IC: "The Night the Lights Went Out"

[Alice2015]

Henry and Eleanor Gumble
"The Bazaar", Austin, Texas

7:45 am, Sunday, 19 January 2025 (3 hours after TLWO):

(OOC: The last post for Henry and Eleanor was here.)

Henry was disappointed with what he had to offer his customers this morning, obviously. The blackout had deenergized all of the deep fryers and ovens before even the first load of pastries, breads, and fresh baked goods were done. And, of course, he hadn't even begun to prepare the other breakfast foods that sold so well to the morning crowd.

There were other things to worry about, of course. Austin was being ravaged by looters and rioters. Henry had never understood why people did that to their own neighborhoods. Sure, some of those running around breaking windows, burning cars, and what-not were from elsewhere. But Henry recognized some of the faces running about with arms and shopping carts full of pillaged goods.

Luckily for The Bazaar, a dozen or more vendors and loyal patrons had arrived quick enough after the blackout began to protect the site. Now, after the sun had risen to illuminate the surrounding blocks, Henry realized just how lucky he, his wife, and the others had been.

"We're ready, honey," Eleanor called from down near the corner of the building. "The ovens are hot. Let's get this done."

Henry took one last look up and down the street before saying to the man standing next to him, "You got this?"

The man to whom Henry was speaking, Walter Greer, nodded affirmatively. He slung the AR-15 back over his shoulder and fist bumped the Bazaar's owner. Looking to two other armed men guarding the front of the building, Walter confirmed, "We got this. Go do what you do so well."

Henry headed out to the open-air portion of the Bazaar around the side of the building. There, they'd fired up the brick ovens that were usually only used during the Weekend Market or on certain holidays. They weren't able to save everything that Henry had begun baking or frying inside, but they'd done their best.

Eleanor helped a while but then took a walk around the property with a platter of what was ready to be devoured. She distributed food amongst those who'd guarded the Bazaar during the hours of darkness, then began giving food out to both Regulars and Newbies who'd shown up; most of them had been unable to cook in their own homes, obviously, and regardless of whether they could pay or not, Eleanor was going to make sure they didn't go hungry.

She told those who came looking for a meal or other supplies that if they emptied their fridges and freezers and brought everything here, it would be prepared before it went bad, either for they themselves or for others. "You'll be compensated, of course," she'd said. "We'll take care of you."

As soon as the word got around that the Bazaar was still in operation, dozens of people from the neighborhoods surrounding the community business arrived. Some were just looking for a hot breakfast; some brought their perishables for cooking or trade; others volunteered to help once they saw how so many others were coming together.

Eleanor had just delivered hot coffee and buttered bread slices to the men guarding the front when she looked up to see a woman approaching tentatively. She wasn't familiar to the Bazaar co-owner, but then one-out-of-three people who'd come here this morning were new, fresh faces to her. The woman seemed nervous, leading Eleanor to wonder if it was because of the three men with rifles and other weapons on their persons, protecting the establishment.

"Hey! I'm safe, I swear!" the woman called through cups hands. "I'm looking for water and stuff!"

Eleanor couldn't help but smile. She herself had been a timid type as a younger woman, and only after she'd met her now-husband and been introduced to the wild world of great adventures, had she learned to be more courageous and outgoing. She handed the nearly empty platter to one of the people standing out front, asking, "See that everyone eats. No charge if they don't have something to trade."

She took one of the puff pastries filled with chopped ham and scrambled eggs from the platter and walked out to meet the woman in the street. She stopped a couple of yards away from the stranger, smiling. Offering out the food and a bottle of water from the bag over her shoulder, Eleanor said, "My husband makes these. You won't find a better hot breakfast anywhere in Austin ... particularly this morning."

She'd intentionally stopped out of the woman's reach for two reasons: first, Eleanor hadn't wanted to frighten the woman, who looked concerned enough with how the world around her had fallen apart during the hours of blackout darkness; and second, she wanted the pretty young thing to put in a bit of effort in accepting the food and water. She waggled the offerings playfully, saying, "It's alright. Go ahead."

 

[Alice2015]

Angel and Flynn
Bearview Cabins
Northwest of Durango, Colorado
About noon, local time (9+ hours after TLWO)

"I'm scaring you?" Flynn asked. "You broke into a stranger's house with two fucking dogs—"

Angel could understand what he was saying; not everyone loved dogs, particularly when their owner gave them a simple command and they went on guard. She'd run into this situation on occasion since moving into the Silver Mountain Wilderness Area. Because her cabin was so remote, she didn't get many visitors, but occasionally a hiker or two would show up, and the dogs' reactions would always be to immediately go on guard, waiting for their mistress to tell them whether everything was alright or not.

Flynn dropped onto a couch, complaining about the lack of electricity, food ... everything. He also apologized for freaking her out with his aggression but reminded her that she'd entered someone else's home without permission. Angel did feel a bit awkward about that; she hadn't intended anything nefarious, but that wasn't really an excuse for having done it anyway.

