#I think I’ll build my own pedal board soon though just so I can actually play volta songs to completion with the intended effects

[dex-starr]

At the Drive-In - One Armed Scissor

[damn-stark]

Telepathy and Telekinesis

Diego Hargreeves x Fem!Reader

Requested by @rachelcarrol1819 “Hi can you do a imagine where the reader is number 8 and has the power over telpathy and telenkies and ends up in a relationship with Diego please and thank you”

Warning-violence, swearing, sort of long.

Episode- 2x10

————

“No, Diego’s mind is like,” you pause and pretend to be in deep thought, tapping your chin with your finger before extending your hand out and leaving your palm open as you used your power to snatch the bag of chips from Klaus’s hand and welcome it to your hand with a smile that slowly turned into a grin as you continued teasing Diego. “It’s like those big boards the police use to map out their evidence and information.”

‘Evidence board’ Diego corrected you inside his head.

“Exactly.” You blurt out, “an evidence board!”

Diego’s head snapped your direction to shoot you a burning glare. “Hey! I said out of my head!”

You shrug, “sorry.”

Klaus snickered and a confident smile grew on his lips, “you could never get into my mind—”

You snort, “actually yeah I can, you know that already, yours is the easiest one. Your thoughts are loud and all over the place.” Klaus lets out a small huff before he snatches his chips back from your hand; “The only person's mind I can’t read anymore is five’s.” You lean forward and rest your arms on the back of his seat while your chin rests on your hands. “Indulge us for a moment, no?”

At your suggestion the rest of your siblings inside the car turn their attention to Five and you, watching curiously and with an amused look decorated on their features.

Five on the other hand just looks forward and doesn’t bother to look back to answer bluntly, “no.”

You smirk and lift your head from its resting position so you could move one of your hands towards his head to make it easier that way, but he catches on to what you were trying to do without a single look and swats your hand away. “I’ve spent years building my own immunity to keep you away,” he pauses for a couple seconds and you could practically hear his smirk, “you could never get into my head.”

‘Maybe not when he’s sober.’ Diego thought, this time in a loud manner where he knew you had caught his secret comment. Even though it contradicted his previous complaint—he only hated it when you got into his mind without him knowing or at all actually. It wasn’t like before when he used to stutter where he would prefer using your telepathy to talk; he would let you read his thoughts and would let you share your own in his mind.

Now it was rare the time where he would let you know what he was thinking, and usually when he did it was to share small comments like those. It made you happy when he did because it gave you assurance that he and you still shared that same bond that you didn’t have with the others

You smirk and lean back in your seat, suppressing a laugh before sharing your thought response to Diego, ‘exactly. How much do you think it would take to get him drunk?’

‘Have you seen his little body? Not a lot.’

This time you’re more unsuccessful at keeping your laugh a secret and let it slip, receiving odd looks from the siblings around you, something you now knew how to ignore, just like the very general thoughts that came with a look as quizcall as the one they shot you now. Just like how you knew how to block out everyone’s thoughts, it had taken years, but it was something very appreciated since there weren't constant loud thoughts swirling around you anymore. It was irritating to say the least.

Now using your telepathy was a choice. Not like riding in this car with all seven of the other Hargreeves. They all may get annoying at times, but sticking by their side when one of them needed it was never choice. Especially not when it came to Diego.

“Is it just me or did it just get cold all of a sudden.” Klaus complained.

You shrug and are about to turn down his comment, but the sudden cold wave then hits you too, causing chills to crawl up your spine—“no not just you.” You shiver and see the puff of air come out of your mouth as you talk.

“Is that,” Vanya speaks up, leaning in her seat to get a better view out the windshield, “a snowstorm?” She pressed on the gas pedal further down to speed up the car, turning into a driveway of a farmhouse where the big grey cloud storm was raging over.

Vanya stopped the car and everybody began to get out, the attention all on the snow falling and the cloud above, causing Diego to to question it first before anyone else could. “You think whatever’s going on inside is causing the cold front?”

You shut the door behind you and narrow your gaze on the lightning storming from the same cloud, “well the correlation is high.”

Shortly after the door sounds from the barn and a blond woman walks out making Vanya slam her car door and rush to her as she shouted her name? “Sissy! Sissy!”

The woman’s energy however doesn’t match Vanyas as...Sissy pulls out a shotgun and points it at all of you. “Get back! All of you, just get the hall back!”

“Sissy!”

You freeze in your spot next to Diego and shoot Sissy and her shotgun a pointed gaze. So much for coming to help her out.

Vanya ran up in front of you all of you and began to try and reassure the women, throwing her hand out to stop her. “Hey! Hey! What’s wrong?”

“Carl.” She deadpans, her eyes bouncing from you and the rest of your group.

You sigh and cross your arms over your chest, sharing your thoughts to Diego’s mind, ‘we don’t have time for this, we need to stop what the kid is causing before it ends badly.’

He doesn’t respond to you but he does step and say your thought out loud, “y/n is right, we don’t have time for this Vanya.”

The woman suddenly points the gun at Diego as he moves, “where do you think you’re going?”

Diego puts his hand out to try and reassure her and stop her from shooting the gun, making your eyes intent on the woman and step up with your hand on the ready. “To help your son.”

Vanya keeps trying to assure Sissy and you feel Luther's hand on your shoulder, knowing your intentions before you could even try them. You meet his gaze over your shoulder and hesitate on listening doing so only as the woman begins to lower her gun.

Sissy questions, “Were you lying to me this whole time?”

Vanya shakes her head and tries to get closer, “Of course not. Look I didn’t know who I was, but I do now. And we are not the monsters they say we are. We didn’t kill the president. We are not terrorists. We’re not here to hurt anyone.”

Sissy pants softly, “then...who are you?”

“The only one who can help Harlan.”

Well that’s putting it short.

Sissy hesitates but ultimately tells all you to follow her inside the Barn with Vanya quick to rush inside and help the family she had supposedly been living with since Five’s failed time travel. Immediately coming to see the cause of the storm. A little boy, with this energy field flying around him that caused a wind storm on the inside. Looking almost as Vanya had when she used her powers to accidentally destroy the world; only the kid didn’t turn white or have control, he floated in the air and his body shook as if he were having a seizure, right away without having to use your powers you knew he was scared out of his mind. Like all of you were when you were his age.

“Harlan, it’s Vanya! Look, Harlan, I know you’re really scared, but I can help you. I need you to listen to me, okay? Can you do that?” Vanya then turned to you, “can you calm him down? Talk to him with your powers?”

Your eyes flicker to the boy and then to Vanya, shooting her an apologetic look, “I can try, but he doesn’t know me, I’ll only scare him more, but you can, I know so.”

Vanya let’s out a shaky exhale and nods, “yeah, okay.” Her eyes then turn white and she takes a step inside the field surrounding the boy, letting the rest of you stand back and watch as she tries to assure the boy, only seconds passing before Klaus begins to call out your attention. “Uh, guys?!”

Your head snaps to Klaus and you like the rest of your siblings join him by the window to see two figures standing very menacingly in the distance. Your gaze narrows and you breath out, “who are they?”

“Ones the handler, the others Diego’s girlfriend.”

Your nose scrunches and you instantly look over your shoulder to Diego, your question coming out unnecessarily sharp “what?”

He meets your gaze and quickly corrects Five, “Lila. That’s my ex-girlfriend.”

“You know what? Doesn’t matter. They both look angry.” Luther points out.

Five agrees, “yeah.”

“Our brother has the effect on people.” Allison remarks.

“I’m gonna go find what they want. You guys stay with Vanya and the kid.”

Diego is quick to interject, “yeah, I’m going too.”

And just like that, Allison, Klaus, Luther and you are left behind. Not really doing as Five suggested, but instead walking out minutes after and stopping not even halfway.

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Allison wondered.

You shrug, “I don’t know.”

“Which one's the girlfriend?” Luther asks, again making your eyebrows furrow and your nose scrunch, an anger beginning to burn inside you at the slightest mention, leaving Luther's question unanswered and glaring at the group in the distance until your jaw dropped as hundreds of other people began to appear from out of nowhere and join the field.

You sigh, “holy shit.” You take one step forward to get ready to fight, but then the lady with the weird big hat pulls out something red you couldn’t quite make out, but you could find meaning from here—shit...without having to look at those beside you, you're quick to warn them. ‘Run!’—not even a second later shouting is heard and shooting is soon to follow. You could try and stop them, give your siblings beside you time to really hide, but there were too many and all too fast, the second you’ try to stop and try to stop the bullets you’d be dead with hundreds of holes in your body. So that wasn’t smart. Which is why you let Allison pull you behind a cart to let Luther wrap his arms around all three of you for some form of extra protection from the incoming bullets that were already getting stopped by the cart. But that too could fail at any moment, and all feelings left unsaid, unshared would be lost forever and dead alongside you.

The end of the Umbrella Academy would all come to this point, not even in your own time and yet as that came to mind, none of it mattered as much as Diego did. The concern for your well-being wasn’t as high as Diego’s who was out in the open, hopefully not dead. Of course you loved the rest of your siblings, even if you joined their family years later, you still cared for them, like they did you, they were a family you never had. But Diego, well he always had a special place in your heart that the others didn’t.

And now it was all going to be gone and left unspoken—

“Ahh,” suddenly a high pitched sound hits your ears and your hands fly to cover them, whilst your eyes flicker up to see Vanya floating out the farm, looking as she did what seemed to decades go. White and a blue hue surrounding her. Letting you all know what was to come, causing Luther to press the three of you closer to himself and try and protect you from what may come.

Making everything go silent and making the bullets stop like how they began so out of a sudden.

Letting out a relieved breath of air you let Luther's arm go and began to pull away, hearing Allison comment, “it’s over.”

And it also wasn’t.

Slowly you began to stand up and poke your head out above the hay carts, seeing the once sea of people all on the ground, the only two left just the same two women from before. Somehow.

“How are they doing that?” Luther asked what you all were thinking, all collectively noticing a blue field surrounding the two disappear and another blue source of light to appear from the woman with the dark. Again somehow.

“Shit.”

The same high pitch sounded and just like Vanya a wave of the same blue force was thrown and you all were thrown back. Your back hitting the barn wall with a loud and painful thud, surprisingly staying conscious after the outcome.

You groan, “fuck that hurt.” You slowly sit up to see your siblings are now scattered, a recognizable brunette struggling in the distance. Feeling your gaze, his attention snapped to you, calling out to you instantly.

“Y/N help!”

Jumping up to your feet you quickly rush over to him, throwing your hand out to use your powers to throw the tractor off Diego. That with really no effort at all, not like helping him up.

You smile softly, “you okay?”

He nods and cradles your cheeks, “yeah, never better. What about you?”

“I’ve gone through worse.”

His gaze lingers on your face and he smiles, “I’ve got to tell you something.”

“Me too.”

Diego swallows thickly and his thumb strokes your cheek, “I thought you were dead, which is why I got with Lila, I’m sorry. Just know that I never stopped...I-I” he pauses and his eyebrows furrow as he fumbles with his words.

A bright grin tugs at the corner of your lips, “it’s okay.” You assure him, “you don’t have to say it out loud.” Letting you read his mind, he insteads lets you read what he thought.

‘I never stopped loving you. Never.’

‘I love you too, Diego.’

Your hands hold his and just as you’re going to close the small gap left you hear the snow crunching beside you, the sight of your siblings catching the corner of your eye as they rush to come and join your side.

Diego let’s go and shares one last thing, ‘later.’

He pulls away at the same time your siblings surround the two of you.

Diego rushed up to Luther excited and very smugly, “team Zero! Unstoppable!” Diego tries to give him a high-five, but Luther instead meets his hand with a fist pump. Ultimately punching Diego’s palm and a small wince coming out his lips thereafter.

“Uh..”

“Has anyone seen five?” Allison finally asks.

“I don’t know he’s around here somewhere.” Luther again turns his attention towards Diego. “By the way your ex-girlfriend can blink like five.”

Allison nodded and added, “yeah, that bitch just rumored me so I couldn’t breathe.”

“And destroyed, like, had the farm with a shock wave. So unoriginal.” Klaus interjected.

“If she can do everything we can, she might as well just be one of us.” Vanya shared, letting a lightbulb go off in your mind at the new conclusion….

Shit…

Slowly all your siblings realizing the same thing. Their expressions and their running thoughts giving it away.

Luther chuckled nervously and then his amused grin dropped, “No, there's no way. It can’t be.”

Allison shrugs, “it’s a reasonable conclusion.”

“Eh, but there were only eight of us.” Klaus tries to dismiss.

Your eyebrows knot, “yeah, but I only came ten years later after your father took you all from your parents. So, maybe we need to consider that there’s more of us out there that ended up undiscovered at birth like me.”

Alison blinks, “are we surprised? I mean dad never told us the whole truth about anything.”

Diego’s steps up, “but she’s like y/n, right? She’s not our biological sister right?”

You blink and your jaw again drops at his cluelessness, “uh, I’m just not going to try.”—Not even try to read what he’s thinking.

Luther shakes his head and ignores Diego’s comment all together. “Okay, so, if she can mirror our powers, that means anything we throw at her, she can match, right?”

“Yeah,” Klaus agrees, “but she can only mirror one of our powers at a time.”

“You sure about that?” Allison questions.

“We can always try it, right?” You interject confidently, “nothing wrong with trying.”

——

Okay.

Well, apparently everything was wrong with trying since well...you died, but also came back to life thanks to Five. But in that, Lila also left.

So, trying, let everything go wrong.

Like always.

The only good thing that came out trying was that your siblings and Diego were all alive.

“You doing, okay?” You ask Diego softly.

His eyes blink to meet yours, sharing a small but soft smile, “yeah, you’re alive and the rest of my siblings are fine, so it’s all okay.”

You take a seat beside him and rest your head on his shoulder, “we’re finally going home.”

Diego’s arm wraps around your shoulders and he pulls you closer to him, “yeah about time.” He pauses and you feel him kiss the top of your head, “I’m ready to finally take a break, y’know. From all this, even if just for a little while.”

You grin and nod, “okay...what would we do?”

Diego shrugs, “whatever you want.”

Pulling your head away, you face him and show him your smile, leaning in to press a small kiss on his lips. “I just want to be with you.”

Diego cups your cheeks and kisses you softly, letting you once again read what he was thinking—‘sounds like a plan.’

You grin, ‘good.’

[theonetheycallhannah]

The Treatment of Captain Syverson-Chapter 16: Sit Rep

Characters: Captain Logan “Sy” Syverson, various other original supporting/secondary characters (This includes Sy’s Army Buddies of varying rank as follows: Kevin Kaufmann, Nate Banning, Chad Randall, Matt Styles, Jake Ryburn, and Travis Hodges. I apologize if I’ve mixed up their names anywhere. I just gave them last names and sometimes rank so they could be called something other than their first names for sake of variety! lol!)

Summary: Sy meets up with his Army buddies and they are eager to help.

Romance and Smut Abound HERE!

Word Count: 4.5k

Warnings: Language, firearms, implication of abuse and violence

Author’s Note: Guys, we are getting closer! Our couple will be back together soon! I can’t wait and I know most of you feel the same! I hope the strike team members aren’t too muddled and confusing. If they are, I’m very open to your feedback and suggestions on how to clarify and improve! Thank you to everyone, long time readers, and new fans picked up along the way! I cherish you all, and would never have gotten this far in the story if it wasn’t for each and every one of you! I hope you enjoy the 16th chapter (18th installment…remember when I thought this would just be a few chapters of fluff with a smutty conclusion? Lol!) of The treatment of Captain Syverson.

Disclaimer: Unfortunately for me, Henry is not mine, le sigh, and all mention of him, his characters, any characters from his films, or his precious doggy, Kal, are strictly for transformative and recreational use. I neither ask for, nor accept payment for the work I post on Tumblr or AO3. Unbeta’d because this is for fun and escapism. This is an original work by me, Hannah. Please reblog if you wish to share. Please do not repost either in whole or part, as the work of anyone but myself. Thanks so much for reading!

Tags:

@onlyhenrys @cavillryarchive @summersong69 @titty-teetee @bloodyinspiredfuck @agniavateira @oddsnendsfanfics @omgkatinka @thisismysecretthirstblog @speakerforthedead0 @tumblnewby  @suavechops @radkesgirl83 @wheretheriversrunintothesea @heartfelt-pen @auds24  @geekycanuck @lunarstarknight @wilma-g  @coldmuffinbanditshoe @feralrunaway  @sugarpenchant @bichibibi @mzchievous-blog

If you want to be notified when I post a new chapter or work, I’ll be happy to add you to my tag list! Stricken blogs are getting personal messages from me when a new chapter is uploaded because Tumblr’s faulty tagging system will not stand in the way of me delivering what the people want!(?) lol! (Although…their lackadaisical notification system might…sorry for that. I have no control. lol!)

X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@X@

Sy sat in his truck in the parking lot of Cade's. He couldn't help but think about the last time he was here. The altercations with Elliott, both inside the bar and outside, the friendships he'd started to build with the other fellas in Shane's work group, the simple way Shane pulled off the elegance of minimalism with her wardrobe and makeup, the ride home…and the night of lovemaking that followed. He had made a mistake. He shouldn't have agreed to come tonight. He was gonna leave. His right hand reached for the keys in the ignition, a firm grip ready to set the engine roaring again, when he was startled by a rap at his window.

Tap-tappa-tap-tap his friend Kevin had just rhythmically knocked with one knuckle on the window. He was smiling and waving exuberantly, like a puppy whose master had just come home.

Sy's scowl softened into a sheepish grin and he knocked back tap-tap.  

Kevin waited near Sy's front fender while he got out of his truck.

"How ya doin' Kevin?" he greeted his old friend warmly.

"Alright, I s'pose! You?"

"Oh…I'm makin' it, I guess. What are you up to these days? Still workin' at the plant?" Kevin had worked for the 3M factory over in Lebanon, Missouri since his last tour. Sy knew if he just got him talking about his life, Sy wouldn't have to give him details about his own, which he was going to avoid like the plague, if he could tonight.

"Yup, I actually just got a promotion. I'm a line manager now." And Sy could barely congratulate him before he started delving into the details as the two men walked into Cade's.

It was already busy, even for a Friday night. But the rest of the guys had already claimed a table between the dart boards and the pool tables, and were working on a couple of pitchers of beer. The two were welcomed warmly and only slightly teased about walking in together.

With the group finally assembled, they began taking turns giving report on their lives. It began with Kevin, who, having already begun with Sy, continued with a brief recap for the others. Sy exhaled with relief when Matt, who was seated on the other side of Kevin piped up to speak next, having recently proposed to his long time girlfriend. They were going to get to him last, if at all. He listened as well as he could as he battled the troubled thoughts in his head by bombarding them with beer. Unbeknownst to him, his friend Nate, who'd organized the gathering, had been observing his behavior with curiosity, and a measure of concern. He didn't let Jake finish talking about his latest dalliance into what they were all sure was a pyramid scheme disguised as direct sales. Even though Jake insisted it was not.

"Well, I'm curious as to why Sy's been so tight-lipped all evening. What's on your mind, Captain?"

"Nothin' Nate. Just enjoying a few beers with old friends." Sy lied, not convincing anyone at the table, least of all Nate, who had been one of his closest friends while they were stationed together.

"If I wanted to hear bullshit, I'd have let Jake keep talking about the Duraplex scam."

"It's not a scam, guys, it's real supplements for busy people!" Jake defended.

"Can it, Hodges. We aren't buying it, and we aren't signing up to sell it, either." Nate focused again on Sy. "Come on, man. You told me on the phone you had a lot going on. What is it? Female troubles?" He snickered, as did the other guys.

Sy looked into his glass, through the foam and into the honey liquid below it with a rueful grin. "In a sense."

He took a huge drink of the beer, five gulps, nearly emptying it, fortifying himself to speak.

"My girlfriend is missing." Everyone froze in position as they processed this.

Half a dozen questions hit his ears at once. Which he could have handled if he hadn't had almost a full pitcher by himself.

He shut them down, and began to tell them the story of how he met Shane and their sort of whirlwind romance. He paused for a moment to pour himself another beer.

"Never heard you talk about a woman like that, Sy." His friend Chad piped up.

"Never felt this way before, man. She's…she's the one."

"You said she was missing, though?" Nate asked, brow furrowed in concern.

Sy continued, talking about their argument, reconciliation, and then his leaving for training, ending his briefing with the phone call he got from Shane's boss.

"That's fucked up, man." Matt said. "What are you gonna do about it?" His worry seemed genuine, as well, as if he was putting himself in Sy's shoes. Sy assumed because he had been in love with Tonya, his now fiancé since they were in high school, even though she didn't come around on him until he came home on leave one holiday weekend.

"I've already gone to the police with my statement and an idea for a prime suspect."

"You think she was kidnapped?" Brad Randall, who was a Sergeant for the Rolla Police Department, inquired.

