223shootersc
Veteran Member
Smart boy! Thanks, CCG!
Story What the Hell Happened? Story Slice- Monica and Tanya's tale
- Thread starter ComCamGuy
- Start date
ComCamGuy
Remote Paramedical pain in the ass
Monica
As she drove up the road to the house, she was hit with a flood of emotions and memories. This was where she spent so much time growing up. This wasn’t their primary house. They had one in town they were at most of the time, but weekends, and holidays and all summer were spent here at the ‘Ranch’ the whole time they were growing up. Once her and Tanya graduated high school and moved out on their own, the pretext was over and her parents moved out here full time.
She couldn’t blame them. The place was beautiful and a true retreat from the world. It was a fitting style for the land and might have been here two hundred years if you didn’t know better. It looked like an old Spanish Mission, complete with adobe walls at least twenty feet tall above the hill the house was built on and massive wooden doors leading into it, which were closed when she drove up.
“Hang on. I have to open the doors.” She said to Greta as she stepped out of the Bronco.
She used the broad flat metal piece she had from the Bronco to reach through the small gap between the boards and trip the latch to release the gates. A gentle tug moved the huge gate outward on well oiled hinges. Normally when they had been living here full time, the gates would stand open, but when no one was home, this place was locked up pretty tight.
With the gate open, she went back to the Bronco.
“Hang on.”
She drove inside the gate and turned to the left, aiming for the two car garage just inside the wall.
Before she did anything else, she hopped out and closed the gate again. With things as they were, no reason to leave the welcome mat out.
The next step was opening the garage door. For this, she had the key off the snap-link off the Bronco key ring. The garage on this side was where her dad always parked the Bronco. This was where it lived, where he worked on it, where it was kept, along with his motorcycle sometimes. The other garage to the right of the gate was where her mother’s car normally lived, back when she was alive. After her death, Monica and Tanya normally used it when they were out here.
Monica was driving the Bronco. The Bronco belonged in this garage. End of story. It was just the right thing to do. She pulled the Bronco into the garage and closed the garage door behind her.
“OK, Greta. We’re here.” She said as she looked around the garage. It looked the same as it had the last time she was here. Cabinets and shelves and toolboxes lined most of the walls, along with several large tools on rolling platforms like a drill press and such. The very back of the garage had a large wooden workbench made of the same huge timbers as the main gate.
There was plenty of light in the place from several skylights made from glass block. These she had left uncovered the last time she was here.
Monica collected her bags from the Bronco and led Greta to the door in the back of the garage.
Through the door, they ended up in the left-hand mud room, one of two in the house. The house was laid out in an ‘H’ pattern. Both garages entered into an ‘airlock’ for dirt and mess. There was a large room complete with shelves and hooks for coats and shoes and such, a large wash sink and a washer and dryer. While she was there, she flipped a couple large switches on an electrical panel.
Passing through here, they ended up in the back hallway on this side of the house that moved behind the living room. Here were coat closets and a half bath and archways into the living room, but Monica didn’t slow down here. She pressed on to ‘her’ area.
When her parents built this place, it was important to build for the future they always told them. Out here, Monica and her sister had their own spaces. More than just a room, the design took advantage of the space and structure. Both girls had a two-story space, each overlooking the inner courtyard and pool.
Their spaces were on the opposite sides of the house so they had their own spaces, but they were right off of the main family space of both the two story living room dining room and kitchen which formed the crosspiece of the ‘H’ shape and looked into the inner courtyard and the pool which sat within the upper arms of the ‘H’.
Monica set her stuff down on the sectional sofa in her lower room next to the narrow staircase leading up to her bedroom.
“OK, Greta. Food, a shower or sleep first?”
When Greta didn’t make a decision right away, Monica took over and made the decision for her.
“Tell you what. Bathroom’s behind that door. I flipped the battery switches on so you will get hot water. While you clean up, I’ll throw together some food then we can both get some sleep.”
Greta just nodded and walked towards the bathroom.
Monica watched her walk to the bathroom. It was small, but a hot shower and a chance to clean up had to be better than hiding in an abandoned well while hiding from the psychos who sacrificed your little brother to get their cell phones to work again.
Monica moved through the living room and dining room to the kitchen. She knew she only had a bunch of staples right now, but she wasn’t figuring to waste gourmet chow on the two of them in this worn out state. What she was after was solid calories and sleep.
In the kitchen, she opened the cabinet and pulled out two cans of chili and a pot. Five minutes later, she had it warming on the stove.
She went back to her bathroom where she heard the shower running and leaned her head in.
“I’ll drop some clothes for you on the couch out here. Food is warming up. No rush. I’m just going to hit the other shower real quick.”
She didn’t wait for a reply. She darted up the stairs and grabbed a couple things for Greta to wear and dropped them on the couch as she went across to Tanya’s side.
Over here in Tanya’s room, the layout was the same as hers; a small sectional, tv, desk and bathroom down below and a bedroom and closets up above. Different decorations, but same basic design. She figured she would grab a quick shower and work from there.
As she drove up the road to the house, she was hit with a flood of emotions and memories. This was where she spent so much time growing up. This wasn’t their primary house. They had one in town they were at most of the time, but weekends, and holidays and all summer were spent here at the ‘Ranch’ the whole time they were growing up. Once her and Tanya graduated high school and moved out on their own, the pretext was over and her parents moved out here full time.
She couldn’t blame them. The place was beautiful and a true retreat from the world. It was a fitting style for the land and might have been here two hundred years if you didn’t know better. It looked like an old Spanish Mission, complete with adobe walls at least twenty feet tall above the hill the house was built on and massive wooden doors leading into it, which were closed when she drove up.
“Hang on. I have to open the doors.” She said to Greta as she stepped out of the Bronco.
She used the broad flat metal piece she had from the Bronco to reach through the small gap between the boards and trip the latch to release the gates. A gentle tug moved the huge gate outward on well oiled hinges. Normally when they had been living here full time, the gates would stand open, but when no one was home, this place was locked up pretty tight.
With the gate open, she went back to the Bronco.
“Hang on.”
She drove inside the gate and turned to the left, aiming for the two car garage just inside the wall.
Before she did anything else, she hopped out and closed the gate again. With things as they were, no reason to leave the welcome mat out.
The next step was opening the garage door. For this, she had the key off the snap-link off the Bronco key ring. The garage on this side was where her dad always parked the Bronco. This was where it lived, where he worked on it, where it was kept, along with his motorcycle sometimes. The other garage to the right of the gate was where her mother’s car normally lived, back when she was alive. After her death, Monica and Tanya normally used it when they were out here.
Monica was driving the Bronco. The Bronco belonged in this garage. End of story. It was just the right thing to do. She pulled the Bronco into the garage and closed the garage door behind her.
