Brainerd
Bill enters the van, not knowing anything better to do, and sits uncomfortably, not knowing what to say about anything in particular. Seeing the rifleman's dejected look at losing a friend, or worse, Bill reaches over to his duffel bag, pulls out a half-drank Corona and the March issue of Penthouse, which he hands to the poor man in an effort to raise his morale.
"Sorry... he musta put up a freakin' good fight 'cause there was a LOT of blood!?" he says, in a pathetic attempt at sympathy.
Bill sits back, and waits out the ride to Brainerd; wallowing in his own self-pity as the fact that Samone is just a pretty picture falls on his head like an anvil.
"I know how you must freakin' feel... I think I just lost the love of my life, too. Samone was always there for me, never complained, never called me names, never cheated on me like the guy upstairs. Geesh, I haven't talked to anyone but a freakin' magazine for months and all I can talk about is the freakin' magazine!" After a long, uncomfortable pause Bill asks, "So what're we goin' to find in Brainerd?"
The Rifleman takes the beer, but tosses the magazine on the floor.
The driver glares at Bill's tactless attempts at sympathy, but says nothing about it.
"You wouldn't happen to have a lime for this Corona, would you?"
Not waiting for an answer (or a lime), the Rifleman downs the Corona.
The driver starts to say something about the beer. "Jeff, we're on duty!"
"Screw that. I'm not driving, or anything."
Ignoring the driver, the Rifleman looks right at Bill.
Motioning to the Corona bottle, he says, "Don't tell anyone, o.k.?' He manages to stifle a small belch with the back of his hand. "What's your name, stranger?' Offering his hand, he adds, "Welcome to Brainerd, Home of the Free. If it works out, you can stay. We've got shelter, food, and people. No more talking to magazines,' he says with a smile.
Bill looks a little despondent at the loss of his last beer but quickly gets over it.
He lamely extends his hand to the rifleman, "My name's Bill, Bill Moore. Ah, I'm from freakin' North Dakota. You say you have food and stuff, do you have anything good to drink. You know..." he points knowingly at the empty bottle.
He continues to ramble... yaknow, I think I actually enjoyed being alone, I never had much good luck with people, I suppose. It feels strange to see others... anyway, what's with the freakin' road block back there? Expecting company? I haven't seen another soul except the freakin' wolf since forever... geesh, I could use a stiff drink right about now."
Mention of the wolf again snaps the Rifleman to attention.
"Wolf? Did you see one around here, or just back in Fergus Falls?"
Gripping Bill's hand for a firm handshake, he finally introduces himself. "Name's Jeff. Jeff Jones. The driver is Fritz."
"As for alcohol," says Fritz as he pulls to a stop, "there's lots of home-made stuff, but the bottle stuff from Before is all gone."
"Ah, home sweet home. C'mon, Jeff, we'd better get the next shift out there." He hops out of the van, and motions for you both to follow. Once everyone is out of the vehicle, he tosses the keys to Bill. "We'll show you around and introduce you. Any questions before we meet the others?"
Bill takes the keys and mentally checks the van's location in case he needs a quick getaway...
"Others, eh? I feel kinda freakin' nervous meeting other people. You guys aren't like human lackeys leading an unwary traveler into a zombie-liar are you. I'd hate to end up as food stock for damn vampires or something like in the old movies!"
"But then again, as long as you booze me up first, freakin' eh right!"
"Say guys, you two got quiet all of a sudden. I was just making a little joke about being led to the freakin' slaughter house, like in those old horror flicks. Yaknow, like the one where the young big-breasted chick checks in to the Motel and, you know... wish they had showed her naked... but anyways... geesh, I need a beer!"
"Crap, I left Samone in the van! She's gonna be pissed!"
Fritz and Jeff look at Bill like he's nuts, and then smile. They seem much more relaxed since they first pointed their guns at him, and Bill notices that their guns are held casually at their sides--they obviously are no longer suspicious or wary of Bill Moore, Jr..
"Jesus, Bill, you've got quite an imagination," grins Jeff (the Rifleman).
"No human slaughterhouse here." The smile leaves Jeff's face as he continues. "Just nice folks, trying to survive. Come on, it's dinner time. Let's get some food."
Fritz grabs Jeff's rifle, and them tosses the two guns to another man. The other man grabs the guns without a sound, and then he and a young woman head off out of town.
