[CENTER][h3][color=#913C16][b]RAM HEAD | Vernon Thompson[/b][/color][/h3][/center] [SUP]Intermission..[center] 23:39 - Michaels Nuclear Power Facility -> Power District[/center][/SUP] [hr][hr] [COLOR=DARKCYAN][B]“Thanks for the rescue.”[/B][/COLOR] Vernon didn't respond to the paramedic, even when they shook hands. Truth be told, he wanted to scold the young man for his foolishness, but his attention was focused on the blacked out city, the pouring rain, and the fact that he had groceries in the car. That was going to be a long dark drive back, but Vernon had the distinct feeling that he'd better start driving now. Crescent City was host to all sorts of criminals and now that the power was out? Well, Vernon knew fully what the implications were, and he didn't want to stick around for them plus, his ice cream was in a cooler but it was going to start melting if he didn't get it home soon. Bongo licked and sniffed at Vernon's hand. [color=#913C16]"I know, I know, I was just 'bout to get on,"[/color] Vernon told her, finally tearing his eyes away from the city. A deep sigh escaped him as he turned away from the power plant, then began walking toward his truck. He wondered what the sky would look like tonight if all the clouds weren't in the way. By his recollection, Crescent city was illuminated too brightly to allow for proper sight of the stars... [color=#913C16]"What the hell is wrong with me?"[/color] Vernon scolded himself-- was he seriously trying to find the bright side of a power outage? With a wince, he rolled his shoulder, and mumbled, [color=#913C16]"I bet my power's out too..."[/color] [hr] [sup]Two Days Later...[center]11:42A - 1428 HWY 299, CA - A Trailer[/center] Darkness On The Edge Of Town[/sup] [hr] [color=#913C16]"You a real piece of work, you know that?"[/color] Letting out a heavy huff, Vernon wiped sweat from his brow, then put the wrench to the bolt once more. Slick with grime and oil, his grip upon the wrench kept slipping, but he was trying not to over-grip the damn thing. Sometimes his right arm, the powerful piece of machinery it had become, overworked simple tasks-- a thing the doctors had told him to come in to readjust if he had problems with. That would mean he'd have to drive into town, deal with a bunch of people, get poked too many times, have his blood drawn for who knows what... Naw. Hell naw. He wasn't going in to no doctor for no "recalibrations" or whatnot. He could control the gear properly with enough concentration and focus. [color=#913C16]"Shit,"[/color] Vernon mumbled. As if on cue, he had bent the steel wrench as he turned the bolt so tight it nearly came apart. [color=#913C16]"Ah who needs it--"[/color] he chucked the wrench off into the wilderness. [color=#913C16]"Now, stop bein' lazy,"[/color] Vernon grumbled, stepping away from the machine before him, [color=#913C16]"And start earnin' ya keep."[/color] Thing was, the generator had done more than earn it's keep, and Vernon knew this very well. It was a piece of military equipment, bought off of a military wholesale lot. For years the generator had acted as the sole power source for his trailer out in Nevada but, since he moved out to these fancy California mountains, he was quite literally back on the grid. Specifically the grid with the power outage. Vernon opened up a second panel, exposing a bunch of foggy dials, dirty switches, and unlit lights to the rainy day. Josephine-- the generator-- had died in the middle of the night and he hadn't noticed. Vernon was up around 6am, as he usually was, and had been working on the thing for about five hours straight. To say he'd worked up a sweat was a bit of an understatement. Josephine was running hot every time he managed to get her started-- a few times she'd even threatened to set him on fire. Imagine that, fire in a generator. Vernon laughed grimly at the thought as he threw the primer switch. A yellow wait light lit up, giving him time to ask himself what exactly the hell was up with him and fires? [indent]A long time ago he had set a fire and it seemed like, since then, fire had followed him everywhere. Biting at the edges of his cot, dancing atop of the fuel leak-- Cage bars, a man with a dirty ghutrah, radio static-- [indent][i][color=#913C16]"I have a nine line MEDEVAC Request, over!"[/color] He had to yell over the noise of the building burning down and the howl of the desert air-- his throat was dry. Static was his reply. [COLOR=Forestgreen]"A helicopter will not land in this,"[/color] shouted a man. He was an older man, his beard slightly overgrown from their brief stay in captivity, and he truly looked as if he'd aged since Vernon first met him, when was that? Two weeks ago? [COLOR=Forestgreen]"A sandstorm is kicking up,"[/color] cautioned the older man. Coughing slightly, Vernon licked his lips-- but that licking didn't matter, his mouth was too dry-- then he looked up to Mister... what was his name again? Stupid concussion-- ah, whatever it was, Vernon knew he was right about the storm. [color=#913C16]"We ain't got shelter, water,"[/color] Vernon began, [color=#913C16]"I'm starting to think--"[/color] [COLOR=Forestgreen]"No no, what you did was good,"[/color] interrupted Mr. Whatever, [COLOR=Forestgreen]"I'd rather be out here than still in the cage with those [i]sharmouta[/i] treating us like animals."