Chapter 2b
He laughed. As answers go I find that laughter for a reply is never a good sign. I waited until he stopped, it wasn't long. He mumbled, "mmmm...yeah. Next convoy isn't due through here until tomorrow." He looked me over and added, "No offense Mister but if we get regular people passing through they ain't going to be to eager to let you climb in with them."
That made sense. "No bus or cart service?"
"No. Been talk that one might be starting up but as usual, its been nothing but talk. Going to be kind of hard to do since the road gets real bad in places once you get 20 miles or so north of Kanab. How did you get here?"
"Took the old Kanab road until my bike busted a fork."
"No shit. Did..."
He didn't get to finish. The same door I came I in busted open and the same scowl faced young man I had passed earlier rushed into the room. He barely made it a step into the room before I was back on my feet, both guns drawn and cocked, one pointed at sleepyhead, the other at him.
Two things saved his life. The AK was at port arms and he yelled "Dad!" as he came through the door. He froze in place when he saw me. We all did. Sleepyhead handled it better than I expected. He told the kid, "Damn it Jacob. I hope you fed the cat." Jacob relaxed. I didn't. I told him, "Jacob. Go tell your backup it's okay." He looked at his dad who nodded and then he yelled out the door, "We got a cat!" Now I understood. Safe words and phrases.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Thursday, July 28, 2011
The Unknown - Chapter 2a - by nova
Chapter 2a
I skirted the edge of the houses. I had no desire to catch a round because someone found me threatening. I did, with great difficulty, restrain my self from stomping a small mixed breed dog who dogged me for all but the last 100 paces yapping mindlessly and shrilly.
A young man came out of the house on my left and watched me walk on by. He didn't seem friendly but he never pointed the AK he was carrying at me either. I waved, he scowled, and the fucking dog yipped. When I crossed the cattle guard at the bottom of the hill I flipped yappy the dog off, paused to check out the view again and get a feel for the place. Nothing off was in the air so I climbed the wooden stairs into the "office" and stepped inside.
I wished I hadn't almost immediately. It was hotter than Hell inside that metal box. The guy on duty was behind a wooden desk, his feet up on it, and he was sound asleep. Was there something in the air here? Was the fed gov spraying a sleeping agent in the air as prep for the invasion? It couldn't be that dead here?
I mulled evil ways to wake him up starting with kicking his feet off the desk but I quickly disregarded that one because I was afraid my boot would fall apart even more if that was possible. I ran through a couple more, decided the Hell with it, and sat down in the chair in front of his desk.
"Hey sleepyhead!"
Unfortunately he didn't fall out of his chair. I momentarily regretted not busting a cap or pulling the desk out from under him. His, "Oh shit!" wasn't bad but it was thin gruel to what could have been.
"Who the Hell are you?"
I just stared at him.
His bluster and anger drained out him in about 3 beats. In a completely different tone of voice he asked me "Can I help you sir?"
"Any chance I can get a ride into town?"
I skirted the edge of the houses. I had no desire to catch a round because someone found me threatening. I did, with great difficulty, restrain my self from stomping a small mixed breed dog who dogged me for all but the last 100 paces yapping mindlessly and shrilly.
A young man came out of the house on my left and watched me walk on by. He didn't seem friendly but he never pointed the AK he was carrying at me either. I waved, he scowled, and the fucking dog yipped. When I crossed the cattle guard at the bottom of the hill I flipped yappy the dog off, paused to check out the view again and get a feel for the place. Nothing off was in the air so I climbed the wooden stairs into the "office" and stepped inside.
I wished I hadn't almost immediately. It was hotter than Hell inside that metal box. The guy on duty was behind a wooden desk, his feet up on it, and he was sound asleep. Was there something in the air here? Was the fed gov spraying a sleeping agent in the air as prep for the invasion? It couldn't be that dead here?
I mulled evil ways to wake him up starting with kicking his feet off the desk but I quickly disregarded that one because I was afraid my boot would fall apart even more if that was possible. I ran through a couple more, decided the Hell with it, and sat down in the chair in front of his desk.
"Hey sleepyhead!"
Unfortunately he didn't fall out of his chair. I momentarily regretted not busting a cap or pulling the desk out from under him. His, "Oh shit!" wasn't bad but it was thin gruel to what could have been.
"Who the Hell are you?"
I just stared at him.
His bluster and anger drained out him in about 3 beats. In a completely different tone of voice he asked me "Can I help you sir?"
"Any chance I can get a ride into town?"
