by P. S. Power
One of the men, who seemed to be without rank, though old enough that it was probably a sign that he liked to drink or fight without permission, scoffed a bit.
“Yes. It really does. I hope they come down faster than that. I forgot to take my midday nap earlier.”
That was funny, though no one even chuckled. George just nodded, letting his eyes go wide.
“Me too. Well, there will be plenty of time to sleep when we’re dead. Let’s go and get this done. Any questions? If you have them, now is the time to ask.”
No one had anything. Which meant that they all would, in two hours when it was way too late to do it.
“Great. See you all in a few weeks. Maybe sooner.”
He didn’t run the five miles to the enemy camp, sneaking in toward it instead. When he got close enough to the line he drew his bow and nocked an arrow. It had a broad head on it, which was less effective against armor, but neither side was wearing that for the time being. The Stenic forces would be wearing it when they went into battle however. For the time being, the weight wouldn’t be worth the bit of extra protection for him.
Waiting for it to get on toward twilight, George figured out where the different camp guards were. That part was interesting, since they didn’t really have any. They had some people, all men, standing on the edges of the camp, but not a guard placed out at a distance. Not that he could find. Hopefully that meant he was getting lucky, instead of missing the obvious. Running into someone behind him was going to be an issue, after all.
Taking aim, he picked a large, hairy faced man, to die. He might have felt bad, but there wasn’t time for that in the moment. Sure, they were just other people, but that couldn’t come up for him right then, if he wanted to take action. Being able to shut that off, that concern for others, was a big part of why he was a good sniper. It wasn’t a psychopathic lack of empathy, but he could make his feelings all go away for long enough to act.
After the first man dropped, he expected the men to become upset. That didn’t happen. In fact, they barely seemed aware that anything was going on at all. It wasn’t until the third man dropped, an arrow in his throat that anything happened. It was tempting to run then, but no one sprinted after him. If they did it, then he’d have no more than a few moments to make himself scarce.
Finally, someone pointed at the fallen form and set up a cry. What the words were he didn't know, but he was willing to bet the word for attack was in there somewhere. He still had to fire off two more arrows, before anyone picked up on where he was. Then, moving forward, he screamed.
“Come at me, bro!” Then as they started to try and do just that, he ran. Not as fast as he could, but at a pace that would be hard to keep up for days on end.
The world was treed in places and had large grass covered fields in others. He headed toward the woods. Stopping to hide behind the first tree. Then he rolled his eyes. Only ten or so people even tried to follow him. Instead of going further away, he simply got his bow back around and started picking them off. One clever man tried to run around behind him.
It didn’t work, but only because he was experienced enough to understand that the enemy always tried to flank you. That man died, a hunting arrow in his left eye. More or less. Then, using his sword, he took out the others, one by one. All in an ambush.
After that he moved back toward the enemy camp, several times. Right up until nearly a thousand insanely angry men started running after him. Then, for a long while, George simply ran.
Chapter eight
George gasped as he tried to sit up.
That he couldn’t left him feeling suddenly trapped, but he was more used to warping from one thing to another suddenly than he was running without stopping for days on end. The only good thing was that, after four days, he was nearly certain that he’d outrun the people following him. Again. The trouble hadn’t been in running away fast enough. The Plains people were good at moving fast, but only for about ten miles or so. Then they kept giving up.
So, he’d been required to keep heading back, trying to get the fur wearing fellows to engage properly. That got harder at the end of the first day, when he was out of arrows. On the good side, he managed to take some from the dead Tollan, along with one of their short bows, so he didn’t have to constantly jog right up and stab one of them in the face to start something.
As he slowed down, it was harder, and even more dangerous, to close again. He nearly died about ten times. The last one was so close that he just ran and kept going, finally heading back toward the border of Stena.
Then, after lying down under a bush, safe enough to finally rest, he woke up in a different world, trapped.
There was a girl on top of him, or halfway so. Looking down at her, George managed not to struggle too much. It wasn’t like she was naked or anything. It was hard to tell at first, since she was covered with a blanket, but he had clothing on, and could feel that she did as well, when he paid attention. The room was dark, but they were on the living room sofa, not in bed. The television was on, playing a movie.
One that he had no clue about as far as plot went. Even when he tried to recall it, nothing came to him. The small woman shifted, seeming uncomfortable as she twitched. Probably due to the fact that she was well and truly into withdrawals now. She hadn’t come in with any drugs, which meant that after three days trapped in his apartment, her biology was truly in rebellion against her.
The worst part would be her mind, of course. Her body feeling bad was going to be a big problem, but she wasn’t going to die from it, most likely. He’d Googled that part of things, a few days before. The other him had, while he was off running for his life, teasing an army.
Still, there was a grumpy lady on his legs, shifting a bit.
“They said we can get out tomorrow?”
