DarkMatter D20: Drunk Southern Girls with Guns ... UPDATED - 8/18/05!
- Thread starter jonrog1
- Start date
CATTLE MUTILATORS
Pt. 5
Ross took the tooth baggie. “Does it belong to our little friend from last night?”
“Hey, why don’t we just check my &*&#in’ NECK where the little *$%#&# BIT ME!” snapped Jo.
Denis shook his head. “No. It has a filling – it’s an adult tooth. I suggest we drive into town, see if we can glean any more data from the locals.”
The Agents pulled in to Fairview just as the ranchers were congregating for lunch. Fairview itself was barely more than a town square. The desert was visible past the first row of buildings. A few desultory side streets pretended as if they went somewhere, but the square was the town. To the west side of the square was a convenience store, a small Christian bookstore, and the diner. The north side of the square was dominated by a large white church. A dour Reverend in his forties was touching up the paint on the door. Next to the church was a picturesque white house somewhat larger than expected. Some sort of business was based out of it, and out on the front lawn –
-- children. Running, skipping, happy children, about two dozen of them. ”Fairview Day Care” the sign read. Refereeing the group was a young, strawberry blonde mother with a big smile. Next to her was a laughing man in a wheelchair.
Jo stared at the seething scrum of pre-school menace. Her hands fluttered by her guns. If those kids made a move … she was ready. Oh, she was ready.
Nervously, Stephen circled the van past the tattered K-Mart and supermarket on the east side, then past the municipal offices on the south edge of the square. They noted that the Sheriff’s office lay open, a single receptionist waiting at the desk.
They parked the van and entered the diner. Expecting a chilly reception, they were surprised at how happy the ranchers were to vent. They were feeling hard done by, and all of them had different conspiracy theories as to the mysterious lights and cattle deaths.
“Ever since the plant closed down,” one muttered, the others darkly nodding.
“The industrial plant, just north of town –“ began Stephen.
“DAMN STRAIGHT! We was doing fine, ‘til them, ah, chemicals things leaked into the water and everybody who weren’t a rancher moved away.” The rancher spittled chaw all over Denis’s glasses. Denis casually took them off, sprayed hypoallergenic astringent on the lenses, and began chammying them.
“What chemicals?” asked Andy.
“’Like in that movie, where Julia Roberts had her bosoms all taped up.”
“Dying Young?” guessed Stephen. “No, wait, maybe Mystic Pizza…”
“It’s Erin Brockovitch, for God’s sake,” snapped Ross. “Remember, hexachromium tetrachlorides, yadda yadda.”
The lanky, cowboyish owner of the diner appeared, refilling coffee mugs. “Yep, they manufactured huge tanks of the stuff for other industries, still big swimmin’ pool-sized tanks out there full of God knows what. Course, a’fore that, was the copper mine …”
The locals laid out how the mine had been Fairview’s main industry from the 1800’s through the 1950’s; huge tracks of played-out tunnel criss-crossed the region, many passing with just a few hundred yards of town. Fairview had it rough until the plant opened in the ‘70’s, only to have Fate kick it in the pants – the old tunnels were the channels through which the contamination had spread through the groundwater.
Andy laid out a military map of the area. “Do you mind pointing out your ranches, and where the mutilations have been happening?”
After another hour of arguing and cajoling, the Agents had a decent map of the occurrences and a rough correlative timeline. When the locals broke up for lunch, the Hoffman Investigators spread the map out on the hood of their van.
“I like the mine,” Andy said. “Dark, plenty of tunnels for things that don’t like the light to travel by.”
Ross disagreed. “Look at the timeline – the incidents nearest the old plant were the first.” He rolled up the map. “Plant’s on the way to the mine, anyway, let’s stop there.”
***********************************************
Two hours later, the van rumbled along the barest trace of a dirt road stretching out across the rocky desert. The van was a hotbox. The Agents squinted off into the distance, wiping stinging sweat from their eyes every few second. Finally, Denis called out: “THERE!”
The plant was bigger than they’d expected. Four-story pipe complexes wove around massive metal and concrete walls. Few dusty windows reflected the afternoon sun from high atop the bunkers. The buildings themselves stretched back a few hundred yards. The entire thing was surrounded by a ten-foot high chain-link fence topped by razor wire.
The Agents climbed out, checked the main gate. Padlocked, with multiple chains and locks, all of which looked aged but solid. “Let’s circle around once, then continue up to the mine,” Ross called out.
