Abigail Theien (resistance_) wrote in the_colony, @ 2010-10-14 15:38:00 |
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Entry tags: | ^ week 21, abigail theien, jed bailey, michael callahan |
Week 21: Wednesday
Characters: Abigail, Mike, and Jed
Location: Just outside the Farm perimeter, next to Greg, Abby, and Nate's camp.
Summery: Abby's letting the horses graze, and unexpectedly makes some new acquaintances.
It was a strange kind of existence: this ‘neighborly’ kind of awareness shared between the Farmstead and the small group that watched them from the woods. Abigail wasn’t entirely comfortable with it, but she wasn’t really comfortable with a lot of things about living like a vagrant in the middle of the Northwestern winter. Or the Apocalypse. Take your pick.
Still, Greg was confident in their neighbor’s general ‘sanity’, that is--they weren’t a houseful of crazy fucks. Just more cautious people trying to survive the winter, organized and careful, not unlike them. Still, even with the possibility of a bed and a roof made of wood, the Texan siblings had their hesitations. Making contact was likely, but not immediate.
It crossed the redhead’s mind, as she lingered just on the outside of their small camp, leading a Bay and a Chestnut by the bridals to a patch of grass clear of snow, that all those involved in this truce-like standoff were acting a lot like timber wolves: attracted by pack instinct, but bristling in exploration of each other. However, trust was an instinctual thing for animals. She and Nate had had most of theirs beaten out of them. It was going to take a while.
Abby tried to stay within sight of Nate and Greg at all times--she could see the tops of the tents just over the hill crest, and the smoke rising there. She had the pistol Greg insisted she carry when they were separated, tucked under the belt at the small of her back.
Here was good enough: the horses meandered, grazing on frost-crusted grass as their tallish Guardian leaned her rear against a tree-stump and blew into her hands. Steam seeped from the cracks between her fingers, like ghosts, and dissolved in the winter afternoon. Her hair nearly glowed in that white-wash of cloud-cover, a copper rope braided over her shoulder and tied with a thin strip of leather, dangling from the lapel of a green canvass and faux sheep-skin coat.
Jed and Mike were quiet as they made their way through the woods. Part of it was because they were nearing the smoke they’d spotted a while back, but mostly it was the unspoken nerves. The guy with the sword had seemed alright enough, but actually going out to find out where these guys were and if the man had been honest was a whole other matter. Jed would have preferred Tom at his side, but he wanted the smartest gun back home. Mike seemed steady enough for scouting at least.
He stopped short. Was that a horse snuffling? He glanced back at Mike to see if he’d heard it.
Creeping through the woods on some kind of half-assed scouting mission was so far beyond Mike’s pre-apocalypse skill set it wasn’t even funny. Fortunately the past year had taught him a thing or two about sneaking and firearms, enough so that he felt reasonably comfortable with the weapon holstered at his waist. It was better than the alternative, that was for sure. As for the sneaking portion, he didn’t think he was doing too badly for a city kid.
Mike nodded shortly when Jed looked back over his shoulder. Something was snorting--again, city kid--and some attempt at logic put the odds in favor of it being a horse rather than a deer. A wild animal would hear them and run away, wouldn’t it? Maybe they were about to meet their medieval neighbors. He raised his eyebrows slightly in inquiry, shoulders inevitably tensing at the prospect of contact with strangers.
“Easy, Stavvy.” Abigail soothed the speckled bay with her voice, breathy and gentle. He was always the testy one, now snorting steam into the air and pawing the grass. Big blue eyes set on the horse a few feet away--she eyed him like the expression would actually do any good. “So help me, if either’a y’all take off again, I’ma be pissed.”
A woman. Well that was good news, in Jed’s opinion. He saw a flash of red hair, though couldn’t quite tell if it might have been the woman or a horse. In any case, they were getting pretty close to someone and it would be a bad idea to sneak up and scare them. It would also be a bad idea to have both of them go out in the open before they knew what was up. Jed pointed at Mike, and then pointed down to let him know to stay there. Then Jed moved forward, rifle at his side.
