03.01.08

real roleplay, 4 hours in the morning 2/25/08

earson: british sea power, mini pop, octopus project, air, frank sinatra, the bangles, billie holiday
eyeson: confusion
thoughton: introspective

* the pot and the plate hanging from her pack rang together and in the wideness the sound - though very small - rang a long way. the ground was springy underfoot, rough and short vegetation .. moss on the rocks, wide pristine sky overhead. it was over 40 degrees, a good day to travel .. and she'd been walking for some time, following a track that had surprised her after coming clear of a dry wellstand a few miles out of the city. she'd passed oilwells still burning blue-ish and low, spouting acrid smoke .. the pits in the ground where mortar had fallen were becoming fewer, more shallow. remains of campsites and abandoned gear littered the track to either side. remains of those who had gone before and had not been prepared. she chewed on the end of a lollipop stick - it had long lost its taste and had gone to paper, but she was concentrating so much on signs of -animals- that train of thought was scattered. could only hear the squish of her bootsoles, whiffs of woodsmoke on the air made her hurry. flicked the stick into the grass and crouched where the trail widened with hooftracks .. glancing ahead .. where the woodsmoke was clearly rising, and shadows of low buildings broke the horizon line. she sniffed faintly .. patted at the pistols under her arms and rose, approaching the settlement warily.

* TuckerHarrelson heaved the 20 gauge spool onto the back of the four wheeler. That was the last of the electric fence he was putting up, finally surrounding the 12 acre pasture with something to keep the cattle put. They had lost many head over the winter, and he intended to keep those left alive until the slight relief of spring. Electricity, of course, wasn't something that was easy to come by, but the Pavlovian instinct remained in his herd. It wasn't that long ago that the Earth froze over. Tucker pulled off the thick and worn beige leather gloves, running a hand through the tumbled reddish brown mop on his head. Sticky curls started to form with the day's perspiration - a day that was quite nearly done. He settled behind the ATV and started to push - the battery had died long ago; popping the clutch was the only thing that kept it alive. His filthy boots dug into the slight thaw on the surface of the pasture, kicking up little clods as he started to push the four wheeler by its handlebars down the hill. Hustled on as it rolled towards the gravel road, clicking down into first gear as he let up with his left hand. The ATV jerked suddenly as the free axle suddenly clanged against the frozen gear, sending the right handlebar stoutly into Tucker's gut. The bike's engine coughed loudly, refusing to start.

* body startled like a bird at the noise of the engine and she dropped bonelessly onto the ground, burying her face in the smell of earth. for a moment with pupils contracted she listened for the noise of more firing .. but there was none. hesitantly climbed to her knees and mopped at one cheek with a shoulder .. peering into the distance against the direction of the noise. the terrain was slightly hilly .. she saw only the top of a head and the motion of effort. shuffled a little further along and caught a glimpse of a gravel stretch .. roads were generally dangerous .. gas powered vehicle, male silhouette. she sighed through her nose. headache was beginning. chills .. some kind of fever was winding a tail 'round the base of her skull and she could feel it beginning to make her spine sweat, nerves tingling. "damn." .. no more sugar left in the pack, nothing but canned meat .. no starches. community meant meals .. meals meant a few more days. she rose, strode the crest of the hill and paused there, flipping the straps of pistol holsters open .. not drawing. eyeing the shape below with hands displayed open, empty.

* TuckerHarrelson cursed loudly as he pulled the throttle out of his gut. He unsaddled awkwardly, his stony features crinkled into a wince. "Goddammit." His treadless boots slid a bit against the mushy slope, causing a bit of a comical slip and slide around to the front of the bike. The bruised belly wasn't much to complain about these days, only made more aggravating by the knowledge of how easy it would be with a simple battery. These push starts were one of those little pieces of life after the ice slipped into the sea.
* TuckerHarrelson grumbled a bit as he dug in with his toes, head down while pushing the ATV back up the hill. At the top, his eyes would notice the woman. Instinctively, he stepped behind the bike. His eyes swept over her quickly, faith in strangers being a death wish in this day and age. His eyes hung on her face... and then on her sidearms. Shoving his gloves into his back pocket, his voice would spit out a smooth Midwestern. "C'n I help you?"