“OK, Greta. We’re here.” She said as she looked around the garage. It looked the same as it had the last time she was here. Cabinets and shelves and toolboxes lined most of the walls, along with several large tools on rolling platforms like a drill press and such. The very back of the garage had a large wooden workbench made of the same huge timbers as the main gate.
There was plenty of light in the place from several skylights made from glass block. These she had left uncovered the last time she was here.
Monica collected her bags from the Bronco and led Greta to the door in the back of the garage.
Through the door, they ended up in the left-hand mud room, one of two in the house. The house was laid out in an ‘H’ pattern. Both garages entered into an ‘airlock’ for dirt and mess. There was a large room complete with shelves and hooks for coats and shoes and such, a large wash sink and a washer and dryer. While she was there, she flipped a couple large switches on an electrical panel.
Passing through here, they ended up in the back hallway on this side of the house that moved behind the living room. Here were coat closets and a half bath and archways into the living room, but Monica didn’t slow down here. She pressed on to ‘her’ area.
When her parents built this place, it was important to build for the future they always told them. Out here, Monica and her sister had their own spaces. More than just a room, the design took advantage of the space and structure. Both girls had a two-story space, each overlooking the inner courtyard and pool.
Their spaces were on the opposite sides of the house so they had their own spaces, but they were right off of the main family space of both the two story living room dining room and kitchen which formed the crosspiece of the ‘H’ shape and looked into the inner courtyard and the pool which sat within the upper arms of the ‘H’.
Monica set her stuff down on the sectional sofa in her lower room next to the narrow staircase leading up to her bedroom.
“OK, Greta. Food, a shower or sleep first?”
When Greta didn’t make a decision right away, Monica took over and made the decision for her.
“Tell you what. Bathroom’s behind that door. I flipped the battery switches on so you will get hot water. While you clean up, I’ll throw together some food then we can both get some sleep.”
Greta just nodded and walked towards the bathroom.
Monica watched her walk to the bathroom. It was small, but a hot shower and a chance to clean up had to be better than hiding in an abandoned well while hiding from the psychos who sacrificed your little brother to get their cell phones to work again.
Monica moved through the living room and dining room to the kitchen. She knew she only had a bunch of staples right now, but she wasn’t figuring to waste gourmet chow on the two of them in this worn out state. What she was after was solid calories and sleep.
In the kitchen, she opened the cabinet and pulled out two cans of chili and a pot. Five minutes later, she had it warming on the stove.
She went back to her bathroom where she heard the shower running and leaned her head in.
“I’ll drop some clothes for you on the couch out here. Food is warming up. No rush. I’m just going to hit the other shower real quick.”
She didn’t wait for a reply. She darted up the stairs and grabbed a couple things for Greta to wear and dropped them on the couch as she went across to Tanya’s side.
Over here in Tanya’s room, the layout was the same as hers; a small sectional, tv, desk and bathroom down below and a bedroom and closets up above. Different decorations, but same basic design. She figured she would grab a quick shower and work from there.
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feralferret
Veteran Member
Thank you.
223shootersc
Veteran Member
Thanks, CCG!
ComCamGuy
Remote Paramedical pain in the ass
Tanya
The sound woke her up. She had no idea where she was or how long she had been here, but she was warm, truly warm, and comfortable. But some sort of noise woke her up and set off warning buzzers in her head. She tried to make out what the sound was. It might be a good idea to figure out where she was, too, she thought belatedly.
She felt the soft fuzzy knap against her skin. It reminded her of flannel sheets. She hadn’t slept on flannel sheets since she was a kid. And the feeling wasn’t quite right. She also felt some other material against her front. There was a weight there too.
So, what the **** was the sound, and why should she care?
Gravel crunching.
Gravel?
Where the **** was she?
She opened her eyes. It didn’t help much. It was almost dark. About all she could see was the bare shoulder of the person laying on her. This sent her brain into overdrive trying to reassemble what had happened.
Bits and pieces came back to her. Not the flood and instant awareness so common in the books and TV shows, but a slice here and there. Finally enough was there where she remembered she should be cold and wet.
She was warm and dry, and if she was right, naked too. WTF?
She listened harder, but now it was tough to hear over her own heartbeat booming in her ears.
The gravel sounds weren’t the steady crunch of tires. Not the tread of boots. But they had a rhythm to them. Then she heard it. Squeaking leather, and a snort. A Horse, and the squeaking leather meant a rider!
She tried to sit up, but Randel felt like dead weight on her. She could hear his breathing though. She snaked her hands up her sides and found his head. She grasped it in her hands and brought her mouth to his ear. As quiet as she could, she whispered into his ear.
“Danger. We have to get up.”
She was a little startled at feeling his hand trace up her body, but it didn’t linger anywhere. It just came up and took one of her hands from the side of his head and pulled it around to behind her own head. She wasn’t sure what the hell was going on. That is, until she felt the butt of the pistol lying there.
“Smart.”
As she said that, he slowly and as quietly as he could, began to ease himself off to her right. She wasn’t sure why he was going that way and not left, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
As soon as he was clear, she started sitting up. This was when she confirmed she was naked in the sleeping bag. They were on the ground behind some sort of concrete wall. She could see their packs against the wall to her right and the motorcycle to her left.
The air was chilly against her bare skin where the heat blanket had fallen away. Part of her brain was trying to catalog all of this like she normally would for a patient contact report as a framework for remembering details, but the big question right now was where the **** are the hoofbeats coming from.
Tanya came up into a crouch. Nothing. She looked over at Randel and gave him a stop hand motion. She didn’t want him moving around and get in the wrong spot. She raised up a little higher. Now she was able to see over the seat of the motorcycle to that side, but still couldn’t see over the wall.
Nothing, but the hoofbeats were getting louder.
She debated getting dressed before doing anything else, but since she wasn’t sure where any of her clothes were, better to work the bigger problem.
Higher still. Now she was standing straight up. And could see the horse on the other side of the concrete loading ramp. It had a bridle, saddle and even a rider on his back.
The horse was looking at her and just standing there. The rider was slumped over, not looking at anything. Interesting.
She looked back down at Randel and locked eyes. She held her fingers up to her lips and then whispered.
“Get dressed then get my clothes.”
Randel just nodded and started moving. She turned her attention back to the horse and rider.
Big square horse. This was somebody’s working horse. The tack looked like work gear, not pleasure riding stuff. The man on the back still hadn’t looked at her. She started walking around the end of the loading ramp, the horse watching her the whole way.
Tanya kept the hand holding the pistol down at her side as she slowly approached the horse and rider. At this point, she was hoping the rider might consider being approached by a naked woman as having seen an apparition. Or it might just delay him enough to let her get the drop on him.
She stepped carefully forward, the whole time thinking it was much too cold for her to be doing some sort of Lady Godiva thing.
The horse reached out with his nose towards her. With her free hand she rubbed his nose while looking up at the rider. No reaction from him. She looked a little closer at where the man was slumped. Nothing. She placed a hand on the man’s knee. That’s when she knew.