"I personally have no doubts that she was kidnapped, and I am a hun'ert percent certain it was her shithead ex."

"And you don't think she's just…ghosted you?" Brad prompted. The thought put a painful tightness in Sy's chest, but it passed quickly. He knew she wouldn't do that. And not just to him.

"No way, man. She left her phone. She didn't tell work. She didn't even tell her parents. Shane takes her phone with her from room to room. She's glued to it. She'd never do that to her coworkers, who are practically family, and she'd certainly tell her parents if she was going to leave town for any amount of time. It's just…not her. I know her."

"And who's this ex? What's his deal? Why is he on the short list of suspects?"

"He IS the list, Brad. He was abusive when they were together. And a cheater. And a liar. And he tried to jump me right outside just a few weeks back. Ask Candace. She was behind the bar when he started getting in Shane's face up there. And I'd bet she saw what happened out in the parking lot, too." He gestured to the sporty blonde bartender with a high ponytail and a Cardinal's jersey when he mentioned her, and then pointed toward the windows looking out onto the dozen or more vehicles parked outside.

"Can we do anything?" Kevin asked, clamping a hand on Sy's shoulder.

"Nothin'. But I appreciate the offer, brother." And he returned the contact with a clap to the other man's shoulder.

Nate and Brad exchanged pointed looks, and Nate countered Sy's rejection.

"I wouldn't say THAT, Sy."

"What do you mean?" Sy looked at Nate as if he was pedaling snake oil…or Jake's supplements.

"I think…that we CAN do something. To help you find Shane."

"We all have military experience, and some of us have connections that could be very useful." Added Brad. "I'm on the Force. I can handle getting intel on the guy."

"I'm in to help with transpo." Matt Styles raised his hand to offer up the vehicles in his transportation service, Rydes with Styles. Sy hated when words were misspelled for the sake of gimmicks…but he had to give Matt credit for that one.

"And Travis and I still work at the base. We can arrange gear." Jake added as Travis nodded.

"And whatever else you need, I'm in too." Kevin concluded.

"No way, guys. You can't stick your necks out for me like that. I won't have it."

"Sy…You know I talked to Lopez after that last mission the two of you were on?" Travis met Sy's eye as he spoke. "He said you had your team carry out Kominski's body. And that you took on most of, and then all of his bodyweight, just so Freeman could cover everyone. Said you were hurt, yourself, but helped him, carried him, to your extraction point. Up several flights of stairs."

Sy had no response other than a blank stare. It seemed to say all it needed to, because Travis continued.

"Lopez is alive and the Kominski girls got to say a proper goodbye to David. Plus, that mission WAS a success because you got the target. I know it's still classified, but…I think we all know the significance of what you did by leading that mission. You didn't leave a man, living or dead, behind."

"And we aren't gonna let your girl get left behind, either. We're gonna take that sonofabitch out. Because what do we do?" Nate declared, ending with the call Sy had always used at the end of his mission briefs.

The whole table, including a reluctant Sy, recited “We embrace the darkness and the suffering.”

“And why do we do it?” Nate continued.

“So that our fellow man is free to live in peace." Sy looked around the table at all of these men he had served with, fought with, watched comrades fall with, and fought against tyranny with. He thought most of them could have come up with their own story about his role in their military time, but the mission Travis was talking about outlined what he figured was the most significant sacrifice he had ever made for a teammate.

"Well…I guess we need to come up with a plan, then." Sy smiled and finished off the beer in his glass before laying it out for the others.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sy had given them all missions tailored to their own strengths and connections. Brad would gather all the info he could on Elliott. Matt would reserve vehicles. Jake and Travis would procure tactical gear for the team, and Nate…Nate would provide weapons. Pistols and blades. Ammo. Holsters. Even flash grenades and smoke bombs.

Cade's was too public to talk about their plans, so Sy told everyone to rendezvous at his house the very next afternoon. They sat around the patio table on his back deck while they waited for everyone to arrive. Jake was late.

"Well, I guess 'direct sales' waits for no man, and we can't wait for Ryburn anymore. Styles, report?" Sy commenced the meeting.

"I have three Suburbans that are only a couple years old. They're black, discreet, and all glass is tinted within an inch of it's life. Even the license plate covers. I'll make sure they're fueled and ready." Matt stated.

"Aces. Richardson?" Travis spoke up next.

"Yeah, Jake had to go in for a late shift last night after we met, but I talked to him. He's gonna get vests for everyone, eyewear, comms, the whole works. All rated for Black Ops. He told me a bit ago he was following up on a lead and was hoping it would pan out. Said he had a hunch." Travis shrugged, not certain what his friend was up to, but not that concerned.

"Sounds good. Randall?"

"I made up some dossiers for everyone that includes everything I could find on Thomas. He doesn't have a ton of priors. Mostly drunk and disorderly's that were thrown out, because he got the right representation and the wrong judge. He must have someone backing him, because I have no job on file for him. No employer has run a background on him in ten years. Last known address is from six years ago, when he filed a change of address from an apartment in the Cottage Hills complex to…407 Oak Street."

"That's Shane's address." Sy interjected. "He must not have changed it since she kicked him out."

"It seems so. But it's so weird. I don't see any credit cards, online orders, not even a Netflix account on the guy. He's totally fallen off the grid since Shane. I did get into some social media accounts, but he hasn't posted to anything in the last 18 months."

"Really?"

"Yeah, he was posting hot and heavy about this girl, Kara Hutch. 37. Lives over in Waynesville. But his last Facebook status just says, 'What a waste.' and 'feeling betrayed' and that was in February of last year."

"Hmm, do you think--" Sy was interrupted by the unexpectedly loud and abrupt sound of his front door flying open and Aika, with them on the deck, barking like they were about to be murdered. She was ready to kill whatever came through next. The men, all of them battle hardened veterans sporting conceal and carry permits, were out of their seats and in defensive stances in a fraction of a second. Aiming at an unseen enemy. A figure approached in the shadow of Sy's kitchen, arms raised and slowing as it saw several barrels aimed for its head and chest.

"Woah, woah, woah, guys it's me! It's Jake! Stand down!"

"Are you FUCKING INSANE, Corporal!?" Sy asked, reverting to Captain mode. "You just snuck up on and burst in on a group of soldiers. Do you comprehend how close you came to looking more like Swiss Cheese than a man, Ryburn?!" Sy scolded, fire in him rising, but more out of an angry concern for the friend they nearly shot.

"Sorry, sir, err, Sy. I was focused on getting here for my report." Jake said, out of breath.

"Travis already told us about the gear, Ryburn. You didn't need to bust in like that." Nate berated.

"Oh, guys. What I've got is way better than night vision devices. I might have an address for our guy."

"How in seven hells did YOU get an address?" Brad exclaimed, pride wounded as intel was his task.

"I know, dude, that was on you, but…I overheard a conversation when I was doing some work on equipment in the Air Traffic Control tower."

"What could you have possibly overheard in ATC?" Sy was incredulous.

"Do you want me to tell you, or would you like to keep screaming at me?"

Sy called Aika off and let Jake onto the deck, but the German Shepherd was still eyeing the corporal with marked skepticism.

"So I kept hearing this controller talking to the other girl at her station. She kept talking about her boyfriend…whose name was Elliott." Eyebrows went up all around the table. "Yeah, and he fit the description in every way. Physical appearance, textbook narcissism, the works. I went to the personnel office when I got done with the service call and told the attendant that the girl had helped me with my gear and I wanted to send her an email to thank her. She gave me a contact sheet on Sasha King. I looked her up on my lunchbreak, and found some photos of her with a guy I think might be Elliott." Jake showed Sy an image he'd saved to his phone. "Is this him?"

"Yup, that's the guy." Sy's blood was boiling again at the smiles on the couple's faces. He didn't deserve happiness. He didn't deserve a pretty girlfriend. He should die alone, starving for the love he deprived others. "You say you got an address?"

"Yeah, the gal in personnel printed me a full demo sheet. The only thing we don't have is a social." Sy noted the redacted 9-digit code in one corner of the document Jake had handed him. He read out loud. 3502 Highway D. St. Robert, MO.

"You boys feel up to a little recon tonight?" They all nodded, excitedly, patting Jake on the back, and high fiving him in congratulations on the invaluable find. Even Brad commended him on his detective skills and told him he'd have a job on the Force with him if he ever wanted a change. The corporal almost blushed.

The men went back into the house and through the front door to the driveway where they were all parked.

"Jake, you brought all the gear, too?"

"Sure did, Sy. There's vests, belts, NVDs and helmets to mount. There's plenty for everyone." Jake opened the back of his Jeep as if it were a buffet of delicious tactical equipment. Sy found among the gear a large case and opened it out of curiosity. A sound amplifier with headphones. That was going with him, as it appeared there was only one.

"I'll outfit everyone with guns and ammo later. But here are some tac knives, and three of each diversionary devices for each member of the team." Nate passed out packs with the blades, smoke grenades, and flash bombs.

"Okay, rendezvous at Matt's shop at 1800. We'll go over some procedures for the evening and get set up with the rest of our weaponry then. Okay?" General nods of ascent and "mmhmms" in confirmation of the plan came from the men. Sy continued, "Maybe get some rest between now and then. I don't know how long this is going to take."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sy got to Matt's a little early. 1730. Nate showed up about ten minutes later and pulled in next to Sy, leaving the rear doors accessible to arm the team. The men got out of their vehicles and began double checking Nate's inventory.

"Nervous?" Nate said after exchanging the usual pleasantries.

"I didn't think I was. But just now, I got to thinking about what that…monster is doing to the love of my life. What he's putting her through, if he's even let her live. What are we going to come across when we get to this place?"

"You can't think like that. She's not Schrödinger's cat. You have to be positive here. This mission depends on your strength as a leader. You're gonna do great. And Shane is gonna be fine. We all will. Have a little faith, man." Nate patted Sy on the back in encouragement. Sy appreciated it. But he thought he might have to compartmentalize, instead. Think of this as just another mission. Forget that Shane was involved. Even if it wasn't healthy, it might at least be helpful.

Matt arrived soon after and waved at the two men as he pulled in on the other side of Nate. He got out and greeted his friends, all of them shooting the breeze and enfolding the others into the conversation as they got there. Kevin was the last to arrive, just before 1800, when the briefing commenced.

"So," Sy began, more timidly than was his usual way. "First, guys, I wanna say, I appreciate y'all so much for doing this. For putting in the time and the resources to help me and Shane. I owe y'all more than I can repay, but that doesn't mean I won't try. Within reason." He grinned and his friends chuckled.

"Now, we've got the comms set up. We'll be in each other's ears, so we can report in real time. I've looked up an aerial view of the farm on Google Earth, and there should be good cover for surveillance with the sound equipment and NVDs. I'll take point, Nate, you and Matt are with me. Kevin, you and Brad will flank the property on the left, Travis and Jake are going right. I'm hoping this will just be recon, but if I get wind of something I don't like, I may call for the strike. You guys will report anything you think looks fishy, and I will make that call with the intel I'm given. Now. When and if I make that call, we're gonna aim for disorientation and soft incapacitation. If you don't have to kill, don't. I don't know how much help this bastard has, but I know it would have taken several to take down Shane. It's not that I think any of them deserve to be spared, but…I don't want us to break up any families. We don't need the weight on our already heavy souls." War had changed them all, and Sy didn't want to make any more widows. "We good?"

Nods of approval from the men made Sy think he was looking at a military bobble head collection. He stifled a smile.

"Alright, lets get armed and ready, then Matt can take us to our chariots."

They were all mostly suited up, black or dark colors were the general uniform. They were ready for whatever might happen. As Nate handed out guns and ammo, the men examined their clips, loaded their guns, and put them in their holsters until needed…they hoped they wouldn't be.

When they were all set, they followed Matt to the huge garage he kept his fleet in.

Although, "garage" didn't quite do the building justice. It was actually an airplane hangar that Matt got for a good price when the local airline went under. He'd made a loft in it with a ramp so there was extra room for smaller vehicles like his town cars. The limos, SUVs, and the stretch Hummer were on the lower level. He had a separate space outside for the two party busses and the RV, protected from the elements by large carports.

Matt went to grab keys from the lock box as the men gathered near the Suburbans. Sy was getting angsty. Moment of truth was here.

"Okay," Matt jingled two sets of keys in his hands. "Who's driving?"

Kevin deferred to Brad without contest, but Jake and Travis were bickering over the question between them.

"Grow up or get married already." Sy chided. "Jake, you got the good intel for us yesterday. You drive."

Travis was mildly crestfallen, but Jake was stoked and he caught the keyring Matt tossed him.

"You wanna drive, Captain?" Matt offered Sy the last set of keys.

"No, Matt. You're driving our group. I'll take shotgun though."

And the seven men got into the vehicles as if they were mounting horses, headed into the sunset.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Over the comms on the way, Sy addressed the team. "Okay, there's a large outbuilding near the road, guys. Pull off the driveway and park behind that structure. Hopefully they'll hide the vehicles from the main house. Bravo and Charlie teams, you let Alpha team get in place before you take your positions."

"Roger that, Captain." Kevin said in the headset.

"We copy." Travis answered for himself and Jake.

The first phase of the mission went perfectly. Sy, Nate, and Matt were in position, and Sy had set up the sound amplifier, aiming it at the house, headphones on. When the other teams were in position, Matt reported to Sy, since he was getting feedback using the earpiece and the headphones for the amp at the same time.

"Bravo and Charlie teams are in place, Captain."

"Great. Sit Rep?"

"All's quiet so far. Wait. Headlights coming up the drive." Each team tried to make themselves as small and low as possible so as not to draw attention to their presence. Sy had been getting nothing but crime show drivel from the TV in the house since he got here.

A petite but curvy brunette got out of the white Honda Civic and stomped into the house.

"Hey babe." Elliott's unmistakable voice rang in Sy's ear. And he was filled to bursting with rage all over again.

"What the fuck, Elliott? I've been trying to call you for hours! What the hell have you been doing?"

"Oh, I was charging my phone in the bedroom. What's going on?"

"That Captain Syverson your little pet was banging? I found out today that he's back in town. Has been for a few days."

"Shit. Shit!!! SHIT!!!"

"Yeah, so…if he isn't already, it won't be long before he starts trying to find her."

"But…how could he? Even if he thought it was me, I have no official ties to this place, or even you!"

"Flattering."

"You know what I mean."

"Whatever, but I'd get rid of her ASAP. This guy is NOT someone you wanna piss off, Elliott."

"I'll bring the guys in. We'll take care of it. Tonight."

Sy cussed in a loud whisper. He wanted to rip Elliott apart with his bare hands. Nate asked him what was wrong, but Sy held up a hand for him to remain quiet because he heard the scumbag inside on the phone.

"Yeah, it's me. Listen, change of plans, we need to do this tonight. Get everyone out here. Yes, immediately. There's a…potential complication. We need to take care of her before it becomes more. Yeah, she's weak, but I'm still gonna wait until you guys get here. She's still got some fight in her. She about took Jackson's eye out yesterday when he was  down there. He's got some wicked scratches on his face. I think he made her regret it, though." Elliott laughed with evil mirth. Sy was furious. He reckoned God Himself might have a time pulling him off that degenerate before he made him unrecognizable as a human man. Once he started punching him, he might not be able to stop.

When Elliott signed off, Sy pulled the earphones down onto his neck. He looked at Matt and Nate.

"He's planning something with Shane and has called in reinforcements. It sounds like he means to take her somewhere else, and it didn't sound like it was gonna be pretty. I think we need to go in now."

"Shit. Okay." Matt responded. Sy put his earpiece in and called on the rest of the team.

"Bravo and Charlie, do you copy?"

"Bravo copies." Kevin reported back.

"Charlie copies. Go ahead, Alpha." Travis cleared.

"Listen, boys. We need to go in, and we need to make it quick. Here’s the situation. We have one male and one female assailant inside the domicile, and an undetermined number of additional combatants en route to reinforce the enemy's line. We have one target. A female prisoner, presumably in the basement, given verbiage used in the communication I intercepted. Alpha team will make our priority extraction. Bravo, you will subdue the male assailant and then maintain sentry position on the lookout for more unfriendlies. Charlie team, you will clear the second level of the house and subdue the female combatant. She is a soldier, so proceed with extreme caution. Once the area is secure, drivers, go and retrieve the vehicles. We are gonna need to get out of here quick, or else things might go tits up. I'm concerned we'll lose the advantage of numbers if we wait too long. Are we clear?"

"Copy that, Alpha leader."

"Roger. On your count, cap."

Sy took a deep breath. Thought to himself "Shane. I'm on my way, baby!" He saw red, then. And called for the charge, out of the darkness, and into the farmhouse. To an uncertain outcome.

Up Next: Chapter 17-Gait Training

[rosemaidenvixen]

A Secret’s Worth

Chapter 13: Jim

Ao3

Content warning: descriptions of raw meat, mentions of violence, toxic thought patterns.

“You know hon, you’re going to have to talk to Toby eventually.”

Jim jolted, smacking the top of his head against the underside of the cabinet, it didn’t hurt in the slightest, but the loud crunch as he made contact did not bode well for the cabinet.

Barbara winced and set her coffee mug down on the table “Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,”

Jim pulled back and stood up straight, grimacing when he caught sight of the broken boards and deep gouges his horns had left in the wood. They were going to have to hire someone to come in and fix that “It’s ok,”

“I’m just...concerned, if you two are having problems things aren’t going to get better unless you both address them,”

“Yeah, I know,”

He regretted the flippant words as soon as he said them, getting a glimpse of the look of hurt and worry on his mom’s face.

 “Can you tell me why you guys are fighting?” she said softly

Jim looked away, turning his eyes back down to his...food on the counter “It’s complicated,” 

It didn’t look like that answer satisfied Barbara at all, but rather than push further she just frowned and went back to her breakfast.

Jim felt bad for being so evasive, but that was vastly overshadowed by just how relieved he was that she was willing to drop it. He finished grabbing the empty jars and frozen plastic wrapped rabbit and headed over to the table to join her. Eating this close to sunrise usually gave him wicked stomach cramps, but he’d put it off for too long already, and he was too hungry to wait another hour and a half to eat a normal breakfast.

So he didn’t waste any time downing all the jars and getting started on the rabbit.

“Are just you and Toby having problems, or does this involve the girls to?”

Jim froze mid bite, a fresh wave of guilt and anxiety crashing into him. The hand holding the half eaten rabbit dropped down to the table. He hung his head, the weight of his horns tugging it down even further. Even without looking he could practically feel the hurt on his mom’s face, which made him feel even worse.

“I’m sorry, I know I’m prying, but I’m worried about you,”

He heard her setting down her fork and clasping her hands together “I don’t want you to feel like you have to tell me everything that goes on with you and your friends, but…” 

Barbara sighed “I was young once to. I know how high emotions can run, and how the littlest things seem to matter so much-- but they aren’t worth throwing your friendships away,”

Jim risked raising his head to look at her better. Briefly meeting her eyes and getting a peek of her melancholy smile.

As soon as she caught sight of him, Barbara sat up a little straighter and continued, emboldened by the eye contact “If you did something wrong, and I’m not saying you did, avoiding them won’t make it go away. Things can’t get better if you don’t apologize and start rebuilding trust. And if one of them did something to upset you…”

She paused, pulling in a deep breath “Then you have every right to feel hurt and angry, but you need to tell them that. Your friends can’t read your mind, you need to communicate how you’re feeling with them,”

Expectant silence filled the air, Barbara’s gaze stayed on him, patiently waiting for his response.

Jim forced himself to maintain eye contact, very deliberately did not ball his hands into fists, and only opened his mouth to speak once he was sure he could do it in a neutral tone of voice “You’re right...I’ll try to talk to them at lunch today, see if we can clear the air”

Whether she actually believed him or saw the cracks in his facade and decided not to push him further, Barbara’s only response was to smile, give a soft ‘I think that’s a great idea’, and go back to eating.

Which made him feel ten times worse about the fact that he intended to do no such thing.

He looked back down at the rabbit in his hand, stomach in knots. Even though it was the absolute last thing he felt like doing, Jim lifted the rabbit back up and forced himself to take another bite.

When you mess up you need to apologize, when your friends mess up you need to let them know that they hurt you.

But what do you do when it’s both of those things? Or maybe even neither?

He knew his mom was only trying to help, but this was way out of her league.

Jim wasn’t trying to keep secrets or shut her out. But Toby and the girls were straight up accusing her of abuse. How could telling her do anything but hurt her? 

They had threatened to send her to prison for crying out loud.

And maybe he was wrong or maybe they were, but bottom line, Jim couldn’t tell Toby and the girls the truth.

If this was how they reacted to just some scratches on a door...he couldn’t risk it.

He swallowed and glanced at what was left of the rabbit through the plastic, butchered and cleaned but still very clearly a rabbit, the ends he’d been chewing on bright red and bloody.

