stjwelding
Veteran Member
Kathy great chapter, thanks for taking the time out of your busy life to write for us.
Wayne
Wayne
Story Zombies Aren't Real ... Are They?
- Thread starter Kathy in FL
- Start date
Part 136
"Stay the F#$% away from me." Well if that was the way he wanted it that was exactly what he was gonna get. Geez, what a sore head. It was not too long after our shift started that that turned out to be just as true literally as it had been figuritively.
I had taken the long way around to my position and climbed the tree outside of the strips of moonlight that laced the forest. Up in the tree I had a pretty impressive vew of the surrounding area. The deciduous trees hadn't fully leafed out yet and there were enough of them that the evergreens didn't really block my line of sight. Sound also got carried to me better than had I been stuck in the bushes on the ground. And when I heard a soft grunt I turned to look in the direciton I knew Winton was just in time to see him slump to the ground . From that point things moved pretty fast.
Two guys came out of the bushes but they were looking in and making hand motions so I knew there were more where they'd come from. Lucky for me they were over confident and had stepped into a strip of moonlight or I might have thought I was smelling a skunk or something similar. Man, they really did stink ... but not puss brain stink; this was plain ol' I-haven't-bathed-since-summer stink with a side order of my-clothes-are-so-dirty-they-can-walk-all-by-themselves. I knew I wouldn't get another chance so when they walked beneath my tree I dropped the whole sack of big rocks on them and then gave a loud, powerful whistle with my fingers.
I almost wasn't fast enough at moving positions. I'd stirred a hornets nest and made someone mad. They went from super stealth tactics to shock and awe so fast I knew they'd practiced this before. But then again, so I had I. It took a little warming up but soon enough the trees were just skinny buildings and the path a crumbling concrete road, the same as it had been in the city. I hit the ground while they were still shooting into the trees and swiped the rifles and ammo bags from the two fallen smellies as fast as Moe had taught me, running down the path like it was an alleyway leading to safety.
Josie was up and covering my escape and then we both got set behind our perimeter.
Sgt. Shelly whispered calmly, "How many?"
"Two less than they started with," I said laying the rifles out so whoever needed one could grab them. "The rest stayed in the bushes."
There was a strangely quiet "poof" and then a shout from the down the trail. "Make that three down," Josie said.
I tried to figure where the shot had come from and from whom when there was another "poof" and another yell, this one a little closer to our camp. Sgt. Shelly grinned and said, "Guess Pvt. Harris wasn't bragging after all." She turned to Josie and said, "You know the drill." To me she said, "Keep an eye on Bedford, and no it isn't babysitting. Gayle said he needs watching."
I stayed low and crawled over to the gurney. Bedford was unconscious which I suppose under the circumstances was good for him, but bad for us if we had to change positions. I heard a couple of more shots from ourd side and from theirs but no more screams or shouts. I worried that they would try and come up behind us if they weren't already doing it but Sgt. Shelly was ahead of me and had Corporal Lewiston guarding that side.
Two hours passed. Every time we thought they had given up and left Sgt. Shelly would force us to give it a few more minutes and sure enough they'd lose patience and show themselves again by shooting a volley at us.
One thing began to bother me. If this area was so full of puss brains there had to be some close enough to have heard the noise. The smell of sweat and gunfire got in my nose but I was still sniffing the air every few minutes.
Gayle caught me at it and asked, "Anything?"
"Not yet. Geez those men stink. It's hard to catch anything but ..." and then a stiffer breeze than any before it brought with it a scent I knew all too well. "Oh carp."
Gayle looked at me closely as she reloaded. "How sure are you?"
"They're close, maybe down by the creek. You'll hear the screaming soon enough."
Two minutes later there was a barber shop quartet of yells and more gunfire ... but not directed at us. Josie took that moment to snicker, "A cook and a bloodhound. We got us a two-for-one this time Shelly."
Without any emotion Sgt. Shelly said, "Shut up and take up your position." She turned to me and asked, "Can you tell how many?"
Trying not to be irritated or embarrassed I told her, "Geez, I've got a good nose, not infrared vision. More than a couple, less than a bunch ... I don't know ... enough of them to cause us problems if anybody panics or they run at us en mass. If you listen you can hear them shuffling through the leaves, making a beeline for the smellies. The one thing I do know is they're moving like their still fresh and healthy."
Lucky for us the puss brains that attacked didn't seem to have formed any kind of hierarchy. They were together by accident, not because they'd been organized by a horde leader. All they wanted was something to eat and they weren't too particular what was on the menu.
==========
Dawn was cracking its back and stretching its muscles to start the day when the last body was tossed onto the pyre.
"God all mighty that stinks," one of the men said putting his coat jacket in front of his nose.
I would have snapped no kidding except I completely agreed with him. The puss brains were worse than the smellies but not by much at all. A couple of them men looked at the pyre and I could tell they weren't having happy thoughts. I wonder if they had gotten to this part yet ... what you do after you've stopped a puss brain from being an immediate threat.
I turned to look at Pvt. Harris and he saw me looking and I could tell he didn't know what to say. I made the mistake of trying to be kind and told him, "You do what you have to and you find a way to live with it."
He shook his head. "You ... you killed ... two of them. With just a bat."
"In a firefight I'm not too good with a gun. My glasses tend to get all fogged up. Besides ..."
"Besides what?" he asked.
"Besides, you have your way of dealing with what you have to do and I have my way."
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked almost snapping.
"Don't get offended. Geez, sensitive much? I just mean you're really good with a gun. Even Sgt. Shelly said something about it. You should train as a sniper or something. If you can do what you did in the dark I imagine you're even better during daylight."
He shook his head. "Actually I'm better at night because that's how I learned to shoot ... when Dad and I would go hunting. The sun wrecks my vision." He took a breath and I could actually see him making the choice not to be mad. "So if you weren't kicking at my shooting what do you mean?"
"I mean that ... that you use the weapon you are comfortable with and I use the weapon that I'm comfortable with. You learned to shoot in the dark, well I learned to put puss brains out of their misery with this," I told him holding my bat up. "I know what I'm doing and I can do it without hurting anyone else. And you don't need to tell me I'm strange, I've heard it enough."
He sat looking at me for a moment before saying, "Yeah you're strange ... but if seems to work for you." I swear guys need to come with an instruction manual. Like maybe where the off button or volume is because he started talking again when I was in the middle of making sure all of our supplies were in tact. "Tell me again. Were you really stuck in the city after Z Day? The news said they didn't blow the bridges until they were sure that no uninfecteds remained."
I snorted. "And you believed them? There were thousands of us still in the city and uninfected."
We continued to "discuss" things and how they happened though Gayle snapped that if we were going to "bicker like a couple of two-year-olds" she'd find us something constructive to do with our time. We ignored her but did tone it down a little and then stopped all together when we heard the others going through the packs of the smelly men.
One of the men said, "Crazies. They had to be."
I looked at Pvt. Harris and asked, "Crazies?"
It was Corporal Lewiston that answered for him. "People that have chosen to get rid of their civilized nature, if they had one to begin with. In some places they cause more problems than the Infected do."
I grumbled, "More fun and games. Infecteds, smellies, crazies ... the list just goes on and on. And I thought being cooped up in the city was bad." I looked around and then sighed. "How bad is Winton? Gayle looks hacked and she usually doesn't have the energy to get this bad until after the first cup of coffee."
Corporal Lewiston growled, "They koshed him so hard they broke his skull. They half scalped him at the same time. Damn savages. He's laid out beside Bedford but I doubt he'll make it back to base. There's ... stuff ... leaking out of one of his ears." He was as foul as Gayle and I don't blame him for it but there was no need to take the conversation the direction he decided to take it. "How I'm going to explan this to his mother I don't know. Why didn't you cover his back?"
