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Here's the first section, it'll be a say maybe 20 page short story, so enjoy please this teaser, and give me suggestions
Today’s date: March 28, 2011.
My name is Dave Burke, I’m the Emergency Response Team National Director, and District Commissioner for the Phoxlind/National ERT Headquarters. I live a normal life, with a wife, two daughters, a yellow lab named Gunnar and a long hair Persian, Shilo.
Today started like any other day, I woke up, got a shower, and dried off, to be greeted by the smell of bacon as I stepped out of the on suite bathroom in my large home. Getting dressed, I chose my regular duty shirt, and a windbreaker, as opposed to my dress uniform I wear when on duty for larger calls.
Stopping to look in the mirror to ensure I’m up to standards before leaving my house, I notice a few strands of grey starting to show in my brown crew cut hair, although no wrinkles have made their way to the surface of my 45 year old skin.
Stepping down into the eat in kitchen, I see a plate of bacon and hash browns sitting on the island. Gabilia, my wife, just picking hers up before sitting down at the table to eat breakfast with our daughters with me.
“Thank you Gabbie, looks delicious as usual.” I say as I take my place at the table, the girls almost finished theirs. “Anything interesting happening at school today girls?”
Jennifer, my oldest daughter, thirteen years old, answers for the two of them. “Yeah Daddy, the school trip to the Shakespeare play in Mount Phoxlind.”
“Victoria too?” I ask, referring to my twelve year old.
“Yes honey, it’s something new they’re trying, early immersion into the plays” Gab answers.
“Sounds like fun, too bad we never had too much stuff like that in Newfoundland” I say, making reference to where I grew up.
After several minutes of chitter chatter, we each finish up, and get ready to head to our respective day’s works. Gabbie taking the girls, and me heading to work on the interpass. I pull on my standard duty black windbreaker and head to the driveway, where my grey ford f-350 is parked, complete with push bar and hidden LED light system. I pull out of the driveway through the gate and watch the Canadian and American flags fly in my rear view mirror.
While waiting at a light, I check the Emergency Access Terminal located on my centre console, and see I have a new urgent message from FBI agent. I press play and listen as I drive.
“Hi David, it’s me, Jack, Supervisory Agent Jack Fornell,” Recognizing the name as my former unit officer when I was a medic on the Tactical Ambulance, Jack, then only a sergeant, left shortly after I got promoted and joined the FBI. “I need you to call me, check your email, we’ve got something big here. I’m staged by Johnson; they’re all going out of the building to Mount Phoxlind for a field trip, so we’ll be clear there”
I recognize Johnston, as Johnson Private School, my children’s school, and the field trip to our neighbouring city, on the other side of the mountain. I then pull over and read the urgent message, before doing a quick u-turn and heading to the command post code 1.
As I pull into the parking lot behind the school, I shed my ERT jacket, and pull a dark jacket I left in the front seat on over my now bullet vast clad uniform shirt. I walk quickly into the door of the unmarked command post the FBI have set up, and see Jack sat at a desk, turning to me with a worried look on his face, only lightening slightly when he sees me
The rest will be an adaptation from the actual call itself
Today’s date: March 28, 2011.
My name is Dave Burke, I’m the Emergency Response Team National Director, and District Commissioner for the Phoxlind/National ERT Headquarters. I live a normal life, with a wife, two daughters, a yellow lab named Gunnar and a long hair Persian, Shilo.
Today started like any other day, I woke up, got a shower, and dried off, to be greeted by the smell of bacon as I stepped out of the on suite bathroom in my large home. Getting dressed, I chose my regular duty shirt, and a windbreaker, as opposed to my dress uniform I wear when on duty for larger calls.
Stopping to look in the mirror to ensure I’m up to standards before leaving my house, I notice a few strands of grey starting to show in my brown crew cut hair, although no wrinkles have made their way to the surface of my 45 year old skin.
Stepping down into the eat in kitchen, I see a plate of bacon and hash browns sitting on the island. Gabilia, my wife, just picking hers up before sitting down at the table to eat breakfast with our daughters with me.
“Thank you Gabbie, looks delicious as usual.” I say as I take my place at the table, the girls almost finished theirs. “Anything interesting happening at school today girls?”
Jennifer, my oldest daughter, thirteen years old, answers for the two of them. “Yeah Daddy, the school trip to the Shakespeare play in Mount Phoxlind.”
“Victoria too?” I ask, referring to my twelve year old.
“Yes honey, it’s something new they’re trying, early immersion into the plays” Gab answers.
“Sounds like fun, too bad we never had too much stuff like that in Newfoundland” I say, making reference to where I grew up.
After several minutes of chitter chatter, we each finish up, and get ready to head to our respective day’s works. Gabbie taking the girls, and me heading to work on the interpass. I pull on my standard duty black windbreaker and head to the driveway, where my grey ford f-350 is parked, complete with push bar and hidden LED light system. I pull out of the driveway through the gate and watch the Canadian and American flags fly in my rear view mirror.
While waiting at a light, I check the Emergency Access Terminal located on my centre console, and see I have a new urgent message from FBI agent. I press play and listen as I drive.
“Hi David, it’s me, Jack, Supervisory Agent Jack Fornell,” Recognizing the name as my former unit officer when I was a medic on the Tactical Ambulance, Jack, then only a sergeant, left shortly after I got promoted and joined the FBI. “I need you to call me, check your email, we’ve got something big here. I’m staged by Johnson; they’re all going out of the building to Mount Phoxlind for a field trip, so we’ll be clear there”
I recognize Johnston, as Johnson Private School, my children’s school, and the field trip to our neighbouring city, on the other side of the mountain. I then pull over and read the urgent message, before doing a quick u-turn and heading to the command post code 1.
As I pull into the parking lot behind the school, I shed my ERT jacket, and pull a dark jacket I left in the front seat on over my now bullet vast clad uniform shirt. I walk quickly into the door of the unmarked command post the FBI have set up, and see Jack sat at a desk, turning to me with a worried look on his face, only lightening slightly when he sees me
The rest will be an adaptation from the actual call itself
How much is the licence? 