"hi," she said, heart thrumming something against her ribcage. it was something to be alone .. it had its dangers, but none that came with the endless possibilities humans in close contact had. the grape flavor of the lollipop was already fading .. not enough, in a few hours she'd need more. striding down the hill, not quickly .. hands still exposed. they were mittened, thick enough so that they seem to be swaddled twice. she was skinny, they all were these days .. long, black glossy ponytail and fair flesh, sharp features, long neck in a long scarf. she wore a snowsuit that was unrevealing of her shape save for something slender .. gun harness on the outside, gigantic mountain pack perched on the narrows of her back that should have been too topheavy. "i'm simon .. short for simonette .. are you from around here?" northeastern accent, she's very dirty, lips perhaps a bit blue. two close caps pulled down over her crown.

* TuckerHarrelson 's eyes narrowed, his jaw - cracked and dry as all were in the permafrost - set with his mouth a touch open. "I'm not sure any of us are, young lady." His was definitely not Texan, but certainly not big city. His tone was like his face, hard and calloused from exposure to hard elements and labor. He shuffled his steps slightly towards the rack on the back of the bike - a long rifle shoved between the spool of wire and a rusty toolbox. He wouldn't make much of a production of it. "What are you doing out here?"

"travelling. looking for someplace who has potatoes that are still good," she laughed a little, reaching the bottom of the shallow ravine. standing in the gravel, aware that this was not the best vantagepoint. from here, she must turn her face up at him. studying him in turn, callouses, make .. the ATV, still working! .. not a lot of gear, just a day trip from the looks of things. it was in her favor that she had a likeable sway, that her face .. though so stark .. still had something pretty around the eyes and mouth that usually gathered good attention. at least a little while. she glanced up the road and her eyes were very green, sparking stars in the low sunlight. "will be getting below zero soon. do you have a room, some grain or roots i could trade you for?" amiable, open, she reminded herself carefully. trained mouth spills into a smile, but she never allows her hands to come away from the ready.

* TuckerHarrelson gut knotted with anxiety as well as blunt trauma, suspicion raising the hair on his neck and his hackles. His shoulders - broad, Midwestern stock - squared against her as she moved down the gully onto the road. In response to her smile, his granite, square face registered little. Like the rust stains scattered about his thick denim coat, the wary steel of his brow didn't move no matter how she scrubbed. Curtly, he'd declare, "We don't have anything for anyone bringing weapons on to my land. If it's trouble you're looking for, you've got the wrong door." Everything about her was wrong. The ski and hiking gear, slight figure, glossy hair. He broke gaze with her momentarily, looking up from whence she came. Only one set of footprints. "Who'reyouwith?" he spit out as a single syllable, the icy tendrils of panic starting to wrap around the timbre of his voice. The frost collected on his overalls crunched as he shuffled fully behind the ATV, keeping it between her and him.

"you can have the pistols for as long as i'm in your company then. just grain or potatoes, maybe jerky, that's all i'm looking for." meawhile, discreetly eyeing the ATV. tracks of it from the gravel. he'd been pushing it, it had popped maybe? causing the backfire that had frightened her .. in rough shape but it was salvagable, and it'd be better than any horse on this unstable ground. the possibility of lifting it was slim to none, she supposed, but it was worth the perusal. knew better than to reach for the weapons -now,- she didn't make a move to touch them. the headache was getting worse. the nagging notion at the back of her neck was spreading, some flush was working its way into her collarbones. simon squared her stance and dropped her shoulders, scuffing, grinding stone. expecting nothing, expression sobering.

