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  1. - Top - End - #91
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    Daniel stood alone in the empty bathroom, filling pop bottles with water. The sluicing hiss of the faucet was the only sound he could hear, and it carried throughout the room. The restroom sinks weren't very large, and Daniel had to hold the bottles at an angle to get them filled. The excess water that didn't go neatly into the mouth of the bottle fell below, running over his hands and into the bowl, where it drained at a steady pace. Sighing, the young man looked into his own face, reflected in the mirror before him. He looked tired, his features drawn, and he was filthy with road dust. In the lower left corner of the mirror, scrawled in permanent marker, someone had written FOR A GOOD TIME CALL AMY, following it with a ten digit number. Daniel was about to chuckle at the crass normalcy of the invitation when he heard something rattle, softly, in one of the stalls behind him.



    Getting no answer from the restroom, and left alone in the main building once Andrew left to peruse the surrounding area, Maria stood silently for a few moments before she went to check behind the counter. She found the phone without incident; it was an old, formerly white plastic appliance worn to a foul-looking yellow by age and constant use. Decorated as it was by years of greasy fingerprints, she was loathe to touch it. A shelf built into the rear of the counter held some other surprises, though. First and foremost was a red cardboard box filled with .38 Special ammunition. Lifting the lid, Maria saw that six rounds were missing -- but she couldn't find the gun. Next, she found a small metal hook screwed into the wood of the shelf. She surmised it was meant to hold the attendant's keys, but these too were missing.



    The heat hit Andrew with such intensity that he immediately regretted his decision to head back outside. It was so different from the jungle's of Southeast Asia. Both were hot, almost impossibly so, but at least in 'Nam the heat came with moisture that had nourished his lungs even as it drew the sweat from his back. Here in the desert he could feel himself drying out bit by bit, and it was clear the bottle he'd downed would only keep him going for so long. Still, he had his mission, and it wouldn't take him long to circle the station and head back inside. As he walked, he was struck by how quiet it was, how eerily peaceful. Nothing moved, not even the wind; it was as though time had stopped, and he was disturbing something with every step he took. Eventually, Andrew reached the rear of the building, at a junction where gas station met repair garage, and found a weather-worn dumpster tucked into the corner. Great patches of green paint had flaked off over the years, leaving rusted metal showing through like scabs on a gangrenous limb. A great cloud of black flies rose up as he approached, buzzing angrily. The smell hit him like the heat of the desert. It smelled like the bear.



    Mabel gave Michael a wan smile, took his hand, and managed to hoist herself back up. Her knees popped as she staggered back to balance, and she winced with the shock of pain. "I... I can try," she says, with no small degree of hesitation. At Michael's side, Frank rolled his eyes, bent down, and retrieved the bag. He grunted as he lifted; no wonder the old woman was worn down! It felt like she'd packed a load of bricks in her luggage.

    "I've got it," he groused, already feeling the strain in his arms and not looking forward to hefting the bags he'd brought for himself. "Let's get going while the getting's good."

    Suddenly, there was a great commotion behind them, in the direction of the bus. Whirling around to look, the three could see the kettle of vultures lift into the air, wings flapping wildly to scrabble for altitude. Squinting into the distance, Michael thought he could see a plume of dust rising above the road, and it was getting closer. Something was barreling down the deserted highway, and it was heading straight for them.

  2. - Top - End - #92
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: Syzygy [Risus] (IC)

    Raising his voice over the water, Daniel agreed, "Oh, the garage! That's a good idea! Hang on; I'm almost done in here!" He filled the rest of the bottles from this awkwardly-fitting sink and finished by washing most of the dust off his face and out of his hair. Dripping but somewhat refreshed, Daniel glanced back at the noise behind him, initially without concern. He assumed it was only Andy, until the boy scout remembered that their older companion had already left.