Jeff and Fritz lead you to a small building. The only unusual thing you note is that the building next to it is the one with the smoke coming out of the chimney--odd, for September.
Inside, the small building you enter is obviously used as a communal dining hall. There are only six people in the hall, eating food they obviously obtained from a kitchen area. The kitchen is on the wall shared with the 'smoking chimney' building.
>With Jeff leading the way, the three of you approach the kitchen area, grab plates, and fill them. It doesn't look particularly great--it's just stew--but it smells wonderful. There are also, however, some rolls that smell fantastic. Obviously homemade.
Fritz and Jeff sit down next to the others, and motion for you to join them.
Bill's eyes go large at the sight of real food...
"Score! I haven't had a real home-cooked meal like this since, well, can't remember... definately been since before Ma ran off with Pastor Butthead when I was 15...."
Bill loads up on a plate of stew and two of those fantastic smelling rolls. He meanders over to the two guys and sits down, trying not to eat like a pig. Through a mouthful, he manages to ask... "Sooo... where's the beer?"
After swallowing a mouthful, Jeff anwers Bill. "There's not a lot of beer left. So we have strict rules about beer. Everybody who works a shift gets one beer at the end of their shift. They can drink it, give it away, or save it for later, but that's all anyone gets. You poach another man's beer, and you'll probably get shot."
"Second, guests get one beer. Period. You are our guest, and you can have one beer. If you leave and return months later, you will not get a beer, because you have already had your one 'guest beer'--that is a lifetime limit." With a nod of his head, he motions to a refrigerator in the 'kitchen' area. "Beer's in there. Remember, just one. And get one for me and Fritz while you're at it."
Jeff returns to his food.
Fritz adds a few comments to Jeff's explanation of the beer rules. "Of course, some guys are makin' their own beer. Of course, whatever you make is yours to keep. And you're not supposed to drink on shift, or right before your shift."
Fritz glances at the fridge and back to Bill, obviously waiting for the newcomer to fulfull Jeff's last order.
Bill cracks a huge smile and rushes over to the fridge, grabs three beers, and returns. He hands over one to Fritz and one to Jeff, then, shaking, he opens his with an audible "Aaahhhhhh!" and downs about half in one swig... "Here's to Brainerd!"
"So guys, two questions... one, what is that smoke comin' out of that big chimney for, and two, when's my first shift, I think I'll be needin' another beer soon! I even have my own rifle out in the van, just need some ammo..."
Bill looks a little down as he realizes Fritz and Jeff are more interested in eating than in talking to him... he secretly wishes he had shook up their beers before handing them over....
Fritz and Jeff raise their beers, appreciating Bill's toast to their home. They then ignore him while they finish their dinner. But once they are done, they get more talkative.
Jeff lets out an extended belch. A few people at the other tables glance over with an annoyed look, or let a soft 'tsk!' escape from their lips, but no one says anything. A satisfied smile on his face, Jeff notes, "That's more like it."
Bill seems to admire the power behind Fritz's belch and tries to overbelch his belch just like the good ol' days on the construction sites....
Bill's belch is underwhelming, to say the least. It comes out more like a tardy hiccup which forget to leave with all the other hiccups. Jeff and Fritz are definitely not impressed.
Jeff leans forward and starting talking to Bill.
"Brainerd is a friendly place. We all get along, pretty much. The smoke is from the smokehouse. We eat decent up here. Not like them mall rats!" he adds with a sneer. "We all work shifts. There's two main jobs: Scavenging and Guard Duty. You've got to do one or the other every day. Then there's the little things: Cooking and Cleaning. You got to do those about twice a week. For six days, anyway. On Sunday, eveyone's on their own."
"Except for Guard Duty," interjects Fritz. "If you work on a Sunday, it counts as two regular days."
"That's about it. Use some common sense. Don't steal. Don't hurt anyone else. Don't rape the women. And you'll be fine."
"Yep. A real fine community we got here." Something about Jeff's tone indicates that he not one hundred percent satisfied with something about Brainerd, but he does not elaborate.
"So, what did you see in the Dakotas, Bill?" asks Fritz.
A few seconds elapse, and then answers Fritz's question with a sarcastic: "Snow. That's about all there is up in Dakota. Snow. Good hunting though. Huge mosquitos in the summer... uhm, lots of snow in the winter, eh."