There was a monster here all right, but it wasn’t his mom.

Jim forced down the last of the macabre excuse of what passed for his breakfast and hurried back into the kitchen to start on their lunches. When it was time for Barbara to leave she kissed him on the cheek and thanked him before heading out the door.

And didn’t say anything about the fact he’d just made two instead of three, even though he knew she’d noticed.

He did his best to avoid thinking about it; but before he knew it the sun was up, he was normal again, and it was time to leave for school.

Jim sluggishly changed out of his now baggy t-shirt and jeans into his regular clothes, threw his messenger bag over his shoulder, and forced himself out the door, making a bee line for his bike. It didn’t look like Toby was waiting around to ambush him. But Jim didn’t want to give any openings just in case he was hiding in the bushes, which he’d tried a few days ago.

Fortunately that didn’t happen, and Jim was able to start pedaling to school in peace.

As glad as he was about being about to get to school without having to dodge a confrontation, Jim had definitely been taking Toby’s presence on their morning ride for granted. Less than two weeks and he already couldn’t stand the silence.

But as much as it sucked that’s just the way things had to be now.

All too soon he pulled up to the school. Jim headed around the building towards the bike rack, not one of the ones he and Toby liked to use, but the one near the gym that Steve and his cronies frequented. Hopefully they’d already gone in and Jim could avoid running into them directly.

His heart sank when he pulled up and saw Steve and Logan chatting by the end of the rack. So much for avoiding confrontation. Trying to be as discreet as possible, Jim quietly dismounted and started locking in his bike on the opposite side of the rack from them, praying to go unnoticed.

Unfortunately he wasn’t that lucky.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing, parking your dweeby bike next to ours?” Steve stomped over, a snickering Logan right on his heels.

Jim slammed his lock shut, what little remained of his patience gone “I thought that when people saw my lame bike next to your cool one it would make yours look better by comparison,” he said in a complete deadpan.

Steve’s face blanked as he faltered, unable to come up with a response. Jim tried to take advantage of the lull to get away, but he wasn’t quick enough. Steve stepped in front of him and snarled, looming in his personal space to block his exit. 

“You’d better tell me what your game is!”

Jim met Steve’s gaze without flinching, normally he wouldn’t try to butt heads with a guy who was called ‘Psycho Steve’ for darn good reason, but after everything he’d been through in the past week and a half Jim couldn’t be bothered to tip toe around him right now “Figure it out yourself Steve, because believe it or not I have bigger problems than your microscopic IQ,”

In hindsight that had probably been the worst thing he could have said. Steve’s face darkened, arm shooting out and grabbing Jim’s collar. 

Logan, still hovering behind him, let out a short laugh “Wrong answer Lake,” he said with a smirk.

Steve didn’t say anything, slowly raising his other hand in a fist. Jim winced preemptively and tried to brace himself for the coming blow.

But just before Steve could start rearranging his teeth, Coach Lawrence poked his head out of the gym door, causing all three of them to jump in surprise “Class starts in five minutes, everyone cut the chit chat and get in here!”

He snapped his head in their direction “Kish, Palchuk, that means you!”

Steve growled, but dropped his fist. The second Coach ducked back inside he shoved Jim into the bike rack before stomping towards the gym.

“This isn’t over Crybaby,”

He stalked off, Logan following shortly after. 

Jim glowered at Steve’s retreating back before pulling himself up and heading to his own class.

Getting teeth pulled was more fun than spending any time within a ten foot radius of Steve, but it was still better than the burning, queasy feeling he got in his gut whenever Toby, Claire, Mary, or Darci looked at him.

He breathed deeply and tried to force the sudden spike of stress down to a manageable level, Jim knew they meant well, he really did, and he knew all this stuff with curfews and scratched doors was scaring them, but he couldn’t tell them. 

Last week had been the closest he’d ever come to spilling the beans, when Toby had jumped him in the bathroom, begging Jim to tell him the truth, promising he wouldn’t go to the cops, Jim had almost done it. He had been so close to just unloading and telling Toby everything. But at the last second he’d bolted. Later once he’d had time to sit down and really think about what had just happened, he’d been really glad that he didn’t.

No matter how much Toby and the girls begged and demanded and insisted Jim could trust them with the truth, the fact was he just couldn’t, no matter how much he did or didn’t want to.

He fumbled with dial in an effort to open his locker.

Jim was a monster, and worse a liar. If the girls ever figured out what he really was...well they wouldn’t run screaming in terror that’s for sure. Maybe Darci would, but chances are she’d be helping Claire decapitate him while Mary filmed the whole thing. And Toby…

His throat tightened unexpectedly, struggling to grab his textbooks as his hands started to shake. That was the worst part, deep down he just didn’t know how Toby would react. Would he be crushed by the knowledge that his ‘best friend’ had never been what he’d seemed? Horrified that he’d never spotted the monster living across the street from him? Furious that Jim had lied to him for over a decade?

Knowing Jim’s luck it would be some unholy combination of all three.

Shutting his locker with much more force than needed, he turned down the hall towards Señor Uhl’s room.

So telling the truth was off the table, but the four of them had made it clear that they weren’t going to let this go any time soon. And they still had the pictures, and the recording Mary made.

Jim had been on edge for days after they’d first confronted him. Terrified that they’d gone ahead to the police with their evidence, and at any moment cops bust open the door and drag his mom away in handcuffs.

But a few days passed without incident, aside from hundreds of texts from all four of them, not an exaggeration, literally hundreds, Jim had slowly allowed himself to relax.

That and the fact that they were still badgering him told Jim that they needed more than just the photos and the audio to go to the police with, they needed him to. And if he didn’t go along with them there was nothing they could do to his mom.

Of course that didn’t explain why his phone had been disturbingly silent for the past two days.

He shook off the worries, Jim had more than enough of those right now, the last thing he needed was to go inventing more. If his friends had realized they couldn’t get him to say anything well then good for them. The important thing was for Jim to stay silent and not respond to their prying, in person or over the phone. As a long term solution it sucked, but he wasn’t about to get better alternatives any time soon.

His stomach was constantly in knots and it felt like he was walking on eggshells 24/7, but he couldn’t take the risk of dropping his guard even a little.

Jim rounded the corner only to freeze midstep. Two people were standing on the other end of the hall quietly chatting with each other. But not just any two people; Toby and Mary. And at the sound of his footsteps their gazes swiveled towards him, piercing him on the spot.

His heart rate tripled.

Ok, no big deal, looks like he was taking the long way to spanish today. 

Heart still going a mile a minute, Jim pivoted on his heel, stopping dead when he saw Claire and Darci in the hall behind him, blocking any escape.

Two might be a coincidence, but four? No way. This was an ambush, how long had they been planning this?

Now that he was pinned from either side, they started walking towards him.

Yep, definitely an ambush.

Jim tightened his grip on the strap of his bag. Stay calm, they might have cornered him but they couldn’t make him talk. And if he didn’t talk they couldn’t get anything that they could use to press charges against his mom. The five of them couldn’t stay here in the hall forever, sooner or later a teacher would come by to shuffle them all off to their classes. All Jim needed to do was stay quiet and wait them out.

The four stopped their approach at about three feet away. Jim braced himself, getting ready for the onslaught of begging and accusations.

Toby stepped up to him, breaking the silence “Jim, you don’t have to say anything, I-- we just need to tell you…” he dropped his gaze “We’re sorry, I’m sorry,”

Jim’s jaw dropped.

He what?

There were no words any one of them could have said that would have floored him more. He wondered if he’d actually heard Toby correctly. Right now Jim was too stunned to even react.

“All of us are,” Claire chimed in “We shouldn’t have pushed so hard, especially after you told us we were wrong,”

For over a week Jim had been hoping against hope for them to just drop this and back off, but now that that was, apparently, happening it almost didn’t seem real. If it weren’t for the fact that the school wasn’t made of gingerbread and he still had his pants on Jim would’ve thought that he was dreaming “I-- you-- you what?”

Darci looked nervously from side to side “Can we take this into the computer lab?” she gestured to the door off to the side “Somewhere a little more private than the hallway?”

“Uh...ok,”

They all stepped into the unoccupied room, Darci flicking on the lights and Toby pulling the door shut behind them.

Meanwhile the shock had subsided and suspicion was starting to creep in.

Did they really want to let this go, or were they just trying to get him to drop his guard?

 Jim leaned against one of the desks in a way that he hoped came off as casual “So…what exactly is it you guys are saying?”

Toby grimaced “We shouldn’t have kept forcing the issue of the whole basement thing and your curfew the way we did, if you say everything with you and Dr. Lake is cool….we believe you,”

Jim slowly turned to look each of them in the eye, trying to spot any traces of nervousness or dishonesty “Are you guys for real on this?”

“Yeah,” Darci stepped forward “This is your family, as soon as you said everything was fine we should have just butted out,”

Claire came up beside her “That goes for all of us, we’re really sorry we pushed it too far and made you uncomfortable,”

Jim didn’t quite know what to think, on one hand this was exactly what he’d dreamed of happening for over a week, but on the other...there was one person here who hadn’t said anything yet, who was known for having a stubborn streak powerful enough to crush diamonds.

He turned towards Mary, not even trying to hide the distrust on his face “Then what about the recording you made?”

In the second biggest twist of the day, Jim was taken aback to see that Mary actually looked genuinely...remorseful “I lied, I didn’t record anything,” she came up to him and plopped her phone into his hand “Check for yourself, and you can go ahead and delete the pictures of the….racoon scratches,”

Her voice dropped “And I’m sorry to…” 

Jim heard her apology, but for the most part he was preoccupied with the device in his hand. To be honest he’d been starting to think this all sounded too good to be true; but if Mary was actually letting him go through her phone--

He still couldn’t believe he was holding it, it was like being handed the holy grail, only somehow more sacred.

Only about a minute or so of browsing through her phone and Jim knew Mary was telling the truth, the photos of the scratched door were there, she hadn’t sent them to anyone. And there was no audio recording in her main files or her autobackup. 

A tiny part of Jim was ticked that she’d tried to trick him using an imaginary recording, but that was eclipsed by the enormous relief he felt that the damning words he’d said had never been captured in the first place. 

It was like a massive weight being lifted off his shoulders as Jim permanently deleted the photos of the basement door. After handing the phone back he looked around at everyone, torn between his remaining doubts and giddiness at the idea that this may be over after all.

“So you guys are really going to stop bugging me about my curfew and rules and everything?”

They all nodded.

“Yep,”

“Absolutely,”

“One hundred percent,”

Toby came up to him and put a hand on his shoulder, smiling wide “At lunch today what do you say we meet up at the food truck, figure out what we’re going to do over spring break, and forget all this ever happened?”

A tiny smile of his own curled on Jim’s face “Sounds great,”

They all filled out of the computer lab, Jim was last, flicking off the light switch as they left, actually relaxed for the first time in weeks.

Against all odds Toby and the girls had actually decided to let it go.

Jim felt so light he was practically walking on air. It was over. This horrible, screwed up mess was finally over. His secret was safe, his mom was safe. He wouldn’t have to spend every day swinging back and forth between anxiety and crippling loneliness. Jim could actually talk to his friends again, go back to actually having a life.

For the first time in a long time things were looking up.

[horrorkingdom]

Creepy pasta

The Seer of Possibilities

Sometimes, otherworldly beings find interesting ways to try and contact you. They might use a Ouija Board, or maybe come to you in a dream, or sometimes they speak through another person. They each have their own style and preference that’s particular to them. The one who contacted Jack spoke to him through his computer, or, I guess you could say the communication was through onscreen text. The first time it happened, Jack had been sitting at his computer playing Solitaire. A blinking red light from the router indicated that his internet connection was down again. This was at least a weekly occurrence, and Jack was getting used to this spotty internet service. As he moved his cards, the game faded into a solid black screen and the red text appeared.

“Hi Jack, I need a favor from you. You’re a very special person and I know you’ll help me. I can’t ask this of just anyone. I really need your help.”

Jack paused for a second. The router light was still blinking red. “Is this some sort of joke?” He couldn’t help but wondering.

Several moments later the message continued, “Yes Jack, I know this is weird for you. But I don’t want you to worry. This is just a small, easy favor I need. I’ll make sure you’re rewarded.”

Now nearly in a panic, Jack reached around and pulled the internet cable completely from the wall.

“Still here, Jack. I don’t want to waste any more of your time so I’ll get right to what I need. Tomorrow when you go to work I need you to move the large potted plant that’s next to the elevator on the ground floor. All you have to do is pull it out three inches from the wall. If you do it at 8:17am nobody else will be in the area.”

Jack sat there, refusing to respond, still trying to figure out what was happening.

The writing continued, “Look Jack, I’m asking you because I KNOW you’ll do it. You won’t let me down. You’re special. We’ll talk tomorrow.”

Jack pulled the power cord from the wall and the computer went blank. “Did that really just happen?” he thought.

Still shaking from the experience, he took a warm shower and got ready for bed, convincing himself that he’d either had some crazy dream or that is was just some elaborate joke. But who would play that kind of joke on him? He didn’t really have friends, or enemies.

He woke up the next morning feeling refreshed. Work would start at 8:30am, and Jack was never late. He pulled into the parking lot at 8:10am. Normally he’d just go right in, but the message had told him to move the plant at 8:17am. Was he really going to do it? Overnight, Jack’s fear had turned into curiosity. Let’s say he moved the plant, he wouldn’t be doing anything wrong or illegal, right? In Jack’s mind, the most reasonable course of action was to move the plant. He’d do it, nothing would happen, and he’d be able to put this whole crazy matter behind him. One minute before 8:17 Jack left his car and walked towards the building. He entered the foyer at the exact time he was supposed to. The message was right, nobody else was around.

“Odd,” Jack thought. The building was normally busy this time of morning, but this temporary lull had been accurately predicted.

“Fine! Let’s see what happens,” Jack muttered to himself.

He walked up to the large potted plant placed firmly between the two elevators in the lobby of the ten story building. The plant looked like it was fake, a decoration people passed every day without really noticing. It was heavier than Jack realized. He put some might into his effort and pulled the plant out three inches to his best estimate. He stood back and looked at the plant, then looked around the lobby. People were coming in behind him now and the lobby was starting to fill up again. Nobody seemed to notice the plant was in a slightly different location, nothing seemed different at all. Jack skipped the next elevator and waited, waited for…something. But nothing happened. Finally Jack entered the elevator and made it to his 7th floor cubicle, on time like always.

If you ever asked Jack’s coworkers to describe him, you’d hear words like polite, quiet, respectful, and competent. And while those words were all accurate, they gave little indication of the truth, the truth that Jack really didn’t like most people. That’s not to say he disliked them, just that he had very little interest in getting to know them or being their friend, save for one. Allie, the girl who sat two cubicles down from him, was the only person he wanted to know more about. With her big smile, blonde hair, and beautiful figure, Jack was very interested in learning all about her. Despite his lack of success with women in the past, he was actually doing a fair job getting to know her. Every morning as he passed her cubicle, he’d stop for a chat. The chats were one minute at first, then two minutes, then several minutes. Jack was surprised that she actually seemed to like him.

On this particular morning, their daily conversation lasted only a couple of minutes. As they exchanged their morning greetings and talked about Allie’s wild night out, the elevator doors opened up behind them. Out hobbled James Bentley, the boss of both Jack and Allie.

James’ loud complaining could be heard throughout the office, “My damn foot!”

“What happened, James?” came the mumbled queries.

“It’s that damn plant they have in the lobby. I ran right into it and twisted my ankle.”

“James, you can barely walk. You need to go to the hospital,” came Allie’s concerned reply.

“Can’t do it now. I have meetings all day. Too important to cancel. I’ll just have to tough it out.”

Jack, feeling stunned, left Allie’s cubicle mid conversation and sunk down into his chair. It was his fault, he was sure of it. How could he have been so stupid and careless? Still, no use in worrying about it now. A twisted ankle would heal, everything would be alright.

Upon his return home, Jack went immediately to his computer and turned it on. As soon as the computer booted up, the screen went black and a new message popped up.

“How was your day, Jack?”

He sat there, staring at the screen, not knowing how to answer. The message on the screen continued, “Actually, I know how your day was, but never let it be said that I’m not polite. You’re wondering what’s going on. You want to know why James Bentley had to twist his ankle. Well Jack, this chain of events isn’t done playing out. I don’t want to tell you too much too soon, but this will all make sense to you in short order. Just go to work tomorrow like you normally do. Don’t worry about a thing Jack. You’ll be rewarded. You’re special. Talk to you tomorrow.”

Jack sat back in his chair. What was going on? Who was this was sending him messages? Jack’s curiosity was fully engaged, and he was almost a bit excited to see what would happen next.

The next morning at work started off as any ordinary day. Jack noticed that the plant had been pushed back fully against the wall, probably by the night cleaning crew. James Bentley showed up shortly after lunch, hobbling into the office on his one good foot.

“Man this foot is killing me,” Jack could overhear him say, but apparently James still had a meeting he didn’t want to miss. It wasn’t until around 3 o’clock that Jack saw him again. James, who always seemed to prefer Allie over others, came limping up to her cubicle.

“Allie, you’re not doing anything right now, are you?”

“Um, no. Nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow I guess.”

“Good, could you please drive me to see my Doctor? I probably should’ve gone yesterday, but I just couldn’t get away. This pain is just killing me right now and I don’t think I can drive myself, I barely made it here this morning and I don’t think I can even push the gas pedal right now. We can take my car if you want.”

“Yeah that’s fine James, I don’t have a problem taking you.” Turning to Jack she said her goodbye, “See you tomorrow, Jackie.” She put on her coat and slowly followed James as he struggled down the hallway. She gave a half turn and a shrug in Jack’s direction, with a little smile as she walked away. Jack felt even lonelier than normal when she was gone.

It was ten minutes later that they all heard the crash. It was preceded by the loud horn of an 18 wheeler and screeching brakes. The collision itself was a sickening thud of two large metal object colliding. Even on the 7th floor it was loud. The office workers gasped and ran to the windows.

“Is that James’ car?” One of them asked.

“Hard to tell from up here,” someone responded, “It’s so banged up.”

The horrifying implication of what’d just happened came to Jack immediately.

“No, no, no,” he though. “This can’t be true.”

Shaking all the way, he ran to the elevator and went to the ground floor along with several others from the office. Some of them were crying. As they joined the growing crowd around the scene of the accident, Jack could hear the far off sound of emergency sirens. Looking past the gawkers, he could see that the 18 wheeler had hit James’ car broadside, its driver had been thrown out onto the pavement where he lay motionless. James was sitting in the passenger seat of his car, motionless but with a surprised look on his bloody face. Jack couldn’t tell if he was alive or dead. The driver’s side, where Allie was seated, had taken the hit. The space she’d been occupying had been compacted to a third of its original size. Allie’s head was smashed open and her twisted body was broken and battered. The crowd was stunned. Tears, screams, sirens; that was all Jack could hear. Without going back inside the building, Jack ran to his car and drove home, angry and sad.

He made the journey home and to his computer. There the machine sat, he wanted to turn it on, but was afraid of what he’d find out. Was he really the one responsible for Allie’s death? The whole chain of events had started with him. He knew he was to blame. Jack reached for the power button, and then pulled his hand back. Finally, after several minutes, he found the mental strength to turn it on. The screen flickered and then went black, and the familiar text started appearing on the screen.

“No Jack, it’s not your fault. I know you’re blaming yourself. But all people die eventually, some just sooner than others.”

Jack stared at the screen. He resisted the urge to throw the monitor to the ground.

After a moment, the writing continued, “Jack, I’m going to tell you something, and I really need you to seriously consider everything I’m about to say. You thought you were in love with Allie. The truth is, you just wanted to fuck her. And please excuse my language, but every once in a great while it’s best to be blunt. Jack, she wasn’t the one for you. She would’ve made your life miserable. Yes, you would’ve eventually found the courage to ask her out. She actually was interested in you. She thought you’d make a good “project.” Sad really, for her, not for you. I want you to think back to all the things she told you. Why did her last boyfriend break up with her?”

“Because she cheated on him,” Jack mumbled under his breath.

“Because she cheated on him, Jack. The same thing she would’ve done to you. She would’ve made you happy for about 2 months, and then miserable for the next 4 years. Sneaking around, laughing at you behind your back, spending all your money. Once you finally got rid of her, you would’ve been so jaded that you’d never date again. This is true Jack. I see all future possibilities, the ones that come to pass and the ones that don’t. You’ve seen how she really is Jack, but you let your lust for her blind you to the truth. Together, you and I have made sure you avoided that path. One more thing Jack, this isn’t done playing out yet. There’s more to come.”

“No! Fuck you! You killed her!” Jack screamed and threw the monitor from the desk. It landed on the floor and sparked out.

