ComCamGuy
Remote Paramedical pain in the ass
Upstairs
Barbara climbed the stairs. The second floor was three small rooms, little more than glorified oversized closets, and a small bathroom. This was where the guys had their sleeping spaces. She kept going, all the way to the third floor. Up here was the original lookout tower portion of the Ranger station. This was her and Stephen’s room. She walked over to the radio desk. Here was an old Zenith Trans Oceanic shortwave and the charging cables for their laptops, tablets, and whatnot. Sitting in the cradle on the desk was her GPS communicator and her cellphone.
Her cellphone was old and huge, which was fine for her. She used it more like a baby tablet anyway. It was way easier to type on it with the extra Bluetooth keyboard than trying to use the one on the GPS. She and Stephen spent a lot of time texting with his job keeping him in the middle of nowhere all the time but she didn’t mind. At least they could still talk with him gone down south. It was at least faster than her grandmother’s letters to her grandfather in Viet Nam.
She devoured what he wrote. She knew his mother’s house was at least forty miles inland and six hundred feet above sea level so she wasn’t as worried about water. The house was older and single story, so that wasn’t a major thing either. No, what she was worried about was wherever he was when it all hit. With all the preparations he should be doing to leave, she was hoping and praying he was home when it happened.
As her eyes scanned the screen, she let out the breath she had been holding. He was at the house when it happened. Good. Now the next biggest fears raced through her head. Fires were a possibility but bigger than that was the threat of people. Sooner or later, the survivors will realize what they don’t have and go looking for it.
Her fingers flew over the keys, then she stopped. She forced herself to read what she wrote before she sent it. He was in a bad enough spot as it was. He didn’t need hysterical ravings of his girlfriend to make things worse. She went back and toned it down, making sure to still include the most important parts of pack whatever you can, food, water, shelter, remember your Boy Scout training and get the hell out of there as soon as you can, sooner rather than later.
She hit send. Once the message went out of the device, up the wire to the external antenna, and off to the satellite on it’s way to him, she spent a good two or three minutes punching the pillows on the bed as she fumed at not having insisted on going with him. She could be there right now, helping get them on the road right now, tonight if she could. Instead, here she was in their semi-perfect little cabin in the woods with their friends but not him.
Benjiman’s voice carried up the stairs.
“Hey Barb! We got a new station. This guy’s talking about Seattle.”
“Be right down.”
Barbara went back over to the funky GPS/Cellphone lash up. She had to send one more message.
‘Be careful. Don’t do anything stupid. I love you.’ She hit send and walked to the stairs.
Barbara climbed the stairs. The second floor was three small rooms, little more than glorified oversized closets, and a small bathroom. This was where the guys had their sleeping spaces. She kept going, all the way to the third floor. Up here was the original lookout tower portion of the Ranger station. This was her and Stephen’s room. She walked over to the radio desk. Here was an old Zenith Trans Oceanic shortwave and the charging cables for their laptops, tablets, and whatnot. Sitting in the cradle on the desk was her GPS communicator and her cellphone.
Her cellphone was old and huge, which was fine for her. She used it more like a baby tablet anyway. It was way easier to type on it with the extra Bluetooth keyboard than trying to use the one on the GPS. She and Stephen spent a lot of time texting with his job keeping him in the middle of nowhere all the time but she didn’t mind. At least they could still talk with him gone down south. It was at least faster than her grandmother’s letters to her grandfather in Viet Nam.
She devoured what he wrote. She knew his mother’s house was at least forty miles inland and six hundred feet above sea level so she wasn’t as worried about water. The house was older and single story, so that wasn’t a major thing either. No, what she was worried about was wherever he was when it all hit. With all the preparations he should be doing to leave, she was hoping and praying he was home when it happened.
As her eyes scanned the screen, she let out the breath she had been holding. He was at the house when it happened. Good. Now the next biggest fears raced through her head. Fires were a possibility but bigger than that was the threat of people. Sooner or later, the survivors will realize what they don’t have and go looking for it.
Her fingers flew over the keys, then she stopped. She forced herself to read what she wrote before she sent it. He was in a bad enough spot as it was. He didn’t need hysterical ravings of his girlfriend to make things worse. She went back and toned it down, making sure to still include the most important parts of pack whatever you can, food, water, shelter, remember your Boy Scout training and get the hell out of there as soon as you can, sooner rather than later.
She hit send. Once the message went out of the device, up the wire to the external antenna, and off to the satellite on it’s way to him, she spent a good two or three minutes punching the pillows on the bed as she fumed at not having insisted on going with him. She could be there right now, helping get them on the road right now, tonight if she could. Instead, here she was in their semi-perfect little cabin in the woods with their friends but not him.
Benjiman’s voice carried up the stairs.
“Hey Barb! We got a new station. This guy’s talking about Seattle.”
“Be right down.”
Barbara went back over to the funky GPS/Cellphone lash up. She had to send one more message.
‘Be careful. Don’t do anything stupid. I love you.’ She hit send and walked to the stairs.
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