ambush - quotes and descriptions to inspire creative writing
In those dark days after the ambush, after our children were taken, the grief was enough to sink the mighty, but our hearts were enough to rise and we became the parents our souls demanded we be. And though it broke us to even think it, the best chance we had to find them was to track sales of medical equipment to small private facilities. For those who sell drugs also deal in body parts for live donation. The only way to find them was to set up an ambush of our own to reclaim our own. These people can't make even a scalpel - so there is a trail, somewhere.
There is more than one kind of ambush, you dot-to-dot thinkers (morons) imagine the movie scenes with guns and lots of running. I guess that can be fun if the quarry is sufficiently evil. But we make an art form of it. We take them down from every side, pick their life apart until they are in ruins, then we let them do the rest. Call it a monster-removal-service if you wish, because we are the predators of the predators, the protectors of the mild. We're a sort of societal immune system; that's our function.
By the way they don't rush at me en-masse I know my reputation hasn't preceded me. Either the gangs give me a wide berth or go wholesale until they're all dead or running away. All they see is a woman with one blade. The leader leans back on the concrete wall of the old police station and crunches an apple. On a flick of his hand three tough guys, each with a blue armband, step forwards. Before he takes another bite I have them bleeding out on the moon-bleached side walk. He takes that second bite and crunches it slowly. My face is stoney but my heart is beating fit to burst, I'm massively outnumbered. Then the apple eater steps forwards, casting down the rare fruit as if he had a hundred others like them. He extends is hand, quite unarmed, "Carlos." I don't reply. He's expecting introductions, why? This isn't out of any playbook I know. He drops his hand and continues. "Ghost, if you ever disrespect me like that again I'll kill you." Then he smiles and walks away. Unbelievable.
Found in Darwin's Ghost - first draft, authored by .
The gang steps forward with confidence. They don't want me, they want Darwin and one look tells them he's not my flesh. They expect easy pickings, that I'll give him up without a fight. My brain is racing for ways out. There are only four of them, I could cut them down and be home in time for lunch but what about Darwin? I don't need him traumatized like that. He's a gentle flower, loving, caring, and he's been through enough in his short life. But alive is better than dead so I tell him to close his eyes like when we play hide 'n' find. I stow him between my legs and realize just how foolish I've been. I could be cutting down three while the fourth takes him hostage, the odds are on my side but I like surety when it comes to my son. I'm not going to get it, I tense my legs and draw out my blade. I say a prayer that he keeps his eyes shut tight. Then from no-where another gang encircles the other.
Found in Darwin's Ghost - first draft, authored by .
In that moment the quiet had become like icy drips onto already cold skin. Lara stopped, ears straining. The street was never like this, like some empty movie set. She turned around, eyes taking in every detail, seeing things she'd never had the call to notice before. There were so many places Jules and her gang could hide.
"Hey, girl. Wanna play?" Jules stepped out from behind a sun-bleached red van. Her hands were empty but given the sudden scuffles coming from all around Lara she knew this was it, this was the promised ambush.
Fifty rifle shots broke the stillness of the night, then there were four or five reports, and at last one single shot was heard, and when the smoke had cleared away, we saw that the twelve men and nine horses had fallen. Three of the animals were galloping away at a furious pace, and one of them was dragging the dead body of its rider, which rebounded violently from the ground; his foot had caught in the stirrup.
Ambushes out here are both lazy and simple. The gangs sit behind the rusting cars, worn jeans on the sidewalk, alternating between texting and picking at the weeds that bolt toward the summer sun. The locals have looking poor down to a fine art no matter how affluent they are. The newcomers, the ones snapping up condos in the gentrified blocks, stand out in garish clothes, flashing technology locals know to keep hidden. Cops call the ambushes "mugging," we call it non-voluntary wealth redistribution.
Macca never liked even odds. Playing fair was for idiots. He placed his boys in strategic positions, each with a different weapon, and waited. He wouldn't take part himself, he was more of an order giver. When that little weasel Matteo made his way back from the shower block, alone and armed only with the towel that protected his modesty, they'd attack in force. Nothing fatal, nothing that couldn't be hidden by the uniform, but painful none the less. He'd be thinking twice before beating him on the assault course next time.
Mac's face fell faster than corpse in cement boots. In that instant his skin became greyed, his mouth hung with his lips slightly parted and his eyes were as wide as they could stretch. There wasn't even a point in reaching for his gun. There must have been eight well armed assailants at the very least. He had nothing to protect him but empty words and his badge. They had always been good enough up until now but somehow he didn't think it was going to work this time. He glanced nervously at his car, if they didn't know the vials were in the trunk he might be able to deal - unless Gregor had died already - then all bets were off.
Beguiling, bewitching yet extraordinarily peculiar. This undertaking seemed quite convincing and genuine at first, until time progressed and it started unfolding its treacherous, vile wings. The obligation and responsibility I had imposed on it, moreover the trust and confidence that I had was shattered like shards of glass. Broken and unfulfilled. I was filled with intense horror and disgust. Above all, shock. Shocked at how swiftly it managed to startle and paralyze me. A violent disturbance of the mind, emotions. It had caused phenomenal devastation. As you would have realized by now, the well-plotted ambush was highly diabolic. Unimaginable damage caused beyond repair, misery that surpassed description...