She walked around the end of the couch to face Flynn, unslung her backpack, flipped open the top, and withdrew a small package. Tossing it into Flynn's lap, she explained, "It's a power bar. High in protein, fat, calories, vitamins ... everything a growing body needs. I make them myself, from ingredients I either grow or forage for from the forest..."

Then, with a bit of a sarcastic twinge, she added, "...because that's what forest freaks do."

"I don't know what the hell is going on," the man continued, his exasperation so apparent and, of course, warranted. He spoke of his car being dead, offering it to her as pillage from her home invasion.

Angel laughed. "Don't worry, I'm not interested in your car. I wouldn't know how to drive it even if I was. Never learned."

He motioned to the kitchen, telling her there was food for the dogs if she needed it. She studied him for a moment; he was so obviously depressed. Angel wondered whether he was like this all the time or simply today, when things were so obviously not going his way. She turned for the kitchen, talking over her shoulder as she looked through the cupboards.

"I like up the mountain, in a cabin in the Silver Mountain Wilderness. I come down every couple of months for supplies." To perk up his attitude, Angel was tempted to say and to get a little action between the sheets, but she managed to contain her humor. "I'm not sure what the hell's going on down here, but whatever it is, I'm sure they'll get it fixed."

To be honest, Angel wasn't sure about anything. So far, the only effects she'd noticed from whatever was happening were all the cars broken down on the side or the road and the lack of power here in this house. That was the result of living off the grid when the grid went down: you didn't know.

She found the cans of dog food he'd mention, grateful that they were pull tops and didn't need an electric can opener. She found a couple of plates, poured out the food, and returned to the living room. She plopped down on the coffee table in front of Flynn, pulled out a metal bottle of water, and offered it out. "Fresh out of my artesian well. Sweetest thing you'll ever put in your mouth."

Her lips spread in a wider smile as she realized how lewd the comment could be taken if one's mind leaned that way. "Whaddaya say we start over. My name's Angel." She jerked a thumb over her shoulder, adding, "That's Nutter and Butter ... and no, I'm not the one who gave'em those silly names."

She offered out her hand, hoping he'd take it and maybe, just maybe, try to get this conversation going in a more friendly direction.

 

[Alice2015]

Samantha "Sammi" Evans (profile, pic)
Eugene, Oregon
About 2 am, local time (~15 minutes after TLWO):

(OOC: This continues from Nicky Long's last post here, and the last time we heard from Samantha Evans -- which was the first time we'd heard from her -- was here.)

Sammi was the first of the three Evans family members standing out in the yard to notice Nicky Long as he was walking up the driveway toward them. She was about to alert her parents when the man called out for the third time, "Hello...? Hi! My car broke down up the road. I just need to use your phone."

Sammi's father, Carl, pulled closer his wife, Pamala, at the same time that he ordered his daughter, "Sammi, go to the house."

"Dad, it's just some guy whose--"

"Go into the house," he growled, then -- looking into her face -- he added with an unspoken message he knew she would understand, "Go to the front hall closet."

Sammi hesitated a moment, unsure if she was hearing her father correctly. Even in the slight light of the crescent moon, she could see the worry in his face. She turned and walked slowly toward the house as her father looked back to the approaching man, offering, "We can bring the cordless out to you in the driveway. I don't mean to sound rude, but ... this late at night, in the dark, with what's going on around us ... I'd really prefer you didn't come through the gate."

The Evans home and yard surrounding it were encircled by a five-foot-tall picket fence. It hadn't been meant to keep anything in or out; the dogs they'd once owned had easily jumped it until they put in one of those invisible fence systems; and once upon a time a wannabe thief had jumped it just as easily to get onto the property and even quicker when her father had fired a shot into the air with his 12 gauge shotgun. The fence was mostly symbolic, telling those on the outside of it that this is as close as you should get before being given permission to come closer.

Inside the house, Sammi hurried to the closet to retrieve that very same shotgun. Without light, she had difficulty finding the box of shells on a top shelf, but she did eventually find them, open them, and attempt to put more of them inside the long gun. Sammi wasn't surprised to find the shotgun already fully loaded; her father had taught her that an unloaded rifle -- or in this case shotgun -- was nothing more than a stick.

She returned to the front door and opened it, just as her mother arrived, ordering, "Honey, get the cordless phone so this man can make a call." Her mother took the shotgun and stood in the doorway, hiding it from view.

Sammi did as ordered, only to return with the device a moment later and report, "It's dead. So is my cell and yours."

Her mother called out toward the driveway where he husband had closed the gap between him and the stranger to just ten yards or so, "Carl, the phones aren't working. They're all dead. Even the cell phones."

The women waited at the door as Carl told the man, "Sorry. I don't know what to say."

Carl looked toward the airport, about to suggest that the man walk the mile to the terminal to use a pay phone there. The airport was dark, though, with the exception of the silhouette of it caused by one of the airliner explosions and fires a couple of miles beyond it. He looked the other direction, towards Eugene and its suburbs, but the story was the same there as well.

He wasn't about to turn this man out into the dark of such a strange night, though. Carl and Pamela were good Christians, and while he didn't know this man and found it disconcerting that he was out in here in the middle of nowhere in the middle of the night, he certainly wasn't going to abandon him out here either.