[/color] Squinting, Vernon replayed that last portion in his head and tried to translate-- it was something he'd heard shouted at him before. The way it was said made him think it wasn't very pleasant. Mr.What's-his-name smiled down at Vernon with something of an approving nod, beard stroke and all. Truth was, that man had been the last bastion of calm and quiet fury since their capture, and Vernon had come to admire the quality, even if it drove him up the wall a couple of times-- No, Vernon wasn't going to let his grudge over the [i]Tea Incident[/i] go anytime soon, but anyway... Shrugging, Vernon stood up, gathering the heavy green radio up into his arms, then replied, [color=#913C16]"They didn't answer anyway-- we gotta get closer to a road or town at least."[/color] [COLOR=Forestgreen]"Not in this!"[/color] [color=#913C16]"Well if you see a shelter--"[/color] Vernon looked at the burning building pointedly [color=#913C16]"--feel free to let me know."[/color] The man smiled at Vernon in the particular way he tended to do-- that manner before he delivered bad news. [COLOR=Forestgreen]"I saw a car,"[/color] replied Mr. Name, [COLOR=Forestgreen]"It should be good enough."[/color] [color=#913C16]"And I told you it was probably rigged with explosives,"[/color] Vernon shouted sharply. [COLOR=Forestgreen]"Either we take the chance or we end up with sand up our piss holes!"[/color] [color=#913C16]"We done used up our luck, Mr. Al-Bariq--"[/color] Vernon suddenly recalled the man's name [color=#913C16]"--If we keep using up more, the sky's lookin' to fall on us."[/color] [COLOR=Forestgreen]"I don't believe in luck, Sergeant. I have told you this before,"[/color] replied Mr. Al-Bariq as he began trudging back toward the burning building, [COLOR=Forestgreen]"But I do believe what I mentioned would be uncomfortable."[/color] A heavy sigh escaped Vernon as he jogged to catch up to Mr. Al-Bariq. As they trudged through the sand, the wind biting into their faces, Vernon began to wonder just how long the sandstorm would last. For all they knew, it could go on for days, and shelter wouldn't matter in the least. Both of them were dehydrated, hungry, and Vernon's wound would likely become infected within the next day or two. Just his luck, that wound-- that was his reward for stopping a rusty Iraqi bayonet with his forearm, like a fool. As they started passing by the burning three story building, which was the only building for miles it seemed, Vernon stared up at it warily. At the time, setting it on fire was a pretty solid plan, but now? Had he known a sand storm was blowing in, Vernon probably would have waited, or at least not have set the building on fire. Hell, maybe he could have just bludgeoned their captors to death with the heavy radio instead, then again, how many more bayonets would he have had to... stop... A very distinct noise, that of a tree cracking and falling, wrenched Vernon's train of thought off it's tracks. Falling-- collapsing-- the building was-- they were next to a window-- fire-- [color=#913C16]"Shit,"[/color] shouted Vernon before he dropped the radio, then tackled Mr. Al-Bariq to the ground...[/i][/indent] Flames overhead, the ball of fire-- Scorched hair, salt, the smell of burning flesh-- Sand between his teeth, dry, heart pounding-- Hot sand gripped in his hands, he could feel the--[/indent] Wetness? Vernon swallowed hard then looked down. Bongo was lapping at his hand, desperately trying to get his attention. He remembered to breathe. Suddenly he felt the rain, welcoming and cool. Vernon wiped his brow with a shaking hand, smelled dog spit, then winced-- why did he use that hand? Shaking his head, Vernon looked down at Bongo, then at what she had placed at his feet-- the wrench. She was sitting on her haunches looking awfully proud of herself, so Vernon told her, [color=#913C16]"Good girl."[/color] He threw the switch on the generator and it whined, screeched, and coughed in protest. Thick white smoke filled the air as Vernon held the switch in place, opened up the side compartment, and shoved his hand in to punch at a box that was connected to a bunch of belts-- look, he wasn't a mechanic. Good god no, he wasn't a mechanic. But he knew that if you punched something around enough, unscrewed this or that, replaced that thing with this, maybe [i]possibly[/i] [b][i]perhaps[/i][/b] it would work again. [color=#913C16]"Come on back to life Josie-- don't quit on me now girl,"[/color] Vernon groaned as he let off the ignition switch. Of all the times for the generator to break down, now wasn't a good one. Sure he could get the generator started later, Vernon knew that he'd better make a trip out to buy some firewood-- just in case. Things had gotten cold and worse lately. Vernon didn't want to spend time in the dark [i]and[/i] the cold. One or the other. Not both. Vernon had made that promise to himself when he got his first trailer. Those were just decent rules of living, weren't they? So he made his way to his truck, Bongo trailing behind him, then climbed in. See, the good thing about living out in the middle of nowhere was the fact that, more than likely, no one else was going out to go buy firewood. His only hope was that the folks up at the Kilbride Sawmill hadn't actually sold out of dry wood. Vernon absolutely was not down for waiting until the logs dried out, because the rain would probably be done by then. Maybe. [i]Possibly.[/i] With a deep long suffering sigh, Vernon turned on the radio, then sat in silence and listened to [url=https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oFbo8I2KkR8]the song[/url] for a beat. How fitting. A song about fire. Vernon chuckled darkly at the sick humor the universe had sometimes. He shifted the truck into gear, then drove off.