Jack got barely any sleep that night, and the next day he wasn’t sure he wanted to go to work, but the last words he’d been told had piqued his curiosity, and his anger had somewhat subsided. No work was done that day at the office. The company brought in grief counselors, people shared their thoughts, they cried, they hugged. James had actually survived the accident, but was in a coma. The doctors thought he might recover eventually, but nobody was really sure.

Late in the afternoon, Jack was approached by Diego Salbara, the head of the division. Diego was blunt and upfront, and he offered James’ position to Jack. Technically it would be a temporary promotion, but James wouldn’t be back any time soon. Diego promised him that the promotion would be made permanent once enough time had passed.

“Let’s keep this low key for now.” Diego told him. “I know it might seem quick, but the Lancaster project James was working on can’t be stopped. It’s too important to the company. I need someone in charge right away, this can’t wait.”

Stunned, Jack accepted the promotion. He left work with a strange mixture of feelings, not really sure how he felt about anything. On his way home, he stopped at the electronics store and bought a new monitor. He made it home and powered up the computer. Once again the writing came on the screen.

“Jack, I want to be the first one to congratulate you! I’m proud of what you’ve accomplished.”

Jack stared at the screen.

“Jack, I have to ask your forgiveness because haven’t introduced myself yet. I’m called the Seer. Like I told you before, I see what will be, and I see what can be. It’s a very powerful gift I have. But you know what, Jack? For all my power, I still can’t do anything corporeal. I can predict, I can see, and with enough effort, I can even communicate. But I don’t have a body, that’s something that was taken from me a long, long time ago. That’s why I need you Jack. I’m an artist of sorts, an artist of human manipulation. You’ll be my paintbrush and my canvas. I want you to work with me Jack. It’s all very simple, just perform simple tasks for me, from time to time.”

Jack was becoming more and more curious.

“And Jack, before you give me an answer, I want you to know a couple of things. First off, I’ll never lie to you. Secondly, I’ll never ask you to do anything which, taken by itself, is wrong or illegal. Yes, bad things will result, and sometimes people will die. But they’re going to die eventually anyways, right Jack? And the bad will always be balanced out by something good happening to you.”

Jack winced at this last idea, but he fought the urge to turn the computer off. The Seer was right. Everyone would die eventually, why not let something good come of it? And what about never lying to him? If he’d known at the time that Allie was going to die, he’d have never gone through with the original favor. But as he thought more about it, he realized The Seer hadn’t lied to him, but had only withheld information. Still, Jack wondered if he could trust The Seer.

“Work with me Jack, together we’ll make incredible things happen. I’m just asking you to perform little tasks from time to time. Oh, but these little tasks will have great consequences! They’re going to be beautiful Jack, and they’ll always end with a reward for you. That’s the beauty of my art, one single task produces something bad and something good. Oh, one last thing Jack, I can see you’re having trouble with this. If I stopped talking to you right now, it would take you about two weeks to decide to join me. But you know what Jack, you WOULD join me. That’s right, you’re going to say yes. So instead of waiting, why don’t you just say yes to me now? Let’s get started Jack. And when all this is over, you’re going to thank me. I promise you.”

Jack considered what The Seer had just said. His initial feeling of revolt was slowly fading. He paused, and then for the first time, he placed his fingers on the keyboard and responded directly to The Seer. “What do you want me to do next?”

_____________________________

As years passed, Jack did every favor the Seer asked of him, and as the Seer had promised, Jack was rewarded for his actions each time. The rewards often came in unexpected and interesting ways. One of the more memorable experiences for Jack happened about 2 years after he first agreed to help the Seer.

“Jack, I need you to go downtown tomorrow,” the Seer requested. “Enter Garmin’s Liquor at exactly 12:37pm. A man will ask you a question. The answer you’re to give him is ‘twenty seven.’”

As always, the Seer’s instructions were simple and direct, yet mysterious. The next day, as requested, Jack entered the store. In front of him, a burly construction worker was at the counter filling out a lottery playslip.

“Let’s see here,” said the construction worker, “My birthday, that’s the 15th, my wife’s birthday, that’s the 24th, and my kids’ ages, two, ten and thirteen.”

The man scratched his head and looked around, zeroing in on Jack, “Hey buddy! I need another number. Ya got one for me?”

Jack smiled, “Twenty seven.”

“Really? I was thinkin’ bout playin’ thirty five. But ya know what? I like your face, let’s go with twenty seven!”

With that, the man completed his slip and paid for his lottery ticket. “See ya, pal!” he said happily and he patted Jack on the shoulder on his way out the door.

Jack tried not to put any more thought into what would happen to this man. “Just let these things play out, Jack. You’ll never guess how things end up, so just let yourself be surprised,” the Seer had advised him. Still, it was impossible not to wonder about these things from time to time. He knew, considering the way the Seer worked, there was no way possible that he’d actually helped this man. But giving him a losing lottery number? That was too simple for the Seer. And he couldn’t imagine he’d actually given him a winning number. So that’s how Jack was surprised, when two weeks later, he ran into the same man again, this time at the grocery store.

“Hey buddy! It’s you! I remember you! Check it out, I won!” Indeed, the man looked like a million dollars. Wearing new clothes, a new gold watch, and a big goofy smile, the man walked right up to Jack.

“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again, but I’m glad you’re here. I coulda never won without you. Hey, lemme buy these groceries for you. No wait, that’s not good enough for you, you’re my good luck charm. Always gotta treat people right, that’s what my mom says.”

Reaching into his pocket, the man removed his checkbook and promptly wrote Jack a check for ten thousand dollars. “It’s the least I can do for my good luck charm.”

After thanking the man, and feeling a bit confused by the whole thing, Jack raced home to his computer. After turning it on, the Seer’s writing appeared on the screen. “Well Jack, how does it feel to be ten thousand dollars richer?”

“It feels good. But I can’t help but wonder, we’ve never helped anyone before. Why are we starting now?” Jack asked that question with a tinge of guilt. He never liked to admit that people were being hurt by his actions, but in this case his curiosity overwhelmed any latent feelings of guilt.

“Oh Jack, we haven’t helped anyone. Yes, that man is happy now, but he’ll have lost every last penny within two years. You saw it for yourself, he just gives money away. Old friends, lost relatives, they’re all going to come asking him for money. And there will be some very bad investments as well. The stress of losing everything is going to cause his wife to leave him. She’ll take the kids too. He’ll be alone and broke, a ruined man who would have been much better off if he’d never won. You needn’t feel bad Jack, it’s the man’s own stupidity and greed that will do this to him.”

Jack felt some regret, but the Seer’s rationalizing, and focusing on his own reward, always put him at peace in the end.

Through the years, no two tasks were ever alike. Sometimes the effects of his actions were direct and easy to see, other times they caused a chain reaction so complex that he simply could not follow it.

“Go to the County Administrator’s building, park in space number 43 at 4:47pm.” came one such request. Jack did so, and two months later he met Donna, with whom he fell in love and ended up marrying. He wouldn’t have even known the two events were even related if he hadn’t asked the Seer about it.

“Jack, when you parked in that space, you caused the person who would’ve parked there to park in a different spot, but she bumped the car next to her. She barely made a scratch, but she called her insurance agent anyway, causing him to leave the office late. He missed his train home, and while waiting for the late train, he was mugged and stabbed, he’ll never fully recover. The muggers took his credit cards and used them…..and Jack, I could keep going with this, but there’s another twenty three people involved. Sometimes these favors are going to be very complicated, but let’s just say your action ultimately caused Donna to be in the exact right place for you to meet her.”

Jack’s relationship with the Seer grew. Though remaining mostly mysterious, the Seer divulged enough information over time so that Jack could get a generalized understanding of the Seer’s history. From historical references, Jack knew the Seer was thousands of years old. When still alive, the Seer had been a powerful fortune teller and artist, who foretold future happenings through paintings. A foolish king, who misinterpreted the Seer’s prediction and lost a battle as a result, had the Seer executed. Unencumbered by physical senses, and existing in a lonesome void, the Seer’s abilities expanded exponentially. Finally learning to communicate with the living, the Seer began reaching out to those who would respond, including Jack. And of course, the Seer knew everything about Jack. In all, it was as much of a friendship as one can have with a dead person. And Jack was grateful to the Seer too. He had a nice job, a nice house, a beautiful wife, and people respected him. He was happy, which is something he never really felt before the Seer contacted him.

Twelve years in total passed, twelve good years for Jack. Task after task was completed, usually about one every month. Jack, sitting in the office of his large rural house, was contacted by the Seer once again.

“Hi Jack, I have a favor to ask of you. This one’s the easiest yet, you don’t even have to get up. Call Riago’s Pizza in exactly two minutes, let the phone ring three times, then you can hang up.”

Jack smiled, nice and easy. He no longer wondered about how these tasks would play out. He trusted the Seer and simply did as he was told. Jack made the call, exactly two minutes later.

The quietness of the household was broken 30 minutes later by the ringing doorbell. “That’s odd,” Jack thought. Neither he nor Donna were expecting anyone. Jack looked out the peephole and saw a pizza deliver boy. The logo on his cap said “Riago’s Pizza”.

Jack opened the door. “Here’s your pizza,” said the boy as he thrust it into Jack’s hand.

“But I didn’t order this.” Jack argued.

“Look, I don’t give a damn if you ordered it or not. Mr. Riago told me to take it here, so that’s what I’m doing.” the delivery boy argued, as he looked increasingly annoyed and spat in the bushes.

Jack looked at the boy in front of him. He looked to be about seventeen years old, but the most noticeable thing about him was his size, he was huge. Probably about six and a half feet tall, and very muscular.

“It’s already paid for by credit card, just take it, because I’m not driving it back.” The boy put out his hand for a tip.

“I, I don’t have any cash on me.” Jack told the truth.

“Whatever,” came the disgusted reply. The boy looked past Jack into the house, then turned and walked slowly to his waiting car, looking over his shoulder as he walked.

Jack closed the door and took the pizza to the living room, where Donna was watching TV. After explaining what had happened, he excused himself to go to his office, promising to return shortly.

Donna opened the pizza and took a piece. “Come back soon sweetie, this pizza’s got all your favorite toppings on it.” Donna giggled as she took a bite.

Arriving at his computer, the Seer’s words appeared on the screen. “Confused, Jack? Don’t be. Your neighbor down the road ordered the pizza. Mr. Riago told that boy the correct address, but a ringing phone made it difficult for him to be heard clearly. Still, give the boy credit, he got the street right at least.”

“So my reward is a pizza?” Jack typed, a little confused.

“Yes Jack, your reward is a pizza, and also the chance to spend a little time with your wife. Go down there, share the pizza, enjoy it. When you’re done, make love to Donna. That’s not one of your tasks, that’s just some advice I think you should follow. Oh, by the way, your neighbors who ordered the pizza are arguing right now, over the silly fact that the pizza didn’t arrive. Some of the things people argue over amaze me, they really do. Their fight is going to get very heated, but you don’t need to worry about that. Go, enjoy your night.”

Jack followed the Seer’s advice, cuddled with Donna as they enjoyed their meal, then made love to her on their big, comfortable living room couch. Donna fell asleep on the couch shortly after 11:00pm. Jack lay there awake, this latest favor, it just felt odd. Carefully extracting his arm from under Donna, Jack left the living room and headed upstairs. Sitting down at the computer, Jack typed, “Are you there?”

“Yes Jack, I’m actually always here. I’ve been waiting for you to come back. That pizza delivery boy. He’s quite a specimen, isn’t he?”

Jack looked quizzically at the screen.

The seer continued, “He’s a horrible employee. He was hired only three days ago and already Mr. Riago wants to fire him, but as a physical specimen, he’s strong, fast, and VERY observant. For example, he noticed that you didn’t lock the front door after he delivered your pizza.”

“What?” Jack said aloud as he started to get up.

“Sit down Jack. I need to tell you something important, and locking the door now won’t change your situation.”

Jack slowly took his seat again at the computer, looking behind himself as he did so.

“You see Jack, it’s true that I never lied to you. Everything I’ve ever told you is 100% honest. But yes, I’ve withheld certain facts. You see, I told you that every task causes something bad to happen to someone else and something good to happen to you, but there’s a third thing. There’s an ultimate goal that each task was working toward. Remember Allie? Of course you do. What you probably don’t remember about her is that she was helping to pay her brother’s way through college. When she died, he had to drop out. He was going to be a great psychologist, but now he works in a factory instead. That’s really too bad for our pizza delivery boy, he could’ve used a good therapist a few years ago, but that good therapist wasn’t there for him, instead he got some Freudian quack. And remember our lottery winner? Yes you do. He was a neighbor to our pizza boy, after he lost all his money of course. He beat the boy senseless after the boy jumped into the street in front of his car. Quite a traumatic memory for our young lad. And his mother didn’t care about that incident, didn’t protect the boy at all. She couldn’t, not after using all the drugs given to her by her boyfriend, who happened to be one of the muggers who robbed that insurance agent. He bought the drugs with the money he made from the robbery. Do you see now the scope of my artistry?”

Jack sat, glaring at the monitor. He wanted to get up, to check on Donna, but he was too scared to move.

The Seer continued, “Jack, you’ve done over a hundred tasks for me, and each one has served an ultimate purpose, to psychologically destroy this boy, turn him into a monster, and to bring him here tonight. Don’t you see Jack? This involved tens of thousands of people, and billions of possibilities. If you had failed to complete even one of the tasks, the whole chain would’ve collapsed. This was orchestrated by me, and set in motion by you. Together we’ve done something wonderful, this is a masterpiece of human manipulation. Our masterpiece. And it all begins and ends with you, two perfect points in time. Tonight, wrong address, no tip, this poor boy finally snapped. He’s downstairs right now. He’s slitting Donna’s throat, at this exact moment.

Jack could hear a short, muffled scream coming from the living room, followed by a gurgling noise.

“No!” Jack screamed and stood up, starting to run downstairs.

“Jack, stop!” The voice startled Jack. It was inside his head. For the first time, the Seer was talking to him directly. It was a pleasant voice, a feminine voice. “You can’t do anything, she’s already gone. He’ll be coming for you shortly, and you can’t stop him.”

“But why?” Jack cried with tears welling up in his eyes.

“It’s not an artistic masterpiece if it doesn’t begin and end with you, Jack.” Her voice was soothing. “I want you to appreciate the fact that I’m talking to you directly. This requires all of my energy, and as a result, I’ll have to rest for several years before I can contact anyone again. That’s how special you are to me. Please don’t feel bad about this, Jack. I want you to take a moment and enjoy our accomplishment as much as I do.” The voice paused briefly, and then continued. “Do you know what Jack? If I’d never contacted you, you would have lived for eighty five years. Eighty five boring, meaningless, and bitter years. And when you died, nobody would’ve been at your funeral. I gave you twelve great, meaningful years. You were happy, and together we did something beautiful, something unique.”

Jack paused a minute and considered his twelve years of happiness, and his tears of sorrow mixed with tears of joy. He turned and looked at the computer, while behind him, the massive hulk of the demented delivery boy appeared in the doorway, a bloody knife in his left hand.

On the screen, the last words from the Seer appeared, “Don’t you have something to say to me, Jack?”

Jack wiped his tears, and absorbed everything the Seer had just told him.

As the hulk started stepping closer to him, Jack said mouthed his final words, “Thank you.”

Credit To – Thomas O.

[turnupswritessometimes]

The One With the Zombies - AshEiji - Ch6

Title: The One With the Zombies

Chapter: 6

Word Count: 4074

Description:  Another what it says on the tin from me - it's a Zombie Apocalypse AU because how else could this anime/manga get any darker? Whilst on the run from the outbreak of zombies, reporters Ibe and Eiji stumble across a New York street gang, safely huddled in an abandoned warehouse. As if the undead weren't surprising enough, Eiji finds himself becoming closer and closer to the gang's leader, mysteriously dubbed Ash Lynx. But safety doesn't last forever and soon it's only Ash and Eiji. And they're up against more than just zombies.

Note: This is available on A03, and I would recommend you follow it there, as I remember to update it. I would post a link, but then Tumblr wouldn’t include it in search results.

6

Eiji had agreed to go. There was a painful twist in his stomach as they walked away from the wooden farmhouse. He was nervous – he was nervous about leaving Ibe. Leaving Ibe without a word was even worse. What would he imagine happened when he saw the unmoving zombie on the ground with no Ash or Eiji in sight? He’d probably be worried sick.

Ash had sent a text to Skip. He’d passed it on to Bones and Kong as well, so hopefully Ibe would get it. Hopefully he’d understand. Eiji had to go with Ash.

Ash. He was walking slightly in front of Eiji, not taking his eyes off of the road in front of them. Eiji could still feel his hands on his cheeks, his mouth on Eiji’s. The smell of blood and rotting meat in the air and yet Eiji’s heart had been racing. It had felt like jumping – the second where he swore that he could fly. The ghost of the kiss was still lingering on his skin. They hadn’t talked about it since. Ash had just been happy to be alive. That was all. Eiji kept repeating it to himself.

It didn’t mean anything.

In fact, it had helped kickstart his own heart. He hadn’t been able to believe that he had just done that. He had just seen the undead man approaching Ash. His hand had just pulled to activate the chain saw and he was running. His legs had pumped into action without a second thought.

And then there was blood everywhere. He had killed a zombie. Had killed someone. An undead someone.

Ash had kissed him.

Apparently they were moving on from that.

They had stumbled from the woods and onto the highway about an hour ago and had been following signs since then. Their ears were pricked for any approaching cars that they could hitchhike on. There hadn’t even been an engine in the distance.

“Ibe replied,” Ash said. “He said they’ll meet us in New York. I’ll send our location when we get there.”

“Okay,” Eiji said. “Thank you.”

“I couldn’t wait, Eiji.”

“I know. Is he okay?”

“They think.”

Eiji took a breath. “What are you going to do?”

Ash glanced across at him, green eyes dull. “I don’t know.”

“Do you want a cigarette?” It was the only thin he could think of to make things better.

“I’m dying for one. Didn’t have them on me.”

They hadn’t even gone back in the house afterwards. They had just left. Eiji was still splattered from head to toe in blood and Ash was the same. It had dried in his hair and made it look ginger in the afternoon sun.

“Are you okay if we keep walking through the night?”

Eiji was about to reply, when his eyes were drawn to a sparkle of silver at the edge of the road. He stared at it, trying to figure out what exactly it was. Then it clicked.

“Bicycle.”

“What?”

“There’s a bicycle.” Eiji pointed.

Ash turned. His facial expression did not change but he began to jog over to it. So Eiji jogged too. The bicycle was half-hidden in the underbrush. The spokes were rusted with dried blood, but the wheels still turned.

He was about to ask where the rider was, but then he spotted the trainers a few feet away from the bike. One looked empty, but the other still had a leg attached. It ended suddenly at the knee and Eiji couldn’t look further.

“Can you get onto the handlebars?” Ash asked as he tugged it free of tendrils of dry grass. There was blood splattered up his arms in the pattern of a firework.

Eiji nodded and perched himself on the front of the bicycle. It wobbled as Ash climbed on and there was a screech as the wheels began moving. As they started to pick up speed, Eiji became incredibly aware of Ash behind him, his chin bumping into Eiji’s shoulder every now and then as he kept an eye on where they were going.

Ash. Who had kissed him.

Ash, whose brother had been bitten by zombies.

The feeling of his hands and his mouth began to fade and Eiji couldn’t figure out if he was glad about that or disappointed. Whenever he thought of it, his stomach swooped and he wasn’t sure if he disliked the feeling. Actually, he quite liked it.

He quite liked Ash. He liked looking at Ash – at those cat’s eyes and cupid’s bow mouth. He was pretty – very pretty, in that 80s/90s movie kind of way. And he liked the way Ash looked at him. Like he was seeing someone much better than Eiji. Someone who was confident and funny and all of the things Eiji was not.

They were the things Eiji wasn’t in Japan. In America, he felt like that. No, when he was with Ash he felt like that. When they had been messing around in the farmhouse, he had forgotten about anything else. It had been the happiest he had felt for a very long time.

Did that mean that he wanted to kiss Ash again? He wasn’t sure. It wasn’t a thought that he could give time to –

Ash had only kissed him because he was glad to be alive.

The sun was setting as New York finally came into view. It was the same skyline – set against the fire of the sky. Just was breath-taking, if not more, than when Eiji had first seen it from the taxi. Ash whooped behind him as they started going downhill.

And it only took half a moment for Eiji to join in.

It was a short lived euphoria. The closer and closer the got into the city, the more devastation they saw. Shops had been pillaged and houses broke in to – the empty windows and doors gaping at them as they passed. There was blood as well – blood and body parts scattering the pavement.

The zombies started to appear as they got closer and closer to Manhattan. Ash handed Eiji his phone.

“Load up maps – it’s the last search.” He said, pedalling faster.

Eiji did, turning back to tell him the way to go. He didn’t want to think about how close he was to Ash’s cheek when he did.