Later
They set the saddle over the grave they had dug for the man. His weapons and supplies they added to their own. The horse they turned free.
The man had several bullet holes in his chest and back. They didn’t know how long or how far he had ridden, where he was going or where he came from. But at least they could free the horse.
They would look at the bags and other gear later. Right now, they wanted to make some distance while it was dark and they couldn’t be seen.
The sound woke her up. She had no idea where she was or how long she had been here, but she was warm, truly warm, and comfortable. But some sort of noise woke her up and set off warning buzzers in her head. She tried to make out what the sound was. It might be a good idea to figure out where she was, too, she thought belatedly.
She felt the soft fuzzy knap against her skin. It reminded her of flannel sheets. She hadn’t slept on flannel sheets since she was a kid. And the feeling wasn’t quite right. She also felt some other material against her front. There was a weight there too.
So, what the **** was the sound, and why should she care?
Gravel crunching.
Gravel?
Where the **** was she?
She opened her eyes. It didn’t help much. It was almost dark. About all she could see was the bare shoulder of the person laying on her. This sent her brain into overdrive trying to reassemble what had happened.
Bits and pieces came back to her. Not the flood and instant awareness so common in the books and TV shows, but a slice here and there. Finally enough was there where she remembered she should be cold and wet.
She was warm and dry, and if she was right, naked too. WTF?
She listened harder, but now it was tough to hear over her own heartbeat booming in her ears.
The gravel sounds weren’t the steady crunch of tires. Not the tread of boots. But they had a rhythm to them. Then she heard it. Squeaking leather, and a snort. A Horse, and the squeaking leather meant a rider!
She tried to sit up, but Randel felt like dead weight on her. She could hear his breathing though. She snaked her hands up her sides and found his head. She grasped it in her hands and brought her mouth to his ear. As quiet as she could, she whispered into his ear.
“Danger. We have to get up.”
She was a little startled at feeling his hand trace up her body, but it didn’t linger anywhere. It just came up and took one of her hands from the side of his head and pulled it around to behind her own head. She wasn’t sure what the hell was going on. That is, until she felt the butt of the pistol lying there.
“Smart.”
As she said that, he slowly and as quietly as he could, began to ease himself off to her right. She wasn’t sure why he was going that way and not left, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.
As soon as he was clear, she started sitting up. This was when she confirmed she was naked in the sleeping bag. They were on the ground behind some sort of concrete wall. She could see their packs against the wall to her right and the motorcycle to her left.
The air was chilly against her bare skin where the heat blanket had fallen away. Part of her brain was trying to catalog all of this like she normally would for a patient contact report as a framework for remembering details, but the big question right now was where the **** are the hoofbeats coming from.
Tanya came up into a crouch. Nothing. She looked over at Randel and gave him a stop hand motion. She didn’t want him moving around and get in the wrong spot. She raised up a little higher. Now she was able to see over the seat of the motorcycle to that side, but still couldn’t see over the wall.
Nothing, but the hoofbeats were getting louder.
She debated getting dressed before doing anything else, but since she wasn’t sure where any of her clothes were, better to work the bigger problem.
Higher still. Now she was standing straight up. And could see the horse on the other side of the concrete loading ramp. It had a bridle, saddle and even a rider on his back.
The horse was looking at her and just standing there. The rider was slumped over, not looking at anything. Interesting.
She looked back down at Randel and locked eyes. She held her fingers up to her lips and then whispered.
“Get dressed then get my clothes.”
Randel just nodded and started moving. She turned her attention back to the horse and rider.
Big square horse. This was somebody’s working horse. The tack looked like work gear, not pleasure riding stuff. The man on the back still hadn’t looked at her. She started walking around the end of the loading ramp, the horse watching her the whole way.
Tanya kept the hand holding the pistol down at her side as she slowly approached the horse and rider. At this point, she was hoping the rider might consider being approached by a naked woman as having seen an apparition. Or it might just delay him enough to let her get the drop on him.
She stepped carefully forward, the whole time thinking it was much too cold for her to be doing some sort of Lady Godiva thing.
The horse reached out with his nose towards her. With her free hand she rubbed his nose while looking up at the rider. No reaction from him. She looked a little closer at where the man was slumped. Nothing. She placed a hand on the man’s knee. That’s when she knew.
Later
They set the saddle over the grave they had dug for the man. His weapons and supplies they added to their own. The horse they turned free.
The man had several bullet holes in his chest and back. They didn’t know how long or how far he had ridden, where he was going or where he came from. But at least they could free the horse.
They would look at the bags and other gear later. Right now, they wanted to make some distance while it was dark and they couldn’t be seen.
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steamroller
Contributing Member
great story, thanks for sharing!!
223shootersc
Veteran Member
Thanks, CCG!
feralferret
Veteran Member
Thank you.
ComCamGuy
Remote Paramedical pain in the ass
At the House
Greta couldn’t sleep any more. She wasn’t sure how long she had been out, but after the last couple days, she was wiped and practically fell asleep in her chili. The lounger in the small room converted to a small but comfortable bed and she was out.
That was then. Now, she was awake and still trying to piece things together again. It all seemed unreal, but she knew it was one she wasn’t waking up from. He sweet baby brother was gone, a blood sacrifice to the almighty silicon chip.
She had no idea people could be so dumb. How the hell were they ever able to convince themselves for even an instant that it might work. Then again, maybe it was better that she think thy were that delusionable, otherwise, they just murdered him because they could.
She was walking around the house now. She only met Monica less than two days ago. She wasn’t sure why she trusted her. Maybe it was because she was out of people she could trust? Maybe it was because she didn’t have anything left to lose. Maybe it was because the people she thought she could trust were the ones who destroyed everything, so why not trust a stranger?
The house was strange. It was nice but it wasn’t like what she was used to. The walls were solid. Really solid! It took her a moment to realize something about it’s design. There were no windows to the outside areas around the house.
All the windows she saw were on the interior walls leading into the inner courtyard. On this side of the rooms they made up for the lack with large sliding glass doors all pointed to the inner courtyard. This inner courtyard was small but full of light. When she looked into it, she saw a large shape in the ground that must be a pool, and a separate space with a raised wooden shelf around it. She didn’t know why, but her mind said ‘hot tub’.
The living room, dining room and kitchen end opened up into the courtyard through oversized sliding glass doors. Directly across the courtyard, beyond the pool was another set of doors, only this area had the curtains closed.
On each side was the two bedrooms for Monica and her sister. Monica had told her that her sister’s rooms mirrored her own. Greta knew how those were laid out. She could see the balcony on the second floor of each, a small table and chair on them. There was a walkway that ran the length of the courtyard down each side from the balcony to the far end where the curtained off glass wall was.
Everywhere she looked, this place felt rich to her. Not so much moneywise. It’s not like there were gold fixtures on the sinks, but this place had a strange feeling. It just felt…it wasn’t ‘RICH’ but that was the only word she could think of.