It wasn’t the first time that had been asked, he knew. The thoughts came to him, flooding back solidly then. The entire three days had. Rather interestingly, he hadn’t had sex with her or even been too touchy feely for most of it. It was incredible, since the woman really wanted to do things. It would have been hard for him, the conscious part of him, to have resisted that kind of thing, but that other bit had done it smoothly.
Even better, he’d made certain that she knew he was really interested in her, while still saying no in a friendly manner. That hadn’t been easy, at a bet. What it was, he was certain, was a good way not to catch anything. It wasn’t really Gina’s fault, but her job had opened her up to a lot of potential diseases. Sexual and otherwise.
He got to smile however, since the news had been pretty clear on that one. It was going to be work to get the cars dug out, since the plows had left six feet of packed snow on the sides of the road, but it was possible. Not that the woman could see that.
“That’s right. I have shovels, which we’re going to need, if we want to get out of the parking lot, but we can do it. We should do that, even if we don’t need to go anyplace. I…” He nearly didn’t say the words. After all, George wasn’t really getting anything from having the woman around.
Worse, he probably wouldn’t, when it came down to it. She was willing enough to suck him off, but he wasn’t allowing that. It would mean that, in three months when she was clean and free of the drugs that she’d just move on to someone more manly, who used her for sex and didn’t give a flying fuck if she did drugs again. Druggies were almost never good time investments. Not when they were making major transitions.
Then, that was true of almost everyone. Men coming back from war tended to lose their marriages and new relationships as well. It was the change, rather than the person being in the situation. With Gina, he was the one taking the place of her father, he didn’t doubt. That meant she was just going to be a burden, instead of an asset to him that he was investing in. Worse, she was kind of hot, making that part uncomfortable. It showed as she shifted, as he stiffened in his pants, under her.
She wiggled, clearly not into it.
“Hey… You want t
o finally do something? Here I was starting to think you didn’t like me. I get that, I guess. Most men do, but…” Then she did it again. Tiredly, as if it was taking a lot of effort.
He faked a laugh.
“Nope. You have to feel like crap right now. Speaking of which, we should get you some water. Being dehydrated on top of going off that crap in your system won’t help you. I don’t want you to associate me with that much work, thanks.” It was a bit disjointed, but she nodded, smiling, which he could barely see on her face, as she started to sit up.
“You’re a nice man, George Elder. A good person, I mean. Do you know how many guys that wanted to stick something in me have ever said no?”
“No? Probably not a lot. Don’t get this wrong, I’m doing this for you, not because I don’t like you or think you’re not interesting.”
She moved off of him, stood up and went to the kitchen to get some filtered tap water for herself. She had to take her time, sipping from the clear glass. George didn’t say anything for a while, trying to catch up mentally. His body was tired, but he was responding to what was going on in the other world, his heart still pounding a little. His breath coming faster than normal, even if he’d been relaxing.
It was all mental.
The trouble there was that nothing he said could explain why it was going on, so he had to hide it. When his… George had no way of working through what she really was. Burden came to mind as a description, so he decided to go with that for the time being. When his burden walked back into the front room, the movie moving onward, even if it was clear that neither of them were paying any attention, the woman smiled at him. It was clearly taking effort on her part.
She made it though. That was something.
“You need to get out and get in touch with those guys that keep calling, right? That General and the FBI guy. That’s wild, you know that, right? I thought you just did cars. Honestly, I kind of figured that you just did cars and strippers that needed your help, but you didn’t do that last part.”
She wasn’t focusing on that, but he understood her on that part, a bit. He wasn’t gay, obviously, and not that afraid of her germs or history with other men, so to her way of thinking he should have been using her for her body. The problem there was that she didn't know that he had reasons that she couldn’t understand. That she, herself, if a different version of her, had asked for him to help her out.
Not that he hadn’t told her about that part. It was just really clear that to Gina the stripper, George had been talking about a dream, not anything real. Not that it mattered. In the morning, he’d dig them out, then she’d drive off and go right back to doing drugs. It was going to be hard for her to do anything else at all. That’s what being addicted meant.
Looking at the clock, he nodded, tilting his head a bit. It was about ten in the evening, so he waved at the wall where the glowing numbers shone in a bright blue.
“I need to get to bed, if I’m getting up at first light to work on things. Are you good out here? You can finish the movie or whatever.”
That got him glared at, a sudden change coming from the woman. She’d done it several times before, but George had been ignoring her to that point. Trying not to be the asshole about every little thing.
“You’re just going to abandon me?”
He smiled then, feeling tired from the last three days. More than that, to be honest, given multiple worlds. She actually went blank, as he smiled and nodded.
“Yep. I’m just in the other room, but not getting sleep so I can talk about your emotions right now is kind of a poor plan. The job right now is going to be getting out of here in the morning. I’m not here to do the work that you should have already managed for yourself in life. This, what you’re feeling right now, is the result of a lot of poor choices. They weren’t mine, however. So, yeah, time for me to get some rest.”
There was a sad and manipulative look then. She was clearly doing it on purpose.