But they went bothered by any of the stumbling figures. They glanced at them, started forward, but then seemed to see through them. Eiji wasn’t about to complain. It seemed like an age before they were turning into Chinatown and there was a voice calling, “Ash fucking Lynx!”

“Shorter!” Ash was slowing the bike down, already jumping off before it came to a stop. Eiji stumbled, letting it fall behind him as he jumped off too.

A group was running towards them, led by a tall boy sporting a bright purple mohawk. He met Ash as he ran and enveloped him in a bear hug so tight that Eiji could barely spot Ash.

“Shorter fucking Wong!”

They were like football players who had one at the last moment – all jumping and shaking hands and whooping. Eiji set the bicycle down on the pavement, glancing behind him to see if anyone – anything – had heard. That was when there was an arm around his neck, pulling him forward.

“Eiji, this is my best friend, Shorter,” Ash was saying. “Shorter – this is Eiji, he’s – he’s a friend. A stray we took in.”

“A pleasure.” The boy called Shorter held out a hand – a hand rather larger than Eiji’s, he realised, as he shook it. He could see himself mirrored in the sunglasses. He looked small and scared and covered in blood.

“Hello.” It seemed a ridiculous thing to say, given the circumstance.

The whole group was walking now – heading back to the buildings they had sprung from. Guns were out, trained on their surroundings, even though everyone looked too exhausted to aim.

“Where are you from?”

“Japan.” It was easier to stick to the basics.

Shorter gave a low whistle. “Well, Dorothy, I don’t think you’re in Kansas anymore.”

Eiji couldn’t help it, he glanced at Ash and received a smirk. He still had an arm around Eiji’s shoulders, as if he wanted to protect him. Or as if he needed him to stand upright.

“He came over as a journalist,” Ash said. He could speak English a lot quicker than Eiji. “To interview around gangs and stuff in New York. The boys found him looking sorry for himself near our base.”

“You left them there?”

“We had to scatter.”

Shorter pulled down his sunglasses then, seeming to read something in Ash’s face. They didn’t say anything more until they were bundled into a Chinese restaurant. The lights flickered slightly above them and the boys behind them put wooden bars across the doors. The windows had already been boarded up. There were guns everywhere and bullets scattered the place like bobby pins in a girl’s bathroom. But it was safe and that made Eiji relax.

“What happened?” Shorter wasted no time once they were inside, pulling a chair over to him and setting on it backward – so his could rest his elbows on the back of it.

Ash finally released Eiji, hopping onto one of the tables and using another as a footstool.

Eiji pulled a chair across and wondered if he was the only one here who could use one normally.

“It was like they were organised. They just crowded around – waiting – like they were flushing us out.”

“Like foxes around a rabbit hole.” Shorter ran a hand over his chin. It looked as though he hadn’t shaved in a long time.

“What the fuck do you know about hunting rabbits?”

“More than you, and I don’t have the last name of a big cat.” Shorter was grinning and Ash was grinning back and Eiji supposed that had to be a good sign. “You’re saying they were – what? Assembled there?”

“Organised – I said, organised.”

“Maybe someone led them to you,” Shorter suggested.

“No, no one had left in days.”

“Maybe they have a hive mentality,” someone else threw in.

“They would have found us a while ago, if they did,” Shorter said. He sighed, and leant back, resting his head in his arms, “You know the annoying thing about zombie movies?

“They're too realistic?” Ash asked. It earned a few snickers, and Eiji had to hide his smile behind his hand.

“They don't explain the origin of the zombies.”

“Cell does.” A boy who looked much too young to be filling the gun he was holding, said.

“You're right, Soo-Ling, Cell does,” Shorter said. “And because of that, we can deduce phones were not the cause. In fact, I was taking a call from my sister when it happened.”

“What does it matter how it started?” Ash was on the verge of snarling.

“Because then we might know if someone can control them. If there can be a cure.”

“How many movies are there where they succeed in making a cure?”

“In Shaun of the Dead, Shaun keeps his zombie buddy as a pet in the garage,” the young boy continued. He flicked his gun open and shut without looking at it. “It's not a solution, but the power of friendship might be a compromise.”

“Power of friendship, got it.”

“We have made some progress,” Shorter said. “We know that it started here, in the city. It wasn't brought from anywhere else.”

“And now its spreading.”

“And now its spreading, yeah.”

“We shut down the docks pretty quick.” The female voice was unexpected. A woman stepped through the crowds, tucking a strand of short hair behind her ear. “The whole country should be in shut down or evacuating. Then it’ll be contained.”

“And we’ll be trapped.”

“Until they decompose completely, yeah.” Shorter said.

Ash sighed, pushing his hair away from his face and scowling at the floor. He glanced up, after a moment. “Hi, Nadia.”

“Hello again, Ash.” She smiled then and it made her look so much younger and prettier. “No offence, but you look like crap.”

“I feel like crap.”

“Whose blood is it?” Shorter asked.

Ash glanced at Eiji then. He took a moment before he replied, “some zombie’s. Eiji killed it.”

“And here I thought you were being clever.”

“Come again?”

“The scent – it would have disguised you from them.”

"Yeah, that's what we were aiming for.” Ash winked at Eiji. He looked down. It made his heart stutter and his head feel light. What was wrong with him? It hadn’t meant anything.

It hadn’t meant anything.

“We still have running water upstairs.” That was the woman, Nadia. “Would you two like to wash up?"

"The waters still on?”

“For now,” Shorter said. “We don’t know how long it’s going to last. Consider it a treat before you have to make do with a shower a week. You know, as you smell like rotten meat.”

“You’re very kind.” Ash rolled his eyes. “Eiji, you go first. I have something to do – will you take me?” the last was directed to Shorter, who nodded, his expression turning solemn and serious.

Ash and Shorter were getting to their feet, so Eiji did too. He looked up at Ash, searching his face for – he didn’t know what, exactly. Ash’s face was a mask of indifference anyway.

“Be careful, Ash.”

“I always am.” Ash’s hand hovered above his cheek for a moment, before he took a breath and clenched his fist. “You stay safe too.”

Then he was pushing past Eiji and he was left standing with a group of strangers again.

Only this time he didn’t have Ash.

*

Ash couldn’t remember the last time he had been apart from Eiji. He didn’t like it. It made him feel like he was missing a limb.

Missing a limb. What if Griffin was missing a limb?

He had no idea what he was going to say – no idea what he was going to do. He was just following Shorter with a hand on his gun through the suburbs of New York.  These were the same streets that he knew like the back of his hand, and yet it was almost unrecognisable. This was the city that never slept and yet it was a ghost town. Lights were either off or flickering and it was really becoming dark. He’d never seen New York really dark.

“He’s up here,” Shorter said, as they came to another apartment block. “Third floor – the only closed door.”

“You left him here?”

Shorter leant closer, his voice dropping. “He’s infected, Ash. We couldn’t take him with us.”

Ash wanted to punch something. He wanted to punch the brickwork until his knuckles were bleeding. Then maybe punch Shorter too.

“I’ll go up,” he said, instead. His voice sounded strained. “Cover me?”

He didn’t stay to listen to the answer. Ash shoved the apartment door open with his shoulder and headed up the stairs. Something was leaking, he could hear it tapping through the walls. An electric light burst as he passed it, shattering stars over him.

As he walked down the hallway, he could feel his heart pounding in his chest. Nerves. He couldn’t remember feeling this nervous for a long time.

The only closed door was about halfway down and he paused outside the doorway. His ears strained to hear any sound from inside. No moans. No groans. No screams. Ash nudged it open with his foot, sliding his gun out of his waistband and holding it with both hands as he stepped inside.

It wasn’t trashed. It was just an apartment – bathroom door half open and magazines on the table. The windows intact and the pictures where they should be on the walls. Almost as if it was any other day. So, this was where Griffin had been living. It wasn’t great – barely even nice – but it was his own place. A proper apartment with lampshades instead of naked bulbs and wallpaper instead of cracking, mouldy paint. Griffin had a life. Ash didn’t, not like this. It should have been him with the bite.

Ash cracked the door to the bedroom open with his foot. He could hear ragged breathing and held his breath as he stepped into the room.

A gun was pointed at him. He had been planning to raise his own – just in case, but he lost his nerve. The pistol hung from his fingers as he stared at a man with pale, sweaty skin and lank hair.

“Get out,” the man said in a cracked voice.

Ash opened his mouth, but nothing came out. He just stood there.

“I said get out.”

“Griffin.” Ash’s voice was barely more than a whisper.

“What?”

“Are you – you –“ Ash forced himself to swallow. “Griffin Callenreese?”

“I was.”

“You are.”

The gun was lowered slightly. The man’s breathing was laboured as he stared at Ash. Ash, who was covered in blood. Ash, who was a teenager stood in front of a man. His brother was a man.

“You need to go,” the man said. He paused to give a hacking cough. “It’s not safe here.”

“I know.”

“Then leave.” Another long and painful coughing fit. Ash saw blood and his stomach turned.

“I can’t.”

The man – Griffin – looked at him for a long time. His eyes were blue – the same watery blue that Ash remembered.

“You too?” he croaked.

“What?” Ash blinked. Then understood. “No – no – this is – this is someone else’s. I’m not hurt.” The gun was wavering even lower and he stepped closer. “I had to come here.”

Griffin dropped the gun with a clatter, doubling over and spluttering with a cough. Ash darted forward, kneeling down and rubbing his back. It was then that he noticed the wheelchair. Max had warned him – but there was still something that scared him about it. This was someone Ash didn’t recognise. Someone with a completely different life.

Then again, he couldn’t speak about being unrecognisable.

“Griffin,” Ash said. “You had a brother, right?”

“Have a brother.” Griffin’s voice was even weaker. “He’s still out there. He’s in the city.”

“He is.”

Griffin looked up then. His eyes were red, but they were searching Ash’s. He was still there. Some of him.

“He’s here,” Ash whispered.

“Aslan.”

There was a hand on Ash’s cheek – a wavering hand and he steadied it against himself without even thinking. Aslan. That was a name that he hadn’t heard in a long time. It was a name that didn’t even feel like his anymore. But it was. That was him. He was Aslan.

Griffin’s hand moved on his cheek – just slightly. Just enough to wipe away the drop of water that had appeared from Ash’s eye. He hadn’t even realised his eyes were damp.

“Where have you been, Aslan?”

He couldn’t say. Not when Griffin already had a foot in the grave and seemed to be inching into it as they spoke. The truth had no place here. Instead he tried to make his mouth smile. “Yonder.”

That made Griffin chuckle. Ash wanted to believe it was a chuckle, but it sounded like the dry laugh of a skeleton.

"You shouldn't be here," Griffin repeated.

Ash shook his head. "I had to. I had to come."

"It's too late, Aslan."

He knew that. He knew it but that wasn't right. His heart was telling him that it wasn't right.

"It's not - it can't be - not after - not after everything." It wasn't fair. It really wasnt fair that they'd only just found each other and now - this. "We'll - we'll find a cure - there has to be a cure."

Griffin gave him a tired smile. He had such a gentle face - Ash couldn't imagine him as a soldier. He couldn't imagine him killing anyone. His other hand was searching Ash's matted hair with clumsy fingers, as if he was trying to feel as much of Ash as he could.

"I don't want to know what it's like," Griffin said. "To be like that. I don't want that."

"But - it can't be too late." Ash sounded like a child, but that was okay. He could be a child now that his big brother was here.

Griffin shook his head and the movement left him panting for air. "My heart is slowing. Here - feel."

He took Ash's hand, moving at the snail's pace of a man much older, until Ash's curled fingers were on Griffin's chest. He forced himself to move, to feel it with his palm. A small, childish part of him hoped that against everything, he would feel a strong heartbeat. A heartbeat getting stronger because he was here now and brotherly love would win out.

This wasn't a movie. He could barely feel anything. And as a result, he couldn't bring himself to meet Griffin's eyes.

"How did it happen?" he whispered in a cracking voice.

"Well I could hardly going anywhere, could I?" His voice was gentle. So gentle. "My friend was meant to be getting supplies. Searching for a safe house and coming back to get me. I have no idea how he would have gotten us out of the city, but Max is like that. A very brave man."

But he abandoned you, Ash wanted to say. He had left. If he had stayed this wouldn’t have happened. He kept his mouth shut. Nothing would make this moment worse than it was.

'They found me - could probably smell me. One was on me before I knew it and by the time I had got my safety off my gun and killed it - it got me. I thought it was easier to stay here, where I can't infect anyone else."

"I can help you," Ash whispered.

"You can," Griffin said. It wasn’t what he wanted to hear. He knew the drill now. "The thought of that moment - that moment of changing - has been haunting me for days," he wet his mouth with a greyish tongue and Ash wished that he wouldn't say it. Of all the crap that had happened to him, don't add this on too. "Will you be able to do it?"

"I don't know."

"Not wanting to isn't the same as not being able to. Here." Griffin was searching for Ash's arms and he let him. He let the gun in his hands be raised as if he was a doll. As if he was helpless. But Griffin was looking at him clearer than ever. "I'll help you. We'll do it together."

He was holding Ash's gun against his forehead, hands closed over Ash's. They were already stained with blood and they were smaller. Too small.

He shook his head because he couldn't speak. Could barely breathe for the pain in his chest and throat and could barely see for the tears in his eyes.

"Look at you, Aslan." There was that gentle voice again. The fingers tightened around his ever so slightly. Calloused, Ash realised. Experienced hands. "You're all grown up. Almost a man."

"You have grown up," Ash whispered. He felt a tear drip down his cheek and it felt like a raindrop.

"I wish you didn't have to." For a moment, it looked as if he was going to put the gun down. That he'd put the gun down and hug Ash. But then his face hardened into a resolution. "But it's time, tiger."

There was a sound in the back of Ash's throat. He hadn't realised how much he'd missed that nickname.

"I want to be your brother. Not anything else. Don't let me change."

"Okay." The word finally came out, even if it was against his will. He shifted his fingers under Griffin's, made sure that he would be able to pull the trigger. "I love you, Griffin."

Griffin tried for a smile again, but his face was stiff. His hands were weakening over Ash's and it would have to be this moment - it would have to be now.

"I love you too, tiger."

The bang reverberated through the apartment like the first firework of the fourth of July.

Ash let the gun drop into his lap. Let himself rest his arms and head on Griffin's knees. Gave himself ten seconds to let the wave of emotions wash through him.

Then he stood.

And he left.

[nikfix]

Cranking Up the Gain with Neverdie’s Tani Cariño and Bren Pasamba

(Photo source: http://www.redhorsebeer.com/index.php/blogs/article/5-local-releases-to-watch-out-for)

NEVERDIE might be over, but hopefully, posting my gear feature about them isn’t too late. I’ve seen these guys around, and I’m really impressed with what they‘ve done as a unit. They brought the house down the moment they played the first set in their second to the last April 14 at Saguijo, Makati. They played their last gig the week after at Mow’s,  Matalino, Quezon City. The energy and power these guys shared onstage is something I strive to have with the gigs I play. In this gig, I made some new friends with guitarists Tani Cariño and Bren Pasamba.

(This interview was done last month, the week after Garage Morning’s gig with them)

Fun Fact: their bassist Lip Dalangin is my trusted luthier, as well as with my band Garage Morning. 

How did you start making music and playing guitar?

Tani: I started in the late 90’s after my older brother taught me how to play “Basket Case” by Green Day. I guess after that it’s never been the same.

Bren: Originally I wanted to play the drums, but a kit was too expensive and our house at the time wasn't big enough to have space for one... or handle the noise. So as a compromise my mom borrowed an old classical guitar for me instead. But my first real guitar was a Rockstar classical guitar where I learned and played Eraserheads songs.

How did your band start out?

Tani: Neverdie started out as a skate crew. After accumulating enough guys in the crew we decided to form a band. I guess after the last show, we’ll go back to being a skate crew.

Bren: I wasn't supposed to be part of Neverdie initially, just a seessionist. But since my schedule was more flexible, I got in haha.

Who are your main influences? And how did they inspire you to play better?

Tani: I’m a huge Blink guy so my first primary influence would be Tom DeLonge and Mark Hoppus. I also took a bunch of ideas from Rufio, Mock Orange and Moneen. More recently, I’ve been influenced by bands like Title Fight, Transit, You Blew It! and The Menzingers.

All these bands are quite melodic in the midst of grit which is what I lean more into. I love the melodic stuff and I always try to listen to new bands so I can get new ideas from them. My foundation for riffs are the Tom DeLonge influenced ones then I just expand from there.

Bren: As a kid my main influences were Ely Buendia and Tom DeLonge haha. But as I grew older and started discovering more music (thanks to Myspace and Limewire) it introduced me to those who influence my music and playing now. From the top of my head: Taking Back Sunday's John Nolan, Brand New's Jesse Lacey, George Harrison, Nothing's Brandon Setta, Title Fight's Jamie Rhoden, Mong and Diego from andwich, Steve and Pakoy from Typecast, David Gilmour, and Kevin Shields, the guys from You Blew It!, The Flatliners, Joyce Manor, and lastly Beast Jesus' Francis Maria and Raphael Pulgar are my inspirations to play although I'm aware it doesn't show in my playing haha. Listening to the songs they've made just inspire me to play in general, nothing in the terms of technique or technicality, pero their playing gets me in the mood to play.

Tell us more about your music.

Tani: Aside from Neverdie, I also play in Irrevocable and Lindenwood. Unfortunately, both Neverdie and Lindenwood are currently calling it a day for different reasons. I personally felt that us in Neverdie just overstayed our welcome. We decided to just finish the band off and start a new band with a slightly different sound. It’ll be our last show / 2nd full length release on April 21 at Mow’s.

As for Lindenwood, our vocalist just decided he wanted to try different things outside of music. Maybe at some point we’ll be back but at the moment it’ll be good for us to take a break. We put out a full length last year.

I’m currently active in Irrevocable which is a band my girlfriend is also in. Featuring members of Nyctinasty (now 3/3), Behind Bears, Beast Jesus, Past Forward, The Oemons, Browse in Bridge and Disquiet Apartment. We have a Singapore show and an album release coming up. We’re planning more fly shows after that so I hope we pull through!

Bren: Neverdie has and always has been a pop punk band though we are and have been influenced by math rock, emo, post-hardcore, hardcore, etc. So whatever happens after, it will be in the same spectrum. As for my future plans, hopefully I get a job soon after my masters because I've been eyeing so many guitars and pedals online haha. GAS is too strong.

Tell us about your guitars. Which is your favorite one and why?

Tani: I’ve been a Tele player for the longest time but I’ve recently started using Rickenbackers for many reasons. I like how not a lot of people use them and they sound different. I do have to work harder to make them sound amazing but it’s always a great pay off.  They’re durable as well because of the all maple build. Here’s my current lineup of guitars:

1) 2000 Rickenbacker Fireglo 330 – My first Rick. I was actually supposed to trade a bunch of guitars for a 60’s American Vintage Tele but when I saw this in the room of the guy I was trading with, I asked him I could grab this instead and he agreed. Rickenbacker stopped using Bubinga for their fretboards so I’m stoked I was able to grab one. I also got lucky with this one because it has the Toaster pickups.

2) 2014 Rickenbacker Blue Boy 330 – If you ask me, it looks more like a Seafoam Green 330. This one has the High Gain pickups and the newer Caribbean Rosewood fretboard. I like Bubinga but I actually prefer the color and feel of the Caribbean Rosewood more plus it’s sustainable.3) 2007 Rickenbacker Blue Burst 360 – I actually had to ask around for this guitar because I saw the dude from Oh Flamingo! use it. He borrowed it from a friend and I sent that dude a message. This one has the High Gain pickups and Bubinga fretboard. To me, if my 330s feels like a Gibson 335 then this one feels more like a Les Paul.  

3) 2007 Rickenbacker Blue Burst 360 – I actually had to ask around for this guitar because I saw the dude from Oh Flamingo! use it. He borrowed it from a friend and I sent that dude a message. This one has the High Gain pickups and Bubinga fretboard. To me, if my 330s feels like a Gibson 335 then this one feels more like a Les Paul.

4) 2008 Fender Custom Shop Custom Classic Telecaster – My first Custom Shop. I fitted a Miles Anodized Gold pickguard in it. It has the premium ash 1 pc body and the flamed maple neck. Serial number says it’s made in 2005 but the paperwork says it’s 2008. Easily the best Telecaster I’ve ever owned.

5) 2015 Fender Mexico Classic Series 72’ Telecaster Custom – A birthday gift from my folks. I got this in Tom Lee HK. It’s heavily modified at this point. I added Graphtech string trees, Graphtech 3 barrrel saddles, 1 meg pots on the neck, a Bareknuckle flat ’52 on the bridge. I might get a Wide Range neck pickup that’s spec’d more like the vintage ones down the road.

