Discovering your story’s true beginning…
Sometimes the most
difficult part about writing a book is figuring out where to begin. And
sometimes authors like myself end up with several false starts before finally
discovering the true first page of their book. In the original version of
Scorched I started the story with Connor and Caleb at age ten, on the day their
father was killed and their destinies changed forever.
But while it’s
certainly a dramatic, important scene with tons of dragon action, it doesn’t
drop the reader right into the real crux of the current conflict—the dragon egg
arriving at the museum and the soldiers trying to steal it. Ultimately, I ended
up using a shorter version of this as a flashback later on in the final book.
But I do still have some affection for this extended peak into the boys’ family
life, before it was torn apart by dragons.
The second deleted
chapter shows exactly how much a story’s backdrop can change over the course of
editing. In the original version, Trinity goes to an Upper East Side boarding
school in New York City, not Texas. And she has a history of hearing voices in
her head, rather than hearing the first voice in the museum just before the
break-in. And lastly, Connor is already there—watching her, readying to make
his move, instead of arriving four months late. In this version you get to meet
Trinity’s best friend Caitlin, who is mentioned a lot in the final version of
Scorched, but never made a real appearance on the page.
It’s fun to look
back at the story as it might have been. And I hope you enjoy the sneak peek
into a writer’s head. Oh and by the way? At this stage the working title of the
book was “Scales of Time.” (Which no one seemed to like but me! Sigh.)
Prologue
Year
100, Post-Scorch
“RAWR!!!”
Ten-year-old
Caleb Johnson leapt from the pile of twisted iron wreckage he’d been hiding
behind, arms outstretched and fingers curled into claws. “I am the dreaded ruby
dragon, Epsilon!” he declared, a fierce expression on his sunburned, freckled
face. “Beware or I will unleash my mighty flames upon you!” He roared again for
emphasis.
His
identical twin brother, Connor, squealed into a mixture of delight and surprise
as he expertly dodged his brother’s charge and took off running through the Pre-Flag
building—down a rubble-filled corridor, beneath a blackened archway, leaping
over crumbling cinderblocks and ducking rusty steel pipes, his brother hot on
his heels. From above, orange rays of light from the setting sun leaked through
cracks in the battered tin roof, effectively illuminating his path.
"You
cannot get away!" Caleb cried from behind him. "No one can escape a
dragon! RAWR!"
Connor
dead-ended in a long, chamber, filled with rotting wooden benches that faced
some kind of elevated stage and dusty altar. The roof had held here, allowing
him a better glimpse into what the room must have looked like, once upon a
time. A church, his mother had told
them when they’d taken shelter here earlier that day.
Caleb
burst into the room, his crooked teeth bared in a ferocious snarl. Connor
laughed, running down the aisle and grabbing a metal scepter that lay abandoned
on the ground near the altar. Turning on his brother, he wielded the metal
object as if it were a mighty gun-blade.
“I
don’t need to escape,” he proclaimed bravely. “I am a Hunter. And I will take
you down!” He leapt forward, ready to destroy the mighty dragon once and for--
"Caleb? Connor? Get back here where I can
see you."
Connor
lowered his gun-blade. "Awh, Mom."
"We're
just having fun," Caleb added.
Their
mother poked her head into the chamber. “Well, dinner’s almost ready," she
informed them. "You do want to
eat, don't you?"
It
wasn’t really a question. Dropping his makeshift weapon, Conner scrambled after
his mother and brother down the rubble-filled hall and into the stifling heat
of a smaller entry room with four good walls, ceiling and door. His mother had
swept out all the ashes when they'd first arrived and set up a makeshift
camp—complete with cinderblock fire, on which she had set her large cast-iron
pot. She looked over at her boys and smiled.
"And
how are my brave little Dragon Hunters?" she asked, a teasing look in her
eyes.
"Starving,"
Connor replied, peering into the cauldron where the soup bubbled and boiled.
The smoke stung his eyes, but the smell more than made up for it.
"Well,
you're in luck. My snares caught a couple of rats today. So there's real meat
in the soup." She grabbed two cracked ceramic bowls from one of the worn
knapsacks she’d piled in a corner, ladling the cauldron's contents into them
and handing them to her sons. Mom was an expert at making what Dad jokingly
called "stone soup" with the scarce ingredients she could scavenge
while camping out on the surface lands.
The
boys settled down on their sleeping mats and Connor brought the bowl to his
mouth, burning his tongue on the steaming liquid. It was a bit bland--they'd
run out of salt earlier that week--but it would fill his rumbling stomach and
that was all that mattered in the end.
A
sudden noise outside made Mom leap to her feet, grabbing the knife from her
belt and gripping it tightly in her hand. "Who's there?" she
demanded, her voice almost fierce enough to disguise her fear. "We're
armed and will not hesitate to defend ourselves."
"Will
you now, my love?" asked the tall, burly man sauntering through the door.
The boys squealed in delight as they dropped their bowls to great their father.
Mom set down her knife, letting out a sigh of relief, as Caleb and Connor
fought to hug Dad first. He dropped down to their eye level and ruffled their
matching brown heads of hair.