"Listen, I'd invite you in, out of the cold and all, but..." Carl began. He hoped the man would understand his meaning without him actually having to finish what he was saying. He continued, "You could stay in the box tonight, though." He chuckled as he pointed through the darkness toward a boxy shape about 10-foot by 10-foot that was located within the picket fence, near the north end of the house. "It's one of those Tiny Houses. We put it in for my brother-in-law a couple of years ago when he was in need of a place to stay. It's been empty for a while, 'cept for when my daughter has her girlfriends over for slumber parties."

That reminded him of the family meeting they'd just had regarding his daughter's curfew violation and other offenses, but that wasn't to be discussed with a stranger. Carl continued, "If you wanted to stay in there for the night ... Pamela -- that's my wife -- she could bring you out some fresh linens and extra blankets ... something to eat, some water or juice."

 

[Alice2015]

Keri Lee: profile, pic

Ronald Reagan Washington National Airport
Arlington, Virginia
(Across the Potomac from Washington DC)

04:44:44, 19 January 2025 (Sunday):

(OOC: This continues Marcus Washington's last post here, which was a reply to Keri Lee's last here.)

Keri was shivering deep to her core and so overwhelmed by what was happening that she almost didn't even register the assistance being offered her by Marcus Washington. She was wrapped with a mylar blanket, then lifted off the ground to be carried away from the mayhem of the airplane crash. She heard but didn't immediately understand the man's goal when he said, "I'm going to get you inside. You need to be in, out of this cold."

Only after they'd covered what to Keri felt like a great distance but in reality, had only been a couple of dozen yards, the man said to her, "My name is Marcus, by the way. Marcus Washington."

She struggled to talk, finding her jaw quivering so dramatically that she almost bit her tongue. Finally, she managed, "Keri ... Keri Lee." A feeling of safety and security was slowly coming back to her, and she reached her arms up to wrap them around her savior's neck; she began sobbing, and tears joined the drops of river water still clinging to her cheeks.

Eventually, they were met by two men with a stretcher, and Marcus lowered Keri carefully onto it. She found herself begging through jittering teeth, "Don't leave me."

"You're going to be fine," Marcus promised her. "I'll, um ... I'll look for you later. Check on you. You're going to be just fine."

As the two men lifted her and carried her hurriedly toward the terminal, Keri tried to look back to the man who'd carried her alone so far in his arms. She lost sight of him, then closed her eyes. She bounced along on the stretcher for another forever time period; there was a great deal of activity around her as airport rescuers and regular old civilians alike responded to her crash and to others. She wouldn't notice it now, but later Keri would recognize that not once had she either heard or seen any sort of fire truck or police cruiser siren or flashing lights.

She was one of the first survivors of her plane's crash to reach the baggage area in which survivors and others affected by the blackout were being gathered. A woman asked her basic questions -- name, flight, possible injuries, family/friends waiting for her, etc. -- and wrote the answers down on an otherwise blank sheet of paper she had on a clipboard. When the woman was finished, she folded the paper and handed it to Keri, saying, "Keep this with you, ma'am. We're going to get you out of those wet clothes and into something warm and dry."

They did just that, though, it was almost an hour before it happened. Keri found herself wearing a much larger woman's velour sweats; they didn't have shoes for her, but they did slip two pairs of socks on her to keep her feet warm. Concerned people checked on Keri repeatedly, making her feel a bit self-conscious; her trembling had ceased, for the most part, and she wasn't injured except for a small bump on her forehead from where she'd slammed it against the frame around the airplane's window.

A man with a booming voice entered sometime later, calling out instructions that any person who felt that they needed no longer medical attention were going to be moved to another area. Keri stood to leave but felt woozy and sat back down. When a woman who identified herself as a medical doctor came by, she diagnosed Keri with a possible concussion. "You just sit here and rest. Besides, it's warmer in here."

Keri looked about, curious about that last comment, only now realizing that the emergency responders had set up a dozen or so propane heaters to keep the room warm. She called to a man who was helping and asked, "Can you tell me what's happening? Was there a power outage? What's the story?"

The man explained that everything -- everything he emphasized -- was dead: the electrical grid, cell phones and radios, vehicles, which included all the planes falling out of the air. Keri's mind began spinning again, this time not as a result of the crash but in response to realizing that there was a helluva story going on here.

Keri stood and made her way closer to one of the heaters, sitting in a chair after another woman abandoned it to go meet a family member who called to her. She began talking to people to learn what they'd experienced and/or what they knew about the current situation. A passing response worker surrendered over an ink pen and clipboard full of paper, with which Keri began investigating.

She didn't know what good it would be for her to gather all this info and take all these notes if -- like the one man had said -- everything was dead, including televisions, computers, and cameras. But the investigative reporter in her was coming back to life, and she couldn't not work on the story.

 

[HumanBean]

Nicky Long (profile), with Samantha "Sammi" Evans (profile)
Eugene, Oregon
About 2 am, local time (~15 minutes after TLWO):

Nicky called back his thanks when the father of the trio told him they would bring out a phone. "I really appreciate it. I know, it might not look good, me coming up here like this so late." He lied, "I am a bartender, and I just finished work. I was on my way home when my car just quit."