Each thing just felt different. Some of it was the solidity and age of things. She was used to some of it from her own growing up. What others would scoff at being ‘old and beat up’, was just the things at the house that lasted, like things in the kitchen. Plates and bowls here were from the thirties. It was real ‘Fiestaware’, not the modern China-produced versions. The cookware was iron, the silverware was real silver. Here in the kitchen, Greta was surprised to see stuff straight out of the fifties and sixties, like the elaborate electric range with the slide out burners. The theme was carried into the living room where there was some sort of brightly-colored cone-shaped fireplace set into a recess in the floor surrounded by a padded seat.
Monica’s lounge room was more of the same, with two-inch-deep sculpted shag carpet and a swag lamp. The bookcase looked like something stolen from an old church and the coffee table looked like a slab of driftwood with a huge super thick chunk of glass on it.
Greta was still wandering around in a daze trying to come to grips with things when she saw movement out in the courtyard. It was Monica.
Greta couldn’t sleep any more. She wasn’t sure how long she had been out, but after the last couple days, she was wiped and practically fell asleep in her chili. The lounger in the small room converted to a small but comfortable bed and she was out.
That was then. Now, she was awake and still trying to piece things together again. It all seemed unreal, but she knew it was one she wasn’t waking up from. He sweet baby brother was gone, a blood sacrifice to the almighty silicon chip.
She had no idea people could be so dumb. How the hell were they ever able to convince themselves for even an instant that it might work. Then again, maybe it was better that she think thy were that delusionable, otherwise, they just murdered him because they could.
She was walking around the house now. She only met Monica less than two days ago. She wasn’t sure why she trusted her. Maybe it was because she was out of people she could trust? Maybe it was because she didn’t have anything left to lose. Maybe it was because the people she thought she could trust were the ones who destroyed everything, so why not trust a stranger?
The house was strange. It was nice but it wasn’t like what she was used to. The walls were solid. Really solid! It took her a moment to realize something about it’s design. There were no windows to the outside areas around the house.
All the windows she saw were on the interior walls leading into the inner courtyard. On this side of the rooms they made up for the lack with large sliding glass doors all pointed to the inner courtyard. This inner courtyard was small but full of light. When she looked into it, she saw a large shape in the ground that must be a pool, and a separate space with a raised wooden shelf around it. She didn’t know why, but her mind said ‘hot tub’.
The living room, dining room and kitchen end opened up into the courtyard through oversized sliding glass doors. Directly across the courtyard, beyond the pool was another set of doors, only this area had the curtains closed.
On each side was the two bedrooms for Monica and her sister. Monica had told her that her sister’s rooms mirrored her own. Greta knew how those were laid out. She could see the balcony on the second floor of each, a small table and chair on them. There was a walkway that ran the length of the courtyard down each side from the balcony to the far end where the curtained off glass wall was.
Everywhere she looked, this place felt rich to her. Not so much moneywise. It’s not like there were gold fixtures on the sinks, but this place had a strange feeling. It just felt…it wasn’t ‘RICH’ but that was the only word she could think of.
Each thing just felt different. Some of it was the solidity and age of things. She was used to some of it from her own growing up. What others would scoff at being ‘old and beat up’, was just the things at the house that lasted, like things in the kitchen. Plates and bowls here were from the thirties. It was real ‘Fiestaware’, not the modern China-produced versions. The cookware was iron, the silverware was real silver. Here in the kitchen, Greta was surprised to see stuff straight out of the fifties and sixties, like the elaborate electric range with the slide out burners. The theme was carried into the living room where there was some sort of brightly-colored cone-shaped fireplace set into a recess in the floor surrounded by a padded seat.
Monica’s lounge room was more of the same, with two-inch-deep sculpted shag carpet and a swag lamp. The bookcase looked like something stolen from an old church and the coffee table looked like a slab of driftwood with a huge super thick chunk of glass on it.
Greta was still wandering around in a daze trying to come to grips with things when she saw movement out in the courtyard. It was Monica.
ComCamGuy
Remote Paramedical pain in the ass
223shootersc
Veteran Member
Quite the view! Thanks, CCG!
feralferret
Veteran Member
Thank you.
Griz3752
Retired, practising Curmudgeon
an extremly useful space
ComCamGuy
Remote Paramedical pain in the ass
Tanya
The list of old and abandoned places around here was vast, but they weren’t always conveniently located where you wanted them. That was part of the reason many of them were abandoned.
Tanya was always decent with maps, but right now she was lost. She had no real clue where they were other than they had made it to the other side of the river and then some. A lot of what happened even getting across the river was a blur, with little or no definition in her memory. She remembers some sort of naked showdown with a horse and a few bits after that, but right now, what they needed was an elevated place to hide so they could reset and so she could spend some time with the maps and a compass.
She felt Randel’s arms around her as they rode. She felt a flash memory of him curled up to her in the sleeping bag. He had saved her. She knew it, even if she didn’t remember the details all the way through right now.
She was thinking on all of this when her eyes picked up on something. It was a water tank on a hillside. It was old and covered in graffiti. That meant there must be some sort of trail up to it and it should show up on her maps.
Later
It was a chore to get up the service road to the water tank. It didn’t look like it had been used for more than teens out ‘parking’ for a long time and the gate blocking access to the tank itself was gone. Tanya’s big thing at first was making sure no one else was here. They were far enough from town that they shouldn’t have to worry about visitors.
She was able to get the motorcycle to a spot at the far side of the fenced in area next to the tank. She was hoping to use the bulk of the tank to block any light so they could make shelter and maybe even have a fire to dry out the wet clothes they were carrying, if they were really careful. She knew she was dangerously low on calories and Randel probably was as well.
Again, they used the motorcycle in front of them and the tank behind them, only this time they spread one of the tarps over their position. Tanya wanted to trap as much of the warmth as she could, both to dry out the clothes and to drive some of the chill from her bones.
The list of old and abandoned places around here was vast, but they weren’t always conveniently located where you wanted them. That was part of the reason many of them were abandoned.
Tanya was always decent with maps, but right now she was lost. She had no real clue where they were other than they had made it to the other side of the river and then some. A lot of what happened even getting across the river was a blur, with little or no definition in her memory. She remembers some sort of naked showdown with a horse and a few bits after that, but right now, what they needed was an elevated place to hide so they could reset and so she could spend some time with the maps and a compass.
She felt Randel’s arms around her as they rode. She felt a flash memory of him curled up to her in the sleeping bag. He had saved her. She knew it, even if she didn’t remember the details all the way through right now.
She was thinking on all of this when her eyes picked up on something. It was a water tank on a hillside. It was old and covered in graffiti. That meant there must be some sort of trail up to it and it should show up on her maps.
Later
It was a chore to get up the service road to the water tank. It didn’t look like it had been used for more than teens out ‘parking’ for a long time and the gate blocking access to the tank itself was gone. Tanya’s big thing at first was making sure no one else was here. They were far enough from town that they shouldn’t have to worry about visitors.