The question caught me off guard which made me too honest. "'Cause he told me to F off and leave him alone and because he's the soldier, not me. I did what I was supposed to and took up my position ... he didn't even go to the position Sgt. Shelly had assigned to him but into the bushes on the other side of the trail."
Lewiston tried to deny it. "He wouldn't disobey an order like that."
I stood there and crossed my arms and just looked at him. I wasn't nasty. I wasn't rude. I didn't buck his authority. I just looked. But he sure did start to squirm. Finally he turned and walked away; a gloating person might have said he stomped away in a royal snit. Prissy pants. They need to plant that guy behind a desk because he sure doesn't belong out here leading a patrol. I shook my head and went to clean up so I could make something that passed for an omelet even if the eggs were more fake than the spray tan the head cheerleader used to get in the middle of winter.
"Stay the F#$% away from me." Well if that was the way he wanted it that was exactly what he was gonna get. Geez, what a sore head. It was not too long after our shift started that that turned out to be just as true literally as it had been figuritively.
I had taken the long way around to my position and climbed the tree outside of the strips of moonlight that laced the forest. Up in the tree I had a pretty impressive vew of the surrounding area. The deciduous trees hadn't fully leafed out yet and there were enough of them that the evergreens didn't really block my line of sight. Sound also got carried to me better than had I been stuck in the bushes on the ground. And when I heard a soft grunt I turned to look in the direciton I knew Winton was just in time to see him slump to the ground . From that point things moved pretty fast.
Two guys came out of the bushes but they were looking in and making hand motions so I knew there were more where they'd come from. Lucky for me they were over confident and had stepped into a strip of moonlight or I might have thought I was smelling a skunk or something similar. Man, they really did stink ... but not puss brain stink; this was plain ol' I-haven't-bathed-since-summer stink with a side order of my-clothes-are-so-dirty-they-can-walk-all-by-themselves. I knew I wouldn't get another chance so when they walked beneath my tree I dropped the whole sack of big rocks on them and then gave a loud, powerful whistle with my fingers.
I almost wasn't fast enough at moving positions. I'd stirred a hornets nest and made someone mad. They went from super stealth tactics to shock and awe so fast I knew they'd practiced this before. But then again, so I had I. It took a little warming up but soon enough the trees were just skinny buildings and the path a crumbling concrete road, the same as it had been in the city. I hit the ground while they were still shooting into the trees and swiped the rifles and ammo bags from the two fallen smellies as fast as Moe had taught me, running down the path like it was an alleyway leading to safety.
Josie was up and covering my escape and then we both got set behind our perimeter.
Sgt. Shelly whispered calmly, "How many?"
"Two less than they started with," I said laying the rifles out so whoever needed one could grab them. "The rest stayed in the bushes."
There was a strangely quiet "poof" and then a shout from the down the trail. "Make that three down," Josie said.
I tried to figure where the shot had come from and from whom when there was another "poof" and another yell, this one a little closer to our camp. Sgt. Shelly grinned and said, "Guess Pvt. Harris wasn't bragging after all." She turned to Josie and said, "You know the drill." To me she said, "Keep an eye on Bedford, and no it isn't babysitting. Gayle said he needs watching."
I stayed low and crawled over to the gurney. Bedford was unconscious which I suppose under the circumstances was good for him, but bad for us if we had to change positions. I heard a couple of more shots from ourd side and from theirs but no more screams or shouts. I worried that they would try and come up behind us if they weren't already doing it but Sgt. Shelly was ahead of me and had Corporal Lewiston guarding that side.
Two hours passed. Every time we thought they had given up and left Sgt. Shelly would force us to give it a few more minutes and sure enough they'd lose patience and show themselves again by shooting a volley at us.
One thing began to bother me. If this area was so full of puss brains there had to be some close enough to have heard the noise. The smell of sweat and gunfire got in my nose but I was still sniffing the air every few minutes.
Gayle caught me at it and asked, "Anything?"
"Not yet. Geez those men stink. It's hard to catch anything but ..." and then a stiffer breeze than any before it brought with it a scent I knew all too well. "Oh carp."
Gayle looked at me closely as she reloaded. "How sure are you?"
"They're close, maybe down by the creek. You'll hear the screaming soon enough."
Two minutes later there was a barber shop quartet of yells and more gunfire ... but not directed at us. Josie took that moment to snicker, "A cook and a bloodhound. We got us a two-for-one this time Shelly."
Without any emotion Sgt. Shelly said, "Shut up and take up your position." She turned to me and asked, "Can you tell how many?"
Trying not to be irritated or embarrassed I told her, "Geez, I've got a good nose, not infrared vision. More than a couple, less than a bunch ... I don't know ... enough of them to cause us problems if anybody panics or they run at us en mass. If you listen you can hear them shuffling through the leaves, making a beeline for the smellies. The one thing I do know is they're moving like their still fresh and healthy."
Lucky for us the puss brains that attacked didn't seem to have formed any kind of hierarchy. They were together by accident, not because they'd been organized by a horde leader. All they wanted was something to eat and they weren't too particular what was on the menu.
==========
Dawn was cracking its back and stretching its muscles to start the day when the last body was tossed onto the pyre.
"God all mighty that stinks," one of the men said putting his coat jacket in front of his nose.
I would have snapped no kidding except I completely agreed with him. The puss brains were worse than the smellies but not by much at all. A couple of them men looked at the pyre and I could tell they weren't having happy thoughts. I wonder if they had gotten to this part yet ... what you do after you've stopped a puss brain from being an immediate threat.
I turned to look at Pvt. Harris and he saw me looking and I could tell he didn't know what to say. I made the mistake of trying to be kind and told him, "You do what you have to and you find a way to live with it."
He shook his head. "You ... you killed ... two of them. With just a bat."
"In a firefight I'm not too good with a gun. My glasses tend to get all fogged up. Besides ..."
"Besides what?" he asked.
"Besides, you have your way of dealing with what you have to do and I have my way."
"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked almost snapping.
"Don't get offended. Geez, sensitive much? I just mean you're really good with a gun. Even Sgt. Shelly said something about it. You should train as a sniper or something. If you can do what you did in the dark I imagine you're even better during daylight."
He shook his head. "Actually I'm better at night because that's how I learned to shoot ... when Dad and I would go hunting. The sun wrecks my vision." He took a breath and I could actually see him making the choice not to be mad. "So if you weren't kicking at my shooting what do you mean?"
"I mean that ... that you use the weapon you are comfortable with and I use the weapon that I'm comfortable with. You learned to shoot in the dark, well I learned to put puss brains out of their misery with this," I told him holding my bat up. "I know what I'm doing and I can do it without hurting anyone else. And you don't need to tell me I'm strange, I've heard it enough."
He sat looking at me for a moment before saying, "Yeah you're strange ... but if seems to work for you." I swear guys need to come with an instruction manual. Like maybe where the off button or volume is because he started talking again when I was in the middle of making sure all of our supplies were in tact. "Tell me again. Were you really stuck in the city after Z Day? The news said they didn't blow the bridges until they were sure that no uninfecteds remained."
I snorted. "And you believed them? There were thousands of us still in the city and uninfected."
We continued to "discuss" things and how they happened though Gayle snapped that if we were going to "bicker like a couple of two-year-olds" she'd find us something constructive to do with our time. We ignored her but did tone it down a little and then stopped all together when we heard the others going through the packs of the smelly men.
One of the men said, "Crazies. They had to be."
I looked at Pvt. Harris and asked, "Crazies?"
