The sun was about to set when the two weary travellers suddenly heard a dog bark. Flak immediately snapped to attention and pulled and cocked his gun, but they couldn’t see anything. The barking continued, but it didn’t come closer. It didn’t move further away, either. When they looked around, Flak finally spotted a small column of smoke coming from behind a rise. “A farm?”, Shrapnel asked, leaning heavily against on his arm again. Walking was hell with his weak and trembling limbs and without shoes. “Probably. Should we try...” “What? They’re most likely more than we, and better armed. And in better health.” “Fuckwit.” Flak shook his head. “We could just ask them.” Shrapnel snapped his mouth shut and shook his head. “Don’t know how you can put up with an idiot like me.” “Don’t know either. Shut your mouth and let me do the talking.”
They approached the farm cautiously, walking slowly and with half outstretched arms, their guns firmly holstered. The dog, chained to a fence, barked furiously, but no other sign of life was seen or heard. Until they passed the first fence, when they suddenly saw the barrel of a shotgun sticking out of a window. “Who are you?” It was a female voice, and for a moment, Flak was too puzzled to speak. Then he cleared his throat. “Just two weary travellers who ran out of luck. We’d just need some water, and maybe food...” “Drop your guns where I can see them. Then you can come to the door.”
With careful moves, the two men dropped their guns and stepped away from them. Then they cautiously approached the door, and when they knocked, the shotgun vanished. They heard the sound of a bolt being moved as behind them, the dog went batshit. “Shut up, you fucking mongrel!” The dog shut up, but seemed to do so only reluctantly. “Come in.” The farmhouse, as shabby as it had looked from the outside, was actually comfortably furnished and, while obviously poor, it was well kept and clean. When the door closed and they turned around they saw the woman, her face lined from hard work and a harsh life more than age. She was still holding the gun, but first when she moved, walking in a strange waddle, did the two men realize she was very heavily pregnant.
They let the woman have a good look at them, and when she seemed satisfied they were no threat, she jerked her head towards the table. “Sit down.” They sat, and the woman leaned the gun against the wall, but never moved far away from it as she put two bottles of water and two bowls of steaming stew onto the table. Then she leaned against the wall and watched the two men eat. “You sure look as if you hadn’t had anything to bite in a while.”
Flak looked up from the empty bowl. “Yeah, quite so.” “What happened to him?” Flak and Shrapnel exchanged a glance, then the former shrugged. “We’re mercs. Ran into a group of slavers, and most of us got killed. They got my buddy here, and I... well, I lay low because I hoped I could get him out of there.” “Seems like you did.” “Yeah, but now I don’t know how to go on. We’ve lost the lot, and my buddy doesn’t even have a gun, plus he still has that fucking collar as a keepsake of that adventure.” “It should have blown his head off long since.” Her voice carried distrust.
“I managed to disarm it.” Flak forced himself to stop fiddling with the spoon. “Sheer luck. It almost blew us both up, but I didn’t want to let my buddy go without a fight.” She met his eyes, and finally nodded. “Brave thing to do, really. Now listen. I can’t help you, but my man or my brother might. They’re out tending to the cattle and will be back soon, as it’s almost nightfall. You don’t look as if you could pay for any equipment we could spare, and he...” She pointed with her chin at Shrapnel “... looks as if a mutant ate him and shat him out again.” She looked at Flak again. “There’s a stack of wood behind the house that needs chopping. Will you?” “Sure.” “I’ll collect your guns. And if you try anything funny, Jake and Albert’ll have your hides for a wall decoration.” “Wouldn’t dream of it, ma’m”, Shrapnel said demurely. Having a slave collar clamped around one’s neck could make any man lose his will to be snarky, even if the fucker was deactivated.
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timeasmymeasure
Friends will be Friends 5a/8
Date: 2012-04-13 12:06 pm (UTC)“A farm?”, Shrapnel asked, leaning heavily against on his arm again. Walking was hell with his weak and trembling limbs and without shoes.
“Probably. Should we try...”
“What? They’re most likely more than we, and better armed. And in better health.”
“Fuckwit.” Flak shook his head. “We could just ask them.”
Shrapnel snapped his mouth shut and shook his head. “Don’t know how you can put up with an idiot like me.”
“Don’t know either. Shut your mouth and let me do the talking.”
They approached the farm cautiously, walking slowly and with half outstretched arms, their guns firmly holstered. The dog, chained to a fence, barked furiously, but no other sign of life was seen or heard.
Until they passed the first fence, when they suddenly saw the barrel of a shotgun sticking out of a window.
“Who are you?”
It was a female voice, and for a moment, Flak was too puzzled to speak. Then he cleared his throat. “Just two weary travellers who ran out of luck. We’d just need some water, and maybe food...”
“Drop your guns where I can see them. Then you can come to the door.”
With careful moves, the two men dropped their guns and stepped away from them. Then they cautiously approached the door, and when they knocked, the shotgun vanished. They heard the sound of a bolt being moved as behind them, the dog went batshit.
“Shut up, you fucking mongrel!”
The dog shut up, but seemed to do so only reluctantly.
“Come in.”
The farmhouse, as shabby as it had looked from the outside, was actually comfortably furnished and, while obviously poor, it was well kept and clean. When the door closed and they turned around they saw the woman, her face lined from hard work and a harsh life more than age. She was still holding the gun, but first when she moved, walking in a strange waddle, did the two men realize she was very heavily pregnant.
They let the woman have a good look at them, and when she seemed satisfied they were no threat, she jerked her head towards the table. “Sit down.”
They sat, and the woman leaned the gun against the wall, but never moved far away from it as she put two bottles of water and two bowls of steaming stew onto the table.
Then she leaned against the wall and watched the two men eat.
“You sure look as if you hadn’t had anything to bite in a while.”
Flak looked up from the empty bowl. “Yeah, quite so.”
“What happened to him?”
Flak and Shrapnel exchanged a glance, then the former shrugged. “We’re mercs. Ran into a group of slavers, and most of us got killed. They got my buddy here, and I... well, I lay low because I hoped I could get him out of there.”
“Seems like you did.”
“Yeah, but now I don’t know how to go on. We’ve lost the lot, and my buddy doesn’t even have a gun, plus he still has that fucking collar as a keepsake of that adventure.”
“It should have blown his head off long since.” Her voice carried distrust.
“I managed to disarm it.” Flak forced himself to stop fiddling with the spoon. “Sheer luck. It almost blew us both up, but I didn’t want to let my buddy go without a fight.”
She met his eyes, and finally nodded. “Brave thing to do, really. Now listen. I can’t help you, but my man or my brother might. They’re out tending to the cattle and will be back soon, as it’s almost nightfall. You don’t look as if you could pay for any equipment we could spare, and he...” She pointed with her chin at Shrapnel “... looks as if a mutant ate him and shat him out again.” She looked at Flak again. “There’s a stack of wood behind the house that needs chopping. Will you?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll collect your guns. And if you try anything funny, Jake and Albert’ll have your hides for a wall decoration.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it, ma’m”, Shrapnel said demurely. Having a slave collar clamped around one’s neck could make any man lose his will to be snarky, even if the fucker was deactivated.