She was able to get the motorcycle to a spot at the far side of the fenced in area next to the tank. She was hoping to use the bulk of the tank to block any light so they could make shelter and maybe even have a fire to dry out the wet clothes they were carrying, if they were really careful. She knew she was dangerously low on calories and Randel probably was as well.
Again, they used the motorcycle in front of them and the tank behind them, only this time they spread one of the tarps over their position. Tanya wanted to trap as much of the warmth as she could, both to dry out the clothes and to drive some of the chill from her bones.
223shootersc
Veteran Member
Thanks, CCG!
feralferret
Veteran Member
Thank you.
ComCamGuy
Remote Paramedical pain in the ass
In Their Shelter
“You did some real good thinking. I don’t know if I would have made it otherwise.” Tanya said, her spoon paused as she scooped up some of the food from her mug. She could feel his eyes on her, and she knew she had to say something. She knew talking might help him, but she wasn’t sure if it would help her. Right now, all she wanted to do was crawl back into the sleeping bag and get warm again.
The cold always hurt her. It seemed to linger in her bones forever. Her hands worked right now only because she had them wrapped around her mug full of steaming food. She dropped her spoon back into the mug so she could wrap her fingers around it again.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to meet those eyes right now. She wasn’t sure what she would see if she did. She didn’t know exactly what it would be, but she didn’t know what would be worse among her guesses.
While setting things up, she caught him looking nervous when she would turn around and catch him staring at her. She wasn’t sure exactly, but she suspected what it was.
She wasn’t a supermodel, but she still had a decent body, not much fat to be found since poverty, stress and starvation definitely kept her weight low and her body thin. Randel was a fifteen-year-old boy, who was obviously attracted to girls given what he told her earlier, and here he stripped her down to nothing and cuddled up with her in a sleeping bag, also basically naked.
She had to admit, the thought made her nervous, especially since she didn’t remember any of it, and barely remembered standing there naked as she dealt with the dead guy on the horse. She wasn’t sure how long before the shivering reminded her she was naked and she went to get dressed, but she spent far more time naked in front of him than was appropriate, that’s for sure.
She was worried about how it may change their relationship, but right now, she had to make sure things were well enough he would listen to her and do what she told him to. Deep philosophical dissection of their relationship and situation was better left until after they got to the house. Maybe a defusing? Those Critical Incident Stress Debriefing courses had to be good for something other than block filling for CEUs.
“I had to do something. I don’t know how to drive a motorcycle.” Randel said, scraping the bottom of his mug with his own spoon.
“Well, at least the cell phones are dead and gone.” She said with a grin.
“Oh, why? Wait, why are you talking about cell phones? You told me I shouldn’t bring them up.”
“I was just thinking it was best you didn’t have one with you, otherwise You’d have me on OnlyFriends by now.”
She almost hurt herself laughing at either how red he turned or how much he stuttered before he found a way to speak.
“I would never do that to you!”
“I know, just…”
“Besides, PornHub has a bigger audience-base.”
“Randel….”
Randel smiled back at her. “Honestly, Mom, you’re…” he turned even redder and sputtered to a stop.
“You better not be ready to say…”
“No, but you’re hotter than any of those bitches Dad brought home.” Now, it was Tanya turning red and not know where to go with the conversation, so Randel continued.
“I never understood why Dad ****ed things up with you. Smart, passionate, smoking hot, didn’t shit all over the kid she inherited, treated his son better than he had any hope, hell, ten times better than his own father did.”
The choking sob of the last part broke Tanya’s heart and snapped her out of her embarrassment.
“He saw me as a possession and, well, he got greedy and I got complacent. I didn’t think I needed to ‘chase’ him. I looked at a marriage as two parts making one ‘whole’ where he was stuck on always wanting to be fawned over as a prize.”
“He was a ****ing idiot!” he blurted.
“He was your father.”
“He was a useless piece of shit! He sure as hell wouldn’t have dropped everything, risked his life, hell almost died just to save me, like you did. He divorced you! Cheated on you, divorced you then did everything he could to **** you over forever. Hell, he had ****ing court orders drawn up making even talking to me a goddamn felony. You didn’t give birth to me and could have just walked away and no on, NO ONE would have blamed you in the least.”
She looked him in the eye. There was no embarrassment now, no overblown theatrics. Plenty of passion and conviction though.
“When I stood in front of that alter and made that vow, I made it to God and to you. You remember what I said as you stood there next to your father?”
“You said you would treat me as your own son, and you said you would always take care of me.” Randel said.
“Your father didn’t take it seriously and pissed it all away, but I made a vow to you and to God, and I meant it. I thought long and hard before I did it, and I meant every word. Your father shattering his vows freed me of him, but I still have every intention and desire of fulfilling that vow with you. My love and caring for you is undiminished. My commitment to you has sustained me and kept me.”
“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve a mother like you.”
The smirk on her face even surprised herself.
“Smoking hot, huh?”
Randel blushed again and nodded.
“Well, don’t you get any hot and horny ideas. Porn isn’t real.”
Randel laughed, startling her.
“You got too many knives and guns, too.”
“You did some real good thinking. I don’t know if I would have made it otherwise.” Tanya said, her spoon paused as she scooped up some of the food from her mug. She could feel his eyes on her, and she knew she had to say something. She knew talking might help him, but she wasn’t sure if it would help her. Right now, all she wanted to do was crawl back into the sleeping bag and get warm again.
The cold always hurt her. It seemed to linger in her bones forever. Her hands worked right now only because she had them wrapped around her mug full of steaming food. She dropped her spoon back into the mug so she could wrap her fingers around it again.
She wasn’t sure she wanted to meet those eyes right now. She wasn’t sure what she would see if she did. She didn’t know exactly what it would be, but she didn’t know what would be worse among her guesses.
While setting things up, she caught him looking nervous when she would turn around and catch him staring at her. She wasn’t sure exactly, but she suspected what it was.
She wasn’t a supermodel, but she still had a decent body, not much fat to be found since poverty, stress and starvation definitely kept her weight low and her body thin. Randel was a fifteen-year-old boy, who was obviously attracted to girls given what he told her earlier, and here he stripped her down to nothing and cuddled up with her in a sleeping bag, also basically naked.
She had to admit, the thought made her nervous, especially since she didn’t remember any of it, and barely remembered standing there naked as she dealt with the dead guy on the horse. She wasn’t sure how long before the shivering reminded her she was naked and she went to get dressed, but she spent far more time naked in front of him than was appropriate, that’s for sure.
She was worried about how it may change their relationship, but right now, she had to make sure things were well enough he would listen to her and do what she told him to. Deep philosophical dissection of their relationship and situation was better left until after they got to the house. Maybe a defusing? Those Critical Incident Stress Debriefing courses had to be good for something other than block filling for CEUs.