They’d covered one whole side of the plant, moving slow, using binoculars to scan the windows and doors, when Jo pointed. “Somebody’s been here.” The rest saw what she’d spotted: a section of the fence, far in the back so it wasn’t visible from the approach, was surgically cut away.
The Agents stopped the van. They approached cautiously. Andy ran his fingers along the edges of the missing fence. “Aged but not corroded. Clean cuts.”
“Look, there’s a door directly opposite.” Jo drew just one of her nine mils and moved in. The others flanked her, approaching the door from either side. Andy bent down by the lock. “Door’s old – but this was replaced recently.” He produced a lockpick set and went to work. Within moments, a CLANG echoed out in the eerie desert silence.
Jo looked out around them – nothing for fifty miles in any direction, total isolation. “I’m calling that Deputy for back-up.” She managed to make a shaky connection, and through static explained where they were. The Deputy agreed to meet them as soon as he could get out there. “Do we wait?” she asked after the connection was broken.
“Just getting hotter,” muttered Ross. With nods from the others, he shouldered in the door.
The office inside was some sort of accounting pit. Payroll records were still scattered over the shelves. The Agents moved quietly to the next inner door. This one was unlocked. It swung open easily. Jo and Denis stepped into the corridor beyond. It stretched into the vast, crypt-like interior of the refinery. The darkness within was as complete as if the entire factory were underground. Denis flicked on a penlight –
-- and the beam reflected off the very new security camera set high on the wall. It turned toward them, the lens whirrrring as it locked on.
“DAMMIT!’ The rest stepped into the corridor. Jo aimed at the camera. “Shall I?”
“No, let’s see what we find. Maybe we got lucky and it’s just videotaping.” Andy pushed ahead. He and Ross lifted their guns and flashlights in cross grips, pointing them down the corridor. Like adventuring parties of old, they crept forward into the darkness, until the shadows consumed them.
And in the distance, something skittered across metal.
Pt. 5
Ross took the tooth baggie. “Does it belong to our little friend from last night?”
“Hey, why don’t we just check my &*&#in’ NECK where the little *$%#&# BIT ME!” snapped Jo.
Denis shook his head. “No. It has a filling – it’s an adult tooth. I suggest we drive into town, see if we can glean any more data from the locals.”
The Agents pulled in to Fairview just as the ranchers were congregating for lunch. Fairview itself was barely more than a town square. The desert was visible past the first row of buildings. A few desultory side streets pretended as if they went somewhere, but the square was the town. To the west side of the square was a convenience store, a small Christian bookstore, and the diner. The north side of the square was dominated by a large white church. A dour Reverend in his forties was touching up the paint on the door. Next to the church was a picturesque white house somewhat larger than expected. Some sort of business was based out of it, and out on the front lawn –
-- children. Running, skipping, happy children, about two dozen of them. ”Fairview Day Care” the sign read. Refereeing the group was a young, strawberry blonde mother with a big smile. Next to her was a laughing man in a wheelchair.
Jo stared at the seething scrum of pre-school menace. Her hands fluttered by her guns. If those kids made a move … she was ready. Oh, she was ready.
Nervously, Stephen circled the van past the tattered K-Mart and supermarket on the east side, then past the municipal offices on the south edge of the square. They noted that the Sheriff’s office lay open, a single receptionist waiting at the desk.
They parked the van and entered the diner. Expecting a chilly reception, they were surprised at how happy the ranchers were to vent. They were feeling hard done by, and all of them had different conspiracy theories as to the mysterious lights and cattle deaths.
“Ever since the plant closed down,” one muttered, the others darkly nodding.
“The industrial plant, just north of town –“ began Stephen.
“DAMN STRAIGHT! We was doing fine, ‘til them, ah, chemicals things leaked into the water and everybody who weren’t a rancher moved away.” The rancher spittled chaw all over Denis’s glasses. Denis casually took them off, sprayed hypoallergenic astringent on the lenses, and began chammying them.
“What chemicals?” asked Andy.
“’Like in that movie, where Julia Roberts had her bosoms all taped up.”
“Dying Young?” guessed Stephen. “No, wait, maybe Mystic Pizza…”
“It’s Erin Brockovitch, for God’s sake,” snapped Ross. “Remember, hexachromium tetrachlorides, yadda yadda.”
The lanky, cowboyish owner of the diner appeared, refilling coffee mugs. “Yep, they manufactured huge tanks of the stuff for other industries, still big swimmin’ pool-sized tanks out there full of God knows what. Course, a’fore that, was the copper mine …”
The locals laid out how the mine had been Fairview’s main industry from the 1800’s through the 1950’s; huge tracks of played-out tunnel criss-crossed the region, many passing with just a few hundred yards of town. Fairview had it rough until the plant opened in the ‘70’s, only to have Fate kick it in the pants – the old tunnels were the channels through which the contamination had spread through the groundwater.
