Meg Callahan (setinstone) wrote in the_colony, @ 2011-01-11 23:40:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | ^ week 33, meghan callahan, ~ series: traders |
Week 33: Thursday morning
Characters: Meghan and Orin
Location: On the farm property, near the trader's camp
Summery: Meg and Sarge check out the newcomers, and make a friend.
Rating: PG
The crack of dawn flooded the property with a warm orange light, diffused through the fog that Meghan could smell still hanging in the air. It mingled with the rain-scent of moisture and the iron of earth, something that was growing more prominent in her nose since the ground had started to thaw. This morning was a bit different than the endless stretch of winter behind them, in that along with the sounds and smells of the Oregon morning, there was a heavy taint of woodsmoke and gasoline.
They had apparently came the prior day, greeted by Tom and a few of the others: traders the members of their group who’d been in Vegas knew. It was weird, being so excited to meet new people: a lot of people, apparently. Meg could almost feel the electricity buzzing through her veins--being a city girl for the majority of her life, the last two years being wrought with isolation and quiet, the familiar low roar of a crowd was something she absolutely could not wait for.
The gravel of the pasture trail crunched under foot, accompanied by Sarge’s rhythmic steps at her side, Meg followed the scent of campfire and low-maintenance vehicles, lead by a curiosity that simply couldn’t wait. She knew she’d arrived by the change in the grass, and the sound of the wind and echoing birdsong off nylon walls and vehicles that hadn’t been there the last time she was in the far part of the property. Also, the sounds of sleeping, of morning quiet, save for a few scuffling noises here and there.
And the sudden appearance of footsteps to her right--approaching her with caution.
Meg faced that direction with a careful, but genuine smile, unaware of the angled flash of the sun caught in her glasses. Sarge heeled obediently at her side: a massive statue of fur, muscle, and drool.
“Mornin’,” Jesus, why did she suddenly feel like the new kid at school? Wasn’t a bad feeling at all, but Meghan had met celebrities and rock legends and never been nervous.
“Mornin’,” came the parroted reply. When he’d been told by Evie that the settlers had a fully-functional hot shower that ran off the generator, Orin had been the first in line to sign up on the roster after his fearless leader. He’d been something of a morning person in their group, aside from their cook, so luckily he hadn’t had to try and barter for the earliest available slot.
The woman in front of him was new, though. Orin hadn’t remembered her seeing her Vegas, which meant she had to be one of the newer members that Evie had relayed back to them. He didn’t even try to guess her name.
He didn’t have to; the former DJ was usually right on top of those things. “I’m Meghan...” The introduction came with a notched thumb turned back in the direction of the house. “Was back at the house when you guys showed up last night; thought I’d come out an’see what I missed.” Of course, she used the word ‘see’ loosely.
“Y’mean aside from the drum circle?” he replied, grinning before he moved a curled fist out in front of her. “I’m Orin. Nice to meet you, Meghan.”
Drum circle? Why did no one tell her about this? Of course, she heard the playful sarcasm in the guy’s voice, and could easily imagine a smile was coming with it. He also was in that three feet of personal space to which Meg was keenly aware of, in her other senses--she knew he’d reached a hand out to greet her, which was comforting. At the same time, however, she’d played this particular scenario out countless times before.
The woman smiled back, but wrinkled her nose a bit in apology. “You too, though you can put your hand back...” And the hand not curled around Sarge’s lead hoisted her glasses up, temporarily. She heard him take a breath in surprise. “I can’t see it.” The shades dropped back to her nose.
“Oh hell, I’m sorry,” he said suddenly, then laughed. Apparently he wasn’t that thrown by the news, and took it a step further by reaching for her unoccupied hand instead to bring up to his face. Sarge wasn’t pleased, and tensed on Meg’s leg, but she settled him with her palm on his big, slightly pointed head. “That a little better?”