The Unknown - Chapter 2 by nova
The Unknown - Chapter 2
He was right. It was almost two miles to the toll booth and road stop. I figured I could get a ride into Page, the nearest big town, buy some new boots and something to eat, and catch another ride to Flagstaff. I was looking good as far as making it to Flag and if Page looked interesting and had a good Mex restaurant I might hole up there for a few days. It all depended on what was running south and how fast it got there. Nowadays you never knew for certain what was being used for mass transportation. If I got jammed up I could always get word to my new employer. Wanabee warlords, if they could afford me, usually could afford the goodies that came with running a kingdom.
I had found out about this place from the two Navajos I had traded my bike to. I didn't get much as I was bargaining from a position that was one step up from nonexistent. At one point one of them told me, "Hey man, its not like that bike is going anywhere but you will eventually." My reply? "You want to watch me toss it off the side of that ridge over there? Then maybe drop some rocks on it?" They didn't have any problem believing I would do it either. I think it may of crossed their mind that I was also extremely well armed and we were out in the middle of nowhere. I ended up with enough water for 2 days and a pound of corn flour. I was happy. They were happy. It was one of my few win-win encounters. I kind of liked it but I didn't expect another one for at least five years.
I approached it from the back. Before I started down the dirt road to it I glassed it from the hill behind it. An hill that was crowned by a dried up pond that still had a wooden diving board sticking out of one side of the hill and as useless every hardon I had for the past six months. Willows grew around it and a few cattle skulls and bones littered the dry ground. Below me was a corral, then four houses and a trailer. Leading to them from the road below was an asphalt road that was not in the best of shape. Below that and off to the side of the road was a trailer and a small wooden building. A horse was tied to a rail in front and that was it.
Off to the right, sitting on a low plateau and maybe 8 miles away was the town of Page. In between here and there was the Colorado River, the still intact bridge, and the ruined hulk of the Glen Canyon Dam. The lake behind it still had some water. Getting to it though looked like a real bitch. The water was one reason there was still a town. It and the bridge across the Colorado. Once upon a time the Navajo Electricity Generating Plant had been a big deal. I had been told in Salt Lake that the Saints were seriously considering cutting a deal with the Navajo Nation and doing a joint project to bring it back, at least partially, online. It was an ugly looking plant and those three stacks must have done wonders for the air quality when they were running full tilt.
He was right. It was almost two miles to the toll booth and road stop. I figured I could get a ride into Page, the nearest big town, buy some new boots and something to eat, and catch another ride to Flagstaff. I was looking good as far as making it to Flag and if Page looked interesting and had a good Mex restaurant I might hole up there for a few days. It all depended on what was running south and how fast it got there. Nowadays you never knew for certain what was being used for mass transportation. If I got jammed up I could always get word to my new employer. Wanabee warlords, if they could afford me, usually could afford the goodies that came with running a kingdom.
I had found out about this place from the two Navajos I had traded my bike to. I didn't get much as I was bargaining from a position that was one step up from nonexistent. At one point one of them told me, "Hey man, its not like that bike is going anywhere but you will eventually." My reply? "You want to watch me toss it off the side of that ridge over there? Then maybe drop some rocks on it?" They didn't have any problem believing I would do it either. I think it may of crossed their mind that I was also extremely well armed and we were out in the middle of nowhere. I ended up with enough water for 2 days and a pound of corn flour. I was happy. They were happy. It was one of my few win-win encounters. I kind of liked it but I didn't expect another one for at least five years.
I approached it from the back. Before I started down the dirt road to it I glassed it from the hill behind it. An hill that was crowned by a dried up pond that still had a wooden diving board sticking out of one side of the hill and as useless every hardon I had for the past six months. Willows grew around it and a few cattle skulls and bones littered the dry ground. Below me was a corral, then four houses and a trailer. Leading to them from the road below was an asphalt road that was not in the best of shape. Below that and off to the side of the road was a trailer and a small wooden building. A horse was tied to a rail in front and that was it.
Off to the right, sitting on a low plateau and maybe 8 miles away was the town of Page. In between here and there was the Colorado River, the still intact bridge, and the ruined hulk of the Glen Canyon Dam. The lake behind it still had some water. Getting to it though looked like a real bitch. The water was one reason there was still a town. It and the bridge across the Colorado. Once upon a time the Navajo Electricity Generating Plant had been a big deal. I had been told in Salt Lake that the Saints were seriously considering cutting a deal with the Navajo Nation and doing a joint project to bring it back, at least partially, online. It was an ugly looking plant and those three stacks must have done wonders for the air quality when they were running full tilt.