He was about to point up the road toward his car. Then he remembered the woman he'd left passed out in the passenger seat. It might not be good to make reference to her. Eventually, she was going to come to and wonder where he'd went. With any luck, she'd start walking the other direction. Nicky didn't know what he would say if she showed up here. He was a fly by the seat of your pants kind of guy. He'd figure it out then, if he was still here.

"I'd really prefer you didn't come through the gate," the father-type said.

"No, I understand," Nicky said without hesitation.

The man in the yard came slowly closer. The man from the ditched car said, "My name's Nicky Long. Nicholas. But they call me Nicky." This time he did jerk a thumb over his shoulder. "I bartend in Corvallis. I was heading home when my car just shut off."

"I'm Carl," the man in the yard said. "Carl Evans. And it wasn't just your car--"

He'd been about to talk about the power grid, the planes, everything else. His wife interrupted, "Carl, the phones aren't working. They're all dead. Even the cell phones."

"Sorry. I don't know what to say," Carl said. "Listen, I'd invite you in, out of the cold and all, but..."

"No, no, don't worry about it," Nicky cut in. "I understand, like I said."

"You could stay in the box tonight, though," Carl offered. He explained about the tiny house near the end of the big house.

Nicky looked toward the porch. He couldn't make out the two women well. But one of them was a teenage girl. He had to suppress a smile. Nicky liked'em young. Even illegally young. Sammi was, of course, 18 years old. But in Nicky's mind, he was imagining a girl of fewer years.

It wasn't so much about sex. It was about control and influence. Nicky was good at gaining and misusing both. The woman passed out in his car was only 16. He hadn't had sex with her. He doubted that he would have. He'd had other uses for her associated with contents of the bag in his hands.

"I would really appreciate that," he said about the tiny house. "Just for the night, I promise. Pamela, she's your wife?"

"Wife, yes," Carl said. He looked over his shoulder to the porch. "That's my daughter, Samantha. She's, um--"

He didn't really need to share what his daughter was in trouble for. Instead, Carl thought he would ensure that the stranger understood the deterrence they had available. He finished, "--the one with the shotgun." He looked back to Carl. "That wasn't a threat. Just an observation."

Nick laughed. "No, I understand. No worries. My pappy taught me not to mess with women packing shotguns."

Even Carl laughed at that. He gestured the other man toward the second gate in the fence. They walked parallel to the fence until they reached the opening. Carl let Nicky in, then led him to the tiny house. He opened it, saying, "I'll bring out one of the lanterns."

Nicky stepped inside. It was small. It was bigger than his last prison cell. But he wouldn't speak on that with the other man. Instead, he said, "It's perfect. Thanks."

Shadows began dancing as Pamela neared with a lantern. She was curious about what had transpired between her husband and the stranger. "Honey, can you get some extra bedding and a lamp. And maybe an extra propane bottle, from the back pantry."

Over the next few minutes, they set Nicky up for the night. He had water, food, heat, and shelter. Everything he needed.

 

[Alice2015]

Samantha "Sammi" Evans (profile) with Nicky Long (profile)

Eugene, Oregon
About 2 am, local time (~15 minutes after TLWO):

(OOC: Thanks for posting the profiles for your characters. I mention it here for any readers we have who might want to see them; they are in the OOC, accessible here.)

Sammi found herself immediately and inappropriately intrigued by Nicky -- who even from the distance of a hundred feet and under the minimal light of the crescent moon -- looked like just the kind of man she'd want to get naked with. She chastised herself for the way she sometimes -- often -- let her horniness get her in trouble; the reason her parents had sat her down tonight for a good talking to was that she'd violated her curfew in an effort to finally lose her virginity.

The only reason that now-18-year-old Sammi was still a virgin this night had been that she hadn't had access to a condom. She and her target -- Vince Ridgedale, the All-Star linebacker for her school's thrice-league winning football team -- had gotten as far as stripping off her top, bra, and pants before she asked him if he had protection, only to get a negative answer. Sammi had been willing to go on without a rubber, but Vince -- who had mistakenly thought Sammi, like most girls her age in their school, was herself on birth control -- had laughed and said, "Fuck that! I'm not knocking you up 'cause you're not responsible enough to get on the pill. I'm goin' to the pros in for years. I can't be dealing with a bastard kid, child support, all that shit."

And just like that, he'd put his own clothes back on and got out of Sammi's car. She'd just about cried then and there, and on the way home, she most certainly had. The real tragedy was that Vince was leaving for the University of Denver the next day, and Sammi would never have a chance with him again. No, no; the real tragedy was that by the time Sammi had gotten fully redressed again and was pulling her car away from the party, she'd seen Vince already crawling into the back seat of Tammi Williams' car. That slut had been on birth control since 9th grade.

Sammi watched her father and the stranger from the front porch, wanting desperately to get closer -- to the latter, not necessarily the former -- for a better look. She didn't know the man, and for all she knew, he was an ax murdering rapist. But her libido had been driving her nuts for months, regardless of where she was in her cycle and just how raging her hormones were at any particular time.

