NaNoWriMo Excerpt #2

“Okay, you have ten minutes to explain all this,” Jamison said firmly as the three sat in the car, Johannson at the wheel.

“First, I want your names,” Sam replied. “And occupations,” she added and Jamison hesitated.

“Christian Johannson, CSI,” Johannson replied unwaveringly.

“Georgina Jamison, FBI,” Jamison added reluctantly.

“Alright, well, Georgie and Christy, nice to meet you,” Sam said cheerily.

“Enough with the dramatic crap; just tell us the story,” Jamison said angrily.

“Well, my name really is Samantha Parker; I’m technically sixteen, but really 60 or something—I stopped counting after thirty,” Same said fluidly.

“Sounds like you’ve told this story before,” Jamison said angrily as Johannson listened intently.

“It makes great campfire stories,” Sam said sarcastically as she shrugged indifferently.

“Shut up, Jamison,” Johannson muttered as he waited for Sam to continue.

“I was born in 1928, died in 1944, right before World War II ended,” Sam continued. “My “dad” shot me. It turned out that my mom had been messing around with another man, my “uncle.””

“So, technically, your dad was your uncle, and your uncle was your dad?”Johannson asked, raising an eyebrow at the teenager.

“Yeah; anyway, he shot me in one of those fields near the house,” Sam continued indifferently. “He grazed my side and left me to die. Some man operated on me—I have no idea who, but I need to thank him—anyway, he fixed me up nice and sweet. Then, one day, I woke up and he had left me a note with this necklace,” Sam said, pulling a thin silver chain with a tiny crystal pendant from under her shirt.

“What did the note say?” Johannson asked curiously as Jamison watched on sceptically.

“It said, “don’t take this off until you’re ready.” So, I haven’t taken it off, or aged, since,” Sam finished as Johannson looked intently at the pendant, which he was resting on his palm.

“That’s—,” Johannson started quietly.

“A great story...for the campfire,” Jamison interrupted angrily. She smoothed out her dress pants. “I’m sorry, but we’ll need your real name,” she said firmly.

“That is my real name,” Sam replied just as angrily, leaning forward.

“Calm down, girls,” Johannson said simply, putting an arm between them and facing Jamison. “Look, either way we have to take her somewhere. A lab, a cell, somewhere we can see if she’s telling the truth or not,” he added, turning his head slightly.

“You’re on your own in this experiment,” Jamison said, turning in her seat to face forward.

“Awesome,” Johannson answered indifferently, turning around and starting the car. “Do you think chief will mind us missing the party?” he asked as he made a u-turn towards the nearest hospital.

“Yes,” Jamison mumbled angrily as Sam leaned back in her seat.