The Unknown - Part 1d by nova
The Unknown - Part 1d
He passed me a ceramic jug that had been fitted into a woven wool sock. I pulled the carved pine cork and took a deep pull after weighing it in my hand. I did drink to deep, he had plenty, but sucking down all his water would have been bad manners. I was a lot of things but I tried to avoid being an asshole whenever possible. It was difficult, I had been told a few times that I came by it naturally, but I tried.
The water was cool and actually tasted good. Both were pleasant surprises. I handed it back to him, he weighed it in his hand without thinking, did some calculations, and asked me if I wanted another drink. Once upon a time I would have declined, This wasn't then and I was thirsty. I took another deep pour and handed it back. He didn't ask again.
"Okay. I'm good." I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. "I'm coming from Kanab. I was on a bike...I was taking the old highway, and hit a hole wrong about 5 miles out of town. I've been walking since." I didn't bother to add that I went through Kanab at night and my starting point had been a bit further north.
"My cousin Alicia, she lives there. She works at the Saints fort in the supply department. She says it's a great job. Sometimes she comes home and brings really good stuff like canned pineapple. Have you ever had that?" He took a breath and I got inside the conversational curve by asking him "There is supposed to be a road stop around here. How far am I from it?"
"Oh yeah. The toll place?"
"Yeah."
"About 2 miles that way." He pointed east and said "Just keep the mountain in front of you. You can't miss it."
You couldn't miss the mountain. It filled the horizon in the direction he had pointed. I wasn't so sure about the 'can't miss it' part but it was good to know I was close.
"You sure got a lot of guns. Is that real body armor? Are you a contractor? They said a really famous contractor was coming this way. Maybe you might know him. His name is..."
"Al. Work with me here. Not so many questions at the same time."
He actually looked embarrassed. "Sorry..."
"No problem. Yeah. it's real body armor. No. I'm not a contractor. I'm doing my two year mission and I lost my name tag and partner awhile ago."
He didn't look like he totally believed the last part. Maybe half of it. Damn, somebody let this kid run around by himself?
I knew why he thought that. First off I was one. Second, well, I was probably one of the best armed men in the state. I usually was no matter where I was.
I was wearing plate armor sewn inside a custom made canvas vest that I had lined with cotton except for the slits I had cut slits in it to allow me to be semi cool. I had thought it was a pretty good idea at the time but it didn't make any difference that I had noticed. It did allow me to reach through and scratch my self a lot easier so it wasn't a totally stupid idea.
My belt was held up a Y rig made out of leather and had a fighting knife attached to it and two leather pouches. My gun belt was tooled leather hung with two holsters filled with a Ruger .357 each. My cartridge loops were empty because I didn't like sparkling in the sun. A pouch hung off that with two spare cylinders for the Navy Colt I kept tucked in the belt, another modification I had added was a loop inside the belt for the barrel to slide through and help me keep it in place. A K-98 bayonet hung just behind my left side Ruger and I had a .38 snubbie in my boot. The Y rig had a scabbard fitted to it and it had once held a sword. Now it held a Winchester 30-30. I was a walking gun store and while they all showed a lot of wear I kept them clean and oiled. My hardware, once considered stupidly retro was now state of the art, well, almost, and If I decided to sell it all I could afford to buy a farm. It would end up being the farm but I wasn't planning on selling them. Otherwise I really didn't care.
He passed me a ceramic jug that had been fitted into a woven wool sock. I pulled the carved pine cork and took a deep pull after weighing it in my hand. I did drink to deep, he had plenty, but sucking down all his water would have been bad manners. I was a lot of things but I tried to avoid being an asshole whenever possible. It was difficult, I had been told a few times that I came by it naturally, but I tried.
The water was cool and actually tasted good. Both were pleasant surprises. I handed it back to him, he weighed it in his hand without thinking, did some calculations, and asked me if I wanted another drink. Once upon a time I would have declined, This wasn't then and I was thirsty. I took another deep pour and handed it back. He didn't ask again.
"Okay. I'm good." I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand. "I'm coming from Kanab. I was on a bike...I was taking the old highway, and hit a hole wrong about 5 miles out of town. I've been walking since." I didn't bother to add that I went through Kanab at night and my starting point had been a bit further north.
"My cousin Alicia, she lives there. She works at the Saints fort in the supply department. She says it's a great job. Sometimes she comes home and brings really good stuff like canned pineapple. Have you ever had that?" He took a breath and I got inside the conversational curve by asking him "There is supposed to be a road stop around here. How far am I from it?"
"Oh yeah. The toll place?"
"Yeah."
"About 2 miles that way." He pointed east and said "Just keep the mountain in front of you. You can't miss it."
You couldn't miss the mountain. It filled the horizon in the direction he had pointed. I wasn't so sure about the 'can't miss it' part but it was good to know I was close.
