The exercise:
Let us celebrate Kat's and my 12th wedding anniversary by finally getting to July's installment of Out of the Woods.
Had intended to get to the yearlong story on Thursday but then it slipped my mind until after I'd posted something else. So, here we are!
(I'm actually scheduling this on Friday night before we leave Comox because I'm quite convinced I'll forget again and then we'll be in August)
2 comments:
Happy Wedding anniversary! Twelve years... and I remember you telling us about the wedding on the blog, so times flies :) Next thing I know you'll be telling me Max is nearly ten ;-)
I quite like what you've set us up for at this Dam, but we clearly need to do some exploring and see what's around the place, right? Right :)
Mine
I picked up the frying pan, not quite believing that he'd put it there, and caught the corners of his mouth turning up into a boyish grin. I hefted it -- it was cheap aluminium and would crumple into a useless stick on the first blow and come apart on a second, and then swung it at an imaginary ball in the air.
"Anyone for tennis?" I said, setting it down and picking my coffee back up again. Throwing the hot liquid in a shambler's face would be more effective than that pan.
"Just offering you a choice," he said, his innocent tone belied completely by his smirk. I started to think of a comeback and then I realised that just for a moment the stress of everything that had happened since we returned from the hike had dissipated. It was probably the coffee (ok, maybe sleeping in an actual bed had something to do with it too), but it was nice.
Of course, realising that brought all the stress straight back again; clearly it hadn't left but had just gone to peer out of the windows and see if there were any shamblers moving around. And thinking that made the back of my legs itch.
I picked up the fire axe. It was short-handled and the blade was clean, almost shiny, so I figured it was one of those institutional things that are put in place on the walls in case of emergency and then never used. It felt heavy in my hand, but that was fine; it was intended to get through doors and that meant it would do just fine for keeping other people... if that's what they were now... away from me.
He picked up two knives; one was a hunting knife of some kind -- a proper one though; a leather-bound handle that looked well-used, an oiled blade that glinted in the light. It looked like someone who used it regularly had left it behind, and that thought made me wonder where they'd gone. I shivered. The other knife he picked was more of a machete with a lanyard on the end to go around your wrist -- again, a proper tool and not some idiot's idea of outdoorsy stuff -- and he slipped that through a belt-loop on his jeans and tied it in place.
"Where did the jeans come from?" I asked, since we'd been hiking in shorts.
"The car," he said. "I put your spare clothes by the bed, didn't you--" He probably said more but I disappeared back into the room to find my spare clothes and get dressed in something that wasn't hiking shorts and a tank-top.
After a little while we were ready to explore the area and the thing was bothering me the most was now refusing to leave my thoughts alone: why was all this stuff here and no sign of people? Where were the owners?
"You looked around already?" I asked, looking at the fire-escape plan on the wall. The building seemed to have two floors and a basement. I peered a little closer: the roof looked like it might be accessible too.
"I made sure that all the doors down here were locked," he said. "Nice thing about government property is that you can even lock the stairwells."
"Up or down?" I said, trying to hide the fact that I was nervous.
He was quiet, so I looked over at him, and he looked like he didn't want to choose either.
"Ok," I said, trying to sound like this was a coin-toss decision, "Roof or basement?"
He smiled, just a little. "Roof," he said. "Let's get a better view of the area."
Greg - right!
And yes, I would say that I'd have gone with the roof option as well. I think it's about time to see where that gets them...
Mine:
We paused in the stairwell to peer through the glass door leading to the second floor hallway. Finding no signs of life - or un-life - we continued upwards in silence, neither of us wanting to attract unwanted attention by making too much noise.
The door to the roof was unlocked and led us onto a long, narrow, flat space that boasted only a couple of air conditioning units for cover. Once we made sure that nothing was lurking behind either one, we tucked our weapons into our belts and edged toward the western edge of the roof to look down at the car.
"Still there," he observed.
"Still needs a wash," I said before turning my attention to what little I could see of the surrounding area. "We've seen this before. Let's check the other sides of the building."
"Nothing a good rain wouldn't clean up," he grumbled as he followed me to the opposite edge. I ignored him, my gaze locked on the ground below. When he saw what had drawn my attention I heard a sharp intake of breath. "Speaking of things that could use a good scrub..."
The pavement below was cracked, uneven, and stained dark red in more places than I cared to think about. But there was nothing else. No cars, no trash, no stray limbs. If it wasn't for the overwhelming evidence of mass bloodshed it would have been entirely unremarkable.
"Maybe we should get back inside," I eventually managed to say, feeling suddenly exposed and vulnerable.
"Yeah, okay," he replied. "Good idea. Come on."
We hurried back to the door that had brought us to the roof only minutes earlier, both of us doing our best to not seem like we were hurrying. The quiet solitude of the visitor's center had transformed into something sinister and ominous. I was so preoccupied with fighting off the panic that had begun clawing at my throat that if he hadn't grabbed my elbow and yanked me to a stop I probably would have thrown open the door...
... and walked straight into the arms of the three shamblers who had appeared in the stairwell.
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