Her mother asked her to gather some things for the man who -- oh joy! -- was apparently going to stay the night in the tiny house they'd set up for Sammi's uncle some time back. She hurried off to get bedding, a little one-use, disposable tank for the propane heater, packaged food, pint bottles of water, and more. She located and then abandoned two flashlights, a USB-charged LED lantern, and a battery-operated lantern, finding each and every one of them non-functional. The night was just getting stranger.

Returning to the front door with a laundry basket full of supplies, Sammi just about ran her mother over trying to get out of the house. Pamela reached out for the basket, only to have the girl hurry by, saying with excitement, "I got this, mom. It's cold outside. You don't have to go out there again."

Pamela tried to stop Sammi but failed, and the teen continued onward, reaching the tiny house in seconds. She found her father standing in the doorway holding the propane lantern her mother had brought out earlier. He wasn't happy to see his daughter there, but rather than chastise her with words he only gave her a glare that she knew very well, particularly after tonight's antics.

"Hi!" Sammi said to the stranger with a little more obvious excitement than she should have. She looked to her father again, felt the fury, toned down her tone, and said, "Here's the stuff my mom sent out." She listed each of the items, accidentally repeating the blankets and heater fuel twice. Fearing her father hadn't done so yet, she introduced herself, "I'm Sammi. Samantha, actually. But you can call me Sammi."

"Go back inside," her father said softly with another glare. He used the same reasoning to get her out of here that Sammi had used to get herself here, saying, "It's cold out. Head back inside. I'll be there in a moment."

Sammi's eyes were still on the stranger, looking him up and down. The direct, harsh light of the propane lantern emphasized his masculine build, with his broad shoulders, muscular chest, narrower waist and incredible thighs. Despite being fully clothed against the January chill, Sammi could see that beneath those levels was an incredible body, and all she could think of was getting next to it naked. I don't care if you are an ax murdering rapist. Just make sure you rape me before you kill me. Please!

"Sammi!" her father snapped, gaining her attention in an interest. She blushed when she realized how badly she'd been ogling the stranger in front of her father. Carl said in a calmer tone, "Go inside, honey. We men have this handled."

She gave the stranger one last up and down inspection before turning and hurrying back to and through the home's front door. She went directly to a window to watch until finally her father -- with one of the lanterns before him -- returned to the house. Sammi didn't want to deal with him, so she told her mother she was going to bed and hurried upstairs. She, too, had an emergency propane heater in her room. She fired it up, cracked a window for fresh air to replace that burned up by the stove, and slipped into bed. Seconds later, her hands were inside her pajama bottoms, and after a very detailed fantasy involving the stranger in the tiny bed in the tiny house, Sammi was pressing her pillow over her face as she cried out in the only form of sexual ecstasy in which she'd partaken to date: self-induced.

She slipped off into wondrous sleep, totally forgetting -- and not fully understanding -- that the world around her was falling apart.

 

[HumanBean]

Nicky Long (profile), with Samantha "Sammi" Evans (profile)

Eugene, Oregon
About 2:15 am, local time (~30 minutes after TLWO):

(OOC: Just to assuage any fears from the Moderators, even though there might sometimes be comments about Nicky's interest in women in their teens, there will NEVER EVER be anything in his posts that violate Literotica's rules. No sexual roleplay, no physical descriptions of little girls, etc. I promise.)

Nicky couldn't help but smile at Sammi. She was a doll. She looked younger than her 18 years of age. That didn't prevent Nicky from being intrigued by her, of course. He liked them young. They were more easily manipulated by a man like him.

She was intrigued by him, too. He could see that in her expression. Her smirk. Her scanning of his physique. Her excited introduction. "I'm Sammi. Samantha, actually. But you can call me Sammi."

"Nicky," he responded.

"Go back inside," Carl said. "It's cold out."

The man was correct about it being cold. Nicky could feel it. He could see that Sammi was feeling it, too. Without a bra underneath her tee, her nipples looked as big as a Hershey's Kiss. Okay, maybe not that big. But Jesus, they were swollen. Was it the cold? Or was it excitement for Nicky? He didn't care. He just enjoyed looking at the peaks of her firm, round mounds.

Carl continued, "Head back inside. I'll be there in a moment."

The teen didn't depart, though. She continued to just stand there, eying Nicky. Her father snapped, "Sammi!"

Nicky almost laughed at the girl's reaction. Even in the dim light of the lantern, he could see her face explode in a deep red blush. Carl ordered, "Go inside, honey. We men have this handled."

Sammi departed after one last look at and smile to Nicky. Carl looked after his daughter a moment. Then, turning to Nicky, he said, "Sorry for that. Sometimes she doesn't understand..."

Carl went quiet. He'd been about to speak about the dangers of the world. How did he do that without applying that Nicky was one of those dangers? "So, is there anything else you need, sir?"

"No, no, you've done enough already," Nicky replied. "Thanks. I've got everything I need."

Carl offered out his hand. Nicky stepped closer, taking it. He repeated, "Thanks. You're good people."