“I had to do something. I don’t know how to drive a motorcycle.” Randel said, scraping the bottom of his mug with his own spoon.
“Well, at least the cell phones are dead and gone.” She said with a grin.
“Oh, why? Wait, why are you talking about cell phones? You told me I shouldn’t bring them up.”
“I was just thinking it was best you didn’t have one with you, otherwise You’d have me on OnlyFriends by now.”
She almost hurt herself laughing at either how red he turned or how much he stuttered before he found a way to speak.
“I would never do that to you!”
“I know, just…”
“Besides, PornHub has a bigger audience-base.”
“Randel….”
Randel smiled back at her. “Honestly, Mom, you’re…” he turned even redder and sputtered to a stop.
“You better not be ready to say…”
“No, but you’re hotter than any of those bitches Dad brought home.” Now, it was Tanya turning red and not know where to go with the conversation, so Randel continued.
“I never understood why Dad ****ed things up with you. Smart, passionate, smoking hot, didn’t shit all over the kid she inherited, treated his son better than he had any hope, hell, ten times better than his own father did.”
The choking sob of the last part broke Tanya’s heart and snapped her out of her embarrassment.
“He saw me as a possession and, well, he got greedy and I got complacent. I didn’t think I needed to ‘chase’ him. I looked at a marriage as two parts making one ‘whole’ where he was stuck on always wanting to be fawned over as a prize.”
“He was a ****ing idiot!” he blurted.
“He was your father.”
“He was a useless piece of shit! He sure as hell wouldn’t have dropped everything, risked his life, hell almost died just to save me, like you did. He divorced you! Cheated on you, divorced you then did everything he could to **** you over forever. Hell, he had ****ing court orders drawn up making even talking to me a goddamn felony. You didn’t give birth to me and could have just walked away and no on, NO ONE would have blamed you in the least.”
She looked him in the eye. There was no embarrassment now, no overblown theatrics. Plenty of passion and conviction though.
“When I stood in front of that alter and made that vow, I made it to God and to you. You remember what I said as you stood there next to your father?”
“You said you would treat me as your own son, and you said you would always take care of me.” Randel said.
“Your father didn’t take it seriously and pissed it all away, but I made a vow to you and to God, and I meant it. I thought long and hard before I did it, and I meant every word. Your father shattering his vows freed me of him, but I still have every intention and desire of fulfilling that vow with you. My love and caring for you is undiminished. My commitment to you has sustained me and kept me.”
“I don’t know what I ever did to deserve a mother like you.”
The smirk on her face even surprised herself.
“Smoking hot, huh?”
Randel blushed again and nodded.
“Well, don’t you get any hot and horny ideas. Porn isn’t real.”
Randel laughed, startling her.
“You got too many knives and guns, too.”
Last edited:
feralferret
Veteran Member
Thanks.
223shootersc
Veteran Member
Thanks, CCG!
ComCamGuy
Remote Paramedical pain in the ass
At the House
Monica heard the door to the living room open. She looked over. It was Greta. That was another thing she didn’t have an answer for. The glass was cool in her hands. She took a sip. The tomato smoothed the burn of the Tabasco and the bite of the Gin.
She started to offer Greta some but her brain stopped her. ‘It’s not right to give the fifteen-year-old alcohol’, it told her. That’s when the other part of her brain called her an idiot. This ‘girl’ a couple days ago was almost sacrificed literally on an alter to the almighty computer chip, and when she was saved from that fate, it cost her the life of her baby brother, her parents and her only friend. A little Gin was the least she could do for her at this point.
“If you want some, there’s a pitcher in the fridge.”
Greta looked up at the glass arching overhead and back to Monica.
“Isn’t it still morning?”
“Yeah.”
“Isn’t it a little early to be drinking Bloody Mary’s?”
“Technically, this is a Red Snapper. Gin not Vodka, lime not lemon.” Monica answered her for lack of anything more intelligent to say.
“Oh, OK. Not yet, thank you.” Greta looked around the glass atrium some.
“No, I don’t know exactly what to do yet, Greta. I’m trying to figure that out. We could have some food, then I could show you around the place while I check on things and make sure everything’s working, I guess.”
Greta just looked at her, then looked over to Tanya’s room and balcony.
“Where’s your sister?”
Monica wasn’t ready for deep thought on this topic. She had been studiously avoiding it in her mind the whole trip here and when Tanya wasn’t already here, it was only Greta being here that kept Monica from panicking.
She knew Tanya was working on the ambulance but she hoped she was smart enough to get the hell out of town already. No phones meant no one was calling 911, and the ambulances were new enough they were all dead by now anyway.
She had to have a little faith. Tanya’s car was probably dead and she was walking. That’s what it was. It would take a long time for her to walk here.
Monica knew she was silent too long.
“She lives in the north part of the city so it’ll take longer for her to get here. I had my Dad’s Bronco, so I got here first.”
“Oh,” Greta looked around some more. “What now?”
“Let’s go with ‘food’, then we check the outbuildings.”
Monica heard the door to the living room open. She looked over. It was Greta. That was another thing she didn’t have an answer for. The glass was cool in her hands. She took a sip. The tomato smoothed the burn of the Tabasco and the bite of the Gin.
She started to offer Greta some but her brain stopped her. ‘It’s not right to give the fifteen-year-old alcohol’, it told her. That’s when the other part of her brain called her an idiot. This ‘girl’ a couple days ago was almost sacrificed literally on an alter to the almighty computer chip, and when she was saved from that fate, it cost her the life of her baby brother, her parents and her only friend. A little Gin was the least she could do for her at this point.
“If you want some, there’s a pitcher in the fridge.”
Greta looked up at the glass arching overhead and back to Monica.
“Isn’t it still morning?”
“Yeah.”
“Isn’t it a little early to be drinking Bloody Mary’s?”
“Technically, this is a Red Snapper. Gin not Vodka, lime not lemon.” Monica answered her for lack of anything more intelligent to say.
“Oh, OK. Not yet, thank you.” Greta looked around the glass atrium some.
“No, I don’t know exactly what to do yet, Greta. I’m trying to figure that out. We could have some food, then I could show you around the place while I check on things and make sure everything’s working, I guess.”
Greta just looked at her, then looked over to Tanya’s room and balcony.
“Where’s your sister?”
Monica wasn’t ready for deep thought on this topic. She had been studiously avoiding it in her mind the whole trip here and when Tanya wasn’t already here, it was only Greta being here that kept Monica from panicking.
She knew Tanya was working on the ambulance but she hoped she was smart enough to get the hell out of town already. No phones meant no one was calling 911, and the ambulances were new enough they were all dead by now anyway.
She had to have a little faith. Tanya’s car was probably dead and she was walking. That’s what it was. It would take a long time for her to walk here.
Monica knew she was silent too long.
“She lives in the north part of the city so it’ll take longer for her to get here. I had my Dad’s Bronco, so I got here first.”