It was Corporal Lewiston that answered for him. "People that have chosen to get rid of their civilized nature, if they had one to begin with. In some places they cause more problems than the Infected do."
I grumbled, "More fun and games. Infecteds, smellies, crazies ... the list just goes on and on. And I thought being cooped up in the city was bad." I looked around and then sighed. "How bad is Winton? Gayle looks hacked and she usually doesn't have the energy to get this bad until after the first cup of coffee."
Corporal Lewiston growled, "They koshed him so hard they broke his skull. They half scalped him at the same time. Damn savages. He's laid out beside Bedford but I doubt he'll make it back to base. There's ... stuff ... leaking out of one of his ears." He was as foul as Gayle and I don't blame him for it but there was no need to take the conversation the direction he decided to take it. "How I'm going to explan this to his mother I don't know. Why didn't you cover his back?"
The question caught me off guard which made me too honest. "'Cause he told me to F off and leave him alone and because he's the soldier, not me. I did what I was supposed to and took up my position ... he didn't even go to the position Sgt. Shelly had assigned to him but into the bushes on the other side of the trail."
Lewiston tried to deny it. "He wouldn't disobey an order like that."
I stood there and crossed my arms and just looked at him. I wasn't nasty. I wasn't rude. I didn't buck his authority. I just looked. But he sure did start to squirm. Finally he turned and walked away; a gloating person might have said he stomped away in a royal snit. Prissy pants. They need to plant that guy behind a desk because he sure doesn't belong out here leading a patrol. I shook my head and went to clean up so I could make something that passed for an omelet even if the eggs were more fake than the spray tan the head cheerleader used to get in the middle of winter.
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Aw yes I am better now that I have another chapter before bed 
thank you Kathy.
thank you Kathy.
stjwelding
Veteran Member
Thanks Kathy at least one group of enemies have been eliminated.
Wayne
Wayne
Nature_Lover
Wait! What?
Thank You Kathy, you are a gifted storyteller.
...turned me into a moar zombie, wondering whether more compliments will get me moar sooner. Oh, yeah, I'll try this.
Thank You Kathy, you are a gifted author.
...turned me into a moar zombie, wondering whether more compliments will get me moar sooner. Oh, yeah, I'll try this.
Thank You Kathy, you are a gifted author.
SammiP
Contributing Member
Thank You Kathy, you are a gifted storyteller.
...turned me into a moar zombie, wondering whether more compliments will get me moar sooner. Oh, yeah, I'll try this.
Thank You Kathy, you are a gifted author.
I will very happily second this. I've been reading your other stories while waiting for more though - it seems to prevent withdrawal nicely! Thank you for the time and willingness to publish these. If you ever do go to paper or pdf copies, you have a willing buyer here!
Y'all embarrass me with your praise but I have to admit it gives me a boost on rough days. LOL! I won't ever charge for something that started out being a free gift to my friends. Part of me feels that that's the fastest way to writer's block. I'm NOT saying that is how it should be for everyone, just saying my brain is hardwired to be ornery like that. (grin) And thanks for being so patient. My laptop is in the shop ... the "k" isn't working on the key paid of all the stupid things ... so I'm typing the story up on my iPad which isn't hard but all my story notes are on the other machine so I'm having to rebuild the outline as I go.
-------------------------------
Part 137
"Ahhhhh, peace and quiet at last and room to stretch. Place even smells better."
Josie was being a smart aleck in a way that only she could get away with but I have to say I completely agreed with her. However, my only comment was a shrug.
Josie poked me with a stick before she snickered and threw it on the fire. "Seems poor Pvt. Harris couldn't get no lovin' no matter how hard he tried to chat you up."
I was definitely not going there.
Josie scooted so she was out of the smoke and gave me a long look. "You really don't do you?"
"Don't what?" I asked pretty sure I didn't want to be part of the conversation.
"Men, boys, males. You ain't a hater but you don't seem to want one ... or even borrow one for a little while ... for some private usage."
"No."
She got a serious look on her face after she figured out she'd run into one of my personal taboos. "You know I'm just messing ... most of the time ... right?"
Frankly I was surprised she cared. I looked at her and said, "Yeah, I get it. And yeah I know you don't mean anything bad by it. I also know everybody expects a girl my age to be boy crazy or something stupid like that. And no I'm not emotionally stunted ... I've heard that too but I'm not. I just don't ... don't ... Look, I just don't go there and let's leave it at that."
"'Cause you're not sure you like that flavor?"
I sighed having had that question posed as well. "I know what flavor I'd like if I did like a flavor. I'm just not into it."
"Honey your daddy isn't around to introduce you to Prince Charming ... even if such an a$$hole did exist. You're gonna have to put yourself out if you plan on having any fun in this life."
Irritated I slammed the storage box on the dog cart shut. "I don't have to do anything. As a matter of fact I don't know why I should even want to. Look around ... anybody that wants that kind of complicated trouble ... never mind."
Gayle decided to do her own digging and teased me with, "You nursing a broken heart for some farm boy?"
"No!"
Lucy smiled and muttered, "That no sure sounds like a yes."
I was just about to explode but I am no fool. We are in the middle of no where, deep in puss brain territory. These women, regardless of what they say, could up and leave me with nothing except some hurt. I reined my temper in and sat down. "Look, I haven't got the time for that kind of kid stuff. In the city I saw ... things ... happen to girls when they made the choice to go down that road. Most of them were older than me but not all of them. I saw what it did to them ... got most of them dead or worse. I don't want to wind up like that. Call it how my parents raised me or some kind of trauma disorder or whatever else you want to make up, I don't care." I sighed. "Now I'm asking you nicely, please just drop it. Maybe I am broke inside or something ... how many girls my age do you know that have lost count of the number of people they've had to put out of their misery? If I was a different kind of girl from what I am I sure as heck wouldn't be out in these woods cooking for four deadly amazons who are doing whatever it is they are supposed to be doing. And for the record, I don't hate guys ... or people in general ... I'm just choosy about who I hang around with."
Josie said, "Hey! You're hanging with us. I feel special. Gayle don't you feel special?"
Before things could get worse Sgt. Shelly said, "Oh you're 'special' all right. Now knock it off. She holds the coffee ... I like my coffee ... I like it even better when it tastes like coffee and not like bear $#@%. So let's keep the cook happy ... m'k?"
Then Josie, Gayle, and Lucy started acting silly ... well, sillier than I've ever seen them anyway ... and then abruptly lost interest in whatever game they were playing and started talking logistics and grid patterns and junk like that while I provided the coffee that Sgt. Shelly liked so much that she'd tell them to knock off the teasing.
After thinking about it I guess they are trying to get to know me. I'm just not sure I want them to know me because if they do they'll probably have even more things to laugh at me over. If they really knew me stupid stuff like Pvt. Harris not getting that I wasn't interested would be the least of my problems.
And speaking of problems the helicopter that picked up the men soldiers brought new orders for our patrol. We aren't going to be here a week ... we are going to be out here a month. There is only going to be one re-supply ... and that's assuming we can make it to the drop off point and that weather or other stuff doesn't interfere. The women are putting a good face on it, or they don't seem worried anyway. Sgt. Shelly is a little stiff but she's like that normally. Gayle looks irritated but that's her normal state of being too. It is really Josie and Lucy that let me know that stuff is bubbling beneat the surface ... Lucy is quiet which means she is stressed and trying to control her stutter, and Josie is making too many jokes and irritating people more than she normally does. I'll put up with it so long as she doesn't get too vicious and too nosey.