Sammi's father headed out, closing the door behind him. He hoped he wasn't making a mistake. He returned to the house, finding his daughter already departed to her bedroom. Carl kissed and hugged his wife. "Pamela, you go ahead and go to bed. Fire up the propane heater. The big one, with two bottles. We might need it. It's gonna get cold."

She left, and Carl went to the window to look out upon the tiny house. A moment later the lantern there dimmed almost to the point of being extinguished. Looking beyond the tiny house, he could see the flames of one of the earlier plane crashes. What the hell happened tonight? he thought.

He retrieved the shotgun from where his wife had leaned it against the wall. He dropped into an arm chair that looked out the big bay window. With the lantern at his feet off, he could see the tiny house well enough to know if Nicky left it.

 

[Alice2015]

Angel (profile) and Flynn (profile)
Bearview Cabins
Northwest of Durango, Colorado

About noon, local time (9+ hours after TLWO)

(OOC: The green text below is text that was added after my writing partner posted below. I'm only doing the color change to indicate to him what I changed so that he can easily find it. It's not a big deal.)

After their handshake and reintroduction to one another, in an attempt to get past the initial hostility they'd shared, Angel suggested, "Flynn, why don't you come with me. I'm going into Durango. Gonna sell some of the things I brought with me and try to get some answers as to what the hell is going on here." She played on his obvious ego by adding, "It'd be nice to have a big, strong man with me."

Angel headed out to the street with the dogs to survey her surroundings again. It was just more of the same, with no sign of anything electrical operating. Far off in the distance, she saw black smoke rising from where -- unknown to her -- a small commercial prop plane carrying ski trip tourists had gone down when TLWO. Flynn joined her, and off they went.

<<<<<<< >>>>>>>​

About 1:45pm, ~11 hours after TLWO:

The walk toward Durango got weirder and weirder as the minutes passed. They saw more of what they'd already seen: cars stalled on the road or down in ditches. Occasionally there were drivers with their heads under the hoods trying to figure out what had happened, but for the most part, the autos were abandoned. As the trek continued, it became obvious that anything and everything that used electricity was simply dead.

They arrived at the front door of Ye Old Curiosity Shoppe. The business was rather hard to describe: one-part gift shop, one-part second-hand store, one-part natural goods store, and one-part coffee and pastry shop. It was owned by an older woman named Phillis who Angel had known since she herself was a child. Phillis answered the door, smiling in delight at Angel. "Come in, my dear, come in."

Waving her visitors inside, the 80-year-old lady pat the dogs, telling them, "Nutter! Butter! It's so good to see you boys, too! I have something for you, of course." The dogs were excited to see Phillis, knowing what her next action would be. The shop owner pulled dog treats from an old metal container and tossed one to each of the dogs. Looking to Angel, she asked, "What do you have for me today?"

For years, Angel had been bringing in things she'd found or made to trade with Phyllis for whatever the old woman might have to trade. Today, though, Angel's response was, "Questions. What the hell's going on?"

"That's a very good question," Phillis answered. "Here's what I know..."

They spent almost two hours just chatting about what each of them had seen today. As they talked, used the firewood and/or propane heated stone oven, natural dehydrator, and barbeque pit that were out back of the Shoppe to cook everything that had been thawing out or otherwise faced going bad in Phillis's freezer and refrigerator. While they cooked, neighbors came by, looking to buy stuff, sell/trade stuff, or both. Phillis did what she could without any sort of price hikes for the good neighbors with whom she'd done business for years.

For the tourists whose big city money had for years caused the cost of living in Durango to be too high for its poorer residents -- like Phyllis herself -- she charged a heftier price for the things they needed. She couldn't take credit/debit cards, obviously, and -- not knowing whether this blackout was only the start of the fall of civilization -- she wasn't about to take cash either, knowing that tomorrow it might be worthless. Instead, she took things in trade that she could either use herself or sell to her neighbors. Angel had always been impressed with Phyllis's shrewd business acumen, but today she found herself in total awe.

"Been to see Roger yet?" Phyllis asked at one point. She looked past Angel to the man accompanying her, whispering, "Or have you found another boytoy to quench your thirst?"

Angel's heart skipped a beat at the mentioning of Roger, an excitement that was replaced by a laugh at the implication that perhaps she was fucking Flynn in the other man's place. Glancing back at the real estate man to ensure that he couldn't hear her, Angel told Phyllis about Flynn, "I don't think he likes me much. I kinda step over a line ... got on his nerve."

She looked at him again, as he was milling about the Shoppe. As he turned this way and that, Flynn's manly form caused Angel to almost growl with hunger. She whispered to the other woman, "But I'm contemplating him, though. He's kind of a hunk."

The 80-something great-great-grandmother laughed. "If I wasn't old enough to be his grandmother ... oh hell, I don't care. I'd do him, too."

The two women laughed together before getting back to their cooking. Angel thought about her on-again, off-again lover, Roger. He, too, was a beefcake, and she'd initially planned on going straight to his hardware store before the Shoppe. But plans had changed when they'd seen just how crazy Durango had gotten overnight.

"Where you staying tonight then?" Phyllis asked. "I have a mattress we can throw down in the back room."