    "...Mister?" Daniel asked all the same. When he presumably got no reply, he approached the stall door and hesitantly knocked on it.
    Last edited by Blarghy; 2019-02-13 at 02:54 PM.
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  3. - Top - End - #93
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    "What in the name of..." Michael watched the dust cloud for only a moment before grabbing what he could reach and hurrying back off the road. There wasn't really anything to hide behind out here, but at least they could get out of the way of whatever was coming.
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  4. - Top - End - #94
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    Andy briefly recoiled from the weather worn dumpster, resisting the urge to gag in the face of that unholy odor. The eerie quiet, the missing patron and attendant, and now the unfortunately familiar smell of rotting flesh- it set off alarm bells throughout his brain. He couldn't help but slip out of the present. The missing jarhead had been found in a large pit, filled with punji sticks. Recent rains had allowed most of them to be pushed aside by his body weight. Except the ones that had crippled him. Judging by the deep furrows in the side of the pit and his missing fingernails and bloody fingers, he had spent his last hours trying to claw his way to freedom. The image summed up the entire damned war. Rot and flies. Misery and despair.

    Andy shook himself, coming back to the here and now, something clicked deep in his brain. The fear and anxiety took a back seat. Pulling his revolver from his coat, he cocked the hammer, held it up in both hands. Motions smooth and sure, muscle memory long forgotten brought back to the fore. Past and present in perfect sync.

    He approached the dumpster.

  5. - Top - End - #95
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    Oh gross. That phone... were there sanitary wipes around? some lysol? Strange that the gun was missing along with the attendant's keys. That was worrisome. Had the place been robbed? There wasn't any sign of a struggle or any blood that she could see. Just... emptiness. Had the attendant disappeared like their bus driver had? Were these things related?

    Reluctantly, Maria picks up the receiver and listens for a dial tone. If there is one, she'll dig her bus ticket out of her bag and try to get a hold of the bus company. Or maybe she should call the police first? Was this an emergency? Did it warrant a call to 911? There was a missing man in the desert, possibly two, if she counted the gas station attendant, three for the owner of that truck? Then there was that bear. And poor Miss Mabel back at the bus, she couldn't stand to be in the heat for too long. Maria stops searching through her bag and simply dials 9-1-1.
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  6. - Top - End - #96
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    The door squealed on its hinges as it swung open under the pressure of Daniel’s knocking knuckles, stopping just short of banging into the stall barrier. The young man peered inside, but the stall was empty and revealed no sign of the source of the noise he’d heard. Daniel narrowed his eyes, suddenly uncertain, and began to turn back to the sink, to collect his water bottles and head out into the station proper. Before he could, however, there was another rattle. This one was louder than before and Daniel stared, wide-eyed, as the toilet lid leaped an inch off the commode before falling back with a clack. There were other sounds, then: the liquid slosh of stagnant water, the gurgle of straining pipes, and most concerning of all – the scrabbling of claws on filth-slick porcelain. There was something in the bowl, something alive, and it was trying to get out.

    The Eagle Scout took a step back and was warily assessing the situation when the lid yawned wide, allowing an enormous rat the size of a small dog to slither wetly to the floor. Its sides heaving with frantic breath, the scavenger shook itself dry before noticing Daniel’s presence. It regarded him cautiously. One of its eyes was milk-white and running with pus, but the other was a shiny black bead brimming with animal malice. It bared its teeth at him, revealing chipped fangs gone brown with rot, and hissed.



    Relief flooded Maria when she held the phone to her ear and was greeted by the tinny, but welcomed and familiar sound of a dial tone. Her fingers worked quickly, spinning the dial from nine, to one, to one. The phone rang once, twice, and mid-way through the third ring there was a click followed by a woman’s voice. Maria’s heart leaped before she realized, with crushing disappointment and no small amount of confusion, that it was a prerecorded message. And when it had concluded, it was followed by another. The young woman slammed the receiver back into its cradle with enough force to shake the counter and huffed an exasperated
    breath. Had the whole world gone completely crazy? How could the police possibly be disconnected?



    The metal radiated both heat and stink as Andrew drew closer, both due to the time it’d spent in the sun. The interior must be baking like an oven, the veteran thought. He reached slowly for the lid, but drew back when he realized it was easily hot enough to scald him. Thinking quickly, he lifted his shirt and bunched his hand in enough of the fabric to protect himself. Then, carefully managing his gun with the other hand, he threw open the lid of the dumpster and peered inside. It was the worst thing he could have done.