I guess, if I'm being honest, I'm a little worried ... scared ... about tomorrow. It isn't anything that I haven't faced before but I'm in completely new-to-me territory and I won't have anyone around in case there is a problem. Tomorrow the women head out to rendezvouz with another patrol to pick up some maps and information. Due to the distance they are going to have to travel they will likely be gone overnight. They will be a full day out and a full day back and if something detains them they may be gone two nights/three days. They are taking MREs with them which leaves me wondering exactly what I'm supposed to be doing if they are gone so much that all they are going to need are MREs.
I thought I knew what this job was when I signed up, now I'm kinda wondering. Actually the alone time doesn't sound all that awful; it is being alone in unfamiliary territory that is bothering me. That and Sgt. Shelly pretty much started off saying I was not to leave camp. I finally got her to admit that to do my job I would have to be able to go at least as far as the creek but she wasn't happy about it. I am to be armed at all times. And careful. And just about everything my parents ever told me to be. I so don't need a second mother or a big sister at this point in my life. I think if she could think of a way to drag me along to this rendezvouz she would but since the terrain isn't made for hotdog carts I have to stay here. Which is my job to begin with, whether either one of us likes it or not.
-------------------------------
Part 137
"Ahhhhh, peace and quiet at last and room to stretch. Place even smells better."
Josie was being a smart aleck in a way that only she could get away with but I have to say I completely agreed with her. However, my only comment was a shrug.
Josie poked me with a stick before she snickered and threw it on the fire. "Seems poor Pvt. Harris couldn't get no lovin' no matter how hard he tried to chat you up."
I was definitely not going there.
Josie scooted so she was out of the smoke and gave me a long look. "You really don't do you?"
"Don't what?" I asked pretty sure I didn't want to be part of the conversation.
"Men, boys, males. You ain't a hater but you don't seem to want one ... or even borrow one for a little while ... for some private usage."
"No."
She got a serious look on her face after she figured out she'd run into one of my personal taboos. "You know I'm just messing ... most of the time ... right?"
Frankly I was surprised she cared. I looked at her and said, "Yeah, I get it. And yeah I know you don't mean anything bad by it. I also know everybody expects a girl my age to be boy crazy or something stupid like that. And no I'm not emotionally stunted ... I've heard that too but I'm not. I just don't ... don't ... Look, I just don't go there and let's leave it at that."
"'Cause you're not sure you like that flavor?"
I sighed having had that question posed as well. "I know what flavor I'd like if I did like a flavor. I'm just not into it."
"Honey your daddy isn't around to introduce you to Prince Charming ... even if such an a$$hole did exist. You're gonna have to put yourself out if you plan on having any fun in this life."
Irritated I slammed the storage box on the dog cart shut. "I don't have to do anything. As a matter of fact I don't know why I should even want to. Look around ... anybody that wants that kind of complicated trouble ... never mind."
Gayle decided to do her own digging and teased me with, "You nursing a broken heart for some farm boy?"
"No!"
Lucy smiled and muttered, "That no sure sounds like a yes."
I was just about to explode but I am no fool. We are in the middle of no where, deep in puss brain territory. These women, regardless of what they say, could up and leave me with nothing except some hurt. I reined my temper in and sat down. "Look, I haven't got the time for that kind of kid stuff. In the city I saw ... things ... happen to girls when they made the choice to go down that road. Most of them were older than me but not all of them. I saw what it did to them ... got most of them dead or worse. I don't want to wind up like that. Call it how my parents raised me or some kind of trauma disorder or whatever else you want to make up, I don't care." I sighed. "Now I'm asking you nicely, please just drop it. Maybe I am broke inside or something ... how many girls my age do you know that have lost count of the number of people they've had to put out of their misery? If I was a different kind of girl from what I am I sure as heck wouldn't be out in these woods cooking for four deadly amazons who are doing whatever it is they are supposed to be doing. And for the record, I don't hate guys ... or people in general ... I'm just choosy about who I hang around with."
Josie said, "Hey! You're hanging with us. I feel special. Gayle don't you feel special?"
Before things could get worse Sgt. Shelly said, "Oh you're 'special' all right. Now knock it off. She holds the coffee ... I like my coffee ... I like it even better when it tastes like coffee and not like bear $#@%. So let's keep the cook happy ... m'k?"
Then Josie, Gayle, and Lucy started acting silly ... well, sillier than I've ever seen them anyway ... and then abruptly lost interest in whatever game they were playing and started talking logistics and grid patterns and junk like that while I provided the coffee that Sgt. Shelly liked so much that she'd tell them to knock off the teasing.
After thinking about it I guess they are trying to get to know me. I'm just not sure I want them to know me because if they do they'll probably have even more things to laugh at me over. If they really knew me stupid stuff like Pvt. Harris not getting that I wasn't interested would be the least of my problems.
And speaking of problems the helicopter that picked up the men soldiers brought new orders for our patrol. We aren't going to be here a week ... we are going to be out here a month. There is only going to be one re-supply ... and that's assuming we can make it to the drop off point and that weather or other stuff doesn't interfere. The women are putting a good face on it, or they don't seem worried anyway. Sgt. Shelly is a little stiff but she's like that normally. Gayle looks irritated but that's her normal state of being too. It is really Josie and Lucy that let me know that stuff is bubbling beneat the surface ... Lucy is quiet which means she is stressed and trying to control her stutter, and Josie is making too many jokes and irritating people more than she normally does. I'll put up with it so long as she doesn't get too vicious and too nosey.
I guess, if I'm being honest, I'm a little worried ... scared ... about tomorrow. It isn't anything that I haven't faced before but I'm in completely new-to-me territory and I won't have anyone around in case there is a problem. Tomorrow the women head out to rendezvouz with another patrol to pick up some maps and information. Due to the distance they are going to have to travel they will likely be gone overnight. They will be a full day out and a full day back and if something detains them they may be gone two nights/three days. They are taking MREs with them which leaves me wondering exactly what I'm supposed to be doing if they are gone so much that all they are going to need are MREs.
I thought I knew what this job was when I signed up, now I'm kinda wondering. Actually the alone time doesn't sound all that awful; it is being alone in unfamiliary territory that is bothering me. That and Sgt. Shelly pretty much started off saying I was not to leave camp. I finally got her to admit that to do my job I would have to be able to go at least as far as the creek but she wasn't happy about it. I am to be armed at all times. And careful. And just about everything my parents ever told me to be. I so don't need a second mother or a big sister at this point in my life. I think if she could think of a way to drag me along to this rendezvouz she would but since the terrain isn't made for hotdog carts I have to stay here. Which is my job to begin with, whether either one of us likes it or not.
Siskiyoumom
Veteran Member
Thank you kind lady. I really, truly appreciate your writing. Sis
stjwelding
Veteran Member
Thanks Kathy, I hope you get your laptop back soon. Great story I hope DeeDee doesn't get any unwelcome visitors while the team is out of the camp and that they don't get delayed to long.
Wayne
Wayne
Dosadi
Brown Coat
DD needs to be doing some local recon, setting up a hidey hole, and some fall back plans.
Also a couple of rally points in case she has to move so the others can find her / she can find them.
Also the patrol needs to show her their route on the map so she could come looking if somehow they don't get back, or point the others to look if somehow she hooks up with friendlyies.
Thanks kathy.
/sigh, time for coffee.
D.
... . ,x
Also a couple of rally points in case she has to move so the others can find her / she can find them.
Also the patrol needs to show her their route on the map so she could come looking if somehow they don't get back, or point the others to look if somehow she hooks up with friendlyies.
Thanks kathy.
/sigh, time for coffee.
D.
... . ,x
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Yeap what Dosadi said, and thank you very much Kathy, always a joy to read one of your chapters.
Nature_Lover
Wait! What?
Thank You Kathy.
Part 138
Had a lot of time to think today. Too much time.