Angel wasn't sure how to answer the woman's question, as she and Flynn hadn't talked about whether or not they were sticking together once they reached town. However, he would answer the question for her before she had a chance to consider a reply.

 

[Alice2015]

Samantha "Sammi" Evans (profile) with Nicky Long (profile)

Eugene, Oregon
7:45 am (6 hours after TLWO):

(OOC: Continues from here.)

Sammi awoke to find the sunshine spilling through her window and into her face. In an instant, she recalled the arrival of Nicky on the farm, hopped out of bed into the cold, January morning, and looked down upon the tiny house in which the gorgeous man had slept. She saw no sign of him but hoped beyond hope that he was still here. She ran for the bathroom to shower and pretty herself up, only to find no water pressure at the tap; the farm was on a well which was serviced by an electric pump, and -- of course -- it wasn't working any more than anything else electric in the house.

She threw on a robe and slippers and hurried quietly downstairs, where she found her father still sleeping in an armchair before the big windows at the front of the house; the shotgun lay across his lap and their big gray cat lay across Carl's chest. Sammi found a bottle of water, then hurried up to her bathroom to take a sponge bath. She dressed in warm clothes to combat the cold outside, then hurried back down the stairs again--

--only to find her mother at the bottom of the stairs, wearing a stern expression as she said knowingly, "I don't think so."

"Aw, mom...!" Sammi complained, her shoulders falling in disappointment. "I'm just going out to see if he wants something to eat. Breakfast, ya know?"

"Well, then maybe you need to get started on breakfast," Pamela ordered, taking her daughter by the arm and leading her toward the kitchen. Sammi had been so excited that she'd failed to notice that the only breakfast smell in the house was that of coffee. "Get some more wood off the back porch, stoke the fire, and start breakfast. Then, once you got that going, get the extra blankets out of the storage room--"

"Don't you think we should have taken them out to Nicky last night?" Sammi challenged with a bit more attitude than was appropriate.

Her mother glared her into an expression of submission before explaining, "They're for hanging across all the doorways to keep the heat isolated to the kitchen and living room. We can't heat this old drafty house off just that one wood stove and the fireplace."

Sammi went to work on the fire and breakfast, peeking out the kitchen window toward the tiny house nearly every time she passed by it. Her father made an appearance for coffee and a kiss before helping her with bringing in more firewood. As breakfast neared completion, Carl announced that he would be the one to go out and check on their guest.

"Wait, daddy," Sammi called as he was heading for the door. She poured coffee in a big travel mug, tossed some sugar cubes into a Ziplock baggie, and poured a glass half full of milk. Taking it to her father but not actually handing it to him, she asked, "Want me to help?"

He answered her by taking the additives, kissing her on the forehead, and saying, "You're just fine in here, sweetheart." He turned to leave, then paused and looked back to Sammi. With a serious tone, he warned, "Honey, you don't know this man. None of us do. I, um, I wouldn't get my hopes up that he's the kind of guy you might want to know. Besides, he's far too old for you anyway." He glanced past here, jerked his head, and said, "The eggs are burning."

 

[sereneotter00]

JASON FLYNN
DURANGO, COLORADO
SOMETIME AROUND NOON​

“She’s staying with me,” Flynn declared, making his way beside her. In doing so, he placed a firm hand on her lower back, keeping it in place just above her waist as he eyed the other woman.

During the two hours that Angel had been at the Shoppe, Flynn had wandered about nearby in search of any word on both an explanation of why everyone looked so out of it and, most importantly (considering his reputation was further at the brink), if anyone knew anything about his partner. In the entire time he and Hannah had their property in Durango, he had never bothered to meet another soul that he wasn’t forced to speak with. Of course, no one was coughing up information on his fiancée—he was practically a stranger. And those who did know him were too hateful to give him more than a cursed look; anytime he popped up, it meant another person was about to lose their property to the government. On any other day, he would’ve continued his habit of thinking less of the subpar citizens of the practically dead town. Today? He wished he had been just a little bit nicer to deceive them that he cared.

He took note of Angel’s familiarity with the townspeople. Now that he was stuck without as much as his phone, he had to take as many resources as he could, whether they were annoying or not.

Even at the height of his concern, he couldn’t help but continue to check out the woman. From the way she casually walked to the way her clothes, although casual, accentuated her figure. He’d also be lying if he said their interactions earlier hadn’t led to some stirring in his pants that his frustrations had barely managed to keep contained. Flynn knew there was nothing classy about fantasizing about another woman when his own had just ditched town with a ripped piece of paper as a goodbye, but he wasn’t here to be a role model. People who cared too much got nowhere, and he wasn’t about to give up his personality that had been working great for him up until now. Instead of reflecting on his lack of morals, he had gone to find Angel once again, entering the Shoppe with only a polite greeting to the older woman.

“Name’s Flynn; you might’ve seen my company’s ads on the billboards when you leave town. If I could steal this lovely lady for a second?” The man smiled heartwarmingly to Phillis. Granted a second, he lowered his voice and moved his mouth close to Angel’s ear, his kind demeanor dropping. “Look, you help me navigate this ratty little town, and you can stay at mine. Four bedrooms, a huge backyard for your dogs." The space was originally for horses, but luckily he had talked Hannah out of getting any. Flynn hadn’t even been fond of those things when his parents insisted he join equestrian sports like his siblings. The dogs alone were hard to accept.

