Title: FORCES BEYOND OUR CONTROL
Category/Genre: YA, Sci-fi
Word Count: 71,000
My Main Character would prefer to live in:
Growing up behind glass walls and locked doors stifled Force. Now that she’s escaped her prison, she relishes the crisp bite of winter against her skin. The clean slate of freshly fallen snow reminds her she’s finally free. And the harsh edges of icicles glinting in the sunlight make her think of the man she called Father, and of the fate she’s ready to bring him.
Dear Amazing Agent,
Finally free of the lab where she was created, Force faces a new challenge on the streets of Minneapolis: remembering who she is. She has no idea why the eight-inch blade she carries fits comfortably against the calluses on her palm or how she’s able to best the instructor at a martial arts school, but she’s going to find out.
When a man from her past and an old photograph bring Force’s memories back, she almost wishes she could forget. She is the experiment of Dr. Kenneth Pulling, a ruthless scientist whose brutal experiments killed every one of the children Force grew up with. She alone survived, quickly becoming Dr. Pulling’s obsession. With a combination of bioengineered enhancements and constant training, he shaped Force into the ultimate weapon and rented her out as an assassin, until she broke free.
Now Force realizes: she may have escaped the lab, but she hasn’t escaped the scientist. Dr. Pulling has affixed psychological programming in Force’s mind so deep that he can shut her down with only a few words—if he can find her. Force could keep running, but there’s one thing keeping her back: she needs to ensure she’s the last thing Dr. Pulling will ever create. But facing him could mean becoming his subservient killer again, this time for good.
First 250 words:
She sat up. Blood roared in her ears, coupling with the thundering waterfall nearby to deaden the sounds around her. She should be panicking—waking up in a strange place with no idea how she’d gotten there, who she was—but her heartbeat thrummed steadily in her chest as she stood, rolling back tight shoulders.
Towering above her, the stone arches of a bridge lit with tiny spotlights stood out against the darkening sky. Downriver headlights and taillights crossed on a larger bridge, lit blue from beneath like a science fiction speedway. She inhaled deeply, waiting for memories to come. Nothing. Was this how amnesia worked?
Her hand strayed to her thigh, eyebrows tightening as her fingers gripped the handle of the blade strapped there. Unsheathing the knife with a quick pull, she held it in the orange streetlight. The black handle carved with unfamiliar Asiatic characters rested comfortably in her palm against rough calluses. That couldn’t be right.
Her heart rate picked up as she slammed the blade back into its sheath then loosened the straps from around her thigh, moving the knife inside her jacket. The press of it against her ribcage stilled her. She took a calming breath.
Running a hand through her choppy hair, she climbed the crumbling boulders that littered the ground below the bridge. She navigated the path effortlessly, balancing her way up and over the railing, landing right beside the sign reading: “Do not climb on the rocks.”