“Oh,” Greta looked around some more. “What now?”
“Let’s go with ‘food’, then we check the outbuildings.”
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feralferret
Veteran Member
Thank you.
223shootersc
Veteran Member
Thanks, CCG!
Siskiyoumom
Veteran Member
Appreciate the new chapters. I have to say the last three weeks feels like doomer fiction in the meat world.
ComCamGuy
Remote Paramedical pain in the ass
Tanya, on the Hillside
She wanted to be asleep, but it didn’t work out that way. Her sleep has been fractured for years. Pre-hospital medicine, military operations, police augmentation duties, all of them weren’t conducive to a regular sleep pattern or routine. Right now she was exhausted at a core level. She could physically do things and she knew she would, but she felt like her talk was empty. The only thing really keeping her moving forward was will and her commitment to Randel.
She sat there and looked over at where he lay. He was still asleep. Well, he earned his rest. Without him and his quick actions in getting her warm, she would have died. ‘Then again,’ the evil voice in her ear told her, ‘without him, you wouldn’t have been in jeopardy in the first place and could have just ridden out to the house several days ago.’
She ignored that voice. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, that voice was the one that got her into trouble when she caved in to it. That was the one her mother warned her about. The problem was, it was also the one that she tapped into for the strength to fight back, to carry on when she shouldn’t. She just had to always keep some sort of control over it and not let it have free rein.
Her mother had a long talk with her when she was a teenager about it. She had evidently seen it building in her and seen it leak out a time or two. Evidently, she came by it naturally though. According to her mother, her father had that same dark thread running below the surface.
It was after Tanya got expelled from school for getting into a fight. It was her and three other girls. The problem was it was three on one, and it was just a little pushing at first, or so say the witnesses later. In her statement later to the school and to the Sherrif’s department, Tanya very eloquently expressed her abject terror of the three girls jumping her and doing grievous bodily harm once they laid hands on her.
When the footage was reviewed, it was just like Tanya said, they started a little bump and shove session. Three seconds in, shit went nuts. There were multiple broken noses, including Tanya’s, at least a dozen cracked ribs, several ankles and feet bent and stomped into alternate directions and shapes and when the school guard got there, Tanya was sitting on one girl’s chest among the screaming and crawling bodies, with the one of the girl’s eyes out of it’s socket, squished in her hand and being tugged on by Tanya amid the high pitched shrieks. That’s when the taser stopped her.
Tanya’s father was somewhere in Europe at the time, but her mother was able to take care of the situation. When the other parents tried to push the horrible things Tanya did to their ‘little girl’ she was able to point out all the earlier infractions the group had done, when they tried to play on sympathy with the eyepatch and such, she showed them the picture of Tanya, blood covering her face and her shirt, her black eyes and swollen nose big and bold in the frame. She also played hard the ‘first generation immigrant’ card hard as well.
All of that was the public face of why Tanya didn’t get crucified for her actions. The other was the phone call her mother made to the number her father gave her if there was any trouble before he could get back. Fouty-eight hours after the call, all charges were dropped and the other three girls quickly transferred to a private school across town.
The bad part was Tanya didn’t remember most of it. She remembered the shoving, then she remembered a wet feeling on her face and hands about when the lightning hit. It scared her, bad. Her mother told her she understood and it would help keep her safe if it had to, but she needed to keep a leash n it when she could, so she did.
It took years, but she was finally able to regulate it most of the time to a voice in her head she could either listen to or ignore, filtering it’s ideas through her own sanity. It still peeked out at times, and got her into situations she probably should have been more careful in, like drinking or the bedroom. Her college boyfriend worried about her at times and would only half-jokingly refer to her as the ‘sex motorcycle’ as in ‘a little choke, a good kick and a firm grip on the controls and off she purrs.’
She mellowed out as she got out of college, but a lot of that was a better understanding and agreement with the little voice that still tried to talk her into bad things.
Even now, sitting here and thinking back on those times, the voice tried again.
‘He’s already seen you naked…’
‘He’s my son. Period.’ She knew rules didn’t matter to the voice, so she told him the other half to shut him up. ‘Besides, he’s far too young and kind-hearted to give you what you want, what you need.”
The voice went back to sleep. She wished she could. Since that wasn’t in the cards, she started heating water for food and coffee. The sunrise should be pretty. Her mother loved sunrises.
She wanted to be asleep, but it didn’t work out that way. Her sleep has been fractured for years. Pre-hospital medicine, military operations, police augmentation duties, all of them weren’t conducive to a regular sleep pattern or routine. Right now she was exhausted at a core level. She could physically do things and she knew she would, but she felt like her talk was empty. The only thing really keeping her moving forward was will and her commitment to Randel.
She sat there and looked over at where he lay. He was still asleep. Well, he earned his rest. Without him and his quick actions in getting her warm, she would have died. ‘Then again,’ the evil voice in her ear told her, ‘without him, you wouldn’t have been in jeopardy in the first place and could have just ridden out to the house several days ago.’
She ignored that voice. Ninety-nine times out of a hundred, that voice was the one that got her into trouble when she caved in to it. That was the one her mother warned her about. The problem was, it was also the one that she tapped into for the strength to fight back, to carry on when she shouldn’t. She just had to always keep some sort of control over it and not let it have free rein.
Her mother had a long talk with her when she was a teenager about it. She had evidently seen it building in her and seen it leak out a time or two. Evidently, she came by it naturally though. According to her mother, her father had that same dark thread running below the surface.
It was after Tanya got expelled from school for getting into a fight. It was her and three other girls. The problem was it was three on one, and it was just a little pushing at first, or so say the witnesses later. In her statement later to the school and to the Sherrif’s department, Tanya very eloquently expressed her abject terror of the three girls jumping her and doing grievous bodily harm once they laid hands on her.
When the footage was reviewed, it was just like Tanya said, they started a little bump and shove session. Three seconds in, shit went nuts. There were multiple broken noses, including Tanya’s, at least a dozen cracked ribs, several ankles and feet bent and stomped into alternate directions and shapes and when the school guard got there, Tanya was sitting on one girl’s chest among the screaming and crawling bodies, with the one of the girl’s eyes out of it’s socket, squished in her hand and being tugged on by Tanya amid the high pitched shrieks. That’s when the taser stopped her.
Tanya’s father was somewhere in Europe at the time, but her mother was able to take care of the situation. When the other parents tried to push the horrible things Tanya did to their ‘little girl’ she was able to point out all the earlier infractions the group had done, when they tried to play on sympathy with the eyepatch and such, she showed them the picture of Tanya, blood covering her face and her shirt, her black eyes and swollen nose big and bold in the frame. She also played hard the ‘first generation immigrant’ card hard as well.
All of that was the public face of why Tanya didn’t get crucified for her actions. The other was the phone call her mother made to the number her father gave her if there was any trouble before he could get back. Fouty-eight hours after the call, all charges were dropped and the other three girls quickly transferred to a private school across town.