    The stink, nearly incapacitating outside the dumpster, had been for the most part trapped beneath the lid. Opening it and looking inside had exposed the former soldier to the full force of the reek, and he almost immediately felt his gorge begin to rise, a taste of sulfur forming at the back of his tongue. He swiveled his head and vomited, his puke hissing and sizzling on the ground where it landed. Wiping his mouth, swearing softly to himself, Andrew looked back in the dumpster. What he saw there was worse than the smell. Inside, folded up among the black garbage bags, was a human corpse. It had been mauled, nearly dismembered, in a way that reminded Andrew of the bear. As his stomach began to churn again, the veteran turned away and dry-heaved, spitting the sour juices that collected in his mouth. Jesus Christ, he thought. Where the hell is his head?



    The three scrambled for the side of the road as the cloud of dust got closer and closer by the second, with Mabel being assisted in her movements by Michael’s generous hand. It wasn’t long at all before even old Mrs. Mulberry-Jones’ eyes could see the source for what it was: a car. Specifically, once it got close enough and began to slow down, the three of them could see it was an aged Ford Crown Victoria painted black and white beneath a thick layer of road dust. The car slowed even further, pulling up beside them before stopping. The lights blipped, once, and the siren sounded for a fraction of a second. “I’ll be God-d*****,” Frank muttered, and Mabel shot him a disapproving look.

    As the engine died, the driver-side door swung open and a man stepped out. Tall, with his dark hair cropped short, he circled around the front of the car and stood with his hands hands on his narrow hips, the desert sunlight reflecting off a pair of mirrored aviator sunglasses. He chewed slowly on a toothpick, moving it from one corner of his mouth to the other and back again with a practiced roll of his tongue, before spitting it out to clatter noiselessly against the asphalt of the road. “You folks feeling lost?” he asked.
    Last edited by Sophistemon; 2019-03-01 at 06:35 PM.

  7. - Top - End - #97
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    Ok something serious must have happened if 911 was down. Or maybe she dialed it wrong? Desperate, she'll dial an extra 9 before 911, trying to get an outside line. If that fails, she'll try 5, and then 3, before finally giving up. It wasn't a mistake she made. Something had gone horribly wrong if emergency services were down. Was this some kind of attack? Or just bad luck? Did it have something to do with all the disappearences? But why had they been spared? And what were these damned numbers?

    "I guess we're on our own." Maria decides. Well, God helps those who help themselves. She'll head outside to get the keys from that truck and see if it'll start.
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  8. - Top - End - #98
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    "Lost?" Michael favoured the officer with one of his winning smiles. Being friendly came easily to him, even if he didn't feel it. All part of his job. "Not exactly, sir. We were on the bus that goes through here and it stopped working. We're headed to the gas station up yonder."
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  9. - Top - End - #99
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
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    "Whaaaaat theeeee hellllllll!" Daniel wheezed in disbelief. He'd seen animals in poor condition before and felt sympathy for them, but this creature was in a class of its own. How was it so big? How was it still so aggressive and spry? Daniel, not much of a hunter despite his love of barbecue, had only tried to frighten away unfriendly beasts in the past. Nothing of real consequence had ever tried to hurt him in the desert before; the environment itself was his real enemy. Today was a special case, and even as his mind struggled to unfreeze, his hand reached back and picked up a bottle perched on the edge of the sink.

    "Can he make the shot? The fans don't seem to think so!" Reggie, another student on summer break, spoke in a deep announcer's voice from the diner's front counter. Daniel and Jamie stood side by side at a half-bussed table; across the room, empty of customers at this hour, was a trashcan. Jamie swung his arm back as though to throw a frisbee and tossed a hard plastic plate. It sailed gently through the air, curved a little too soon, and clanked against the far wall instead.

    "Ooooh! His coach won't be happy about that, folks!"

    Daniel grabbed a Coke bottle. He weighed it in his hand, squinted, and sent it spinning, right into the bin.

    "Three points! The crowd goes wiiiiiiiiiild!"


    This time he flung it with more force and purpose. Even if Daniel only startled the rat, hopefully that would still give him time to make it to the restroom door and slam it behind him.
    "It was a GOOD plan, just completely impossible."