"My
boys!" he cried, kissing each of them on the cheek. "Have you been
good? Keeping your mother safe for me?"
"Yes,
Sir," Connor assured him with a small salute. "She's all right. And
there's rat in the soup tonight."
Dad
flashed a smile at Mom. "Rat in the soup," he repeated. "Well,
this is a good night indeed then." He rose to his feet and walked over to
his wife, wrapping his arms around her and squeezing her close.
"Any
luck today?" Connor heard her ask in a low voice.
Dad
released her from his embrace and walked over to the corner to pull off his
dusty jacket and boots. "No," he replied. "But he's out there. I
can smell his smoke in the air. And his shadow crossed the sun at least twice
today. It's as if he's searching for something."
Mom
handed him a bowl of soup. "Forget him, then," she urged. "We've
been out here thirty days now and he's not come down. We're out of food and
it's not good for the boys to be out here so long."
"Is
it really any better down below?" Dad asked her pointedly. "With no
dragon heart, we have no money and no means to buy bread or meat. We'll end up
living in Shanty Town. At least up here, we're free."
"Free
to get eaten by a dragon or murdered by wandering bandits."
"But
thirty pieces of silver, love! I slay this dragon and we'll live like kings and
queens!"
"Please.
I'd rather have you alive and well than be any kind of stuffy royalty."
Dad
chuckled at her grumpy face. "Oh, wife," he teased. "What did I
do to deserve you?" He planted a kiss on her sunburned nose. "Okay,
you win," he said. "Tomorrow when the sun rises, we'll head straight
to the C Gate. Go underground and regroup. Maybe send the boys to school for a
bit." He sat down on his mat and started sipping his soup.
Connor
and Caleb looked at one another with distaste. The last thing they wanted was
to go below again. Where it was cramped and dirty and crowded with other
people. They preferred it up here--a surface land filled with undiscovered
treasures from the old world. Even if they did have to worry about--
An
inhuman howl pierced through the evening air.
Dad
was on his feet instantly. "It's him,"
he announced, looking over at Mom with an excited gleam in his eyes. "My
last call must have reached him. He's coming in at last."
Mom
swallowed hard, turning to the boys. "Go to the innermost chamber,"
she instructed, her voice thick with fear. "The one with the best roof.
And wait there until you hear from us." She doused the fire and started
grabbing their things, stuffing them into bags.
“But
Mom!” Connor protested. He didn't want to miss out on the action.
“No
backtalk. Do it now!” Her voice left no room for argument.
The
boys reluctantly turned and headed down the rubble-filled corridor, toward the
large chamber. When they were out of sight of their parents, Caleb turned to
Connor, his eyes shining with excitement. I
know a place we can watch from, he told him, using their silent twin speak
that no one else could hear. I found it
earlier today. Mom will never know.
Connor
grinned. Major. Lead the way.
He
followed his brother through a now darkened corridor, through a caved-in wall
and up a pile of rubble until they reached a broken glass window that led out
onto the roof. Caleb squeezed his skinny body through and then turned,
motioning for his brother to follow him.
Connor
looked reluctantly at the window. I don’t
know… he hedged.
Dad’s going to slay a dragon,
Connor. You want to miss it?
Connor
shook his head. “No, of course not,” he said aloud, making up his mind and
climbing through the window, careful not to cut himself on the glass. Without
proper medicine, the smallest cut out here could be deadly. He followed his
brother up the metal roof, slick from a recent rain, until they could peek over
to the other side of the building, where Dad was readying for his fight.
They
looked at each other and grinned, then turned back to the scene. Dad had pulled
his mighty gun-bade from its holster and readied his shield, the shiny metal
gleaming in the dusky eve. As the boys watched, he scanned the darkened sky,
eyes locking onto his target, far above. Connor followed his gaze. A Sapphire, he realized. Only half grown
by the look of it. Should be an easy fight for an experienced Dragon Hunter
like their father.
"It's
so beautiful," Caleb said with a dreamy sigh. "It's almost a shame
Dad has to kill it."
Connor
shuddered, seeing nothing beautiful about the hard-scaled creature with razor
sharp teeth and vacant eyes. The dragon seemed to dance through the sky,
flittering about, toying with their father. Dad shrugged the gun-blade onto his
shoulder and readied his first shot. Sucked in his breath, lining up his
target. Then he pulled the trigger.
The dragon let out
an angry screech as the bullet bounced harmlessly off its sapphire plated
scales. He'd missed the sweet spot. The one soft scale under the left wing. Dad
liked to brag about one-shot kills. But today evidently wasn't his day.
The creature
released a stream of fire--scorching the ground mere feet from where their
father had stood--Dad leaping backwards, just in time. Connor scooted further
up on the roof, to get a better look, his heart feeling as if it would crack
his ribs it was beating so hard.
Come on, Dad! he urged his father
silently. Kill it!