Mona
Bill notices a woman has just entered the building. Only the second one he's seen so far. She's not bad looking (neither was the first). She makes no pretense of subtlety and just marches right up to the newcomer "Hi. Name's Mona." As she says her name, Jeff snickers. She shoots him a dirty look, and he tries to stifle his amusement. "These rubes show you around yet? You'll be needing a place to stay, uh--" she stops suddenly, putting her hand out. She waits expectantly for someone to introduce Bill.
Jeff says nothing and just studies Bill's face intently, wondering how he will react to Mona.
Fritz turns his gaze away, awkwardly looking at the far walls and doing his best to avoid looking at Bill, Jeff, and especially Mona.
He gives Jeff a quizzical, more like moronic, look as he seems to mock the reputation of Brainerd....
"Then's there's the--hallo!" He stumbles over his words as Mona approaches and introduces herself.
Looking dumbstruck at her advance, Bill says shyly, "Er, Bill, I suppose my name's Bill. From North Dakota." Bill's mind is surprisingly quick to undress her with his eyes, his face turns red as he realizes just how long it's been since a REAL woman was standing anywhere near him. Just her smell alone seems to drive Bill crazy, like a small splinter stuck under his fingernail... he blushes once again at the dirty thoughts that race through his mind, feeling like he's going through puberty all over again.
"Uhm, these freakin' guys haven't shown me anything of the town yet, uh, the job's still open if ya want it." Bill attempts a smile at Mona, still stumbling over his hormones; he gives the guys a worried look, hoping they don't bring up Samone. Then, a mile-a-minute he spurts out a shy hook-and-line as his heart pounds frantically; "And I don't yet have a place to stay, do you know of a good place to stay?"
"So, what did you tell him, guys?" asks Mona.
Jeff shrugs his shoulders. "Just the basics. Workload. The S/M/R rule. He's already had his 'guest beer' and it's probably too late for him to work tonight. We'll talk with the others and come up with a work assignment for Bill starting tomorrow."
Fritz says nothing, still staring intently at the walls.
Jeff grabs the dishes and beer bottles, taking them to the kitchen. Fritz, realizing he is about to be stranded with Bill and Mona, awkwardly gets up and watches Jeff, but does not help. Eventually, Jeff makes it to the kitchen, and starts washing a sinkful of dirty dishes. Fritz stands nearby, watching but not helping. They talk, but not loud enough for you to hear.
Mona issues a sigh of relief as both Jeff and Fritz depart. "Come on. I'll show you around town. And find you a place to stay," she says with an alluring smile. Her simple dress is nothing like the clothes Samone would wear (however briefly). But Bill does notice that quite a few buttons at the top are undone....
Mona leads the newcomer outside, and points out a few buildings. "That's our armory. Lot of us have keys, so it's always guarded or locked. We trust each other, it's just the outsiders we have to guard against. And over there--" she points to another building--"that's supply central. That's where we bring the goods we scavenge, fix 'em up if we need to, and then distribute them. Most people live off the main drag, since there's only businesses here."
She grabs Bill's hand and starts walking down side street. "Come on, I'll show you my place."
Bill's face turns red as he feels the warmth of Mona's hand. It's been a long time since he felt the warmth of a woman that wasn't room temperature. He walks awkwardly, trying to hide the tightness in his jeans. 'Geesh, just like in the hallways of junior high school... oh crap, Samone's gonna kill me!' thinks Bill as he pulls his hand away from hers, momentarily lost in his delusional Playboy fantasy. He attempts an ackward smile when Mona looks to see why he broke contact.
"Er, sorry, didn't mean to, well, uh... you're not like trying to take me back to your place just for my sperm, are you. I saw that freakin' Aussie post-apocolyptic teaser flick where the dude was the only guy left with viable sperm. Fritz and Jeff, are they sterile already? Fritz seemed bothered that you took me away... did you two have a thing? Well, I've still got Samone's feelings to think about...."
Bill's face takes on a look of utter shock as he realizes how moronic he must sound. Mona's look quickly tears away Bill's Playboy delusion once again, leaving standing only the fact that Samone is a magazine (a magazine he still has feelings for). "Uhm, so what's this building here?" he rambles, trying to change the subject.
Starting at Bill in shock for just a second, it doesn't take Mona long to act decisively.
"That's my house," she says, pointing to one and then dropping her hand so quickly Bill is not sure which one she pointed at. "Follow me," she says curtly.
Bill follows Mona, as she walks several blocks. Turning often, they eventually end up on the other side of the main drag.