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  10. - Top - End - #100
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    His stomach knotted by the dry heaving, Andy forced himself upright. ****ing Hell, he thought, A bear missing an arm and now a headless corpse. What the **** else is this desert going to throw at us? Making a conscious effort to breathe through his mouth, he moved to look back inside the dumpster. Maybe there were some clues. Clothing, personal effects, maybe even some identification. Somewhere in this desert, was something capable of mauling not just a human being and dismembering it, but doing the same to a bear. The questions were stacking up, and they *still* needed answers. Their survival might just depend on it.

  11. - Top - End - #101
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    Daniel's aim was true enough that the bottle, weighed with water, crashed into the rat's greasy side and careened across the tile of the bathroom floor. The rodent whirled, shrieking in pain and anger at the spinning projectile, before it realized the true threat of the biped. Teeth bared and dripping blood, one eye glaring in an all too human hatred, the rat lunged at Daniel to pay him back for the damage he'd inflicted. From the way it moved, the scout got the impression he'd badly hurt it, perhaps enough to break a few ribs or rupture an organ or two. It was sluggish on its feet, black eye twitching, tail whipping wildly at the floor.



    Maria stepped out of the Gas Haven and into the blinding sunlight of the American desert, still fuming over the malfunctioning phone, still worrying about what it all might mean. The heat of the day hit her like a fist. She knew that deserts got dangerously cold during the night, sometimes cold enough to kill without protection, and found herself wishing for sundown regardless. She clutched the truck's keys in her hand, determined to check if the vehicle would start and give them a way back to the bus and then out of the desert. As she strode toward it, however, she heard the sound of someone vomiting behind the gas station, and the follow-up expectoration of a clearing mouth. She had a choice, now: she could complete her mission with the truck, or see what was going on with Andrew.



    The corpse of the man in the dumpster was wearing faded bluejeans, a pair of battered white sneakers, and a red flannel shirt gone scabrous with dried blood. He was situated in an odd way, his abdomen arched up above the hips, as though he was pushing out his stomach. There were bags of garbage in the dumpster, long past their collection date by the smell, but Andrew surmised there might be something else underneath the body that was pushing it up from behind. He moved position, climbing up the dumpster wall and peering down from above. Craning his head, he could see the loop of a strap poking out from underneath the body. The last thing he wanted to do was reach down and move the corpse. He'd had enough of that sort of thing in the jungle, after all. But if it was hiding a bag, and the bag had essential supplies? Maybe.



    The cop smiled a toothless grin, his lips together. "You were on a bus?" he asked. He looked at Mabel Mulberry Jones and shrugged his shoulders. "Did they make you ride in the back, honey?" The old woman stiffened her spine like she'd been goosed, and her own lips shut tightly enough to render them pale. The cop licked his bottom lip and turned to Ralph. "Are there any more of you? Can't imagine you three took a bus on your lonesome. Were you a big group?"

    Ralph, already feeling rescued, shook his head. "No. No, there's a few more, but not many. They left earlier and went looking for help. It got too hot to stay put, so we followed them." The cop huffed a breath of air through his nose, a short sigh of amusement.

    "Did they?" he asked. "Well, if they went the way you're going, they'd have found the station by now... if nothing found them first." He arced a thumb back over his shoulder, at the car. "You guys want a lift? I can take you to your buddies, get you on your way home."

  12. - Top - End - #102
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    Michael glanced over at the car. He felt it was too convenient, this officer showing up just now, when they were in trouble, and there was something about the situation that bothered him. It was the sunglasses, probably. Michael never trusted a man who hid his eyes. The others, though, they might not be so cautious, and to refuse would be suspicious. He thought, though, that the officer might not want passengers up front.

    "We've an awful lot to take with us," he said, letting his smile waver for a second. "With three of us, and all our bags, I'm not sure we'd fit. If one of us has to stay and walk, it ought to be me. Certainly miss Mulberry-Jones should go. I'd not force her to walk, given an alternative."
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  13. - Top - End - #103
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    The truck could wait a moment, Maria decides, going to walk around to the back of the gas station. If Andrew had something like heat exhaustion, causing him to throw up, she might need to help him back inside. Get him some fluids, a bit of salt too, quick.