There was an old lady at our church that Dad would grumble about all the time. When he got particularly bad Mom would pinch him for being rude about the elders. Funny I should remember that. Dad and Mom didn't fight but they could get irritated with each other. Maybe I would have noticed more as I got older but I honestly don't remember them ever fighting or even raising their voices at each other. Dad did like to irritate Mom and then laugh and Mom could give as good as she got when in the mood. They were both good sports most of the time but about this old lady, for some reason Mom really didn't like Dad's attitude. I think the old lady used to babysit Toddie or something like that or maybe she was some distant relation to Mom, I don't know. Anyway I sat with Dad too many times and listened to his side of things when he would come in beat up from a bad day at work. Mom took care of him but I guess sometimes he just needed me and our ritual late night secret snack the same way Mom needed Toddie and their ritual of getting the decorations down the day after Thanksgiving ... it was tradition, something to count on, and basically just one of those strange parent things you aren't supposed to understand until you're a parent yourself.
This particular old lady was a lot of trouble for Dad and the other deputies. She called the cops all the time ... if she couldn't find one of her cats after checking for like five minutes out the front door only when the cop got there they'd find it sitting on the back porch. If someone was in her parking space at church on Wednesday nights you better pray you had a handicap tag on your car otherwise you were in for it even if it was just an accident. If she thought someone was "stepping out" on their spouses because "there might be a murder when the spouse found out about it" and you knew that she'd be the one telling. If she heard noises in the middle of the night it meant something must be going on; and, if she didn't hear noise in the middle of the night, it was too quiet so something must be going on. Children playing in the road in front of her house, children playing too loud in the park that was behind her house. It was always the kind of stuff that took Dad and the other deputies away from the serious stuff like burglaries, domestic calls, drunks, and stuff like that but if they hadn't answered her calls and it was something real it would have been bad.
I don't know why I'm thinking about all of that stuff except this woman was just ... geez ... she was just I don't know what. All I know is that I don't want to turn into her if I manage to live as long as she had. For all I know she is still alive; I can't imagine a puss brain really wanting to get close enough to chomp on her ... she was liable to chomp first. She wasn't what you would call a happy person - completely pessimistic to be honest - and I remember she kept predicting to anyone who would listen that I'd never see my next birthday because I was such a runt, sick all the time, that my brain was miswired, you name it. I think that more than anything really bothered Dad. And all those useless memories bubbling to the surface only because I remembered what she used to say when people asked how she was doing: "I guess you can get used to anything."
That's how I've felt all day today. I guess you can get used to anything ... whether you like it or not. Unfortunately it seems that I've gotten used to being around people again. I warned myself and warned myself all along that this could happen if I wasn't careful. And now I realize that I've started letting my guard down and worse ... caring about them. I should know better. How many times does something have to happen before the lesson sticks permanently? You let people in you are going to get hurt. I feel ten kinds of stupid but I don't know how to turn it off now that it has started up again.
I miss Sgt. Shelly's quiet confidence and always knowing what to tell people to do. I miss Gayle being around because even though she was way too easily irritated it turns out that she is just as fast to get irritated for you as at you. I miss Lucy's acceptance. She was the first, and she believes in me in a way the others don't. Believe it or not I even miss Josie. She makes me uncomfortable, not because we are so different but because I'm finding too many ways we are similar. But in a way because of that she understands me better than the others do. It doesn't stop her from picking at me but I'm learning to live with that too. It is like having four un-asked for older sisters or aunties. I'm not sure I want that kind of pressure.
They left out early this morning after an oversized lecture where the four of them told me what to do, what not to do, what to watch out for, etc. I know they meant well but it said a lot about how little confidence they have in me ... or at least in my survival skills. Now granted I'm not Daniel Boone or Mountain Man or even a mountain woman but I can do for myself just fine. Unless of course I run into a horde. The way my luck is ...
Today has been fairly quiet. I did have a run in with a puss brain but it was sad rather than scary. It ... he ... was probably one of those that escaped from the places they were being moved to from urban areas east of the Mississippi. Someone had done a number on him. I'm not sure if it was done by the scientists as they tried to find a way to minimize the risks of the infecteds' violence, if some cruel people had caught him and tortured him for sport, or if there had been some kind of accident and the infected has healed it enough to hide it from being obvious.
He had no teeth. And no fingernails either. He looked worse than those pictures in the history books of places like prisoner of war internment camps. The clothes he had on hung like rags; his skin wasn't much better.
I was down at the creek gathering some wild food for a couple of experiments. When I realized what was hung up in some elderberry shrubs - he didn't even have enough energy to push his way through - I don't think I've ever felt so sorry for a puss brain and I've seen some pretty sorry things happen to them. It was like a wreck that was so bad you just couldn't look away. There's no way he posed any direct danger to me but I knew I couldn't let him contaminate the water source. Where puss brains are concerned there are very few I feel badly about releasing from their misery but this one is probably going to stick with me for a long time. This one was as bad as having to deal with a kid puss brain and that's pretty bad.
I burnt the body on the ashes of the previous pyre after making note of any identifying marks, hair color, and all that on the form we have to fill out. It's been bothering me ever since even though I try not to wonder where it ... he ... came from and who could have done that to him. I can't start pitying them. I've got a job to do. There's no making them better. Whoever they used to be is long gone and they pose a threat to society that is so big it nearly destroyed our country ... and has destroyed others. As a group their deeds are too horrific to excuse, even out of pity. But there are individual puss brains that just get to you; especially when you know that they've suffered too.
Depressing. But I guess you can get used to anything. Because it didn't stop me from doing what I had to do which is put the puss brain out of its misery - and mine - and find some way to extend our patrol's food supply.
Had a lot of time to think today. Too much time.
There was an old lady at our church that Dad would grumble about all the time. When he got particularly bad Mom would pinch him for being rude about the elders. Funny I should remember that. Dad and Mom didn't fight but they could get irritated with each other. Maybe I would have noticed more as I got older but I honestly don't remember them ever fighting or even raising their voices at each other. Dad did like to irritate Mom and then laugh and Mom could give as good as she got when in the mood. They were both good sports most of the time but about this old lady, for some reason Mom really didn't like Dad's attitude. I think the old lady used to babysit Toddie or something like that or maybe she was some distant relation to Mom, I don't know. Anyway I sat with Dad too many times and listened to his side of things when he would come in beat up from a bad day at work. Mom took care of him but I guess sometimes he just needed me and our ritual late night secret snack the same way Mom needed Toddie and their ritual of getting the decorations down the day after Thanksgiving ... it was tradition, something to count on, and basically just one of those strange parent things you aren't supposed to understand until you're a parent yourself.
This particular old lady was a lot of trouble for Dad and the other deputies. She called the cops all the time ... if she couldn't find one of her cats after checking for like five minutes out the front door only when the cop got there they'd find it sitting on the back porch. If someone was in her parking space at church on Wednesday nights you better pray you had a handicap tag on your car otherwise you were in for it even if it was just an accident. If she thought someone was "stepping out" on their spouses because "there might be a murder when the spouse found out about it" and you knew that she'd be the one telling. If she heard noises in the middle of the night it meant something must be going on; and, if she didn't hear noise in the middle of the night, it was too quiet so something must be going on. Children playing in the road in front of her house, children playing too loud in the park that was behind her house. It was always the kind of stuff that took Dad and the other deputies away from the serious stuff like burglaries, domestic calls, drunks, and stuff like that but if they hadn't answered her calls and it was something real it would have been bad.