The bad part was Tanya didn’t remember most of it. She remembered the shoving, then she remembered a wet feeling on her face and hands about when the lightning hit. It scared her, bad. Her mother told her she understood and it would help keep her safe if it had to, but she needed to keep a leash n it when she could, so she did.
It took years, but she was finally able to regulate it most of the time to a voice in her head she could either listen to or ignore, filtering it’s ideas through her own sanity. It still peeked out at times, and got her into situations she probably should have been more careful in, like drinking or the bedroom. Her college boyfriend worried about her at times and would only half-jokingly refer to her as the ‘sex motorcycle’ as in ‘a little choke, a good kick and a firm grip on the controls and off she purrs.’
She mellowed out as she got out of college, but a lot of that was a better understanding and agreement with the little voice that still tried to talk her into bad things.
Even now, sitting here and thinking back on those times, the voice tried again.
‘He’s already seen you naked…’
‘He’s my son. Period.’ She knew rules didn’t matter to the voice, so she told him the other half to shut him up. ‘Besides, he’s far too young and kind-hearted to give you what you want, what you need.”
The voice went back to sleep. She wished she could. Since that wasn’t in the cards, she started heating water for food and coffee. The sunrise should be pretty. Her mother loved sunrises.
Last edited:
223shootersc
Veteran Member
Thanks, CCG!
ComCamGuy
Remote Paramedical pain in the ass
Monica
At The House
The first barn was less than exciting. It held such things as a tractor, complete with the various attachments and parts to support it. Bucket, tines, brushcutter, trailer, posthole digger and who knew what else. They were all under tarps with a layer of dust, obviously not having been used for a couple seasons. There were other tools out here as well; backpack style leafblower, weedeater, chainsaws, all the various things to properly take car of the land, along with a toolbench and toolchest to support it. At one side was a set of fuel pumps just like you would see at an older mid-seventies gas station. It had two nozzles, one marked diesel and one marked MoGas.
Monica knew the tanks for these were deep underground outside. She remembered when dad would have them filled about every other year. The huge truck had segmented tanks and would pump fuel and stabilizer into the tanks back here and the other two by the other barn. It wasn’t as scary as when the guy would come out with the giant propane truck. Whenever she saw that truck, all she could think of was ‘bomb’.
She was thinking about this and all the other things buried out here. That was her mother’s fault. Her mother always felt better with things below ground, tunnels, underground storage, buried fuel tanks, concrete cisterns, battery banks, and so on and so forth. Her mother was like a squirrel when it came to such things. If it made her mother happy, her father was more than happy to do it. He believed in preparation, she felt the safest place was underground.
She was walking around looking at all of this and Greta was just following along, unsure of what Monica was doing or how to help. That was fair, since Monica didn’t know what she was doing either.
They went to the last of the major barns. When Monica went inside, she was amazed again at how clean and modern it looked inside compared to the dilapidated look on the outside.
In here was where all the extra stuff for the cars was kept. The two garages in the house were for the things they drove all the time. Out here was where extra parts and such were kept, along with a couple project cars.
The center of the space was where things got worked on. There was a full set of automotive tools, a lift, and everything else someone could want. This space was empty right now. One wall had large shelves with parts and pieces for who knew what and along the other wall was where there was an older International Scout that was her father’s prior vehicle before he transferred his ideas and designs to the Bronco, and older Land Rover that her mother used to drive and her mother’s pride and joy daily driver, an old-school AMC AMX.
It was sitting there under a cover. Without lifting the sheet, Monica knew it was in pristine condition, ready to go at the twist of the key. Her father put it there after her mother died. Before he put the cover over it, he told them he was keeping it ready for her. They knew he didn’t think she was ever coming back to drive it. It was more about a way to relive the memories of being with her.
Everything was just like he had stepped away to run to the grocery store, not died. They didn’t change anything after his passing other than Monica had used the Bronco once or twice and had it at the apartment for some reason when everything went to shit.
After checking this building, she had enough memories fighting in her head. It was time to go back into the house.
“OK, Greta, everything looks secure. Let’s head back in.”
At The House
The first barn was less than exciting. It held such things as a tractor, complete with the various attachments and parts to support it. Bucket, tines, brushcutter, trailer, posthole digger and who knew what else. They were all under tarps with a layer of dust, obviously not having been used for a couple seasons. There were other tools out here as well; backpack style leafblower, weedeater, chainsaws, all the various things to properly take car of the land, along with a toolbench and toolchest to support it. At one side was a set of fuel pumps just like you would see at an older mid-seventies gas station. It had two nozzles, one marked diesel and one marked MoGas.
Monica knew the tanks for these were deep underground outside. She remembered when dad would have them filled about every other year. The huge truck had segmented tanks and would pump fuel and stabilizer into the tanks back here and the other two by the other barn. It wasn’t as scary as when the guy would come out with the giant propane truck. Whenever she saw that truck, all she could think of was ‘bomb’.
She was thinking about this and all the other things buried out here. That was her mother’s fault. Her mother always felt better with things below ground, tunnels, underground storage, buried fuel tanks, concrete cisterns, battery banks, and so on and so forth. Her mother was like a squirrel when it came to such things. If it made her mother happy, her father was more than happy to do it. He believed in preparation, she felt the safest place was underground.
She was walking around looking at all of this and Greta was just following along, unsure of what Monica was doing or how to help. That was fair, since Monica didn’t know what she was doing either.
They went to the last of the major barns. When Monica went inside, she was amazed again at how clean and modern it looked inside compared to the dilapidated look on the outside.
In here was where all the extra stuff for the cars was kept. The two garages in the house were for the things they drove all the time. Out here was where extra parts and such were kept, along with a couple project cars.
The center of the space was where things got worked on. There was a full set of automotive tools, a lift, and everything else someone could want. This space was empty right now. One wall had large shelves with parts and pieces for who knew what and along the other wall was where there was an older International Scout that was her father’s prior vehicle before he transferred his ideas and designs to the Bronco, and older Land Rover that her mother used to drive and her mother’s pride and joy daily driver, an old-school AMC AMX.
It was sitting there under a cover. Without lifting the sheet, Monica knew it was in pristine condition, ready to go at the twist of the key. Her father put it there after her mother died. Before he put the cover over it, he told them he was keeping it ready for her. They knew he didn’t think she was ever coming back to drive it. It was more about a way to relive the memories of being with her.
Everything was just like he had stepped away to run to the grocery store, not died. They didn’t change anything after his passing other than Monica had used the Bronco once or twice and had it at the apartment for some reason when everything went to shit.
After checking this building, she had enough memories fighting in her head. It was time to go back into the house.
“OK, Greta, everything looks secure. Let’s head back in.”
223shootersc
Veteran Member
Thanks, CCG!
feralferret
Veteran Member
Thank you!