6) 2011 Fender Mexico Blacktop Telecaster – Another birthday gift from my folks. I got this in Tom Lee HK as well. Also, heavily modified at this point. I added Graphtech string trees, Graphtech 6 saddles, Graphtech Nut, Tesla PAF on the neck, Seymour Duncan Prails on the bridge, anodized black Miles pickguard, Ernie Ball knobs. I have a Bareknuckle humbucker sized P90 on the way and I’ll be fitting it on here. I’m also thinking of swapping out the tuners for the locking ones.

7) 2014 Miles Interloper – I have a guitar business called Miles (currently in hiatus) and this is the first prototype. It’s a Jazzmaster body with a telecaster neck. Fitted with a roller bridge, tune-o-matic stoptail, one volume knob and, Seymour Duncan Jazzmaster Antiquities. Pine body and a maple neck with a kamagong fretboard. I used this on the road so much. It’s pretty beat up so it’s retired at this point.  

As for favorites, at the moment it’s both 330s and the Custom Shop Tele. All guitars are fitted with DiMarzio Cliplocks and Elixir Nanoweb strings.

Bren: Initially I was a Les Paul guy until Tani forced everyone in Neverdie to get Telecasters. Prior to that I always dreamt of getting a Les Paul though my first guitar was a Strat copy (which I think is the most common starting point for beginners?). But I discovered and fell in love with Offset guitars, particularly Jazzmasters. I love how they look and feel being a bigger guy. I have a White and tort Squier VM Jaguar, a Red and Tort Squier VM Jazzmaster, a Black and tort Riverhead Jazzmaster, a Miles Guitars Interloper (Telemaster), a Black on Black MICSIS Custom Jazzblaster, and a Black and Gold Fender Blacktop Jazzmaster, my "Number 1", on my rotation. But my current favorites are my Stratocasters. I fell back into them a year ago thanks to Nothing. Whenever I feel like switching things up I use either my Black on Black MIM Fender Squier series Stratocaster or a Cream on tort MIJ Fender Stratocaster. I bought a white on mint SX Stratocaster on a whim because I loved the color haha though I've never used it. Still on the hunt for a Telecustom haha.

Let’s take a look at your pedalboard. What effects do you use live?

I used to run with a bigger pedalboard but after doing one fly show wherein I had to pay for my overweight baggage, I decided it wasn’t worth it anymore especially since I always bring my amps to non-fly shows anyway. Nowadays, I just run with a boost, a small reverb that’s maxed out to act both like a delay and a normal reverb depending on the situation, an amp based OD (or parametric EQ), a tuner and a wireless rig.

For this year, the mainstays on my board are the following:

Shure PGX14 Wireless Unit – My dad gave this to me as a birthday gift back in 2006 if I’m not mistaken. It’s the piece of gear that I’ve had the longest and still use to this day.

Korg Mini Tuner – I’ve been using regular sized Korg Pitchblacks for awhile now so going with the mini tuner just made sense especially since I downsized. I absolutely hate clip on tuners for live use so I just prefer pedal tuners as they react faster.

Vitoos ISO8 – I only got this last week. It’s my first time using an Isolated PSU since I recently got a pedal that requires it. Most PSU’s are made in China so I had no issue with getting a relatively unknown brand. It’s my second Vitoos PSU and I’ve always had a great experience with them. Also helpful when you need to play shows in other countries that don’t use the same power voltage you normally do since it’s rated internationally. Get one at Guitar Pusher. Highly recommended!

Orange Two Stroke – Another pedal I just got this year. I’ve been eyeing this one for awhile now but I couldn’t pull the trigger just yet because It was so confusing to use then one day I just decided to go for it and I’ve been using it ever since. It’s a great Parametric EQ / Clean Boost pedal which dials my tone better and makes use of my amp more. Orange amps are typically dark amps so I use this to raise a bit of the high mids. Probably the most versatile pedal I have because it can do so much it’s insane. You can place it anywhere on the board, you can use it for acoustic or bass, you can turn your single coil guitar into a humbucker or vice versa, you can use it as a regular OD or boost pedal, etc etc. Highly recommended!

For my boost, I switch between a bunch of Wamplers (Euphoria, Pinnacle, Plexi Drive), a 65 Pedals Colour Boost and, a JHS Superbolt. For future fly shows, I might use two Wamplers instead of the Two Stroke. One for boost and the other to act as my preamp since I can’t bring my amps with me. I also have an Orange Amp Detonator which is an ABY pedal. I haven’t used it live but I will if I’m suddenly lacking one guitar player in any band I am. I also use Lava cables.

I also have a separate board at home. I just plug in my live board beside it. For my home board I have a NUX JTC Looper on that for practicing and writing songs. I also have one of the ODs above on it as well so I can play with different tones at home.

Bren: From the guitar I go into my Devi Ever Hyperion to my Snark Tuner then to a Diamond J-Drive MK3, to a TC Electronic Flashback X4, to a TC Electronic Hall of Fame Reverb. This is where my board really ends, but I have 2 loopers at the end: a TC Electronic Ditto and a Boss RC-3. The Ditto I use at home when just playing around, and the RC-3 I use live as a sampler, for comic relief haha.

I’ve seen Tani bring this amazing Orange TH30 Head with a 4x12 cab. What amps do you use at home and live?

Tani: It’s actually a 4x10 cab and I love how it looks like a 4x12. I only started using 10”s last December 2017. I find that the 10” speakers have more detail compared to a 12” so that’s what I’ve been using recently.

I still use my TH30 head and 4x10 cab at home as well as an Orange CR120 head, Orange Dual Terror and an Orange 2x12 open back cabinet. My tube driven Orange heads are setup to have more head room. I placed a 12AT7 tube in the first gain stage rather than a 12AX7 to give the amps a bit more breathing room. All the Orange gear I have sound great both on stage and at low volumes. Tough as nails too.

Bren: I currently have an Ibanez TSA15H paired with a Miles 1x12 Cabinet with Eminence Red White and Blues and an Orange Tiny Terror with an Orange 1x12 Cabinet. I primarily use the Oranges, and mix it up with an Orange Micro Terror as a back-up when I'm feeling lazy. I also have an old Kustom 2x12 Cabinet but it is too bulky to bring to shows.

What are you listening to right now?

Tani: A new record by a band called Fiddlehead released last week called “Springtime and Blind” featuring members of Have Heart and Basement. Scott Sellers of Rufio also put out something new called “The Judge”.

Bren: I've been listening to The Wonder Years’ new album since it came out. Then on rotation I have Daniel Caesar, Citizen, Basement, Modern Baseball, Code Orange and Knuckle Puck when driving. Also Hop Along's new album is good too. I also discovered this new band yesterday called Any Name's Okay, they're good haha. Yeah so far they're who I listen to on a daily basis nowadays.

What advice can you give to your fellow guitar players and musicians who want to play like you do?

Bren: My advice for other players and myself is stop comparing your playing to other people. It'll help you find your own "voice", but it'll help you relax as well as a person and as a musician. Just relax and be comfortable in your own skin... or fingers haha. Learn from those you watch and who's around you, don't compete because it really isn't a competition haha.

Tani: Never skimp out on tuners. Get a high quality pedal tuner because the cheaper ones just don’t react as fast. The more time you tune on stage, the less time you have to play so make sure to get one that tracks well. I’ve had a good experience with the Snark Tuner pedal. I think that’s the cheapest tuner pedal that can track almost as well as a Pitchblack.

Avoid displaying guitars in your room. Keep them in a case when not being used. Always check everything in your gear if it works before the show. Bring a back-up of a back-up because you never know if something will go wrong. Study your gear well to a point that you know if it’s making noise, you can instantly pinpoint the problem. Buy a can of contact cleaner. If it’s making noise, it’s most likely dirty. A quick spray of contact cleaner will usually do the trick.

Practicing regularly with the band is important but it’s also important to practice how to setup and tear down your rig the fastest way possible. I absolutely hate it when bands take so long to setup and tear down.

If you’re going to try and play like someone, don’t just pick one and try to keep an open mind so that you can find your own style in playing.

Most importantly, have fun. If you’re in a band that writes original songs, don’t focus on profit or even if people will like it. Write songs that YOU will like.

[itsworn]

Behind the Build: Pat Ganahl’s Cross-Country Cruiser Heads Home

Well, as far as South City Rod & Custom is concerned, the Ganahl Model 40 sedan, which Pat has christened “Roadie” (despite the DMV’s backup name, “Roadee”), is now back in Glendale awaiting its finishing touches. As it left his son Bill Ganahl’s shop, all the big had been completed—the metalwork (firewall, floors, and tunnel), complete chassis (from ’rails to brakes and steering), drivetrain (350/700-R4/9-inch), exhaust, and fitting/gapping the sheetmetal. Bill also mounted an underdash Vintage Air unit—minus the electrical and refrigerant—and though he was asked not to for reasons associated with paint prep and application, installed all the glass (Pat’s picky, but it is much easier to paint with the glass out, regardless how the sedan looks rolling down the 101 on the back of a trailer, Bill …).

Now that Pat has the more-door keeping his Deuce roadster and the Iacono inline Jimmy-powered dragster company, the deadline to get Roadie, well, on the roadie, is entirely in his hands. So, not that he doesn’t have his hands full as it is, I’m going to turn the keyboard over to Pat and let him bring this trilogy to an end in appropriate fashion.

“This was Anna’s idea, actually. She wants to go to the Austin Roundup, partly because we love the music, food, and ambiance of that city, and partly because Bill and Sabina are planning to cruise there in the lavender pearl Riviera I just finished painting for them. The problem was that I didn’t have a hot rod that was built to drive to Texas. I never have.

“You see, to me a hot rod is a coupe or roadster, or maybe even an early two-door sedan, stripped down to bare essentials, with a mean stance and sound and at least enough horsepower to back it up. Such cars aren’t built to be comfortable, and they certainly aren’t made to drive across country. Downtown to the malt shop and back is more like it. Or maybe a day-trip up the mountains or out in the country with your best friend to get your hair blown. My hot rods are built for short hops.

“I can’t say I’ve built a lot of such rods, but they’ve all had three pedals and a single fan belt. Parts came from the junkyard, fellow rodders, or parts cars. They didn’t have power anything, and no heater (this is SoCal), let alone A/C. My current Deuce roadster doesn’t even have a radio or windshield wiper, or provision for a top. There are no parts on it newer than 1952. It’s good—fun—for daytrips as far as L.A. to San Francisco (400 miles), but that’s about it.

“I’m proud that it’s traditionally true and accurate. But not only does that mean it’s not practical for road trips, today that also means finding these traditional parts takes scrounging (often on the infernal Internet), and paying big prices and/or rebuilding costs once you find them.”

Fordor Fate

“Anna’s favorite hot rod is a 1934 three-window coupe. She knows hot rods and she’s got taste. Unfortunately, we don’t have that kind of money. Plus I fit better in a sedan, where I can push the seat back and maintain headroom. I love full-fendered Tudor Deuces and Model 40s, especially on a good rake. But they’re nearly as pricey as coupes these days.

“Don’t get ahead of me here. I know I’ll never live down the stigma of a certain fat Chevy with too many doors and not enough cylinders. I did the best I could with that car, but it was never a hot rod. I’m glad to say it’s now a fully lifted lowrider—and not mine—which it should have been from day one. But the fact remains that four-door sedans are the least desirable, and therefore most affordable, of all vintage cars. The good news is that the 1933-1934 Ford Fordors, with their four suicide doors and leaned-back front edge, are the best-looking of all, especially when they sit on a nasty rake, with big ’n’ little tires, and a wicked black paintjob. So that was the plan for our ‘road rod.’

“Not only would we get a roof over our head, a good ride, roll-up (tinted) windows, but even a good stereo and—lordy!—air conditioning. Plus I wanted to find a pair of contoured, adjustable front bucket seats like the ones in Anna’s well-used Camry or Accord wagon, which we have driven across the country many times and know to be comfortable (for both of us). The ones I found at Pick-A-Part were in a clean Subaru Outback and cost $40 each.

“Finding a clean 1933-1934 Fordor wasn’t as easy. Browsing sources like Goodguys Gazette, Hotrod Hotline, and Jalopy Journal, I quickly found some candidates in the $12,000 range. I even sent Bill with a trailer to Sacramento to potentially buy one whose owner swore it was an all-original car ‘with just a little rust in the bottom of the doors.’ What Bill found was a mish-mash of cast-off parts recently bolted on a rusted-out frame. The owner actually told him, ‘Guess I’ll have to find a less-knowledgeable buyer.’

“Having looked at a few more with missing parts or rust issues, I soon learned a lesson: pay for pristine. It’s cheaper—and easier—in the long run. And I knew where to find it. Bill McGrath’s Early Ford Store in San Dimas, California, always has a few good ‘finds’ lined up out back. I had seen two nice Fordors there awhile back. But when I got there those were replaced by an amazingly complete, straight, totally rust-free 1933 that had just come out of some long-term indoor storage. I’m talking worn but original seats, mohair, gauges, garnish moldings, glass—even the roll-down shade over the back window. Then to make it more saleable Bill pulled parts off his shelves: new dropped axle, headlights, cowllights, bumpers, taillights, running boards, not to mention a good-running 59A engine with a new carb, headers, Smittys, radiator, gas tank, plus a 1939 trans and fresh 1940 juice brakes. With steel wheels with caps ’n’ rings, quickie lowering, and faded red-oxide primer it looked damn good—and was.

“So I paid a little more than double what the rust buckets were asking, for a complete, driving, no-rust Fordor (a similar coupe would have been twice, if not three times more). Better yet, when it got to Bill’s South City shop, he rolled the complete flathead chassis out from under it and found a buyer to recoup $6,500 of the cost.”

Religious Conversion

“The best part of this whole project, for both Anna and I, is having our son build it in his shop. This is a big first for me, because I am strictly a DIY guy. And traditional. But this car isn’t. I knew what I wanted—basically a Pete & Jakes chassis, as designed by Jim Jacobs for his own 1934 coupe 40-plus years ago, and thoroughly road-tested by him and countless others since. This is essentially the same chassis Roy Brizio puts under the majority of the totally roadworthy early Ford rods he builds, which is of course where Bill cut his teeth learning this business. So Bill knew exactly what I meant when I told him ‘Basically build a P&J chassis for it, just like the ones at Brizio’s.’ And he agreed. And you’ve seen what he’s done in the first two segments of this series. I’m obviously a very happy customer.

“But what really surprises me is how much I have truly enjoyed building what I formerly derided as a 1-800-street-rod. As Rob pointed out in the first story, it’s like a religious conversion. I like it. It’s fun. I don’t have to hunt high and low for period-perfect or numbers-correct vintage parts, and then pay dearly when (and if) I find them. I can choose any components I want and, especially today, be pretty sure that they’re going to work properly and fit with each other, without having to cut, grind, and hand-fit or rework every part. Actually, after telling Bill what I wanted, I let him do the specific ordering because he knows from much experience what fits and what works.

“Of course that still requires plenty of custom hand fitting, cutting, forming, and welding—especially since this is a Fordor sedan—as you have also seen in prior installments. Just one example is the steering. Plenty to choose from. But I’ve known Steve Dennish for years, I like his LimeWorks products, and he had a wheel that resembled the early Vette type I love. So I said, ‘I’ll take that wheel, with that horn button, and that column, with that shaft … send them to Bill.’ Meanwhile Bill had to figure out how and where exactly to mount the front seats I brought him. Then I had to sit in the seat so we could determine the most comfortable location for the wheel and column. And then Bill had to fabricate a custom column drop and floor mount to attach it. That’s 1-800 hot rodding at its best: part bought, part built, and all works perfectly. You can see many more examples on the car.

“What you see here is far from finished, however. I really like the way it looks, just as it sits. I’m particularly happy with the wheel and tire combination and exactly how they sit in the fenders. I told Bill I didn’t want the glass in until I painted the body, but he was adamant to get it installed with the proper channels and massaged regulators to work properly. It does and looks good. So I was seriously considering getting the car running and driving it for a while in its as-found primer, like this. It would be cool.

“But it would require installing and removing a whole lot of stuff (wiring, fuel lines, brake lines, glass, dash/gauges, and so on). So now that it’s finally home, I get to start taking it all back apart and painting it from the frame up. After a little block sanding the outside will be old-school black lacquer (PPG still makes it), with a white top insert to match the wheels. The frame and floorboards will be black, but most of the chassis components will be spray-can hammertone silver or dark gray. I’m thinking a medium gold for the engine with some early script valve covers and maybe a little Vette air cleaner. The interior will be black with white tuck ’n’ roll inserts in the seats and door panels. Chrome will be limited to the grille, windshield frame, and inside garnish moldings.

“Then it’s hitting the highway. Austin, no problem. But we won’t stop there. Anna and I have driven this country’s turnpikes and two-lanes every summer since we’ve known each other. Some retirees say a motorhome is the way to go. Thank you, but we’d prefer motels and a 1933 Ford hot rod.”

We left you hanging last month after Bill had finished hanging—and fitting/gapping—the sheetmetal on Pat’s Fordor, which he’s aptly named “Roadie” (don’t let the plates fool ya). Before the elder Ganahl took re-possession of the sedan, however, there were still a few things left to do before the car left South City Rod & Custom.

One of Pat’s nonconformist (read: not hot rod applicable) options he’s conformed to is having the comfort of interior climate control, which in this case is a Vintage Air Gen II Compac unit. Bill was tasked with not only installing, but doing so without using up a ton of real estate.

In order to situate the plumbing running vertically down the inner firewall, Bill fashioned up a horizontal bulkhead box off the lower edge of his recess.

A vise-mounted Hydra-Kool manual crimper from Mastercool was used to build the A/C lines to the exact desired length …

… and the plumbing routing ensued, with each and every line tucked tight and kept as out-of-sight as possible, when possible. (If you’re wondering why that was such a concern with everything located on the passenger side—Pat won’t be spending every mile traveled behind the wheel; when Anna’s in the driver seat, he preferred having ample room for his longer-than-most legs to stretch!)

And while we’re on the topic of legroom, that too had to be taken into consideration when Bill was setting up the steering. Matter of fact, Pat traveled up to the Bay Area to personally deliver his adjustable bucket seats of choice, to which his son tailor-fit along with the steering while he was there. The wheel and bare column are from Flaming River.

Lastly, although Pat had requested he not do so, Bill convinced his dad that installing the glass and all the related components (new regulators, channels, and so on) be done while he still had the sedan. (Pat initially wanted to forgo the glass install since he’ll be painting the Fordor himself, and wanted to save that till afterward.)

The post Behind the Build: Pat Ganahl’s Cross-Country Cruiser Heads Home appeared first on Hot Rod Network.

from Hot Rod Network http://www.hotrod.com/articles/behind-build-pat-ganahls-cross-country-cruiser-heads-home/ via IFTTT

[threeorphanpilgrimage]

Chapter 73 - Material

"You ready up there!"

"Yeah!" yelled Clementine as she looked down at Patty from her perch up on the small catwalk surrounding the billboard.

"All right, hang tight!" Clem actually did clutch the railing tightly as she watched Patty head through an opening in the fence surrounding a dusty lot. A free-standing square of red roofing in front of a small building suggested this was once a gas station. But the various trailers, bundles of long pipes and massive spools of wire made it clear it had become something else by the time of the outbreak. It hardly mattered what though as all Clem and Patty were concerned with was the yellow piece of construction equipment with a mechanical arm attached to a giant metal shovel parked in the back.

"All right," crackled Patty's voice over the radio. "Keep an eye out, this thing is loud and slow, so I can't exactly drive out of here in it if something comes running, assuming it even works at all."

"Got it." Clem briefly looked down as Patty climbed into the backhoe's cab then fixed her eyes on the horizon. A loud mechanical churning filled the air as Clem carefully scanned for threats. She slowly turned her head past the road, carefully eyed the door of an old building across the street, watched an open warehouse for signs of movement, and kept turning in place until she found herself staring out an empty field peppered by short, blooming trees.

The engine suddenly got much louder and Clem turned back to the lot in time to watch the backhoe slowly roll forward a few feet. It stopped, then the mechanical arm on the front began to extend, producing a series of loud whirs with every inch it pivoted. The large metal scoop moved down to the ground, then back up, then down, then left, and so forth until Patty finally seemed to figure out the controls. The scoop sliced into the ground and, after a lot more awkward short movements, eventually pulled out a pile of dirt.

Clem headed for the ladder as she heard the engine shut off. Climbing down in a hurry and racing over to Patty as she emerged from the backhoe, she saw a big smile on the woman's face that matched her own.

"It works?" asked an excited Clem as she looked down at the big hole.

"It works!" cheered Patty as she looked at the vehicle. "Surprised all it needed was a little routine maintenance. When Sin asked us to find one of these things I didn't think we'd actually find one, let alone on the first day."

"So now what?" asked Clem. "Should we drive it back?"

"It would take hours with how slow it moves and use up tons of diesel we don't have on hand," said Patty as she walked over to a long flat trailer. "But, we unhook one of our semis, drive it back, hitch it to this thing, drive the backhoe onto it, then when can haul it back to the farm."