    "Hey, you alright back here?" she asks, coming around the corner.
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  14. - Top - End - #104
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    With a wordless squawk of alarm, Daniel leapt away from the charging rat, dove for the bottle he threw a moment before, and, from a half-kneeling position, struck again. This time his aim was even better, catching the rat right on the nose. Even after it went down, Daniel flattened himself against the opposite wall in shock. He stood there for a long moment, just hoping to catch his breath. Finally he noticed that the rat did the same. Its possibly-broken ribs still fluttered in and out, though he seemed safe, for now.

    A quick stomp to the grotesque creature's head would solve his problem for good. Maybe that was even the kindest choice, the relief that nature had apparently denied. Yet, Daniel couldn't help but feel a spark of compassion amidst his disgust.

    He skirted around the prone rodent and picked up the trashcan, shook out its contents onto the floor, and hesitantly approached the rat. Using the bottle he threw, he swept and rolled the rat into this impromptu prison. From there, Daniel carried it quickly out of the store and into the parking lot, looking for his companions.

    "Guys! Guys! You have to see this; I found something crazy!"

    Surely they'll be awed by such a weird and gruesome discovery. What else could possibly top this?
    Last edited by Blarghy; 2019-03-05 at 04:22 AM.
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  15. - Top - End - #105
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    Andrew considered the strap under the corpse, only dimly aware of Maria calling out to him. He’d had enough run-ins with cops in the anti war movement to not wanna disturb the scene of a murder. But, the desperation of their situation won out in his mind. Reaching in with his free hand to grasp the strap, he gave it a tug to see just how hard it would be to pull it out. Feeling the weight of the body lying heavy on whatever it was attached to, he pocketed his gun, grabbed the strap in both hands, and heaved.

  16. - Top - End - #106
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    "What are you doing in the dumpster?" Maria asks coming closer, and then the smell hit her. "Oh, oh God, what is that? What are you doing?!" How could this possibly be useful? They had a store full of supplies and he's dumpster diving?

    Daniel might hear her shouting from behind the building.
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  17. - Top - End - #107
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    The cop turned to Michael and flashed a toothy grin. His sunglasses flared brightly as he moved, reflecting light into the salesman’s eyes. “Don’t be stupid,” he said. “Take a look around, buddy; the desert’d chew you up and spit you out. You don’t want to be walking this road anymore than you have to. You can toss your s*** in the trunk.” He turned abruptly, went to the rear of the car, and sprang the lid. “Here, get a move on. You don’t want to be standing around too long.”

    Ralph moved quickly, eager to get going. He set his bags in the trunk and faced the cop. “We’re really glad you stopped,” he said, speaking for the group. “We haven’t seen any other cars on the road, so we’re lucky you drove by.” His face sank a little, worry-lines etched deep into his forehead. “Where is everyone?” he asked. “It’s got to be the middle of the day, and we haven’t seen anyone else since we woke up this morning.”

    The cop’s smile never wavered. “You aren’t telling me anything I don’t already know,” he said. There was a hint of amusement in his voice, a sprinkling of misplaced mirth. “I’ve been driving around all day and you’re the first warm bodies I’ve seen since sunrise. Here, let me help you with those.” He moved quickly, snakebite fast, and grabbed the remaining bags. He tossed them in the trunk with Ralph’s and clapped the lid closed. “There, all cozy. Let’s get a move on.” Still moving quickly, he unlocked and opened the two passenger doors. “Boys in the back. You can ride up front with me, old-timer; I want to keep my eye on you.”



    Daniel emerged into the station proper, the bathroom door swinging shut behind him, to find it empty. He stood on his toes for a moment, searching for sign of his missing companions, but they weren’t anywhere indoors. Concluding that they must have left the building, he regretfully exchanged the cool interior of the gas station for the baking heat of the desert. He stood in the parking lot for a moment, craning his head and listening for evidence of the others. Thankfully, he could clearly hear Maria shouting something at Andrew towards the rear of the building, and he set off in the direction with the injured rat shifting lightly from side to side in the trashcan. As he approached, he began to smell the unfortunately familiar reek of rotting meat.



