modernknight (modernknight) wrote in the_colony, @ 2010-09-27 17:00:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | ^ week 20, abigail theien, gregory blair, nathan theien, |* abby/greg/nate |
Week 20: Saturday
Characters: Greg, Abby and Nate
Location: Glendale, Oregon (Roughly thirty miles north of Grants Pass)
Summary: The trio raid a house and Abby finds something she’s been looking for.
Rating: G
The tiny town the two Texans and their newest travel companion came across reminded Abigail of an old sitcom that was always playing at her father’s gas station. Muted by the mist and snow of winter, the tiny berg also may as well have been created in black and white. The houses were old and built to last--all looming quiet and lifeless on the single thoroughfare that cut through the trees.
“This place is eerie...” She almost whispered it: the breathy quality of her voice hinted at some vague discomfort for louder speech, like she was in a library or a church. Or a graveyard.
Abby watched the row of houses on their right, the steam from her breath escaped in tiny puffs from under her hood: a man’s sweatshirt, at least four sizes too big for her, bulked by more layers of men’s clothing beneath it, hiding easily the lean feminine figure that wore the clothes like a tent-pole. In two weeks, they still hadn’t come across anything that rightly fit her. This town had to offer something, but that thought was still trying to balance itself with the bogged feeling that they were trespassing.
“Just a bit, but that could be said for most places in these times.” Greg nodded, unconcerned at thought of rummaging through the contents of the town’s houses. They would be scavenging the remains of the old world for the rest of their lives, more than likely. “At least now we should be able to find something that fits you better.”
That was the hope, anyway. And with the selection of houses, at least one of them should’ve at one time sheltered a woman her size, and hopefully near her age as well. Maybe they’d find a stash of junk-food somewhere as well--a secret craving Abby had been harboring for a good while now. She nodded quietly in response, letting a long nasal sigh push through her nose.
“So which one first?”
Nate let out a thoughtful noise as he surveyed the nearly picture perfect houses in front of them. With a year or so of disuse (aside from the occasional looter he imagined) it was hard to imagine that anything had even gone on here. Everything was dead, yards were over grown and things that were left outside had given way to the effects of nature.
“Might as well start with the first one and work our way down.” He said with a shrug, tightening his own hoodie around him.
“Works for me.” Greg nodded, and started toward the nearest home, one hand on the hilt of his sword as he approached the door. With a bit of luck maybe it would even be unlocked, though he wasn’t holding his breath. The chevalier pulled open the storm door and tried the handle on the interior, but had no success.
“Guess we do this the hard way.” He eyed the door and tried to judge if the deadbolt was thrown or not. Determining that it wasn’t, he fixed the storm door so that it stayed open then took a few steps back and launched himself at the door. With momentum added to his weight, he easily broke the door open and passed through into the house beyond.
Abby waited to the side of the door, but was unable to stop herself from flinching at the crack and splinter as the frame and lock gave under Greg’s force. No logic behind the reaction: just the noise. On another reflex, blue eyes, washed clear with the white light of the day and snow, swept behind the three of them toward the street. Empty as it was earlier... This was a subtle comfort.
The house smelled of neglect and mold, but not of the sickly-sweet stench of decay, like they’d found in some places: this was also a comfort, and Abby pushed back her hood with one hand, breathing a sigh of quiet relief. The floorboards groaned under the too-large boots.
“Headin’ upstairs.” She shot a glance to them both, and started to climb the mid-level stairway. Abby’s first stop in these trips were always the bedrooms.
“See if you can find any thick men’s socks while you’re up there,” Greg called up the stairs after her. “Mine are getting holes in them.”
“I’ll check the kitchen.” He told Nate, moving away from the stairs and toward the kitchen and dining area of the house.
Abby kept the pilfered titanium baseball bat hoisted and ready when she entered the smaller bedroom, peeking inside first. The room smelled of dust and winter, but not much else--that stale air aroma that every house and building had nowadays. The bedspread looked untouched, a country corn-flower blue pattern that reeked of Country Craft Fair, and a vanity in the corner still littered with lotions and perfumes. Good sign for a woman’s presence.
The smaller Texan dropped her bat on the bed and opened the first vanity drawer. Women’s under-things. In her size. Despite the little twinge in the pit of her stomach, lingering reluctance of essentially stealing other people’s belongings, necessity and the promise of actually being comfortable for a change quickly overshadowed it. She emptied a pillowcase from the bed and started sifting through each drawer, one by one.
By the time she was done, Abigail had swapped her entire wardrobe for clothes that fit. She sat on the edge of the chair in front of the vanity in a new pair of jeans and a fitted western style shirt, watching the wan and pale figure of herself in the mirror. As a wide-toothed comb worked its way carefully through her hair, a passing thought crossed her mind: her eyes looked too large for her face--she’d never noticed the effects of famine before this... and contrary to anticipated logic, the sight actually made her lose her appetite.
