So. Did some 3300 words’ worth of rewrite on Apocalypse Pictures Presents, so Magic Meter now looks like this:
Hey, it’s better than last week. A little. The trend is upward, and that’s the right direction.
Yeah, right. Whatever ya gotta tell yourself, Rotundo.
Anyway, your snippet:
“Got a message for you, Catherine.”
With no cell phones or land lines still functional, shortwave operators spent much of their time relaying messages. Granddaddy Telsa was good, and he charged accordingly.
“Who for? Over.” She kept her pen at the ready.
“I just said it’s for you, didn’t I? I thought you had me five and nine, over.”
“For me, personally?” That was a first. She tried to think of people she knew in the Bakersfield area, drew a blank. “From who? Over.”
“Someone who prefers to be . . . cautious.”
By which he meant anonymous. Catherine set down her pen, eyed the microphone warily. “Ah . . . I’m alone here. But I suppose anyone could be listening in.”
Thought it was unlikely, shortwave radio signals were easily intercepted, and she and Granddaddy Tesla would be none the wiser. Whoever was trying to contact her apparently knew that, and was concerned about it. Wariness deepened into suspicion.
No updates for Write Club.
Forging ahead . . .