    Maria watched, wide-eyed and confused, as Andrew leaned into the dumpster. How he could force himself into the source of that smell she couldn’t understand at first, but then she saw him rummage for something. Using his lower body as a counter-weight, the former veteran see-sawed himself back up and out of the bin, one hand clutching the bloody strap of an even bloodier canvas duffel bag. Retching, Andrew dropped the bag to the dusty ground and heaved, his empty stomach churning with the apparent intention of turning itself inside out. Thinking quickly he reached down, grabbed the strap, and retreated away from the dumpster. Eyes still watering, Andrew made his way towards Maria.

  18. - Top - End - #108
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    "Aye Dios mio. What are you doing digging that thing out of the trash?!" Maria exclaims. "Wait... is that... blood? What the hell man?! What is going on here?!" She demands, backing away from the stench, and away from Andrew's retching. Just as she thought they'd found a little hope, things got weird again.
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  19. - Top - End - #109
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    Michael made a point of keeping hold of his own personal suitcase. It was small enough to put on his lap, in any case. Unfortunately, he couldn't think of a way to politely shrug off the officer. He was right about the desert, it was a hostile and unforgiving place, and almost certainly the car would have air conditioning. Still, there was something off, even if he couldn't quite place it. Maybe it was how quick the officer was. Too quick, really.

    "Much obliged, sir." He said, sliding into the back beside Ralph. "What's your name, by the way? I'm Michael."
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  20. - Top - End - #110
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    "What'd you find?" Daniel asked with equal alarm. "Whatever--just look at this! It crawled out of the toilet and attacked me! This thing is huge and sick or something." He tilted the trash can down to let Maria see inside.

    Something occurred to Daniel and his expression paled further. "Do...do you think something's wrong with the water? Is that what happened here? And we already drank some!"
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  21. - Top - End - #111
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    Andy all but ran away from the dumpster, looking to Maria, then the bag, then the dumpster, then back to Maria. He let go of the bag and stood up straight, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth and clearing his throat. “Well,” he began, trying to figure out how to explain himself. Putting on his best bedside manner, he smiled and held up his hands in a calming way, open and palms out. He gestured toward the dumpster, “There’s a body in there, and the poor bastard is short a head. I found this bag under him. I was hoping it might have some clues as to who he was. We’ve got at least three people missing, and I’m thinking he might be one of them. Now, lets be cool and figure this out, alright?” He knew it didn’t look good, and he didn’t want to scare her, but he needed answers. Moving slowly and keeping an eye on Maria, he knelt down to look into the bag.

  22. - Top - End - #112
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    Maria peers into the trashcan and lets out a shriek. "Oh god, is that a rat? It's huge!" And disgusting.

    "No I don't think it has anything to do with the water. Our bus wouldn't have access to the same water source as this gas station."

    And then Andrew starts talking about a decapitated body. "Que?! What? Oooh I wish you had left it alone... but I can't even get the police on the phone, just that damned numbers station again. We might need to figure this out on our own."
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  23. - Top - End - #113
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    Daniel set the trashcan down and grabbed his thick, curly hair with both hands. "They're dead?" he stared between Andy and the dumpster. He could hardly comprehend the circumstances the older man had described; death was bad enough, and murder was worse, but decapitation sat somewhere beyond the limits of Daniel's already-fragile nerves. As for whatever was happening with the phones and radios around here, he couldn't even guess.

    "So there's a killer out here? It can't all be a coincidence! Whoever did it must've tampered with the phones. B...blocked the normal stations somehow. And...and if they got the bus driver already...or what if this is the bus driver?! What if he set this up somehow, and now he's after us?!"

    He slumped to the ground next to his former enemy; the rat no longer seemed that bad, all things considered. From the hot asphalt--Daniel barely noticed, for now--his eyes drifted to the duffel bag. Maybe it had something useful; presumably Andy agreed, given the lengths he went to claim it. Then again, the killer didn't bother, so Daniel wasn't about to get his hopes up. Still. Only one way to know for sure.

    "Should we open it?" he wondered, young voice trembling. "And then I guess we have to take that truck and go back for the others before it's too late. We have to warn them. We have to get out of here!"
    Last edited by Blarghy; 2019-03-20 at 11:53 PM.
    "It was a GOOD plan, just completely impossible."