Nate nodded at the other two as they moved along to their destinations. He stayed in the living room area, picking through the contents of a desk that had been pushed into a corner. There wasn’t a whole lot to be had in there, but there were a few things worth keeping. Two flashlights, a half pack of batteries, a forgotten roll of duct tape didn’t necessarily seem all the important back in the days of 24 hour stores and electricity, but Nate was pleased with his discovery of the tiny junk drawer and continued his search for other things around the cozy room, carefully going through the additional drawers in the room combing for useful objects.
Rummaging through the kitchen yielded several useful items, including hand tools like peelers and graters that had been replaced by food processors in many middle class households years ago. What caused Greg the most excitement however, was the well stocked pantry. “Come here and look at this!” He called out to the others. “This is the most food I’ve seen in months!”
Abby heard the shout from upstairs while picking through the selection of feminine decorations on the vanity top. She paused, looking at the back of the bedroom door for a moment before turning her attention to the bottle of Burberry perfume in her hand. She wanted a shower--no, a bath, but that was a fantasy, at least until they actually settled somewhere stable enough for such a feat. With the religious wack-jobs likely still on their trail, it wasn’t an option.
So, on some womanly instinct or second nature still left over from before the world ended, plus a simple desire to smell something warm and pleasant besides other people’s clothing, Abby spritzed the air lightly and walked through the cloud. She and a pillow case stuffed with her new wardrobe and toiletries traipsed down the stairs and into the pantry: with her hair smoothed by a comb and clothes that fit, basically a new woman.
The fragrance caught Greg’s attention just before Abigail's arrival at the pantry. He turned at the sound of her footsteps and blinked at the sight of her dressed in clothes that actually fit, hair combed back and looking like a halfway civilized individual. “That’s a new look. It would seem you found a trove of treasure upstairs.”
Abby’s lips twitched into something that was between a smirk and a smile. “Old look, actually.” She actually looked like she’d finally found her own skin, after wearing someone else’s for so long.
“And I did... haven’t had time to go through everything,” Big blue eyes, the color of her ‘new’ jeans, swept up the pantry shelves, nearly gaping at all the dusty canned goods. “...haven’t checked for socks yet--you think maybe we could stay here tonight?” The thought of sleeping in a bed? She almost felt like she was asking to go to Disney World, with how unbelievable it was.
It had been a long time since he’d slept indoors. Greg could feel the temptation of four solid walls and a roof over their heads, maybe a comfortable couch to sleep on as well. Still, he paused. “I don’t know...it’s awfully exposed out here.” Right on the road, easy to see. “We’d have to find a spot to put the horses where they aren’t right out in plain sight.” He wished they had more horses and could get rid of the truck, in a strange sort of way it was a limit on their mobility by being dependent on roads.
Abigail made a face that expressed her willingness to start working on that particular problem. She even shrugged a little. “Where there’s a will there’s a way, right?”
“Yes.” He agreed, turning back to his own discovery and trying to silence the voices of disquiet in his mind at staying put for a night. “How do you two feel about pork and beans for dinner along with peas and peaches?” The collection of canned goods in the pantry was impressive for someone who’d been mostly living off the land since spring.
For probably the first time since they had actually met, Abby smiled bright and full, clearly elated by what had at one point been the simplest thing: cheap canned food and a roof over her head.
“S’my favorite.”
Nate had managed to get slightly distracted in his hunt for useful items in the living room, in his search through one of the desk drawers, he had to push aside a rubber band bundled of pictures. The picture on top was a slight faded picture of a woman with a young son in her lap, and Nate immediately thought of a similar photo he had of his late wife and son, it was followed only by another image of a stranger going through all of his belongings back in Texas.
He lost his desire to continue going through the drawers and had moved to the bathroom when he heard Greg yelling about food. He didn’t make a move right away and instead swung open the medicine cabinet, finding it also fairly well stocked. He gave a short grin to himself these people were pretty prepared. He emptied out a plain black make up tote and filled it with Tylenol, band-aids, Neosporin, various other medicines and such. His mind no longer on other things, and satisfied with his find in the bathroom, he migrated towards the gathering in the kitchen.
“Dude, anything that isn’t stew sounds like a godsend. I mean, its high end stew and all, but... oh my.” He said, finally viewing the ample amount of canned goods these people had. “I think we may have hit the jackpot.” He said, jokingly ruffling his sisters newly combed hair as he stood next to her. She smirked and batted his hands away before dutifully re-smoothing her hair.
“I’m tired of stew myself, to be honest.” Greg admitted. “But it is easy to make and preserves well in this climate. The canned goods will be a welcome change.” He was already looking forward to the evening meal, a welcome change indeed.