“We even have a well that works if you need to take a bath and for when you need fresh water. Free stay with food and everything. No one here wants to talk to me for some reason.” The reason in question was that Flynn’s company was practically vacuuming the family properties of Durango citizens—sadly, his fiancée and uneducated townspeople were in the dark, only making his duties easier—but if he thought there was a problem, he wouldn’t be so good at his job.

“I think that’s a good bargain, don’t you?” he asked, with a small tilt of his head some could even interpret as sweet if they didn’t know better. “It must get awfully lonely where you’re at. Sometimes company really comes in handy, don’t you agree?”

 

[Alice2015]

Angel (profile) and Flynn (profile)
Ye Old Curiosity Shoppe
Durango, Colorado

Almost 4pm, local time (13 hours after TLWO)

Angel was caught off guard when Flynn answered Phillis's question about where she was sleeping tonight with, “She’s staying with me.”

He stepped up close to her, placing a hand on the small of her back. The lower hem of Angel's blouse rode an inch or so above her beltline, allowing Flynn's warm hand to touch just a sliver of her cooler skin; a shiver ran up her back, sending gooseflesh out across her arms. She hoped he didn't catch the reaction to being touched there as it would have been horrifically embarrassing.

“Name’s Flynn," he told Phyllis, adding, "you might’ve seen my company’s ads on the billboards when you leave town."

Angel didn't know anything about the company for which Flynn worked, of course, let alone the reputation it had -- and possibly he himself had -- for snatching up properties whose owners had fallen on hard times. Living up in the Silver Mountain Wilderness Area since early in the COVID-19 pandemic had separated Angel from most of the goings-on down here in the city.

"If I could steal this lovely lady for a second?” Flynn asked, smiling heartwarmingly to Phillis.

As the two of them stepped away, Flynn presented Angel with his deal: if she helped him survive Durango's population, he'd give her -- and her dogs -- a comfortable place to live. She liked the idea of a safe place for the dogs to run, but it was the idea of a shower after the hike down the mountain that really intrigued her.

Something else that intrigued her was when Flynn said, "No one here wants to talk to me for some reason.”

She obviously didn't know about his real estate work, but another topic on which some in Durango looked down on him was his failed relationship with his fiancee. Angel didn't know that Flynn was engaged to Hannah Blanchard or that Hannah had fled to Texas to get away from him. Ironically, Angel knew very well who Hannah Blanchard was!

Oh, it wasn't as if they had been friends or anything growing up; Hannah was 5 years older than Angel, and the pair had run in different crowds during their high school and young adult years. But Angel knew people who knew Hannah, and the two of them had even been at the same social events on occasion prior to Angel fleeing to the isolation of her family cabin in the Wilderness Area.

When Flynn and Angel finally realized the connection -- if they every realized it -- this was likely going to freak them both out a bit ... maybe even a lot.

“I think that’s a good bargain, don’t you?” Flynn asked about giving Angel, Nutter, and Butter a place to stay. “It must get awfully lonely where you’re at. Sometimes company really comes in handy, don’t you agree?”
Flynn was definitely correct about that. Angel had fled to the mountains to get away from people, and because she'd spent a great deal of time in the woods with only one or two family members or sometimes all on her own, she thought she could handle the isolation just fine. But once she'd finished up all of the work necessary to make the cabin livable on a full-time basis and all that remained were the daily chores, Angel had quickly discovered just how lonely it could get up there alone.

And then there was sex. Angel had always loved sex; she'd lost her virginity at 14 and had been more active than most girls her age all the way into her adult years. And because she liked women as much as she liked men, she had twice as many fish in the sea from whom to pick, whether it was for a one-night stand or a lasting relationship.

After six months on the mountain without company, Angel had been so horny that she would have fucked the first hiker who ambled past the cabin. Well, in fact, she had! After that, she added flings to her three-or-four-times a year trips down to Durango.

"Yeah, sure," Angel responded. Not wanting Flynn to think she was responding to the it must get awfully lonely part of his offer, she quickly clarified, "Yeah, that's a good bargain."

Phyllis interrupted their conversation, delivering them a picnic basket from which the smell of barbeque was wafting. She opened the lid, showed them all that was in it, and told Angel, "Now, you come back again tomorrow, and the day after that, and any day that you're still in the city. I'm dehydrating and also smoking a bunch of meat that you can take back up the mountain with you. You are going back up, yes?"

"Don't know yet," Angel answered. She glanced casually toward Flynn, not wanting him to think that her decision on whether to stay in Durango had anything to do with him. Speaking about her sister in Denver, Angel said, "I need to find out if Katie is okay. If the phones are out and don't come back, I might have to go there."

Some customers entered The Shoppe, and when Angel asked Phyllis if she needed her to stay and help, the octogenarian waved her away, saying, "Go, go ... I'm fine here by myself."

Angel looked to Flynn, smiled, and said, "Okay, then ... I guess we're going to your place."