I don't know why I'm thinking about all of that stuff except this woman was just ... geez ... she was just I don't know what. All I know is that I don't want to turn into her if I manage to live as long as she had. For all I know she is still alive; I can't imagine a puss brain really wanting to get close enough to chomp on her ... she was liable to chomp first. She wasn't what you would call a happy person - completely pessimistic to be honest - and I remember she kept predicting to anyone who would listen that I'd never see my next birthday because I was such a runt, sick all the time, that my brain was miswired, you name it. I think that more than anything really bothered Dad. And all those useless memories bubbling to the surface only because I remembered what she used to say when people asked how she was doing: "I guess you can get used to anything."
That's how I've felt all day today. I guess you can get used to anything ... whether you like it or not. Unfortunately it seems that I've gotten used to being around people again. I warned myself and warned myself all along that this could happen if I wasn't careful. And now I realize that I've started letting my guard down and worse ... caring about them. I should know better. How many times does something have to happen before the lesson sticks permanently? You let people in you are going to get hurt. I feel ten kinds of stupid but I don't know how to turn it off now that it has started up again.
I miss Sgt. Shelly's quiet confidence and always knowing what to tell people to do. I miss Gayle being around because even though she was way too easily irritated it turns out that she is just as fast to get irritated for you as at you. I miss Lucy's acceptance. She was the first, and she believes in me in a way the others don't. Believe it or not I even miss Josie. She makes me uncomfortable, not because we are so different but because I'm finding too many ways we are similar. But in a way because of that she understands me better than the others do. It doesn't stop her from picking at me but I'm learning to live with that too. It is like having four un-asked for older sisters or aunties. I'm not sure I want that kind of pressure.
They left out early this morning after an oversized lecture where the four of them told me what to do, what not to do, what to watch out for, etc. I know they meant well but it said a lot about how little confidence they have in me ... or at least in my survival skills. Now granted I'm not Daniel Boone or Mountain Man or even a mountain woman but I can do for myself just fine. Unless of course I run into a horde. The way my luck is ...
Today has been fairly quiet. I did have a run in with a puss brain but it was sad rather than scary. It ... he ... was probably one of those that escaped from the places they were being moved to from urban areas east of the Mississippi. Someone had done a number on him. I'm not sure if it was done by the scientists as they tried to find a way to minimize the risks of the infecteds' violence, if some cruel people had caught him and tortured him for sport, or if there had been some kind of accident and the infected has healed it enough to hide it from being obvious.
He had no teeth. And no fingernails either. He looked worse than those pictures in the history books of places like prisoner of war internment camps. The clothes he had on hung like rags; his skin wasn't much better.
I was down at the creek gathering some wild food for a couple of experiments. When I realized what was hung up in some elderberry shrubs - he didn't even have enough energy to push his way through - I don't think I've ever felt so sorry for a puss brain and I've seen some pretty sorry things happen to them. It was like a wreck that was so bad you just couldn't look away. There's no way he posed any direct danger to me but I knew I couldn't let him contaminate the water source. Where puss brains are concerned there are very few I feel badly about releasing from their misery but this one is probably going to stick with me for a long time. This one was as bad as having to deal with a kid puss brain and that's pretty bad.
I burnt the body on the ashes of the previous pyre after making note of any identifying marks, hair color, and all that on the form we have to fill out. It's been bothering me ever since even though I try not to wonder where it ... he ... came from and who could have done that to him. I can't start pitying them. I've got a job to do. There's no making them better. Whoever they used to be is long gone and they pose a threat to society that is so big it nearly destroyed our country ... and has destroyed others. As a group their deeds are too horrific to excuse, even out of pity. But there are individual puss brains that just get to you; especially when you know that they've suffered too.
Depressing. But I guess you can get used to anything. Because it didn't stop me from doing what I had to do which is put the puss brain out of its misery - and mine - and find some way to extend our patrol's food supply.
Jeepcats 3
Contributing Member
Sad turn of the story!
Thanks for the new chapter!
Jeepcats3
Thanks for the new chapter!
Jeepcats3
sssarawolf
Has No Life - Lives on TB
Thank you Kathy .
stjwelding
Veteran Member
Thanks Kathy as always another great chapter. I really enjoy your story's and appreciate all of the time you give to us.
Wayne
Wayne
Dosadi
Brown Coat
Just like gibsmedats.
there can be no co-existance with something like a pussbrain that is enemical to ones own life.
One can pity them, but one cannot seek to ignore them or they become an even greater danger.
There is no cure; and in the end only one group can survive. By the very parasitic nature of gibsmedats / puss brains / etc they can only survive so long as there exists a host of makers to live off of.
Makers do not need the parasites, but the parasites must have a maker to act as host.
If the host dies then all die.
Thanks kathy, enjoyed it even if it was melancholy.
D.
... .. ...
there can be no co-existance with something like a pussbrain that is enemical to ones own life.
One can pity them, but one cannot seek to ignore them or they become an even greater danger.
There is no cure; and in the end only one group can survive. By the very parasitic nature of gibsmedats / puss brains / etc they can only survive so long as there exists a host of makers to live off of.
Makers do not need the parasites, but the parasites must have a maker to act as host.
If the host dies then all die.
Thanks kathy, enjoyed it even if it was melancholy.
D.
... .. ...
Hickory7 - you're not alone....I think we've got a lot of very good company!
And no you didn't make me look....this page is in an open window that is never closed...just updated...many times a day!
PA GENE
Last edited:
Nature_Lover
Wait! What?
Thank You for more storytime, Kathy. This is great!
Hickory7
Senior Member
Awww Frack! You got me, Phantom. I am so wanting more story. Missing me some DeeDee vittles.
I nearly spewed cola when I opened up the thread and saw that turtle. ROFL! Now the inside of my nose has cola burn.
And today is my middle child's 17th birthday. I started MJOTZY when the kids were all so much younger. "Rose" is married and nearly 23. "James" is 20. "Sarah" is now 17. "Bekah" is 14. And "Johnnie" is now 9. Life has sent so many changes my way, both welcome and not so welcome but I guess that is the way things are. In a retrospective mood I suppose. The kids all getting older tends that do that to me.
A well, I suppose the best way to get away from that is to put my mind to something else and for that I give you story ...
----------------------
Part 139
Well at least the Duck Goulash didn't go to waste. It wasn't exactly properly appreciated but then again I have to remember a person isn't supposed to do something so they get appreciated for it, they are supposed to do it because they appreciate the doing.
Oh no! Where are all these old sayings coming from?! I'm turning as strange as the old lady. Not that old lady, the one I was thinking of yesterday, I mean the new one. Carp! Maybe I'm the one that is three-quarters crazy now. Old ladies, bears, dogs, ducks, and puss brains. They are turning my brain to mush. OK, forget it, I don't want this notebook to turn into something that reads like a soap opera ... geez, I'm all turned inside out. I hate feeling this discombobulated, like I don't know what I'm doing. It used to be writing in this notebook helped, now I'm not so sure.
I don't know what this notebook is supposed to be about. Half the time it is just a place for me to vent. The rest of the time it is a mix of fear or boredom or just being lonely. Maybe that is what all notebooks or journals are ... a place you can spew. Let's face it, life has been pretty spew-worthy for a long while.
I used to ask Mom why she kept a journal - what she called her House Account Book - which was sort of like a cross between a garden journal a book on the house budget and a personal diary - and she told me it was to help get things out of her head so that her mind wasn't so cluttered with stuff she wanted to remember but didn't necessarily want to have to remember all the time. I wish I knew why I like this notebook so much. I'm not too far from running out of paper and I only have a couple of pencils left. Better figure it out sooner or later before I have go to the work of finding more.
In the mean time ... less confusion, more clarity.