"You sure got a lot of guns. Is that real body armor? Are you a contractor? They said a really famous contractor was coming this way. Maybe you might know him. His name is..."
"Al. Work with me here. Not so many questions at the same time."
He actually looked embarrassed. "Sorry..."
"No problem. Yeah. it's real body armor. No. I'm not a contractor. I'm doing my two year mission and I lost my name tag and partner awhile ago."
He didn't look like he totally believed the last part. Maybe half of it. Damn, somebody let this kid run around by himself?
I knew why he thought that. First off I was one. Second, well, I was probably one of the best armed men in the state. I usually was no matter where I was.
I was wearing plate armor sewn inside a custom made canvas vest that I had lined with cotton except for the slits I had cut slits in it to allow me to be semi cool. I had thought it was a pretty good idea at the time but it didn't make any difference that I had noticed. It did allow me to reach through and scratch my self a lot easier so it wasn't a totally stupid idea.
My belt was held up a Y rig made out of leather and had a fighting knife attached to it and two leather pouches. My gun belt was tooled leather hung with two holsters filled with a Ruger .357 each. My cartridge loops were empty because I didn't like sparkling in the sun. A pouch hung off that with two spare cylinders for the Navy Colt I kept tucked in the belt, another modification I had added was a loop inside the belt for the barrel to slide through and help me keep it in place. A K-98 bayonet hung just behind my left side Ruger and I had a .38 snubbie in my boot. The Y rig had a scabbard fitted to it and it had once held a sword. Now it held a Winchester 30-30. I was a walking gun store and while they all showed a lot of wear I kept them clean and oiled. My hardware, once considered stupidly retro was now state of the art, well, almost, and If I decided to sell it all I could afford to buy a farm. It would end up being the farm but I wasn't planning on selling them. Otherwise I really didn't care.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
The Unknown - Part 1c
The Unknown - Part 1c
He wasn't looking all that reassured but he told me, "Sure" and settled back down on his rock after yelling at the dogs to get back on the job. The sheep? It was a nonevent as far as they were concerned.
I settled down next to him on the rock. I kept his bike between us. No need in making him any more nervous than he already was.
"So how's the sheep ranching working out?" I asked him.
"He laughed and told me "It's the family business" and shrugged.
For a second the thought that this might be an awkward conversation flashed through my head. It wasn't. The kid wanted to talk. He was seriously lonely.That was okay with me. I needed data.
"How did you get here? Are there more of you? Do you have a horse? You got some nice gear! Where did you get it? Is that body armor?"
I sighed. I hated multiple questions slung at me like that.
"You got a name?"
"Oh yeah. I'm Al. Al Tsingine. That's short for Alfred. It was my Grandfathers name."
Damn. This kid was a puppy. "That was a lot of questions Al. You have any water?"
He blinked, and smiled, the kid was a smiler but his people generally were, "Ah sure. Sorry. I've been out here for 7 days and ..." He didn't finish it. He didn't need to. I was supposed to know the rest. I could have answered, "Yeah? I've been out here for 12 days by myself and I have enjoyed it. Well, yesterday I got horny but other than that I don't have a problem with it." I didn't. He didn't need to know. Plus I wanted to keep him talking and getting him weirded out wouldn't help.
He wasn't looking all that reassured but he told me, "Sure" and settled back down on his rock after yelling at the dogs to get back on the job. The sheep? It was a nonevent as far as they were concerned.
I settled down next to him on the rock. I kept his bike between us. No need in making him any more nervous than he already was.
"So how's the sheep ranching working out?" I asked him.
"He laughed and told me "It's the family business" and shrugged.
For a second the thought that this might be an awkward conversation flashed through my head. It wasn't. The kid wanted to talk. He was seriously lonely.That was okay with me. I needed data.
"How did you get here? Are there more of you? Do you have a horse? You got some nice gear! Where did you get it? Is that body armor?"
I sighed. I hated multiple questions slung at me like that.
"You got a name?"
"Oh yeah. I'm Al. Al Tsingine. That's short for Alfred. It was my Grandfathers name."
Damn. This kid was a puppy. "That was a lot of questions Al. You have any water?"
He blinked, and smiled, the kid was a smiler but his people generally were, "Ah sure. Sorry. I've been out here for 7 days and ..." He didn't finish it. He didn't need to. I was supposed to know the rest. I could have answered, "Yeah? I've been out here for 12 days by myself and I have enjoyed it. Well, yesterday I got horny but other than that I don't have a problem with it." I didn't. He didn't need to know. Plus I wanted to keep him talking and getting him weirded out wouldn't help.
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