Meg’s smile brightened considerably--he wasn’t the first person in her life to spontaneously volunteer his face for inspection, but he was since the world ended. It was a pleasant surprise. “Very much so,” she flirted lazily: the movement of her thumb and fingers directed by a sensory memory, caught at his brow, then cheek, and finally his jaw. Was he about her age? Maybe a little younger... it was hard to tell. “Gotta say, people don’t normally jump to this level of friendly, but I got no problem with it.”
“My gramps was blind as a bat,” he replied, his face still grinning along with his voice. “Eye injury from work, but you’d never know from the way he kept gropin’ any young nurse who came into the retirement home that it bothered him.” Meg snickered at that.
“Gave’im a good excuse, I guess,” she dropped her hand from his face and pushed it into the uni-pocket of Michael’s hoodie. So far, Meg was thoroughly pleased with what the road had brought in from the south. “Everyone here as friendly as you?”
“Malachai might come off kinda gruff from the sound of his voice, but he’s a good guy. And you might have a little bit of trouble with Amelia, though not because she isn’t a sweetheart; she’s mute.” Meg made a bit of a face.
“Yeah, that may be awkward.” She’d been around people trying to be quiet around her before, but not someone who actually could not speak (they were a bit of a unicorn in the radio business). One could almost say Meg had no idea if she’d ever met a mute person or not.
“She is a fantastic flautist, though. If you do bump into her, just let her know that you don’t just wear those cool shades to look like a boss, and she’ll stay out of your way. She’s a huge sweetheart.” He paused, shifting his weight on his feet. “Should I greet your dog as well? I’ve never met a service animal before, so I dunno how that works.”
“Oh, sure... he’s a pushover, usually.” To her, anyway... and anyone who was either good to Meg or prepared for a good ear or belly scratch. The mastiff had sensed his human’s ease and was already eyeing Orin expectantly, which Orin answered by dropping into a crouch and presenting his hand palm-side up to the dog.
A good amount of drool came from the animal’s mild greeting sniff, but that was normal. Meg shifted weight out from under her guide-dog’s heavy lean. He really was getting lazy lately. “His name is Sarge.”
“Heya Sargey-boy, howya doin’?” he drawled out, taking the sniff-and-drool combo as a go-ahead and scruffing the huge dog behind the ears and around the neck. It doubled as a way to wipe the drool off his hand. “You’re a good boy, ain’tcha?”
Oh good, someone else to spoil him. Meg’s smirk twitched into a grin. “He’s a lazy bum.” In other words, she agreed with Orin completely. Sarge did too, shown by the way his massive butt began to wiggle with his tail.
“Aw, don’t listen to mommy, I bet she’s just mad you didn’t clean your room today,” he said to the dog before finally straightening up to a stand. He directed his next words to Meg: “Were you on your way somewhere, or just trying to make yourself familiar with your new obstacles?”
“Little’a both, actually,” Meghan confessed, drawing one shoulder up in a half-shrug. “Wanted to come out last night, but I was already settled in. Plus, the bum here needed some morning exercise.” The winter had really slowed him down.
“I was off to go take a hot shower since I heard you guys got those,” he said, a smile in his voice. “But I’m a little early. I could probably show ya about a bit before I scurry off.”
“That would actually be great, if you don’t mind.” Her smile brightened under the reflective shades. “Probably better that I don’t just stumble around camp.”
Orin found her free hand and brought it to his elbow. “I think we’re up to like... ten vehicles, right now? One for each able driver. Not everyone has their own trailer though, or we’d have no way to lug supplies.”
It was difficult to express how nice it was to be surprised with such open friendliness from a stranger--Meg’s hopes had been high on her way out to the camp, and it was safe to say, a good portion of them had been met. Her fingertips curled into a light grip on his forearm, keeping a careful pace and matching his stride (things were just easier that way). Ten vehicles? For some reason, Meg was imagining more. “Where’ve you guys been over the winter?”
“Cabo,” he replied cheerfully. “Evie is a snowbird at heart. She’s our fearless leader. You’ll meet her soon enough.”
That was surprising, and it showed in Meg’s face. “The whole season?”
Orin laughed. “Better at the beaches of Mexico than with snow up to our knees, yeah. It was awesome. Maybe even better than when we were in Louisana. We did a lot of fishing and scavenging the local produce to eat; didn’t even need to dip into our food stock.”