Yesterday was depressing. Last night was not much fun either as something was prowling around which leads me to think I should start figuring out a way to string our supplies up in the trees or risk losing them. I can lock the hot dog cart but that won't stop a bear or a determined human. For that matter when the women are gone maybe I should try stringing me up in the trees ... maybe like a hammock or something ... or a tree house or hunting stand. I'd take a hole in the ground if I had one only something big might dig me out or I could get blocked in. I think I like the tree thing much better afterall.
This morning was better, pretty good actually. At least for a while. There were ducks down at the creek which gave me the idea of using my fishing net for something other than fish. I managed to catch three ducks in one throw ... well four but the forth one got away so it really wasn't caught. Man were they angry ... and noisy. I stopped their quacking as quick as I could and then got on about the business of getting rid of innards and feathers. This is where things got more interesting than I had prepared for.
It seems that bears are not averse to duck innards. I'd tossed the nasty stuff to the side on top of the ashes of the pyre until I could set it to blaze again - there were still bones that needed to be dealt with from the smellies and yesterday's puss brain. Dumb me. I was never this careless in the North Woods and why I would be so stupid here I don't know.
My first inkling that something was up was a low grunt. Before I even turned I knew what it was and before I finished turning I was heading for the nearest tree. Bear must have wanted something a little more lively than duck innards as it came after me at a trot ... not too fast but not slow either; just speedy enough that I wasn't far up the tree before it was at the trunk. I guess either the young male bear was in the mood to play with its food or it was hungrier than I thought before it was climbing the tree after me. Great.
Then there was barking. I thought either I was going barking mad or God decided I needed wolves on top of bears. But then I realized wolves don't arroooooooo and don't have big floppy ears. Three more dogs shot out of the underbrush to go with the first only they had short ears and big round faces ... and sharp teeth. Lastly out of the bushes came what I thought at first was another bear ... only bears don't carry shotguns.
KABLAM!!!!
The bear fell out of the tree. Heck, I nearly fell out of the tree. It sounded like a freaking train had exploded. When I dared to come out of my crouch against the tree trunk I saw the injured bear fighting with the dogs.
"Get out of the way! Get out of the way!!!" the lump of humanity bellowed that looked like a walking mound of furs and rugs. It took me a moment to realize she was talking to the dogs and not me.
KABLAM!!!!
The shotgun went off again but didn't deal a death blow. As a matter of fact it only hacked off the bear and it turned on the gun owner who squawked and tried to reload but wasn't going very fast.
I'm an idiot. A grade A, first class idiot. But if I hadn't joined in there would have been another corpse for the pyre ... or part of one anyone after the bear finished off what they wanted.
I slid down the tree and grabbed the rifle that Sgt. Shelly had left for me and I ran up and stuck it in the bears ear and pulled before my good sense had time to catch up. I summarily landed on my backside and then cracked my head on a rock where I fell over because I hadn't really had time to set myself for the recoil. As for the bear ... well I'd like to see the living creature that could take a rifle going off point blank in its ear and survive beyond a few steps.
I came to with dog noses in my ears, shirt collar, and another part of my anatomy they had no business sniffing.
"You ok?" I heard a scratchy old voice ask. I was afraid to answer. The dogs where getting a little frisky and I had a feeling had I opened my mouth they would have licked in there too. The voice snapped, "Get off you blasted muts! Let me see what it is."
As soon as the dogs gave me some breathing space I said, "It is me." Hearing my voice got the floppy eared one all excited again and back it came sniffing. I couldn't help it. Dog noses tickle when they get under your collar. I squealed.
The old lady laughed and said, "Henrietta seems ta like you."
"Tell her thank you but I bathed not that long ago," I responded right before disolving into squeals again. How do dogs know your one ticklish spot?
Finally I was able to get up and away. "Down. Geez you crazy dog. Do I look like a squeaky toy?"
"Ya sound just like one," the old lady laughed. "Now what's a child like you doing out in these woods all alone? There's bad men out here."
I looked at her and I could see a bunch of loose screws floating around behind her eyes but I could also tell she was harmless. Or as harmless as people get these days. I learned the difference in the city. Some homeless were ok ... some were definitely not. "I'm not a child ... I'm sixteen. And I'm not alone, my patrol will be back today."
She tilted her head and she looked just like a bird ... well sorta anyway. She wasn't especially built like one but she pursed her lips and blinked at me so that it reminded me of a curious blue jay. "Hmmm, one of those are you. Heard they were getting kids younger and younger. Different in my time but my parents and grandparents said it was that way in theirs. Got anything to eat?"
"Will have if my ducks aren't ruined."
As it turns out the duck carcasses weren't ruined. And as it turns out Mary - that's the name of the old woman - is crazy all right but she knows stuff too. Like how to deal with a bear ... and how to share. Tonight we shared the ducks. Tomorrow we'll share the bear. She's got some drying in some kind of folding oven she has rigged up. Some she chopped up and cooked for the dogs.
"Providential I ran across you. Hate to see all this meat go to waste or attract them freaks from the city. If your friends come too-morry then even more can get eat before it spoils."
Having learned well at Dad's and Mr. Svenson's knees I asked, "Why hunt something too big for you to eat before it spoils?"
She nodded her head. "Don't normally. This fella here though, he was becoming a nuisance. Felt him tracking me for a bit then he caught up and kilt one of my dogs last week so I been trackin' it to give it some justice back."
I figured I was the last person to complain about that and then she noticed what I was doing - gathering nettle with gloves on - and that I knew about plants and she started quizzing me and I actually learned a couple of things once I got beyond being irritated at her being so nosey. She also kept trying to nose into the hot dog cart so I put a padlock on it after I took out all the supplies I needed for the duck goulash.
Mary said she ran away the "home" where her kids had stuck her before Z-Day. There used to be more older folks with her but the others had either died or given up and gone back to towns that they had passed. "Lotta foolishness if you ask me. Who wants an old woman or old man? Ain't like there is much we can do. The kind of man that would want us around I ain't interested in being around if you ain't too young to understand what I mean."
I understood all right. Gross.
I think Mary is like me, she was hungry for someone to talk to ... or to talk at since she didn't seem to need me to answer most of the time. It wasn't until the sun went down that she stopped talking. Now she lays in a small tent near the fire with her dogs ranged around her for warmth and protection.
I kept thinking that the patrol would get back today, then tonight, but I guess I need to give that idea up. It wouldn't be all that smart for them to try and move in the dark. There's been no word on the radio either. I mean nothing. Probably because there is nothing to hear. Or maybe the radio just isn't strong enough to get through all the hills and mountains where I'm at. Or maybe I'm doing something wrong.
I'm just glad Mary showed up even if she is crazy. Being crazy together seems to be better than being crazy alone.
And today is my middle child's 17th birthday. I started MJOTZY when the kids were all so much younger. "Rose" is married and nearly 23. "James" is 20. "Sarah" is now 17. "Bekah" is 14. And "Johnnie" is now 9. Life has sent so many changes my way, both welcome and not so welcome but I guess that is the way things are. In a retrospective mood I suppose. The kids all getting older tends that do that to me.
A well, I suppose the best way to get away from that is to put my mind to something else and for that I give you story ...
----------------------
Part 139
Well at least the Duck Goulash didn't go to waste. It wasn't exactly properly appreciated but then again I have to remember a person isn't supposed to do something so they get appreciated for it, they are supposed to do it because they appreciate the doing.
Oh no! Where are all these old sayings coming from?! I'm turning as strange as the old lady. Not that old lady, the one I was thinking of yesterday, I mean the new one. Carp! Maybe I'm the one that is three-quarters crazy now. Old ladies, bears, dogs, ducks, and puss brains. They are turning my brain to mush. OK, forget it, I don't want this notebook to turn into something that reads like a soap opera ... geez, I'm all turned inside out. I hate feeling this discombobulated, like I don't know what I'm doing. It used to be writing in this notebook helped, now I'm not so sure.