"That sounds… complicated," said Clem.

"Not really, it's just going to be a time-consuming hassle," said Patty as she looked at the trailer's hitch. "Seeing as it's past noon and backhoes probably aren't high up on the apocalyptic wish list, we could come back tomorrow and figure it out. For now I'd rather just get back to the farm, in case something did hear us just now and is on its way."

"Sounds good to me."

The pair radioed Devlin and Jet with an update before grabbing their bikes. Clem pedaled down the road a bit, then stopped to look over her shoulder at the billboard she had used as a lookout. Faded orange letters spelling 'Osage' was all that remained of whatever was originally posted on it. They were barely visible through the crude red ones that spelled out their message: DEAD DON'T EAT DEAD, SMELL LIKE THE DEAD. Satisfied they had done enough for today, the pair took off down the interstate and started pedaling north.

This was the first day Clem could remember in a long time where it felt warm out, and the cool air blowing past her face actually felt refreshing for once. It was a sunny day and everywhere Clem looked she could see signs of spring. Small budding flowers poking out of the dirt, tiny little green leaves on the ends of tree branches, and even the air had a certain faint fragrance that hadn't been there yesterday, almost like freshly cut grass.

Reaching the edge of town, Clem found herself slowing down as they approached an intersection. She didn't expect anything from the town itself except the abandoned buildings they passed earlier that looked like all the other buildings they had seen in dozens of small towns. But the intersection itself offered something interesting in the form of odd looking graffiti written out on the pavement in front of each road. Rolling to a stop, Clem found herself pondering their meaning all over again.

"Yo." Clem looked up to find Patty circling her bike. "I told you, some kid probably did that before shit hit the fan. Some wannabe tagger getting all cryptic with his lettering."

"I know, but I still kind of want to know what it says," admitted Clem as she studied the symbols. The road ahead and to her left were both marked with angular shapes that resembled a square with an eye and a giant open mouth was ready to eat two slices of pizza that each had a pepperoni on the center of them. Looking over her shoulder at the road they came in on, there were six squares in a row, some missing sides, some with dots in the middle, but no two were the same. Past them was the number twenty, the only symbol Clem recognized.

"Why don't you take a picture?" suggested Patty as she pedaled onto the road leading southwest. "Then you can solve the mysteries of bad street art back home."

Clem removed a camera from her bike's saddlebag and snapped a quick picture of the bigger piece of graffiti. She waited a few seconds until she could see it developing, then tucked it and the camera back into the bag with the others photos she had taken today. Then she hopped on her bike and pedaled after Patty as fast as she could, wind whipping at the edges of her leather jacket.

The pair biked past a mile or so of suburbs, then gas stations and small shops begin to appear along the sides of the road, until eventually old brick buildings emerged on the horizon, marking the edge of downtown. An old one-story brick building with a big RV parked beside it caught the pair's attention. Patty and Clem rode right to the back of the Brave, hopped off their bikes, and set them in place on the rack.

Moving around to the front, Clem eyed the now lifeless neon sign reading 'Simple Simon's' before pushing past the glass doors. The interior was largely empty, like Clem had seen earlier, but one notable difference was the sight of a large green table slowly sliding its way out of a back room on its side. Approaching the would be escapee furniture, Clem and Patty found the source of its movement.

"Figured you two would be done by now," said Patty with a smile.

"Figured you two would be back sooner," retorted Devlin with a smile.

"Clem had to stop and admire some street art," said Patty.

"What is this thing?" asked Clem. "It doesn't look like a normal table."

"It's a ping pong table," said Jet with a smile.

"These people have a killer employee's lounge," said Devlin as he looked over his shoulder. "My place desperately needs some entertainment and there's a whole bunch of stuff back there I wouldn't mind taking home."

"But this is the only one that folds up," said Jet. "And it's still pretty heavy."

"Clem, hold the door open for us," said Patty as she maneuvered closer to Devlin. "I'll help with the heavy lifting." Working together to move the ping pong table outside, Clem thought it was a shame they were nearly done with their scouting trip. Biking across open country roads and picking up a few assorted luxuries for their home had been a very welcome break from the slow and tedious process of personally watering their entire field by hand and checking every seedling to see if anything had changed from the previous day, every day. And that was just one of many tasks that needed doing with each new day on a farm.

Managing to fit the ping pong table inside the Brave, everyone filed in and maneuvered past the various boxes and bags of assorted goods to reach their seats. Gazing out the windshield, Clem eyed rustic multi-storied buildings that made up the heart of downtown Pawhuska. They only took up a couple of blocks and looked much older than anything else in town, but Clem couldn't help wondering what the story behind them was, or what Pawhuska was like before the outbreak. But before long, they disappeared from sight and they were well on their way back to their secluded farm.

The barrier of trees that surrounded their home had thickened slightly as their emerging leaves slowly created a more effective shroud from the outside world. Rolling across the worn path leading through the woods, past the three budding saplings rooted alongside the main road, and up to chainlink fence surrounding the house and driveway, Clem let out a little sigh of disappointment.

Devlin got out to open the gate while Jet picked up a box Clem could see was full of paints, brushes and what looked like a long board sticking out of the top. Clem grabbed a couple of bags of goods herself, then headed out of the Brave as soon as she heard the familiar squeak of the parking brake. She went into the house and left one bag in the kitchen and the other bag in the living room while Jet carried his box up to his room. Moving back outside, Clem found her eyes landing on the storm shelter tucked behind Devlin's guest house.

She never actually had gotten a good look at it since moving in, and she suddenly wanted to rectify it. It was just a small cement slab near a corner of the fence, and approaching it she discovered a metal door built into it. Opening it and peering inside, Clem was disappointed to see it was just a single tiny room with four white walls. She kind of hoped it would look like a basement; instead it looked like a cell in an underground prison.

"Get that end would you?" Hearing Patty's voice behind her, Clem closed the hatch and ran back around to the front of the guest house where she found Devlin and Patty carrying the ping pong table forward.

"Here, I'll get the door," said Clem as she darted ahead. Following the pair inside, Clem though the guest house looked much more quaint than the main one, being a one-story building with a cozy fireplace like their home in Spokeston. Watching the two set-up the ping pong table in the middle of the spacious but sparsely decorated living room, it made her think about the many games she and Sarah dragged home over their first summer together. "Oh, you guys got the ping pong table set-up," said Jet as he hurried inside. "Can I go first?"

"Sure," said Devlin. "Let me—"

"Actually I was hoping I could go first," interjected Patty suddenly.

"Really?" asked Clem, surprised by how badly she wanted to play ping pong.

"I mean, please?" begged Patty as she clasped her hands together. "Maybe just go with Clem to see if Sarah needs any help in the field and give me some time to play with Devlin?"

"If you really want to go first, sure," shrugged Jet before turning to Clem, who only shrugged in response. The pair headed back outside, briefly hearing the sound of a ball bouncing across a table before moving out of earshot. Clem and Jet maneuvered around the fences and crossed the field, taking care not to step on any of the small sprouts now poking out of every mound. There they found Sarah on her knees digging a hole next to a droopy little green plant.

"I thought we finished all the planting like two weeks ago," said Jet.

"We did," said Sarah as she kept digging.

"Is this a bean sprout?" asked Clem as she knelt down for a better look. "It's like a little vine, that's—"

"A problem." Clem watched as Sarah reached over to grab a long wooden stick lying in the dirt beside her. She planted it in the hole, then carefully tugged on the sprout until the end of it wrapped around the base of the pole.

"I thought you were going to just let the beans grow on the corn stalks," said Jet.

"I was, but I didn't think about how corn takes a lot longer to grow than beans," rambled Sarah, anger buried in her voice as she crawled over to the next bean sprout. "So now, I got to put these poles out for them or they'll just grow into tangled messes on the ground and we won't get many beans."

As Sarah started digging her next hole, Clem looked over to see a series of bean poles running across the entire length of the field. "Did you do all these by yourself?"

"I've been doing it since right after you left," answered a weary Sarah.

"Granddad would have—"

"He's watching Omid while finishing his plans for the irrigation trench," said Sarah without looking up. "Anthony helped me with most of them, but he saw something near the fence a few minutes ago and went to see what it was."

"Saw something? Did—"

"It was definitely an animal, probably a deer," said Sarah. "He kept saying he wanted to hunt it so I told him to just take my rifle; hopefully it won't come back and eat all our sprouts while we're sleeping."

Noticing there were only a few plants left between Sarah and the end of the fence, Clem knelt down and started digging a hole in front of the plant closest to Sarah, and Jet followed her lead and started digging by the one nearest to Clem.

"Good news," announced Clem as she dug. "Patty and I found a backhoe, and it works. She said we just have to unhook one of the semi-trucks and use it to bring it back. Then we can get started on Sin's irrigation trench."

"Great, that will only take a few weeks, or months, assuming it works," grumbled Sarah as she dug in the dirt with her fingers. "In the mean time, we'll just have to keep doing it a couple of watering cans at a time."

"I thought the rainwater collectors were finished?" Looking up, Clem saw a dozen barrels stacked on top of another fourteen barrels stacked on a tall and very long wood bench Sin had built with Devlin's help. This rainwater collector was much more complicated than the one Clem had seen at Shaffer's, and looking at the thick web of piping connecting the barrels to each other and the barn's newly installed gutters, Clem realized she wasn't entirely sure how to get water out of it. "I mean, does Sin or Devlin need to add something else or—"

"It hasn't rained since they finished it a few days ago," reminded Sarah, sounding irritated as she planted a beanpole. "And if it doesn't rain soon we'll have to start carrying water all the way from the lake."

Looking past Sarah, Clem saw the small circular pond in the corner of the field, or more precisely, what's left of it. A couple of weeks of taking water out of it a few cans at a time had caused it to shrink to about half its original size. Clem wasn't sure how much longer before it would be gone entirely.

"And we're using up a lot of bottled water," added Sarah without looking up. "Before long, we'll need to start fetching and boiling water for us too."

Now Clem was worried the pond would be gone even sooner, and she started thinking back to how they had to boil water constantly when living in the cabin and how time-consuming it was just to keep three people hydrated.

"Well…" said Jet, trying to sound optimistic. "Um, Devlin brought back a ping pong table. Maybe we could play it when we're done here?"

"I've got to finish this, then give all the beans more water, and take down the laundry and—"

"I'll take care of this," volunteered Jet. "I'll finish planting the bean poles and then water them. All I got to do is wrap the sprouts around the poles, right?"

Sarah stopped digging for a second, then nodded.

"And I can get the laundry," added Clem. "Then I'll make lunch. You haven't eaten yet right?"

Sarah weakly shook her head.

"Okay, so why don't you rest until lunch?" suggested Clem. "You could look at the photos I took in town and even take a shower in the Brave."

"Devlin and I found some fresh shampoo in Pawhuska," added Jet. "We made sure to leave a bottle in your RV's bathroom."

Sarah looked down at the dirt, then stood up. "Thanks…" she said in a weak voice, her eyes still aimed at the dirt.

"It's no problem," assured Clem as she stood up. "Come on, the shower in the Brave doesn't work real good, but the water's still hot." Clem gently wrapped an arm around Sarah's waist. She gave Sarah a little nudge, and the pair started moving forward while Jet worked to finish the beanpoles.

Looking over, Clem was unsettled by Sarah's appearance. She was practically covered in a thin layer of dirt from head to toe, her jeans were threadbare at the knees, her shoes and gloves caked in mud, her hair a frayed mess, and looking at her face, Clem thought she saw bags around her eyes. She was also missing her glasses, but that's because she had started leaving them in the house when working so as not to risk breaking them.

"If you need anything else from us," said Clem. "You can just ask us."

Sarah didn't respond right away, which Clem found concerning. "It's just a lot harder than I thought," she eventually said in a whisper. "And I knew it would be really hard."

"It's okay, we're getting better at it," said Clem.

"If we just didn't have to water them so much," said Sarah with a deep sigh. "Or if it would just rain already so we could take a break, and then we'd have water from the barrels for a couple of days to make it easier."

"At least it's getting warmer," said Clem as she looked up at the sky.

"Yeah, that's something else I'm worried about. Right now it's okay, but it's not even April yet and it's already getting kind of hot. By the time we get to May, we're going to be burning up in that field, and every day."

Clem tensed up upon hearing that. Picking oranges in November was already hot work; she wasn't looking forward to doing that in the middle of summer. Climbing over the wooden fence the pair immediately ran into the chainlink fence. They headed through the nearest gate, arriving outside the guest house just in time to watch Patty come marching out. She moved quickly, almost stomping the grass as she hurried towards the main house only to stop halfway and pull a cigarette from her jacket pocket.

"Are you okay?"

"Jesus," said Patty as she spun around, almost dropping her cigarette. "You two scared the hell out of me."

"Sorry," said Sarah.

"It's just, you looked upset," said Clem.

"I'm fine," she insisted in a tone of voice that made it clear she wasn't.

Clem looked at Patty, then over to the door of the guest house. "Did Devlin do something to you?"

"Jesus, Clem, it's nothing like that," insisted an agitated Patty as she lit her cigarette.

"If he did something like Anthony did then—"

"He didn't do anything!" announced Patty before taking a long drag off her cigarette. "That's… that's kind of the problem actually."

"What does that mean?" asked Sarah.

"It means… I like him, and want to be more than just a friend," blurted out Patty as she looked away from the pair.

"You mean like a girlfriend?"

Patty exhaled a big puff of smoke as she sighed. "Yeah, and he just told me he doesn't like me like that… he's gay."

"Gay?"

"It means he doesn't want a girlfriend," explained a disappointed Patty. "He'd only want a boyfriend."

"Oh, so that means—"

"It was never going to happen," lamented Patty. "And a minute ago when I was in his house I… I was coming on pretty strong and not getting the hints, so he finally just had to tell me and… God this is humiliating." Clem watched as Patty's face turned bright red as she turned away. "God, I feel so stupid now for nipping into the gas station for condoms earlier."

"I thought you just had to use the bathroom there?" asked Clem.

"What are condoms?" asked Sarah.

"And why did you get them?" said Clem.

Patty let out an agonized groan. "Why'd I say that out loud?"

"Just tell us," insisted Clem. "We always end up hearing about this stuff eventually."

Patty took another drag off her cigarette. "They're these plastic sock things a guy puts his dick in before sex."

"Ew!" said Clem as she found her mind imagining what that would look like despite her every effort to get it to stop. "Why would they do that?"

"Does it stop you from getting pregnant?" asked Sarah.

"Um… yeah," confirmed a surprised Patty. "Omid's great an all, but we really don't need another baby right now."

"How'd you know that?" Clem asked Sarah.

"Well when I was reading about sex in the encyclopedia, it said that a guy's thing will—"

"You know what, I don't want to know," insisted Clem, thinking she had already heard enough for one day.

Patty dropped her cigarette on the ground and stomped it out. "I guess there goes my only chance of getting laid."

"Lay—"

"Sex, I meant having sex," clarified Patty. "Which is not happening now."

"I don't even know why you want to," said Clem. "Everything I hear about sex just makes it sound grosser and grosser."

"You'll understand when you're older," said Patty with a shrug.

"Yeah, just like how I'll understand tampons." Clem looked over at Sarah, but the tired look in her eyes made it clear she didn't feel like explaining.

"Typical, there's one eligible bachelor here and he's gay," griped Patty.

"What about Anthony?"

"Ugh…" Patty rolled her eyes.

"He's a jerk," said Clem.

"He's been a lot nicer lately," argued Sarah.

"I'll admit, he's been some what better behaved ever since we laid down the law with him. But I don't like him like that and I doubt that'll ever change… kind of like how Devlin won't ever like me like that," said Patty with a hint of sadness.

"I'm sorry Devlin was the only person here you were in love with," spoke a sympathetic Clem.

"I… I wasn't in love with him," spoke Patty, sounding surprised. "I mean don't get me wrong, he's really handsome, and brave, and he's got those big strong arms I just want to…" Patty trailed off suddenly as her face got a little redder. "But I wasn't in love with Devlin, he was just a good looking guy I wanted to hook up with. It's probably good I found out now he's not interested before I actually did fall in love with him or something."

"Huh? It's good you weren't in love?" asked Sarah. "I don't understand."

"Me neither," said Clem. "You tried to explain being in love once and—"

"And I didn't do a very good job," recalled Patty. "Look, you ask a dozen people what it's like to be in love and you'll probably get a dozen different answers. Some people will even tell you it's just a bunch of crap and it doesn't exist. All I'll say this time is if you fall in love with someone, it changes things between you and them."

"Like what?" asked Clem. "What changes?"

"Like… um…" mumbled Patty as she was forced to say more. "You can love lots of people, but when you're in love with someone, suddenly almost everything they say and do is a big deal, you just hang onto their every word and don't even want to take your eyes off them if you can help it, it's like… they become the center of your whole world.

"And that's where things can go wrong, because if the person who's at the center of your entire world doesn't love you back, then it hurts. And if you find out someone is in love with you, but you don't love them like that, it gets hard to be around them because you know they want something you can't give them.

"I mean, I wasn't even in love with Devlin and now it's going to be awkward between us because of what I said, at least for a little while. You tell someone you're in love with them, and you want to be with only them for the rest of your life, and they tell you they don't feel the same way about you... it can get ugly, real ugly."

"You make it sound like falling in love sound is a bad thing," noted Sarah, her voice even more downcast then from a minute ago.

"Well, like I told Clem, I had kind of a bad experience once, so maybe I'm biased."

"How do people even fall in love?" asked Clem. "Can't they, like, choose not to be in love with someone?"

"I honestly have no idea," confessed Patty. "I don't think it's something you can just turn off though. I mean, I can't stop finding Devlin sexy, but I can keep my hands to myself. In my own admittedly bitter experience, self-control goes out the window once you're in love. As for how it happens, I heard it just hits you one day, like a bolt of lightning, but I don't know if I believe…" Looking up, Patty's eyes suddenly fell on Sarah. "Are… are you okay Sarah? I'm not bothering you by talking about all this stuff am I?"

"No… I'm just tired," mumbled Sarah as she started shuffling towards the driveway. Patty watched as Sarah slowly stepped into the Brave, then looked back at Clem.

"I think Sarah is mad at herself because she thinks she messed up, and she's definitely tired spending all morning trying to fix it," informed Clem. "I said I'd make her something to eat while she rested."

"I'll help; it'll give me an excuse to hide from Devlin for a little while." Patty went with Clem to the food trailer, picking out their favorites from whichever cans they could reach without climbing over the top of their bounty of stored food. Carrying everything back to the picnic table in the center of the yard, Clem passed by the back door to the main house just in time to watch it swing open.

"Kem-men!" yelled Omid as he came hurrying out as fast as his short legs could move him.

"OJ—I mean Omid!" Clem dropped her bag on the grass, knelt down and wrapped both arms around her favorite little boy.

"Chai-yo!"

"Huh?"

"It's Thai for cheers," explained Sin, hiding a grin as he closed the door. "I know I probably shouldn't teach him another language while he's still learning English, but I noticed a noise he was making wasn't far off from—"

"Chai-yo!" repeated Omid, sounding excited.

"I just had to keep repeating it until he said it," concluded Sin.

"Chai-yo!" said Clem back as she smiled at Omid.

Mixing up a beef stew and spooning out some corn into a bowl wasn't exciting, but Clem didn't mind. Devlin emerged from the guest house before long to join in the meal, much to Patty's embarrassment, and Jet returned from the field next, and then finally Sarah arrived. Sitting down to eat, Clem noticed she had her glasses on now and was in clean clothes, but still had a glum expression on her face as she began to eat.

"Sah-rah chai-yo!" said Omid as he waved at her from his high chair.

"Did... did he just say something in Thai?" asked a very confused Jet.

"Just that one word," assured Sin, amused by his grandson's shock.

"Sin said it means cheers." Looking at Sarah, Clem noticed her eyes looked a little red. "Have… have you been crying?" she whispered.

"Huh? No," assured Sarah before chewing another bite of stew. "The water in the Brave ran out right as was shampooing my hair."

"Oh, so—"

"I couldn't get it all off with just a towel, and I couldn't find a bottled water in the closet without opening my eyes, so…" Sarah trailed off as she ate another bite.

"I'm sorry," said Clem, feeling guilty for ever suggesting a shower.

"I should have known better, I knew the tank was almost empty," lamented Sarah, the tiniest hint of anger in her voice. "I had to waste half a bottle of water to clean out my eyes and they still hurt."

"I'm… I'm really sorry," repeated Clem.

The rest of the meal passed with little conversation and before long the group started cleaning up the table. Clem went to grab Omid when she noticed he had moved from a moment ago when he took him out of his high chair. Looking around, she saw the tiny boy standing in front of the fence. At first she thought he wanted to go out, but then she noticed he was looking at something off in the distance.

"What is it?" asked Clem as she knelt down beside him.