* TuckerHarrelson 's shiny hands would grip the stock of his rifle, lowly commanding. "How about we see those hands in the air?" He lifted the lever action, Winchester up slowly, trying equally to keep the situation from escalating. "If you really need some food, we've got plenty to share. But we aren't looking for any more trouble than we've got, miss." When the Earth began to freeze, everyone got older. As the fighting began and the cities fell, the young aged quickly. He talked to her like an old father, but even despite the anxious creased of his forehead it was clear he could be no older than thirty with ample babyfat in his cheeks. The rifle hung over his right arm as he started to edge slowly down the hill.
* TuckerHarrelson appeared stocky with the layers, but no one would be breaking any scales these days. His eyes, nervous and quite nearly wild, might on another day seem like a farm pond - reflective and deeply cut. Stubble on his classical, square chin highlighted the day as one of necessity, leisure having passed long since. His hair was shaggy, sometime since it was last cut but still well above the ear.

* well, now he'd touched the gun. as he'd come down the hill toward the road with it she'd take several steps backward and back -up- the hill, in the direction she'd come. the timing had made her desperate, but not enough to be trapped into some slave trade .. or worse yet, having her head blown off in the middle of the oil fields. some veil dropped in her posture that briefly revealed some true nature .. one shoulder slipped in front of the other, over one toe. slight weight subtly shifted so that she felt the pack's momentum lean over her thigh. a quick smile and a quicker shrug, boot heels gaining little purchase on the slope. still, she kept yards between them. "i don't share .. although that's kind of you. i trade. i trade goods for goods. what do you need? i might have it."

* TuckerHarrelson Her body language aggravated his own, causing him to swiftly shove the lever up. The cocking of the gun clanked out in the calm pasture air as his boots started to crunch the gravel beneath them. "We don't need anything! Particularly more meth heads from Houston out here to steal our ammonia." 6His voice was a full bellow now, like one would to shoo away a downed calf. 1"How about you follow that little trail all the way back to where you came, now?"

* noise of the lever causes muscle in her jaw and throat to twitch, some post traumatic button is pushed and she can no longer look him in the eye; choosing instead to focus somewhere against his neck or chest, mossy gaze narrowing, lashes next to kissing. "i don't use narcotics and i don't deal in them. i don't deal in humans .. or sex .. but i've got a bag of salt and 2 full bottles of penicillin. still not interested?" she shoots back at him quick as his tone of voice had twisted her stomach into a sailor's knot, a wave of nausea caught her and swayed her backward an inch. eyes lid. she presses lips together and exhales through her nose, turning her mouth against her shoulder. no, one more night and she'd be too badly off to keep looking.

* TuckerHarrelson Penicillin. The word hung heavier than the ratchet of his rifle's action. Could easily be another lie in this trap, but he dared to let hope caress his voicebox as his steely glare softened, the square of his jaw relaxing. "You've got penicillin?" he queried, nearly as much a statement as a question. His approach stopped at the middle of the road - the business end of his rifle he would tuck perceptibly away from her. He repeated, "You've got penicllin." Wonder giving way to pragmatism, his jaw would reset. Flatly, "Let's see it."

"put your gun away first. and i'll put my harness on the ground," directly, in a similar tone of voice that he'd used earlier to order 'round soft-brained cows. she watched him from a corner of her eye, gooseflesh rose on her skin. had him, there it was. interest. sun was setting, cold would come .. she waited. if he chose -not- to put his weapon back on the ATV or on the ground, she'd be forced to take other measures.

* TuckerHarrelson Coarse like frosted gravel. "Lady, round here *I* don't put away my gun." He'd be firm. But he would not seem wild or unreasonable. "Now you can show me the bottle and give me your pistols, or you can go ahead and go back the way you came." 6His gaze would sweep over her once more, the cornered rattlesnake that seemed ready to bite. "Now your lips are either blue from the cold or because you need insulin and you need it bad." His eyes would narrow, like final punctuation to the big word. Insulin. "I'm betting were you to head back down that road you aren't going to find the cure for either," would be quick to add. "But," he paused. "If you are and have what you say, well, I'm sure there's plenty of trade to be had down this way."

"with all due respect, sir, a smart girl doesn't put her guns on the ground -either- these days unless she's asking for trouble," concedes, all but admitting she'd had no plans to take disarm. so much for that tack. " .. but here .. " very slowly unshouldering her pack, setting it onto the ground. positioning herself sideways so that he may see her hands at all times, snowsuit rustling .. rims of snowshoes poke from the pack, a bedroll, a gallon water bottle .. a few parcels displaced and she produces a red and green tin that looks like something that might have housed christmas candy at one time. opens this and produces an orange-ish prescription bottle from it that seems to be full of pills. hoisting it to the fading light, forward and as far away from her body as possible. other hand on her pack, standing warily. "there. look at it."