Stability was one thing, but she’d be lying if she said there wasn’t a strong curiosity building as to the state of the rest of the country now. “Sounds... I dunno, relaxing?”
There was a grin in Orin’s voice when he replied: “You were expecting a complaint? I mean, the getting-tos and coming-froms can suck a bit, but when we set up camp it’s usually because we find a pretty choice location. No problems, no obstacles, enough around that we can get our bit to enjoy and then go back for seconds to take with us.”
“Sounds like a good deal.” It really did, but there was always that hot feeling in the back of that thought: Orin was selling the good points. He had to be. What Meg knew about the road out there was nothing but dangerous--of course, her circumstances were a little different.
“‘Course,” he continued on, “it’s not a life everyone can take to. When there are obstacles, it’s all hands on deck. Road obstructions seem to be the crappiest part of the gig, but it’s become so mundane now that it hardly registers for me. It’s just something I deal with now, y’know?”
He paused when they got to the firepit. “Right around here’s our pit. We’re gonna be doing the bulk of our cooking and conversating right here. I’m not Evie, but she’s pretty open to anyone coming to drum circle, so feel free to join us if you’re feeling inclined.”
Oh, so there really was a ‘drum circle’! For some reason, that made Meg smile a little bigger. She was definitely going to have to check that out. “I think you can count on that,” she said with a chuckle in her voice, pulling bits of wind-pulled hair away from her lips with a fingertip.
When they started on past the vehicles (she could smell the tire-rubber and fuel), another thought popped in her head. “So... road-clearing is the biggest obstacle? How many people do you come across?”
“Not as many as you’d think,” he answered. “We’ll see small bands of people every so often when we scout out an area, and sometimes they’ll trade, but mostly the way it works is we set up a camp, we scout around, and if we find people to trade with four people will pile up in the camper van with our best goods and go to them, not the other way around. We haven’t seen a whole lotta established groups, but there are a couple we’ve worked with so far. This group included.”
“Huh...” Meg took it all in with an air of mild surrealism. Maybe there was a small part of her that was hoping people were getting things back together--rebuilding, as it were. That part of her thought firmly that a group like his would encounter more people than Orin seemed to allude to. “I dunno what I expected,” she confessed. “It’s kinda hard for me to really...” She gestured with her free hand in a way that seemed uncertain. Words were escaping her.
She sighed, and shrugged lightly in his direction. “I lived in Chicago my whole life. I was used to being literally surrounded. It’s just hard to really ‘picture’ a broad expanse of--well, nothing.”
Orin hummed in agreement and understanding, covering her hand on his arm briefly and giving it a little squeeze before letting it drop off to the side again. “It’s a big country, and a lot of people are still afraid. Just ‘cuz a person survived the virus doesn’t necessarily mean they kept surviving, but I’d rather think that people are just a lot less trusting of a group of traders rather than think about that.”
“Maybe.” Honestly, Meg didn’t really want to think about any of it. She was getting good at ignoring some things with the focus set on others, like how appreciative she was of Orin’s genuine feeling and hospitality. After a brief beat of silence, she found herself smiling at him again.
“I should get back--my turn on breakfast.”
“Maybe you can show me where the shower is while your at it?” he replied, a grin in his own voice. “I bet you don’t get much chance to show off your own tour guiding skills anymore, eh?”
Meg actually snorted: an automatic and genuine bit of amused laughter, caught in the back of her throat. “You’d be surprised, actually, but yeah--I’ll show you around the maze that is an old Boonies farmhouse.” A little playful sarcasm never hurt anybody.
“Maybe you can show me into the shower,” he teased, going all of four steps with her back in the direction of the house before he suddenly stopped. “Oh hell, I left my towel.” Meg’s snickering dissolved quickly into her flattered smile, and her hold on his arm went lax.
“Go on, Slick. I know the way back.” She adjusted her grip on Sarge’s lead. “I’ll be in the kitchen if you really get lost.”
Orin snorted. “Catchya later, boss.”