“It wasn’t… My dad, he molested me when I was a kid, you know? Everything is because of that. The drugs, the stripping and letting those men… Do those things to me…” She started to cry, not sobbing loudly, the tears just falling.
Which was compelling, even knowing that she was just trying to get him to pay attention to her, on her schedule, even if his plan was the right one.
“Of course he did. Ask ten strippers who did them as kids and six will have an answer for you. Two of the others will just lie about it. The rest though is on you. Most people that are abused as kids don’t ruin the rest of their lives like that. You have a chance to start fixing things, but I’m not your bitch, Gina. I’m not your emotional tampon or gay friend that you get to push around unreasonably. If you don’t want to learn how to control yourself, then don’t. If you do, then I’ll help you, but I’m still going to sleep now. See you in the morning.” He smiled and left the room, with her tears coming down her cheeks.
That was, in part, a good thing. Not for him getting with her later, but as for her learning to be stronger. It probably wouldn’t work, but if he did nothing, or just did what she wanted him to, then her life wasn’t going to change.
When he got up in the morning, George felt stiff and sore in places, from all the running, even if that had happened in another world. That was a new thing, he realized as he showered. The stress of it was mental, but all night long he’d dreamed of running and fighting. It was desperate and insane seeming, but he understood what was happening. It had been traumatic, so his brain was trying to process the whole thing.
At first light, he got outside, armed with a red shovel. One that was sturdy and made all of metal. That meant he needed his gloves on, to dig. At least if he didn’t want his hands to freeze to the handle. He had to pace himself, even if he were in shape. His lower back really felt the strain after an hour, but he had a lot more to do before anyone was going to get out. After a while, about two hours, Ken came out, armed with his own shovel. The work started to move faster then, since fifteen others did the same by eleven.
At noon, sharp, they managed to work their way to the street, opening the drive by shifting around tons of loose white fluff. A shovelful at a time. The road was clear past that. As in gray pavement showed underneath, since it had been pushed to the side, then sprayed with chemicals to force melting. That part hadn’t worked totally, leaving slush in places. It was cold as fuck, so he could see that happening.
Then, working as a team, people helped to clear the fronts of the covered parking areas, so that everyone could get out, if they needed to. It didn’t take too long, since a lot of people were helping with it. At the end Ken waved at him.
“Thanks, George. I have to get to the store, or I’m going to starve tonight.” Then he wandered off as if he hadn’t just admitted to being an idiot. They lived in a place that got snowed in for days or even weeks at a time, annually. Several of the other people seemed to be in the same under-prepared state. He didn't lecture them about it. If they weren’t smart enough to figure out how to survive after days of being stuck, him talking about it wouldn’t help.
Then, he had his own bit of stupid that he was undergoing at the same time, so it was a bit rich of him to look down on anyone about it. When he got inside he kind of thought that Gina was going to rush him, demanding to be taken home. Or, more likely to a friend’s house, where she might get a fix. Instead, she was freshly showered, her hair tidy, if slightly damp, and there was a meal sitting on the table when he came in. It was all from cans and had too many carbs, but he wasn’t going to get fat from it. Not after what he’d just done.
She grinned.
“I figured I could pretend that making something like this counts as me being helpful, without going out and freezing my ass off. That counts, don’t you think?”
He wiggled his right hand in the air, but smiled.
“It’s iffy, to be honest. Still, it is better than you standing there, ready to punch me if I don’t get you home, which is kind of what I fig
ured would be going on just now. You look better. How do you feel?”
She shrugged, settling across from him, over a bowl that seemed to be ravioli from a can, mixed with vegetables. It was strange, but probably healthier than eating a cake would have been. Slightly. Still, he took a bite, nodding, since the effort was better than doing nothing by so much he had to feel impressed.
She stuck her tongue out at him, then sighed.
“I feel like shit, thanks for asking. I was thinking about what you said last night. I mean, I was pissed at you, at first. You were supposed to cuddle me and tell me that I’m wonderful, not go off to sleep. I saw what you were doing out there, it looked hard. I guess you were right, getting rest first. I’m just not used to doing things like that. Planning first? Not past four hours or so. I wouldn’t even make it to work most days, if it wasn’t for the fact that they don’t pay you if you don’t go in.”
He ate for a bit, his eyes bright as he looked at her.
“All right, what were you thinking. That you need a plan?”
“Yeah. I need to get away, I think. Rehab, only I don’t have the money for that. If I go back to stripping… well, then I’m going back to drugs. I could, maybe, take my clothes off for tips, but I can’t jerk off ten men a night and not be on something, much less the other things. So… Can I stay here? If I’m not working…” She shook her head, then looked at him a slow smile on her lips. “That makes sense, right? Just dumping my problems on you like that? I haven’t even been doing anything for you, now I want to move in and use you.”
She was being manipulative again, but this time he nodded at her.
“No.” He ate and smiled at her, then shrugged. While he’d been running for his life, away from Tollan warriors, the other, blander, part of him had looked up rehab centers and worked out how to pay for it. That part was clever actually.