* TuckerHarrelson edged forward slightly, hopefulness getting the better of his survival instinct. He squinted, still a ways from the bottle, but he recognized the cap and the label sure enough. "Novamoxin." he whispered. "Where did you find it?" The question left his lips before he had a chance to consider it - a full bottle of prescription strength antibiotics. It was solid gold in the tundra of Texas. His eyes would move from marveling at the bottle to her eyes. Quietly, as he let the rifle relax down to his side. "We're just trying to eke out a living here Simonette. We don't want to hurt anyone." His voice quiet, innocent - deflated from the bellow from before.

* woman seemed a bullwhip of tension that saw no flag once he'd lowered is weapon. if anything, this slip of tone and lowering of voice seemed to put her even -more- ill-at-ease, some creature so wary of what she saw in his young and old eyes that it had no capacity to trust it. she put the bottle back into the christmas candy tin and nudged it back into its space in her pack, pulling toggles so that they made a zipper zinging noise .. mouth of the pack cinched closed again. she cleared her throat and squared her stare again against his face, annoyed by the leftover feeling the noise of his shotgun had left in her temples. "i'm just trying -not- to go into a coma," she clarified perhaps unkindly, shouldering her pack again with difficulty. beginning to shudder, she clenched her teeth. "i don't .. i don't have a lot of time? do you have any grain, any potatoes. any insulin."

* TuckerHarrelson would slowly drift back in. "... yeah... Yeah." His eyes would flit back between her eyes and her holsters. "Put your pistols in your pack. We don't need anyone panicking more than they already will." He'd wheel about on his heel and start to trudge up the hill. Matter-of-factly... "I'll start the bike. It's nearly supper time." The rifle he stowed quickly and with a more practiced and hurried shove would finally kick the four wheeler into gear, its little two stroke bellowing in initial protest then finally humming healthily after clearing it with a push of the throttle. Rolling it down the hill, he'd motion on the empty front rack for her backpack. In the meantime, he'd dig into his saddlebag.

* normally something like this would be a dealbreaker. any little request that made defense less accessible was a red flag and she balked briefly, even as engine rolled into action. it was this mechanical noise that ground her senses, she had to reorient and redirect .. fear created odd phobias. decision making was made while he dug into his saddlebag, while his shotgun was not in his hands. it was odd that he'd made himself vulnerable with running vehicle and twist of shoulders .. found herself slowly unbuckling the element-stiff leather from her front, shrugging out of the vest. carefully packing the guns on their sides at the top of her pack, resisting afterthought. it was need that steered her to the bike and need that stowed her enormous pack on the front of the ATV .. she hesitated again when she came within arm's length of him, eyeing the space in which there was to sit. it had been some time. sweating now, weaker now, there was no other choice. she climbed, spread legs, sat behind.

* TuckerHarrelson plowed into the thumb throttle and the four wheeler spun forward swiftly. They would accelerate swiftly beyond their meeting place, jolting each through 2nd, 3rd, and 4th gears skating down the country road at a clip that would seem obscene in an age many years since the end of refineries. A small wrought iron sign would read as they hopped over a cattle guard: Circle Bar Ranch. The product from his saddlebag was a whistle which was wrapped around his right index. As the fences became bigger and less makeshift, he'd bring it to his lips, blowing two shorts and a long several times in succession. Pulling hard on the handlebars left, they would run up the gully in which the road as nestled - the ranch coming into full view. It was modest - a two story farmhouse with three trailer houses clearly pulled from somewhere else alongside. Lights were inside each, shining through the dusk of this new dark age. A well, a lagoon, and a big red barn not far from the third trailer. On the porch of the house an elderly couple looked on, pointing at his passenger before walking hurriedly inside. He waved them off. "The signal was to let them know you weren't putting a gun to me." 6He would scuttle into the barn swiftly, barely pausing on the throttle as he did. Then would pull to a fast stop alongside an old open cab tractor.