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  24. - Top - End - #114
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    Drawing a deep breath, Andy tried again to put on some of that calm, collected bedside manner he'd always been so good at. He tried to lock eyes with the kid. Daniel? That was it, right? He forced a smile, "Deep breaths, Danny boy, okay?" Moving his gaze between Maria and Danny, he continued, "Something is going on here, and if we watch each other's backs, keep our wits about us, we're gonna get out of this, alright? I've been through worse situations, if not weirder. At least three people are missing, possibly dead. There's a dead bear out in the desert missing a leg miles from where he should be, and some poor soul missing a head in that dumpster. This duffel might have some clues. Or it might have something useful. Either way, I say we open it." He paused, reaching for the zipper of the bag, then looked back up: "One more thing: don't trust a soul that wasn't on the bus with us."

  25. - Top - End - #115
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    Once seated, Michael could more easily see the black steel mesh that barricaded the lawless back seats of the cruiser from its more civilized front. The officer shut the door beside him before he could react, which latched closed with all the grim finality of a cocking hammer. The elderly Mabel Mulberry-Jones was soon sitting in the passenger seat, her bony knees pressed tightly together while she stared restlessly through the windshield. Bizarrely, a dancing hula-girl figuring had been suction-cupped to the dashboard. The red ochre paint of its skin had been rubbed away from the oversize breasts to reveal the faded off-white plastic beneath.

    The cop entered the car with practiced ease, nearly leaping into his seat. He buckled himself in and, in unthinking ritual, reached to the figurine and ran the pad of his thumb across its chest. Smirking, the officer tilted his head to view Michael in the rearview mirror. “The name’s Lou,” he answered. “Lou Shepherd, and I’m the law around these parts.” He started the engine, which roared to life without enough force that Mabel bounced in her seat, lower lip bit tightly between her teeth. Shepherd’s right arm shot out like a bar to keep her from falling forward. “Easy there, girl!” he chided. “We don’t want you jumping out of your bones.” The car rumbled, growling hungrily, as cool air poured in through the vents. That much was pleasant, at least.

    Ralph leaned forward in his seat and reached up to tap the mesh. “What’s going on out there?” he asked. “Nobody on the roads, the radios playing that weird station… Is it – was it the Russians? Did they drop the big one?” His question gave voice to concerns he’d been chewing on since waking up that morning.

    Shepherd laughed a harsh, barking guffaw. “Everyone’s afraid of the big, bad bear!” he howled. “Bears ain’t so tough, you take it from me. And no, this ain’t the Kremlin’s doing. We’re just a quiet, empty place around here. Not many people come and go, s’true. As for the radio, it was storming like Hell last night. Sure as s***, a tower got a short and knocked out the signal.” Without waiting for a response, the cop put his car in drive and pulled back out into the road. “Never you worry folks,” he said. “We’ll get you where you’re going soon enough.”



    Andrew pulled the zipper, and the duffel bag opened with little complaint. It resisted only once, when the zipper struggled to break through a clot of blood caught in the metal teeth. The veteran reached in, cautiously, while Maria and Daniel crowded around to see what he would find. Slowly, carefully, Andy removed the contents. There was an inches thick stack of continuous form printer paper bound carefully in twine, a selection of near-boiling bottles of soda-pop and hopelessly melted candy bars, a hard plastic case roughly two feet long and locked with twin latches, and a soft plastic storage bag filled with a substantial amount of what was clearly marijuana, rolling papers, and a cheap plastic lighter. Upon closer inspection, all three could see that the first page of the stack of papers, and the lid of the plastic case, were stamped with the same ‘concave-kite-in-a-circle’ symbol.

    Thinking the plastic box somewhat resembled one of those newfangled gun cases and hoping for some additional firepower, Andrew set it in his lap, thumbed the latches open, and lifted the lid. Inside, nestled safely on a bed of cushioning black foam and almost blindingly white in the desert sun, was a porcelain cat handpainted with a garish floral pattern. A branching network of micro-fractures spiderwebbed like veins beneath milky flesh, and the cat’s unusually humanoid face sported bright red lipstick and a pair of unblinking, brilliantly green eyes.
    Last edited by Sophistemon; 2019-04-02 at 09:25 PM.