Andy laid out a military map of the area. “Do you mind pointing out your ranches, and where the mutilations have been happening?”
After another hour of arguing and cajoling, the Agents had a decent map of the occurrences and a rough correlative timeline. When the locals broke up for lunch, the Hoffman Investigators spread the map out on the hood of their van.
“I like the mine,” Andy said. “Dark, plenty of tunnels for things that don’t like the light to travel by.”
Ross disagreed. “Look at the timeline – the incidents nearest the old plant were the first.” He rolled up the map. “Plant’s on the way to the mine, anyway, let’s stop there.”
***********************************************
Two hours later, the van rumbled along the barest trace of a dirt road stretching out across the rocky desert. The van was a hotbox. The Agents squinted off into the distance, wiping stinging sweat from their eyes every few second. Finally, Denis called out: “THERE!”
The plant was bigger than they’d expected. Four-story pipe complexes wove around massive metal and concrete walls. Few dusty windows reflected the afternoon sun from high atop the bunkers. The buildings themselves stretched back a few hundred yards. The entire thing was surrounded by a ten-foot high chain-link fence topped by razor wire.
The Agents climbed out, checked the main gate. Padlocked, with multiple chains and locks, all of which looked aged but solid. “Let’s circle around once, then continue up to the mine,” Ross called out.
They’d covered one whole side of the plant, moving slow, using binoculars to scan the windows and doors, when Jo pointed. “Somebody’s been here.” The rest saw what she’d spotted: a section of the fence, far in the back so it wasn’t visible from the approach, was surgically cut away.
The Agents stopped the van. They approached cautiously. Andy ran his fingers along the edges of the missing fence. “Aged but not corroded. Clean cuts.”
“Look, there’s a door directly opposite.” Jo drew just one of her nine mils and moved in. The others flanked her, approaching the door from either side. Andy bent down by the lock. “Door’s old – but this was replaced recently.” He produced a lockpick set and went to work. Within moments, a CLANG echoed out in the eerie desert silence.
Jo looked out around them – nothing for fifty miles in any direction, total isolation. “I’m calling that Deputy for back-up.” She managed to make a shaky connection, and through static explained where they were. The Deputy agreed to meet them as soon as he could get out there. “Do we wait?” she asked after the connection was broken.
“Just getting hotter,” muttered Ross. With nods from the others, he shouldered in the door.
The office inside was some sort of accounting pit. Payroll records were still scattered over the shelves. The Agents moved quietly to the next inner door. This one was unlocked. It swung open easily. Jo and Denis stepped into the corridor beyond. It stretched into the vast, crypt-like interior of the refinery. The darkness within was as complete as if the entire factory were underground. Denis flicked on a penlight –
-- and the beam reflected off the very new security camera set high on the wall. It turned toward them, the lens whirrrring as it locked on.
“DAMMIT!’ The rest stepped into the corridor. Jo aimed at the camera. “Shall I?”
“No, let’s see what we find. Maybe we got lucky and it’s just videotaping.” Andy pushed ahead. He and Ross lifted their guns and flashlights in cross grips, pointing them down the corridor. Like adventuring parties of old, they crept forward into the darkness, until the shadows consumed them.
And in the distance, something skittered across metal.
Last edited:
Breakstone
First Post
Heh heh heh.
Very nice update, Jonrog! I can't wait to see what's in there...
P-Cat, you mind doing some pruning? Just the batch of Red Skies posts -- as much as I appreciate them -- between the two updates ought to get the narrative flowing again.
For everyone who asked about the show -- definitely up in the air. Unfortunately,we may have been a little too original for the suits. If you liked it, please feel free to go to the USA Network website and drop them an e-mail asking where your butt-kicking two guns-blazing action show is.
Thanks again all.
John
For everyone who asked about the show -- definitely up in the air. Unfortunately,we may have been a little too original for the suits. If you liked it, please feel free to go to the USA Network website and drop them an e-mail asking where your butt-kicking two guns-blazing action show is.
Thanks again all.
John
To answer the e-mails I got, if our US-based friends want write to ask where the heck their two-guns-blazing chick-fu show RED SKIES is, drop a line at series@usanetwork.com. Any little bit helps.
Thanks all,
John
Thanks all,
John
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