* all of this was absorbed as someone might stand awed in a golden age train station or in the vestibule before the sanctuary .. pealing of the motor and gravel spinning, splitting noise of the whistle, nothing had been on -fire- here, there was no loud stink, no wandering humans become made monsters from necessity. of course he couldn't see any of this; she held onto the top of her head needlessly with the curve of one palm while deathgripping the edge of the 4 wheeler's seat with the other. noted the well, the location of it .. tractor, fine sign of some sort of agriculture, smell of cattle which was a healthy sort of stink .. fast stop jerked her into his back and she half bounced off of him, 'uff'ing softly. onto her feet as soon as possible though the heat was spreading and her heart was thundering then .. blinking spots from eyes, allowing vision to adjust. shelter, water. grabbed for her pack and hoisted it, leaning far to one side with only one strap on. metal and plastic clanged. part of the homeless masses, all of this was alien.

* TuckerHarrelson hopped off just as gingerly. He'd pick up the spool, it flattening his arms quickly with its weight. Lugging it next to a pile of rebar posts, he'd let it drop with a clang. "I'm going to say you're sick." He spoke like he was making it up as he went along, bustling back to set down the toolbox near a rack of other equipment. "That's why you won't be able to meet the others." Others meant questions, an ugly vote might get cast. Their history with strangers had been less than superb. Taking her arm, he'd pick up the rifle last. "We're going to walk quickly to my trailer. It needs to look to the others like you're afraid of me." That may or may not be far from the truth, but he hoped to quickly get her inside before it became a big production. Swiftly, they'd round the barn door and start a brisk pace toward a trio of trailers.They were single wide tornado bait with tin siding, faded with age but surprisingly clean. Like something out of the 70s they were, with makeshift power lines daisy chain from the main house. Under their feet, the lawn was short and maintained, quite unlike the wild overgrown threshes that had become commonplace in the day. By this time, a group of a half dozen or more were gathered on the farmhouse porch. Tucker would nod at them solemnly, hurrying her toward the door and out of their sight.

* she breathed evenly. more than just him? others. she disliked the cities in the same way she tended to avoid any groups of people; the dynamic tended to turn severely inward and in the -inversion- become either twisted or too much of a nucleus to tolerate change. she understood his urgency in some ways and - though - she couldn't help but eye his weapon as he took it up again while hers were still stowed .. was in no position to do anything but follow along with him as they hurried across the courtyard in the landscape on fire, every green thing a hue of orange, all faces on the porch that were turned their way painted something garish. she shuffled in his shadow and kept her head low, not needing to pretend to be struggling with the weight of her belongings .. it was time, it had -been- time for two days. leaving houston had to be done .. the consequences were evident. location of trailers mapped in photographic memory, she was on his heels when he approached the trailer.

* TuckerHarrelson released her arm and swiftly produced the the storm door, twisting the main door abruptly and pushing it open, Midwestern manners pausing even in this moment for her to enter first. A young one, perhaps a teenager, would peek around the corner as he stood. Skinny and dressed in hand-me-downs, he'd walk a few steps towards the concrete slabs that served as their steps. "Tucker?" he'd call. "Who is that there?" Tucker would snap his head disapprovingly to the boy. "Get on to supper Carl. It's just a lost woman who needs some medicine. Everything's alright." As the boy scurried off and she entered, he hoped that would buy the night before folks started to peep in. The next few moments were a practiced blur. Rifle goes to the rack. The fire gets started in the oven. Kettle is put on the oven. Jacket is removed and hung on the hand-carved hook. Medicine cabinet, insulin bottle. Above the sink, syringe. Behind the refridgerator he would grab a folding chair, hastily sat in front of the fire. "How long has it been?" he would ask, his voice taking a practiced tone, rehearsed with many patients.