I don't know what this notebook is supposed to be about. Half the time it is just a place for me to vent. The rest of the time it is a mix of fear or boredom or just being lonely. Maybe that is what all notebooks or journals are ... a place you can spew. Let's face it, life has been pretty spew-worthy for a long while.
I used to ask Mom why she kept a journal - what she called her House Account Book - which was sort of like a cross between a garden journal a book on the house budget and a personal diary - and she told me it was to help get things out of her head so that her mind wasn't so cluttered with stuff she wanted to remember but didn't necessarily want to have to remember all the time. I wish I knew why I like this notebook so much. I'm not too far from running out of paper and I only have a couple of pencils left. Better figure it out sooner or later before I have go to the work of finding more.
In the mean time ... less confusion, more clarity.
Yesterday was depressing. Last night was not much fun either as something was prowling around which leads me to think I should start figuring out a way to string our supplies up in the trees or risk losing them. I can lock the hot dog cart but that won't stop a bear or a determined human. For that matter when the women are gone maybe I should try stringing me up in the trees ... maybe like a hammock or something ... or a tree house or hunting stand. I'd take a hole in the ground if I had one only something big might dig me out or I could get blocked in. I think I like the tree thing much better afterall.
This morning was better, pretty good actually. At least for a while. There were ducks down at the creek which gave me the idea of using my fishing net for something other than fish. I managed to catch three ducks in one throw ... well four but the forth one got away so it really wasn't caught. Man were they angry ... and noisy. I stopped their quacking as quick as I could and then got on about the business of getting rid of innards and feathers. This is where things got more interesting than I had prepared for.
It seems that bears are not averse to duck innards. I'd tossed the nasty stuff to the side on top of the ashes of the pyre until I could set it to blaze again - there were still bones that needed to be dealt with from the smellies and yesterday's puss brain. Dumb me. I was never this careless in the North Woods and why I would be so stupid here I don't know.
My first inkling that something was up was a low grunt. Before I even turned I knew what it was and before I finished turning I was heading for the nearest tree. Bear must have wanted something a little more lively than duck innards as it came after me at a trot ... not too fast but not slow either; just speedy enough that I wasn't far up the tree before it was at the trunk. I guess either the young male bear was in the mood to play with its food or it was hungrier than I thought before it was climbing the tree after me. Great.
Then there was barking. I thought either I was going barking mad or God decided I needed wolves on top of bears. But then I realized wolves don't arroooooooo and don't have big floppy ears. Three more dogs shot out of the underbrush to go with the first only they had short ears and big round faces ... and sharp teeth. Lastly out of the bushes came what I thought at first was another bear ... only bears don't carry shotguns.
KABLAM!!!!
The bear fell out of the tree. Heck, I nearly fell out of the tree. It sounded like a freaking train had exploded. When I dared to come out of my crouch against the tree trunk I saw the injured bear fighting with the dogs.
"Get out of the way! Get out of the way!!!" the lump of humanity bellowed that looked like a walking mound of furs and rugs. It took me a moment to realize she was talking to the dogs and not me.
KABLAM!!!!
The shotgun went off again but didn't deal a death blow. As a matter of fact it only hacked off the bear and it turned on the gun owner who squawked and tried to reload but wasn't going very fast.
I'm an idiot. A grade A, first class idiot. But if I hadn't joined in there would have been another corpse for the pyre ... or part of one anyone after the bear finished off what they wanted.
I slid down the tree and grabbed the rifle that Sgt. Shelly had left for me and I ran up and stuck it in the bears ear and pulled before my good sense had time to catch up. I summarily landed on my backside and then cracked my head on a rock where I fell over because I hadn't really had time to set myself for the recoil. As for the bear ... well I'd like to see the living creature that could take a rifle going off point blank in its ear and survive beyond a few steps.
I came to with dog noses in my ears, shirt collar, and another part of my anatomy they had no business sniffing.
"You ok?" I heard a scratchy old voice ask. I was afraid to answer. The dogs where getting a little frisky and I had a feeling had I opened my mouth they would have licked in there too. The voice snapped, "Get off you blasted muts! Let me see what it is."
As soon as the dogs gave me some breathing space I said, "It is me." Hearing my voice got the floppy eared one all excited again and back it came sniffing. I couldn't help it. Dog noses tickle when they get under your collar. I squealed.
The old lady laughed and said, "Henrietta seems ta like you."
"Tell her thank you but I bathed not that long ago," I responded right before disolving into squeals again. How do dogs know your one ticklish spot?
Finally I was able to get up and away. "Down. Geez you crazy dog. Do I look like a squeaky toy?"
"Ya sound just like one," the old lady laughed. "Now what's a child like you doing out in these woods all alone? There's bad men out here."
I looked at her and I could see a bunch of loose screws floating around behind her eyes but I could also tell she was harmless. Or as harmless as people get these days. I learned the difference in the city. Some homeless were ok ... some were definitely not. "I'm not a child ... I'm sixteen. And I'm not alone, my patrol will be back today."
She tilted her head and she looked just like a bird ... well sorta anyway. She wasn't especially built like one but she pursed her lips and blinked at me so that it reminded me of a curious blue jay. "Hmmm, one of those are you. Heard they were getting kids younger and younger. Different in my time but my parents and grandparents said it was that way in theirs. Got anything to eat?"
"Will have if my ducks aren't ruined."
As it turns out the duck carcasses weren't ruined. And as it turns out Mary - that's the name of the old woman - is crazy all right but she knows stuff too. Like how to deal with a bear ... and how to share. Tonight we shared the ducks. Tomorrow we'll share the bear. She's got some drying in some kind of folding oven she has rigged up. Some she chopped up and cooked for the dogs.
"Providential I ran across you. Hate to see all this meat go to waste or attract them freaks from the city. If your friends come too-morry then even more can get eat before it spoils."
Having learned well at Dad's and Mr. Svenson's knees I asked, "Why hunt something too big for you to eat before it spoils?"
She nodded her head. "Don't normally. This fella here though, he was becoming a nuisance. Felt him tracking me for a bit then he caught up and kilt one of my dogs last week so I been trackin' it to give it some justice back."
I figured I was the last person to complain about that and then she noticed what I was doing - gathering nettle with gloves on - and that I knew about plants and she started quizzing me and I actually learned a couple of things once I got beyond being irritated at her being so nosey. She also kept trying to nose into the hot dog cart so I put a padlock on it after I took out all the supplies I needed for the duck goulash.
Mary said she ran away the "home" where her kids had stuck her before Z-Day. There used to be more older folks with her but the others had either died or given up and gone back to towns that they had passed. "Lotta foolishness if you ask me. Who wants an old woman or old man? Ain't like there is much we can do. The kind of man that would want us around I ain't interested in being around if you ain't too young to understand what I mean."
I understood all right. Gross.
I think Mary is like me, she was hungry for someone to talk to ... or to talk at since she didn't seem to need me to answer most of the time. It wasn't until the sun went down that she stopped talking. Now she lays in a small tent near the fire with her dogs ranged around her for warmth and protection.
I kept thinking that the patrol would get back today, then tonight, but I guess I need to give that idea up. It wouldn't be all that smart for them to try and move in the dark. There's been no word on the radio either. I mean nothing. Probably because there is nothing to hear. Or maybe the radio just isn't strong enough to get through all the hills and mountains where I'm at. Or maybe I'm doing something wrong.
I'm just glad Mary showed up even if she is crazy. Being crazy together seems to be better than being crazy alone.