  26. - Top - End - #116
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    "Officer Shepherd is right," Michael said. "I don't think it's Russia." His mind was running about a mile a minute, and he didn't want to say much right now. All of this was very strange, and being behind the metal grate in the car wasn't helping any. Police made him nervous, had done ever since... well, since he left home, really.
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  27. - Top - End - #117
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    "Well, that's weird." Maria says, looking at the cat figurine. Maybe it had been used to smuggle something. It didn't exactly look priceless. At least it wasn't a gun.

    She reaches for the stack of printed pages, maybe they provided a clue to who this was. A manuscript, maybe? A journal would be helpful. But this sort of paper was used more for raw data. From her bag she slipped the pocket knife Mabel had given her and cut the twine.
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  28. - Top - End - #118
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    Ralph nodded, happily accepting the cop's story as truth. "That makes sense," he said. His words were slow and thoughtful. "I guess I just feared the worst." He thought about the brown bagged bottle he'd brought with him, and the reason he brought it, and went silent again. Mabel took that opportunity to speak up, and her voice was hardened by the disrespect she'd been shown.

    "There were birds," she said. "Big ones -- buzzards or vultures or the like. They circled the bus and then landed on the roof. Is that normal, for them to flock around people?" Officer Shepherd laughed again, that barking chortle, and nodded his head.

    "Oh yes," he answered. "Them things'll scour the sands for what's near-dead and call their buddies for suppertime. It's a dangerous place out in the desert, and the likes of them will never want for food. You must have been in poorer circumstances than I thought if you caught their eyes. It's a good thing I found you when I did, to keep you safe from yourselves."



    Mabel's knife, honed by a practiced hand, parted the twine with ease. Maria got a better look at the symbol on the first page. It was like a triangle, with the point high and the base bent up in the center. She began flipping pages and scanned them for information. Unfortunately, they weren't written in English, or in any language she recognized. The characters looked East-Asian -- Chinese or Korean, maybe -- though she couldn't say for sure. A few pages in she found a grainy black-and-white photograph of the porcelain cat paper-clipped to the sheet. Evidently, this stack of papers somehow pertained to the statue.

  29. - Top - End - #119
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    "This could be some sort of provenance or research pertaining to that statue, there. It's not in English, though. Or Spanish. Or Nahuatl. So I can't read it." She laughs nervously at her own little joke. "Do either of you recognize this stuff?" She holds it out for the others to see.
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  30. - Top - End - #120
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    "I...no, I...I don't know..." Daniel murmurs in puzzled discomfort, still shocked by the chaos. He finds his gaze captured by the weird statue; it's hardly the first odd figurine he's ever come across, but in light of the circumstances, Daniel can't help but shudder involuntarily.

    "But it doesn't matter," he decided. "Somebody's still dead and we need to go. Maybe we should finish looking for survivors, but then let's leave. I'll get the supplies."

    And I'll...take care of you, Daniel thought glumly as he grabbed the trashcan and carried it with him back inside.

    He wedged it securely under the bathroom sink while he gathered up his water bottles; unless it was cracked or broken, he rinsed off the container he previously used as an improvised weapon and added it back with the rest. Over the course of a few trips, Daniel shuttled armloads of food and beverages out to their soon-to-be-stolen truck.

    But he could only delay for so long; soon he had to address the rat. It seemed like his responsibility, he supposed. Daniel returned to the bathroom for the last time...

    ...With chips and canned sausages.

    He opened the bag and shook it onto the floor in a little pile alongside the questionable meat. The empty tin, he refilled with clean water from the sink, and sat it down too. Then, nervously, Daniel held the door open behind him with his foot, took hold of the trashcan, and laid it on its side before retreating hastily.

    Logically, Daniel knew he should've just put the rodent out of its misery; this was less mercy than weakness. Now it would only linger before eventually succumbing to either its injuries or whatever sickness already plagued it. At least the poor creature might drag itself over for a last meal, whatever that was worth. Either way, Daniel had wasted enough time. He hurried back to the others so they could make more preparations or finish searching the property--not that Daniel expected to find anything pleasant at this point.
    "It was a GOOD plan, just completely impossible."

    ~ Sophistemon

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