“Hello there!” he called out, the words feeling awkward on his tongue.
Yeah, I’ll cover you. Or something, Mike thought, heavy on the sarcasm. Like Jed, he found himself mildly less intimidated to see that the stranger was a woman. Women had better social skills, or so Mike had always believed. He shifted his weight silently from foot to foot, dispelling nervous energy with the motion, and watched to see how Jed’s introduction played out.
The sharp ‘greeting’ from out in the woods might as well have been a gunshot with how the woman reacted--the breath sucked out of her lungs in surprise, an equally sharp look turned over her shoulder. Despite the fact that she couldn’t see anyone in the woods, clearly they were there.
Calm down... People from the Farm. Some weak inner voice reminded her as she stood and faced the trees--but it’s effect was minimal to the lingering start. Christ, she felt like a jackrabbit being chased by a bus.
“Don’t want no trouble...” She called out, though her voice was a little less confident than she hoped--the West Texas drawl thicker, always, when she was on edge. The two horses perked, watching the trees as well. Gustav snorted and dragged a hoof through the grass in irritation--Abby winced and moved to calm him, a hand on his bridle, though her eyes quickly returned to the trees. “I ain’t alone... Jus’watchin’ the horses.”
“I ain’t lookin’ for trouble, juss wanted to see that yer friend with the sword wasn’t lyin’,” he called back, relaxing more. This woman sounded like home. He moved out into the open, still holding his rifle but in one hand, pointed down. He was a little startled how pretty she looked. No wonder Greg had been nervous. “I got a friend back here, too. Alright if we come over and talk?”
To say she was skittish was spot on... Abby hadn’t always been like that, but then again--no one alive was left unchanged by everything in the last year. Still, the familiar drawl that answered from the trees took her back a bit, a surprise that was a lot more welcome than most of the ones she was used to. And when he showed himself--he even looked the part. Hell, they could’ve been neighbors growing up.
She watched him with a mix of caution and curiosity, still stroking the bay’s blaze. Ginger watched the newcomer as well, though not with the same pricked unease as the bigger animal she had a hold of. “Right there’s fine...” Then, as an afterthought, “...they ain’t keen on strangers.” Referring, of course, to the stallion and mare. Though she could’ve been talking about herself as well.
“No problem,” Jed said, holding up an empty hand before calling back, “You can come on out, Mike.” His eyes falling on the woman, he smiled. “So what part of Texas are you from?”
Abby flicked her eyes across the trees when the ‘friend’ was called, but shot them back to the blond fella, not anticipating the small quirked half-smile that appeared on her lips. “Amarillo. You?”
“El Paso. Been through Amarillo a few times, good town,” he said, keeping his tone light.
Mike gradually relaxed a little as he listened to the exchange, strolling up at a pace that looked considerably more casual than he felt in time to hear the two exchanging home towns. He stopped several feet behind Jed, off to one side so the woman could see him but well away from the horses. The big animals were slightly more worrisome than the human being at this point. That might have something to do with him not being from Texas, he thought wryly.
“Chicago,” Mike supplied, raising a hand to his forehead and tipping the brim of an imaginary ten-gallon hat to the woman. Hometown instead of a name, since Jed had already helpfully given that information out.
Abby tipped her chin in an almost residual response to the gesture made by ‘Chicago’--as if it were one she’d seen most every day of her life. Though the horse under her hand had calmed a bit, to the point where she didn’t think he’d charge, she kept her hand close to the bridle. Just in case. The thought of Gustav bolting while she was distracted by the two from the farm was not something she wanted to explain to Greg. Hell, she wanted to call out for the man, but that might not go over well with any of the present company. Human or Equine.
Her eyes went back to the other Texan. Clearly she was nervous, but the fact that she was actually talking gelled her confidence a bit. “I had friends in El Paso.”