Suddenly the
dragon whipped its head around, stony eyes locking straight onto Connor as if
it had heard his silent cry. Shock caused him to lose his balance on the
slippery roof and a moment later he found himself tumbling down the other side,
as the dragon's screech reverberated in his ears. He slammed onto the desert
floor, a sharp pain shooting up his leg as his ankle crumpled and cracked.
"Connor!"
Dad cried in a horrified voice. He started toward his son. But the dragon was
too quick, coming down for a fast landing. Panicked, Connor tried to scramble
away, but his foot dragged uselessly--his ankle likely broken.
He looked up and
found himself face to face with the dragon, now standing only a few feet away,
studying him with cold eyes. The creature pulled back its head, smoke billowing
from its nostrils. Connor swallowed hard. One more moment and the fire would
come. And it would be over forever. He squared his scrawny shoulders instead, ready
to face death like a man and--
Suddenly Connor
found himself being grabbed and thrown--like a sack full of hot potatoes. He
hit the ground a few yards away with a hard thump, the pain shooting up his leg
all over again. But it scarcely registered as he watched the dragon let loose a
stream of fire--striking his father--who had dropped his shield and gun-blade
to save his son--full force in the chest. For a moment, his dad's body just
stood there, as if frozen in place while being engulfed in a sea of flames.
Then he fell to the ground, screaming with agony.
"No!"
Connor cried. In a fit of adrenaline-pumped rage, he dove at the discarded
gun-blade. Gripping it in his hands, he turned to the creature, and, before the
dragon could conjure up another blast, charged full force. Stabbing the
gun-blade straight into the creature's soft spot, just as his father had taught
him to do.
The dragon
bellowed in agony, collapsing to the ground and writhing in pain as the blade
pierced its unprotected heart. Connor met the creature's eyes with his own,
staring it down with defiant rage. He yanked out the blood-soaked blade and
stabbed the now helpless creature again. And again. And--
“Connor, stop! He’s dead. The dragon’s dead!”
He felt his mother’s arms grab him from behind and drag him away. He collapsed
onto the ground, once again aware of the pain in his ankle. His mother dropped
to her knees, searching his face with her own tear-stained one.
"Dad?"
he managed to say, even though he already knew in his heart what her answer
would be.
Mom shook her
head. “I’m sorry Connor,” she said, tears streaming down her own cheeks. He
buried his face in her chest, letting the grief take him. She held him close,
rocking him gently, soothing him in soft whispers.
"I can't
believe he's gone," he sobbed against her.
"I know
sweetie," she murmured. "But he died a hero. Always remember that.
And you're a hero, too. The way you killed that dragon..." He could feel
the shake of her head. "You must have inherited your father's skills as a
Dragon Hunter."
He shrugged,
pulling away from her embrace and limping over to the dead dragon. He spit on
the corpse, wishing there was some way to inflict even more pain and suffering
on the creature who had taken his father away from them.
"I'll have my
revenge on the rest of your kind," he whispered to the dragon. "I
won't rest until dragons have been wiped out for good."
Chapter Two
New York City, Present Day
"Hey,
don't look now, but that vampire over there is staring at you again."
Sixteen-year-old
Trinity Brown set down her sandwich and spun in the direction her best friend,
Caitlin Curry was gazing, across the high school cafeteria. Caitlin swatted her
arm.
"I
said don't look. Jeez!"
But
it was too late and beyond the trays of mystery meat and half-eaten slices of
pizza, Trin found herself locking eyes with the "vampire" in
question, who was lounging a few tables away and indeed staring at her
intently--not even having the decency to look away when caught in the act. With
tousled brown hair, pale white skin and eyes rimmed in black kohl, she had to
admit, he did kind of resemble a creature of the night and his dark gaze sent
shivers down her spine. Flushed, she hurriedly dropped her eyes and turned back
to her friend.
"That's
not a vampire," she replied, disguising her sudden unease with a loud,
barking laugh. "There’s not a single sparkle on him.”
They
erupted into giggles, breaking the spell and Caitlin, seemingly satisfied, dug
into her cafeteria special--Salisbury steak. It was hard to fathom how the
skinny girl wasn't three-hundred pounds, the way she wolfed down her food. Trin
reached for her own tofu and cheese sandwich that her grandfather had bagged
her that morning and took a bite.
But
today, her favorite sandwich tasted more like cardboard, and she was unable to
shake feeling of the boy's stare, scorching her backside with the intensity of
a thousand suns. Annoyed, she tossed the sandwich back on the table.
"What?"
Caitlin asked, her mouth full of mashed potato. It was always a surprise to her
when people turned down food. Even if it was only tofu.
Trin
frowned. "He's still staring." She wasn't sure how she could tell,
sitting with her back to him and all, but somehow she knew it to be true.
"He's
been staring at you all week, girl," Caitlin reminded her. She strained
her neck to get another peek. "Don't worry--he looks harmless. Cute, even,
if only he got rid of that eyeliner and made friends with a tanning bed. Looks
to me like Mr. Goth hasn't seen the sun in the last sixteen years."
"So
who is he again?" Trin asked. Caitlin was a walking Wikipedia when it came
to the student body. Especially when it came to boys.
I am totally looking forward to this book. Dragons rock!