"See these houses? The one with the red door is occupied. The others are all empty. I'm sure one of them will be just fine." She turns on her heels and leaves, never looking back at Bill.
Bill almost regretfully watches Mona's attractive behind tromp away. "One of these will be just fine," he says mockingly, under his breath, shaking his hips like a woman.
With a sigh, Bill waits for Mona to turn around the corner. He actually feels somewhat releived that it turned out the way it did. Bill remembers how much baggage a chick brings into a relationship... '...not like my Samone, she never nags me for a thing... loves me for who I am...'he thinks to himself.
Waving majestically towards the available line of apartments; "Ah, Samone, my little chackaree... let us find us a wonderful little chateau overlooking the Alps; then make beautiful love all through the night," he says aloud, mimicking a French accent.
Noting to avoid the red door Mona said was occupied, Bill lazily takes an hour or so (if he can), checking out as many units he can, scavanging anything of interest, and finding the nicest one.
Nothing seems to distinguish the houses, except for the red door. The others all blend together in their blandness.
Bill tries the closest house. The door is open. Inside, there is a small living room. Surely someone would describe the room as 'tastefully furnished' (at least at some point in the past), but Bill could not care less.
The only thing of interest in the first room is the key on the table. It probably goes to the front door.
Bill makes a quick survey of the house. Aside from the living roomm, there are two bedrooms, a kitchen, a bathroom, and a basement. There is nothing remarkable in any of them. The beds are made, and would provide satisfactory sleeping arrangements.
The next house is much the same. Stocked only with basic furniture, and nothing exciting.
Bill curses his luck, angry he did not find some guns, ammo, or even some food he could eat without working for it.
But something catches Bill's eye as he is about to leave the second bedroom. He's not sure what. Just a hunch.....
He slides his hand between the mattress and the box spring....
Bingo!
Two magazine--an old Playboy and an old Penthouse--are Bill's reward. A couple of new girl friends! It's going to be a busy night after all.
If he can find a light source. It's dark outside, and the electricity doesn't work.
Glancing out the front window, he see the house with the red door across the street. There's some sort of light burning in the house--he can see it, dim behind the curtains.
The Red Door
Overjoyed by his find, Bill sits down on the bed and thumbs through the works of art...
Just before the sun sets, Bill will check out the yard, getting a mental layout of obstacles between his place and the unit with the red door. After dark, he will quietly poke out the door; slowly and silently making his way to his neighbor's window. If he makes it there, he will peer in like a peeping Bill.
Long after the sun has set, Bill sneaks outside. He looks in every direction, making sure the coast is clear. Moving cautiously, he dashes from cover to cover in the darkness, zig-zagging toward the house with the red door.
Luckily, the faint glow of light is coming from a downstairs window. Much easier to peek in on the ground floor.
Bill approaches the window. The curtains are drawn, but they are not completely closed. Bill approaches the window, licking his lips in anticipation. He places his hands on the window sill as he takes one final step to place himself right by the house.
CRACK!
It's just a twig, but in the quiet night the sound is deafening.
From inside the house, Bill hears something fall to the floor with a crash. Next he hears the sound of hurried footsteps leaving the room and returning to the room. Then the light fades away from the room.
A minute later, there are some clicking sounds, the front door slams open, and a gruff (sadly for Bill, male) voice shouts out, "Who's there?"
During the ruckus, Bill attempts to silently move through the shadows and hide near an adjoining house, where he can see the red door.
Bill moves quickly away from the house, unable to move quietly in his panic. He quickly stumbles to the house next door, and tries to hide on the side of the front porch furthest away from the red door.
Crouching down, Bill hopes to remain hidden. However, the front porch is a small concrete porch, only about two feet off the ground. It doesn't provide much cover.
And by the time the occupant of the red door house gets his door open and steps onto his own concrete porch, Bill is breathing heavily (and not in the manner he'd like), his pulse racing.
Bill is not sure if it's the poor cover or his own loud breathing, but the man brandishing the gun turns right to the porch where Bill is hiding.
"You'd best step on out, 'less you want me to fire this thing."
Bill stands up and walks off the porch, hands raised. In one hand flops his new porno mag. "Hey now, er, don't shoot. I'm new here... I was just trying to read my magazine in the light from your window. Didn't bring any candles, and I just wanted to read an article, ya, just the articles... then you scared the piss outta me! Geesh!"
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