“‘Bout the best that can be said ‘bout El Paso,” Jed said with a grin. “So, you one of the charges Greg was talkin’ about? Interested in joinin’ us?”
Abby drew her lips into a thin line--a poker tell of internal debate. Obvious by the way ‘El Paso’ phrased the question, he had been one of the ones who spoke to Greg... Not many people used the word ‘charge’. Not nowadays, or in the last seven hundred years. Still, the ‘interested in joining us’ comment twisted something sour in her stomach. Something familiar and still too recent.
She looked at Gustav, as if searching the horse’s dark eyes for something she should say--then nodded back to the men. “Yeah, I’m with him... Y’all look pretty crowded, though.” That was true, but it wasn’t the reason why her voice was a little tight.
Jed’s expression tightened and he nodded. “Ain’t gonna lie, we’re fillin’ the rooms up. But if folks are in need, ‘specially if they got useful skills, then I expect we can manage to fit some more.”
Mike stayed silent as Jed made his pitch, if it could be called that. He didn’t think anyone at the farm was very eager to have more people move in, for a number of reasons, but the thought of survivors freezing or starving out here during the harsh Oregon winter was even more unpalatable. He followed the red-haired woman’s gaze as she looked to the horses.
“How would they feel about rooming with a bunch of goats?” he quipped in an attempt to break some of the lingering tension.
Abby wrinkled her nose at that comment, but the slightest twitch of a smile formed a dimple in her right cheek. She was still a little quiet--her eyes drifted from them, to Gustav, and then finally back over the crest where her brother and Greg were.
“Can’t speak fer everyone, but it’s better’n pigs.” Humor-yes, but it veiled something else. She smiled faintly in their direction. “Th’name’s Abigail... Abby’s easier.”
“I’m Jed, that’s Mike,” Jed said, nodding over at the man. “We ain’t sayin’ you have to make a decision now. Just wanted to say it direct, you’re welcome to come visit.”
Mike bobbed his head in agreement with the tall Texan’s offer, offering Abigail a smile.
“Nice to meet you, Abby.” He stopped short of saying it was good to have new neighbors. Good to know there were others who’d survived and who still seemed like decent, honest people, yes, but the strain they’d put on the group at the farmhouse wasn’t entirely welcome.
“Y’all seem friendly’nuff.” She said honestly, giving them both a nod and a little warmer half-smile--though it wasn’t necessarily bone deep. People could act friendly, whether they were or not.
Jed smiled. As long as she didn’t talk to Derek or Holly, that impression wouldn’t change. “How are you guys out here? Stayin’ in tents or cars or something?” he asked, looking around. No indication that a house was nearby, but he hadn’t scoped things out here before.
Before the Panic, Abby would’ve had no problem sharing seemingly pointless information. Even after, it wasn’t that much of a stretch--until the Monastery. Now, everything that came out of her mouth went through a very thick filter. Her lips pressed into a faint, but honest smile... though her words were fairly vague. “We make due. Ain’t the Ritz, but it’s better’n some places.”
Mike kept his expression neutral, having some sympathy for Abby’s position. At least she didn’t have Alice pointing a gun at her, he thought dryly. Still, the lack of information was troubling.
“Seems to me your group knows a lot about us, but so far we don’t know much about you,” he pointed out mildly. “Trust runs both ways.”
Jed thought exactly the same thing. “You an’ Greg seem decent folk, but we’ve been burned that way before,” he said. “Makes us nervous when someone’s actin’ like they got somethin’ to hide.”
Not that she could logically blame them for the inquiry, but the woman still tensed. She didn’t have anything to hide--but that didn’t mean she was up for layin’ out their entire spread. Abby’s blue-violet eyes lingered on both of them, then returned to the odd safety of Gustav, speaking as she did.
To say she was a bit haunted was an understatement. “Y’all ain’t the only ones been burned.”
Ginger tossed her head a bit, snorting as if in agreement--though she probably just got stuck in the nose by a twig as she grazed. Abigail sighed and looked at them again over her braid.