* shuddering is worsening, her teeth are chittering. pencil thin black brows rumpled together as she steps inside the door, watching him with vision blurred at edges. wondering, fuzzily .. if she'd waited a bit too long to follow the signs to civilization. now forced to be dependant upon the possibility he could help her, a bottle, a syringe (habitual wonderings about needle cleanliness & -contents- of bottle .. ) .. "two days," she managed, unwinding the scarf from her throat. it was the throat that set her age really, she was in her late twenties .. marooned just inside the door clutching at her own skisuited elbows, ashen. kettle on the oven, was water so easily obtained here? woman wandered where she could brace her hip against something, carefully lowering her pack to the floor. wouldn't do to lose ammunition if one of the pistols went off accidentally.

* TuckerHarrelson pulled the plastic guard off the syringe as he opened the oven's door. Catching his impoliteness, he would nod to the couch. He sat down and put the top of the syringe up against the pellet-fed fire until it began to glow, rotating it slowly. It was an unglamorous, spartan interior, even for a trailer. Thankfully spared shag carpeting, it would be stained darkly here and there from discourteous entrances like this one. An obscenely ugly, floral patterned sofa would be what he nodded to besides which was a recliner the quality of which would merit a "Free" sign on the front lawns of the late Twentieth. The kitchen discernable only in the change from floor to tile, the living room and it sharing the same open air. It was like living in a hallway. "We have to reuse, but we sterlize each time." he would declare, setting the syringe's plastic body on the counter to cool. The insulin he'd shake in its bottle, before handing it to her. He'd retrieve the syringe and his folding chair, sitting in front of her. He'd hand it to her carefully, with practiced sharps precaution. "I'm sorry, we don't have a tester."

* he nodded toward the couch; she knew no better about what was beautiful and what was ugly as far as couches were concerned, only that he offered her an uncharacteristic-ly soft place to put her backside other than the ground. simonette settled slowly rustling and whizzing noises from the suit follow each movement .. too warm and clammy, heart is hiccuping. she plucks off mittens and pulls open metal snaps, unzips the front of the jumper to reveal a sweater layer beneath .. long hands with thin knuckles swollen from elements, pinkened at each joint .. she nods a few times mutely as he settles, gaze following the syringe. .. the bottle. it could be anything, she reasoned. a sedative? a toxin? received both, a squeak as needle pierced bottlemouth and she drew a dose, lips narrowing together again. "it probably wouldn't help us, anyway," uttered, the first civil words. she pulled up her sweater and both t-shirt layers beneath it, exposing a leanly muscled and nearly concave -snowy-smooth belly, needle firmly jabbed. injecting the stuff directly, repressing regret.

* TuckerHarrelson would politely look away as her stomach was exposed, though not before an eyeful of the first delicate, feminine thing he's seen in years now. He'd stand, a bit awkward. "We have three more bottles to trade, no one here is diabetic. They are yours if you like for the antibiotics." He pulled the kettle right before it squealed off the oven, an awkwardly placed pellet stove whose pipe crudely cut into the trailer's wall. Layers of duct tape appeared to keep it in place. Two mugs - one for a parent teacher's association, the other for Disneyworld - were filled with hot water. A couple bags of tea steeped inside. "We even have coffee." he declared proudly, as he put a couple spoonfuls of sugar in the Disney mug. -
* TuckerHarrelson gave her a few moments to come up from the crash before handing her the tea. He'd stand silently, perhaps in reverence for the disaster she just narrowly escaped.

* brain wheeled. it was an odd feeling, a lurching timed with veins in timpany with small nervous system shudders .. breaking water's surface and she sighed softly, finding a semi-flat surface to put the syringe onto. propping it against the insulin bottle so that it wouldn't recontaminate on the floor. sweater, layers beneath pulled into place .. waits a moment or two for the world to stop whorling, head settling to the back of the couch. first she slouched .. then she began to pull off one boot .. the other .. receiving the cup as he handed it to her. an awkward 'thank you,' a courtesy that felt surpassingly odd after demanding so much .. shelter, water, insulin, seating, warmth, and now coffee? she held up the cup to study its side, half-smiling .. then cradled it, pondering him. "you should have chased me off. i could steal from you. what's your name?"