"Pah-sah."

"You see a possum?" said Clem as she looked out at the woods. "Where do you…" Clem suddenly saw it moving out from the edge of the forest. It was furry and walked on four legs, but it was much too tall to be a possum.

"Guys, come look," urged Clem in a careful whisper. Everyone gathered around while Clem watched as the deer grew nearer. "Sarah, is that what you saw earlier?"

"I think so," said Sarah. "It's a lot smaller than that one we saw back in Sumac, and it doesn't have horns."

"It's a doe; a female," informed Devlin. "And probably a young one."

"I'm surprised we haven't seen more animals out here," said Jet. "There's no walkers to chase them off around here."

"Winter only recently ended," reminded Sin. "They'll probably become more active as it gets warmer."

"Pah-sah, paw-sah!" chanted Omid as he tugged on the chainlink.

"Deer," said Clem as she knelt down to look Omid more closely in the eyes. "Can you say deer? Deer? Duh-ear?"

"Duh… deer." Clem's heart skipped a beat as she heard Omid say that.

"That's right, deer," said Clem, barely able to contain her pride.

"Look at the deer," encouraged Sarah, joy suddenly returning to her voice. Clem gently tilted Omid's head back towards the deer and he stared right at her.

"Chia-yo deer!" The deer noticed Omid's call, stopping in her tracks.

"Oh no, he's going to scare it off," realized Sarah.

"It probably wouldn't have come over here anyway," reasoned Sin. "It's not like it has any reason to think we'd be friendly to it."

"Oh!" Jet ran back to the picnic table and grabbed the big bowl sitting in the center. He ran up to the fence and heaved it forward without letting go, causing bits of corn to go flying over the top and into the grass on the other side.

"Why'd you do that?" asked an irritated Sin. "You just wasted—"

"It was almost empty and we got tons more," declared Patty in a harsh tone without looking away from the deer. "Now be quiet so Omid can enjoy this."

Everyone remained still and, after a tense pause, the deer started moving forward again a few careful steps at a time.

"Deer! Deer!" Omid's chanting seemed to stall the deer, but not scare her. Moving ahead several steps, she tilted her head down and started licking up loose corn kernels from the ground, prompting a surprised gasp from Omid.

"Deer…" he said again, sounding awestruck as the deer followed a sloppy trail of kernels closer towards the fence.

"It's coming this way," whispered Sarah as she and Clem watched the hungry animal inch ever closer. Clem realized if the deer held up her head, she would about as tall as Clementine. Watching the deer comb what little grass there was for more corn suddenly made Clem wish she had more on hand to give her.

"Deer…" Omid moved his tiny hands through the links in the fence, trying to touch her.

"Come on," urged Sarah in a quiet but inviting voice as she saw the deer nearing the fence. "Just a few more feet and—"

The left side of the deer's head exploded into a gruesome display of blood, bits of fur, and pieces of skull as a deafening bang rang out across the area. Clem grabbed hold of a screaming Omid, clasping one hand over his eyes as the deer collapsed onto the dirt.

"Finally," said Anthony as rushed up to examine the deer's body. "Clean in the head; perfect." Turning his head, Anthony saw everyone else staring at him through the fence. "Shit, did I miss lunch?"

"Jesus Anthony, you could have hit us!" yelled Patty.

"I saw you guys," assured Anthony as he knelt down to examine his kill. "I lined myself up with the fence and aimed a little to the right so the bullet wouldn't even be moving in the house's direction; no chance I could have hit any of you as long as you were on that side of the chainlink."

"You could have warned us though," scolded Clem as she cradled a whimpering Omid. "You scared him half to death."

"A warning would have scared off our next meal here off," said Anthony as he threw the rifle over his shoulder.

"Do you even know how to butcher a deer?" asked a dubious Sin.

"Hell yeah, my first summer job was working as a butcher's assistant during hunting season," said Anthony as he stood up. "Guy told me I was a natural."

"You serious?" asked an eager Devlin. "So, we're gonna have meat for the next few meals?"

"Probably safer we just eat as much as we can tonight," said Anthony. "It's warm out, we got no way to cool the meat down, and I never really paid that close attention to how the whole aging thing worked, just the cutting them up so you don't spill their stomach and shit part."

"Still, did you have to shoot it right then?" asked Jet. "Omid was looking right at her." Looking at Omid, Clem saw a lot of unhappiness still lingering in his big sad eyes, but the initial panic had passed and he was beginning to settle. "You could have waited until after we went in or—"

"Look, you can all remind me what an asshole I am later if you want, but if you don't want this to go to waste, I should get to work; we wait too long and bacteria's gonna spoil it," explained Anthony. "Now I need some big kitchen bags, and some rope, and the biggest and sharpest knives we got, oh and some gloves and a load of paper towels. We can probably hang it in the shed in the yard and let it cool off in the shade while the blood drains—buckets, almost forgot that."

"I'll… I'll get the rope and buckets," announced Patty, almost as if she only realized what she was doing mid-sentence.

"I'll grab the towels and some gloves," said Jet as he ran off.

"I've been using some large serrated blades to cut boards; they were sharpened just two days ago," said Sin as he headed into the house.

"And I'll help you carry the deer." Devlin hurried over to the gate while Clem watched Omid move as close to the deer as the fence would allow him. The deer was lying lifelessly on her side, her eye now a gaping hole, blood pooling around her head. Staring at her, Clem suddenly felt panic shoot up her spine as it felt like a hand had just tried to strangle her lungs. Gripping her chest and taking a couple of quick breaths, Clem hastily looked away from the deer.

"Deer!" cried Omid, as if he expected her to respond. "Deer? Geh-buh deer! Geh-buh! Deer!" Omid banged his hands on the chainlink and looked on the verge of crying as Devlin approached the corpse. He gave Clem a look at sympathy, then made a slight motion with his head.

"Come on, it's okay," lied Clem as she picked up Omid and turned away from the fence. "She'll be okay later, right Sarah?" Sarah was gone, and the door to the house had been left open.

Clem stepped inside, passing Sin as he hurried back outside. Searching the living room, she found Sarah sitting on the big couch they had put in the middle of the room in front of the fireplace.

"Are… are you okay?" No answer, which felt like an answer in itself. "I know, that was… scary, and sad. But, we'll get to eat meat tonight, and she… she didn't suffer, and you said you were worried about her eating all our—"

"You think I don't know all that!" barked Sarah as she spun around, startling Clem and scaring Omid, who started crying again. "No I… I'm sorry, I'm so sorry Omid." Clem watched as Sarah's already miserable face was further twisted by a sudden swell of guilt as she stood up and hurried over to Omid. "I didn't mean to raise my voice, I'm sorry." Clem carefully passed Omid to Sarah, who tried to beat back her tears as she cradled Omid.

"It's okay," whispered Clem. "It's—"

"It's just…" Sarah bit her lip to stop her voice from getting any louder. "It wasn't just the deer," she said, making every effort to be quiet. "It's just… everything, and when I was finally not thinking about it for a minute, Anthony shot that deer and—"

"It's okay," assured Clem as she moved in close, putting one arm around Sarah while using her other hand to gently stroke the back of Omid's head. The three of them remained in each other's embrace for quite a while, Clem content to stay with Sarah and Omid for as long as it took for them to calm down.

"I… I had a nightmare last night," Sarah whispered suddenly.

"About… about what?" asked Clem, afraid to what the answer would be.

"I went outside, and all our sprouts were dead because they dried up in the sun."

"And?"

"That's it, that was the whole dream."

It took Clem a moment to process what Sarah said. It didn't sound that scary initially, but listening closely, Clem could hear Sarah was breathing a little harder now.

"You know if you need help with growing food or anything else, I—"

"You can't," sighed Sarah.

"I can't?" repeated Clem.

"I mean, there's stuff you can't help me with. No one here really knows much about farming, not even Sin. I've been reading everything I can about growing crops for over a month now, so if there's something I can't figure out or don't understand… there's no one here I could ask who would know more about it than I already do. If… if I make a mistake, then I'm the only one who can fix it. And… and if I make too many mistakes then—"

"It's fine Sarah," insisted Clem suddenly.

"You don't—"

"I know we started a farm this year in case we needed time to get it right next year," reminded Clem. "And I also know I won't be mad at you if something goes wrong. Okay? Whatever happens, we would know you did your best and none of us would blame you. Okay?"

"I… I know you guys wouldn't." The way Sarah said that implied there was someone else that would blame her. "I'm… I'm going to take him upstairs," said Sarah as she adjusted her grip on a now softly whimpering Omid. "He could probably use a nap."

"So you could," suggested Clem.

"It's the middle of the day, I can't—"

"Is there anything else wrong with the field?" asked Clem. "Do you need to do anything that you haven't already told us to do before?"

"Not right now, but—"

"Then you can take a nap right now," concluded Clem. "It's okay, we can handle everything else. Just rest for a while."

"I… thanks Clementine." Sarah moved in close, gently kissing Clem's cheek, which Clem was happy to return in kind.

"Love you," whispered Sarah.

"You too," whispered Clem.

"Muh-boo," mumbled Omid.

The rest of the day was uneventful, with everyone working wherever they were needed. Anthony tended to the deer, Patty worked on unhooking one of the semis from its trailer, Sin went to survey the area between the lake and the farm, Devlin and Jet worked in the field, while Clem just wandered from one minor task to the other.

She brought in the laundry and then unpacked the things they brought back from Pawhuska. She put some new books on the shelf in the living room. They had to throw out most of their fiction books when they left Tulsa to make room for all the ones Sarah used in her research, but Jet had picked up some new ones today. Looking at the titles, Clem was looking forward to reading something new, as soon as she had time for a book that is.

She also unpacked some new silverware, dishes, cups, and other basic items their kitchen was needing. Heading into the modest dining room they really haven't used that much, she carefully laid out a linen on top of the table, then set a tall blue vase on top. She didn't have anything to put in it yet, but she figured one of the flowers Sarah planted would be perfect, as soon as they bloomed. With each little addition, the house looked a little less bare and felt more like a home.

By sundown, Anthony had readied three plates full of strips and chunks of dark red meat. Clem had never cooked any meat that wasn't fish and felt out of her element. Luckily, Anthony and Devlin both seemed more than eager to help man the two grills overloaded with meat. Discussing how long cooked meat remains safe to eat without refrigeration, the group agreed they weren't really sure and should just eat as much as they could tonight in case the leftovers were no good tomorrow morning.

When it came time to eat it felt like Thanksgiving. Because they had so much and couldn't really save it for later, everyone was free to eat to their heart's content, and so they did. The fresh meat was better tasting than any Clem could ever remember trying, even the freshest fish she had tried. She sampled all the differently seasoned strips, tried them with barbecue sauce and other condiments, and just couldn't stop herself from taking more.

Cutting off pieces and feeding them to Omid made Clem feel uneasy though. He clearly loved the meat, always asking for more every time he'd finish chewing a piece. But knowing how upset he got when the deer was shot, it seemed almost dishonest to feed it to him if he had no idea what he was eating. Spearing another small piece with her fork, Clem held it up and watched as Omid reached out for it. She thought about saying 'deer' while pointing at the meat, to tell Omid the truth and see if he understood; then Clem gave him the piece because she was finding this upsetting herself the more she thought about it and didn't want to upset Omid any more today.

The only one not eating was Sarah, because she wasn't at the table. Clem figured she must have come down at some point since Omid was here, but Patty said she brought Omid down and that Sarah was still in her bedroom. As the others finished their meals, so full they couldn't eat anymore, Clem took the remaining pieces and carefully piled them onto a clean plate. She grabbed a glass of tea and a fresh set of utensils, then took them upstairs.

Coming into the bedroom while announcing room service had arrived was met with little fanfare. Sarah's face was buried in a book and several more were lying around her on the bed. Clem offered the meal to Sarah, who took one look at the meat, then turned away, saying she was grateful but that the others could have it. Noticing a grimace on Sarah's face as she turned back to her book, Clem pondered what was wrong. Was she so upset by the deer's death she didn't want to eat its meat now? Did she feel her mistakes made her unworthy of this meal? Had Sarah discovered some new problem with the farm that she didn't know how to solve yet?

Seeing her weary and slightly blood-shot eyes darting back and forth at a frantic pace as she read as fast as she could, Clementine felt her concern only growing more desperate. She thought about just asking Sarah what's wrong, but decided against it, afraid whatever was bothering Sarah was something Clem was incapable of helping her with and asking would just remind Sarah of that fact and make her more upset. So instead, Clem left Sarah to be in peace, and hoped none of them had nightmares tonight.

Previous Chapter - First Chapter - Next Chapter

[megairishrose]

Put a Patch on it chapter 9

Tara looked around the room and was happy with the result of the Christmas party. She was still getting used to party planning and had to ask a million questions. It was held on the top floor of their office building.

The annual Christmas party was for family members and employees of the Jewel of the World. But by this point in time, most of the employees were family.

She saw Sophia playing with Kathleen. Tara's daughter adored her older cousin. Well, technically, Kathleen was Tara's cousin, so Sophia's first cousin once removed. But no one had time for that.

Someone began to play "Silent Night" on the grand piano and suddenly Tara knew she wasn't alone. Liam stood next to her. "They are looking for more singers." He remarked casually.

"Liam, you know I can't." She had made a promise to herself years ago.

"Can't or won't?"

"It still hurts too much. Since he died…"

"I know, and you know, he wouldn't want you to dwell on the past. He wouldn't want you to be still be sad three years later."

"Liam," Tara turned to him. "I'll make a deal with you, before you die, you will hear me sing again."

"Deal." They shook on it. "So where's Killian's date?"

Tara looked around the room. "I don't know; I haven't even seen him yet. What's her name again?"

"Mia, I think. I'm not sure."

They scanned the room and finally spotted Killian and he was not alone.

"She's a bit older than him…" Tara commented.

"Be nice. Look, they are walking this way."

"Merry Christmas." Killian warmly greeted his siblings. "Liam, Tara, this is Milah. Milah, my brother Liam and my sister Tara."

Milah, not Mia. The woman shook hands with both Liam and Tara. "It's so nice to meet the both of you. Killian talks about you two constantly." She sounded nice.

Tara tried not to make it obvious she was sizing up her brother's date. She was definably older than him, black curly hair, dark brown eyes and there was something about her Tara did not like. But she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"All good things I hope." Liam joked.

"Knowing us, probably not." Tara said, half- jokingly.

That comment went unheard. "Milah, two other people I want you to meet. My brother in law, Neal and my soon to be sister in law Roxanne." Both Neal and Roxanne noticed the new comer and didn't want to be left out.

"So this is the rest of the family? It's so nice to meet all of you." Milah said.

Killian looked across the room and saw a former classmate. He kissed Milah's cheek and went to talk to him.

Milah now looked slightly uncomfortable. The Jones had that effect on people. "Killian said you planned the whole party Tara. You did an amazing job."

"Thank you." Tara smiled.

Then Milah's cell phone rang. She pulled it out of her purse and frowned when she looked at the screen. "I need to take this, it's my husband." She walked off outside, leaving the family members stunned.

Roxanne and Neal were stunned into silence. Liam and Tara were fuming.

"Did she just say husband?" Tara asked.

"Yes."

"So I wasn't hearing things?"

"Where is he? I'm going to kill him." Liam took off with Tara following close behind. "Killian, a word now." Liam roughly grabbed his brother by the arm. He and Tara led Killian into a small side room.

Liam was just about shaking in rage. At least Tara had a grip on her emotions. "Killian, so Milah…" She started.

"Yeah, isn't she great?" He actually had a silly love sick look on his face.

"I'm sure she is, but there's one problem…"

Liam cut her off. "She's married! Milah is a married woman! What the bloody hell were you thinking?" He usually wasn't the one to get mad but he did have that famous Jones tempter.

"I knew she was married." Killian answered sheepishly.

"You knew?" Tara was astonished and appalled.

"She's stuck in a loveless marriage." Killian tried to keep the whine out of his voice. Why didn't they understand? "I make her happy."

"That's all well and good…" Tara was trying to be reasonable.

"Break it off." Liam told him forcefully

"What? Not a bloody chance." Killian was taken back.

"Killian, we are the real heads of this company, members of the board. We can't afford to make the family or the company look bad. We moved on since those days." Tara was trying to be gentle. Maybe marriage and motherhood calmed her down a lot.

"No, I am not going to break it off with Milah." Killian stormed out of the room.

This left Tara and Liam alone. Liam heaved a sigh and went to the bar. He was a bit heavy handed with the whiskey.

"Make it two." Tara told him, leaning on the edge of the couch.

"Wasn't even going to ask." He handed her the glass. They clicked glasses and drained them. "What is he thinking? A married woman." Liam was bewildered.

"He's not thinking with that head." Tara commented. Then she thought about the current situation. "So we need Milah gone?" Liam nodded. "I know a person."

He looked up at her hopeful. "Who?" But her reaction to his question set him up in arms. "No, absolutely not. You are not taking her out. We are better than that."

"Then what's our limit?" She tried another course of action. Liam caught her meaning and sighed. "Liam, we have dealt with the board long enough to know how to make people disappear."

"Two. Your limit is two." Liam answered her.

"Alright, I'll get it done."

A week later, Tara sat in her favorite coffee shop, waiting for Milah. The woman had accepted Tara's offer for coffee.

Milah walled in and spotted Tara instantly. She walked over to the table and sat down. "Hello, I'm so glad you called me. I didn't see you much at the party. Thank you for giving me a chance." She said.

"Yeah, I am giving you a chance…" Tara cut right to the chase. She never been one to beat around the bush. Liam was usually a bit more diplomatic. "I'm giving you a chance to walk away." Tara slid a check across the table. "Two million dollars. You stay away from my brother."

Milah stared at the check then at Tara. "Are you bribing me?"

"Yes, I am."

"I'm not taking it. I am not walking away from Killian." At least she didn't cause a scene. Which was more than could be said for Killian later.

"So she didn't take it? We are royally screwed." Liam said. Tara was sitting on the edge of his desk.

"Nope, didn't even touch the check…"

Then the door was flung open and there stood a mad as all hell Killian. "Never trust a smiling crocodile. That's what I told Milah. Inviting her to coffee and then bribing her? I thought I only had to worry about the two faced board members. But no, it's my own family that stabbed me in the back!" He yelled.

"We are just looking out for you brother." Liam tried to stay calm though Tara could see his hand shaking.

"This is looking out for me? Ruining my life?"

"She's bad news, Killian. A lonely woman stuck in a loveless marriage who hooks up with a young handsome rich single man…" Tara started to say.

"Don't you dare talk about her like that!" Killian yelled and actually threw a bottle of whiskey. It shattered against the wall.

Tara silenced her scream with her hand over her mouth.

"Are you seriously throwing a fit, little brother? You think that you're a child and will just get what you want?" Liam asked. That might have been a bit below the belt. Killian fist came out and almost made contact with Liam's jaw.

Tara jumped in between her brothers. "No! Stop it, both of you! You're acting like children! Killian, walk it off!" She screamed.

The men stared at each other. There was an eerie silence in the room. Tara had not moved her hands from either brother's chest. Her eyes went from Killian to Liam and back.

Killian spoke first. "Neither of you are using good form. You're as bad as the board. All you care about is how this family and how this company looks…"

"Dad would be disappointed in how you are conducting yourself, Killian…' Liam said.

"Any other dearly departed relations you want to bring into this? There's a circle of Hell reserved for traitors. Maybe I'll see the both of you there." Killian said before storming out of the room.

Liam slumped into the couch, his head in his head. He heard the distinct click of ice. "Tara, now is not the time…"

"Our little brother told us to go to Hell. It calls for a drink." She handed him a half full glass of whiskey.

He did accept it. "What are we going to do now?"

"Drink, then sleep. And tomorrow, we fix this somehow with Killian." Tara informed him.

Silence filled the room as they drank.

Tara entered the building, still fighting a slight hangover. She had barely slept last night, not that she really was surprised. She walked down the hall to her office. Then she froze in her tracks. Was Killian's office…? No, it couldn't be…

She back pedaled and her worse fears were realized. Killian's office was empty. Every personal item was gone. Tara bolted down the hall into Liam's office. "Where the hell is he? His office is empty!" She yelled.

"Shhh… can you not yell?" Liam begged, apparently he was also dealing with a hangover.

"Where is Killian, Liam?" She didn't bother lowering her voice.

Liam looked up, confused. Then he ran down to Killian's office and just stared. Then he turned to the secretary. "Noelle, call Killian now!" Liam never yelled at the staff, but his brother was missing.

"I saw him very early this morning. He came in here and packed up everything. He seemed very mad and didn't even say good bye." Noelle informed him. "The cell number is going to voice mail."

"Try the land line for his apartment." Tara had calmed down.

"Disconnected." Noelle said after she tried calling.

Liam turned to his sister almost helplessly. She understood. "I'll pull some strings at the police station. I will find him."