PITCH:
Lola survived the apocalypse, but lost her memories.
Her only clues to her past are the cult chasing her and this formula in her
backpack for the cure for death… oh. Oops.
EXCERPT:
I have
my watch alarm set to go off every hour. Not for any reason in particular. More
like: yay, I survived another sixty minutes,
let’s have some cake.
If I
had cake.
The
watch has been chafing my wrist, so I keep it in my backpack now, along with
everything else I own. Okay, so, borrowed.
I borrow a lot of things these days. Like the crackers I just borrowed
from a dead guy inside this gas station.
I
brush the crumbs off my shirt and tuck my ponytail through the hole in my cap,
scratching the raised scar on the back of my neck. I’m about to strap on my
raggedy old backpack when I see them—
four
of them, across the parking lot. They haven’t seen me yet, but they’re headed
in my direction. Even though I can’t make out the faint pink glow of their
skin, their lithe movements and predatory stance tell me they’re lazzies. It’s
like a dance, the way they move—coordinated, instinctual. None of the
awkwardness of self-consciousness remains, none of the showmanship of ego. They
look just like us—they were us—but
there’s no mistaking them for human.
I stop
breathing, and the familiar feeling of dread constricts my chest. I rise to my
feet and take a step back, praying my shoe doesn’t crunch on the gravel. So
far, so good.
Aaaaaand
this is when my watch alarm goes off.
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