* TuckerHarrelson nodded in agreement. He'd surely catch hell from the others over it. But every one was a guest on this ranch, save him. They would have to live with it. "Tucker Harrelson." he'd pause, sipping his coffee. "I'm sorry, I know you said it before... But I didn't catch yours?"

"simon. simonette, simon .. " she gathered up her legs nearer, snuffling. the fuzziness was clearing. no sedative effect .. her nose was running, she used her sleeve and sipped at the edge of her cup, experimentally. "i'll leave you the 'cillin and be out of your hair in the morning."

* TuckerHarrelson` would nod. Looking at the bottle. "That can't buy you very much. I'm not sure if you're headed somewhere, but the antibiotics are going to do some real good here. It'd be worth a few days rest, at least." He offered as he leaned against the counter, still in his musty overalls with the thermals clinging to his arms and chest, thick and unsculpted from farmwork.

* hard, repetative work did some things to the body .. endless wandering, sporadic food did other things. felt a little more at ease but felt suspicious of the calm, of his manner, which seemed far too normal to match him to the craven civilization that had grown up around them. "electricity, warmth, water .. you sure your friends out there are so willing to share?" that was another thing altogether. he could be what he seemed; no telling what company he kept. she sipped again at the mug, acrid taste was a peaceful feeling .. began to look around the room as nausea faded.

* TuckerHarrelson` smiled softly. "The ranch already had a well for water in a aquafer that's deep enough to be liquid. I hand pumped for a while until we got the solar cells. A man from San Francisco blew through and knew all about it. Between the snow and Texas sunshine, we have enough for water in the houses and hot showers twice a week." He would set down his mug and walk towards the window. Pointing to the scenic vista of the shack next door. "The trailers were perfect - they already had plugs and everything. Brush the cells off every couple of days and we have enough for everybody at least half the day." -
* TuckerHarrelson` sat down in the recliner next to her. "The big problem is keeping livestock alive in the winter. We can make due with the pellet stoves, but we already lost all the goats and most of the sheep. The cattle herd is stable, but if we ever get any disease... " He trailed off, the consequence too difficult to contemplate. "Been here six years now. Most of the others came in the last two. Everybody works, nobody quits." he put simply. "It's our little haven."

* she nodded a few times and gestured with her empty hand, keeping the mug close to her .. something about the warmth from it, too, comforting - "you're lucky, then. most of houston's gang problems are around the electricity issue .. " among other things. the politics didn't concern her as much as the connected crises connected with children; food; drugs. quiet awhile, gaze following every shelf and passing over the texture of the carpet .. something remembered put her temples into her fingertips, her little frown looked weary. "yeah, the cows .. . i can't believe they haven't been appropriated yet, i thought they'd razed all the farms in this area." aware he was close. out of the corner of her eye she kept a proximal eye.

* TuckerHarrelson` would creak the recliner backwards, suddenly popping up with a horrendous squeak a switchblade of a footrest, used as he pulled off his boots. "The pellets keep the smoke low and we're far enough out from the highway that most of the transients pass us by." 6He would settle comfortably back, though eyeing her closely. "We do get visitors. Once or twice every couple months. It's usually clear if they are going to stay or go." He let that hang. They'd had their share of the gangs and the dealers. That bit he would save for the next day. "How did you make it out all this way?"

"made my way down the coast as it started to thaw south of maryland .. there are still glaciers west of the old mississippi, but you can travel now along the beach pretty well. below the arctic line you can find good fishing and starting about here .. she gestures widely to indicate the area around them - "you start seeing brush and moss, small animals, even bugs. i'm actually looking for the tree line .. i don't think it's far from here, and there's got to be some building going on. .. usually .. i can't stay in one place very long. have to .. keep looking for candy, starchy stuff, anything sugary .. sometimes i come across insulin, but i usually get asked to fuck for it." she laughs out loud, intending to be funny but instead feeling a little morbid. stops chuckling weirdly and then palms off her beanies in the uncomfortable silence afterward. "it's good you fence in the cows. if one got loose and someone saw it, they could track it to you."

0 on the vine

written at 1:41 a.m.

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