“Everyone’s been burned,” Mike replied after a glance at Jed. “There’s two of us down there who just escaped from another group. I know, I know,” he said quickly, resigned to the woman’s scepticism, “you have no reason to believe me. But my wife and my best friend are down there. These people aren’t going to hurt you.”
Maybe Jed would have better luck convincing her with his Texas charm.
Where there had been underlying caution in the woman’s eyes and voice, now there was the distinct sharpness of true worry. It bordered on fear, staring straight at the Chicago native. “What group?”
Mike heard the change in her voice, the nervousness, but didn’t feel the least bit of remorse for causing it. Even if his intention had been to try and convince her of the good intentions of the group Jed represented, a little fear was a good thing. She should be afraid of the slavers. Slavers, and now this bunch of religious whack-jobs. Jesus Christ, he thought tiredly.
“Back near the Idaho border,” Mike told Abby honestly. Farther away than Eugene, but still too close for comfort, as far as he was concerned. The slavers could be all the way back in Chicago and still be too close for comfort.
The news didn’t necessarily add to the new edge to her eyes, but it didn’t relieve any of it, either. Abby shifted weight a little and rolled her lips, watching them both. She looked at Gustav once again, who hadn’t completely calmed. She could definitely relate.
“We sleep in tents... but I dunno why that’s so important t’y’all.” It probably wasn’t: just opening the lines of trust and communication, but even those had consequences. Could they blame her? “I used t’be a vet an’my brother used t’be a mechanic. I’m allergic t’bees an’he hates disco. Y’all wan’our social security numbers too?” Though the sarcasm was more than apparent, it wasn’t necessarily harsh. Just--cautious.
“I’d give y’mine, but I don’t know it,” Jed said, smiling. He hoped to ease the tension again. “We ain’t askin’ your life story if you don’t wanna tell it. Juss be honest. If you don’t wanna say somethin’, say that. Better’n making yourself look shifty.”
Abby didn’t miss the smile, and though his words themselves could’ve been taken a bit out of context, the tone was a little more welcome. She pressed her lips and nodded a little, looking back to the horse under her palm when she spoke. “Ain’t bein’ dishonest.” Then back at the two men, the ghost of a shit-eating grin on her face. “Jus’ sarcastic.”
Mike didn’t return the smile. His own sarcasm, when he resorted to it, was justified, of course. Sarcasm from someone he knew, like Quinn or even Holly, was just fine. Hell, when Meg was sarcastic it was downright endearing. This woman? Not so much. Who the hell cared if they slept in tents or cars or up in trees? The entire conversation seemed pointless to him.
Jed gave a breath of a laugh. “Yeah, well, you can go ahead and keep that advice for the future then,” he said. He was pretty sure by now that there was nothing to worry about with Abby. She seemed a decent person, and with their animals now, a vet would be great. More so if the doc went away. “You ever wanna come by some time, go ahead and come up to the front door. No need sneakin’ in the woods around us.”
Mike chuckled too, a soft huff of amusement, quickly stifled. Like Jed, he’d come to the conclusion that this little group camped almost in their back yard didn’t pose any real threat. They simply baffled him. Why lurk in the freezing woods when there was an abandoned town full of houses?
“You might want to holler from the end of the driveway,” he suggested with a wry glance at Jed, resisting the urge to suggest any visitors come equipped with a white flag. Or Alice might break out a shotgun and blow your head off.
The woman continued to watch the pair, flicking her eyes between them, but usually settling on Jed--for whatever reason. Could’ve been the familiarity of his accent, could’ve been that he approached first, and was closest to her, and even though Mike was the one who spoke last, it was the other Texan she nodded to shortly.
In the meantime, the bundle of nerves that was coiling in her gut refused to go unsated any longer. She was already starting to lead Gustav around, grabbing Ginger’s bridle on the way, and speaking to them over her shoulder.
“I’ll keep that in mind...”