(2016-05-11) The Leaning Tower of Camp Hope
The Leaning Tower of Camp Hope
Summary: Mon and Terry raise the wind turbine tower. These things never go entirely smoothly.
Date: 2016.05.11
Related: None

Monica is borrowing the pickup truck again. Hey, she's city council now, she can do that, right? Er… probably. Anyway, she's used it to haul/drag all the parts of the wind turbine that's the root source of the power in her makeshift electrical system to the parking lot to the west of the water tower. Lots of room for more turbines, and Mon has that gleam in her eye, and heck, who needs a truck stop parking lot anymore anyway? She's already driven the guy wire anchors into the ground, with much vexatious labor with a sledge hammer. This time, she's also brought her secret weapon, a tall, military fellow with lots of muscle and smarts and quick hands. It also seems fair, since if this works as advertised, it's going to obsolete his water system, on which everyone, including Mon, has been depending all this time. Mon looks at Terry. "You ready to do this?"

"Yeah, sure. Let's get this rolling. Not like I put blood, sweat, and tears into the very thing you're trying to replace." Terry responds, standing by to help where needed. His tone is a mixed one, playful "I've been one-upped! Boo! Hiss!" and eagerness at seeing what all Monica's little project will do for the camp. Really, if it improves the camp, he's fine with it.

Monica gives Terry a quick hug. "Yeah, but your system gave me the idea. We should keep it as a backup too, just in case. Eggs, basket, and all that." Mon hops out of the pickup and heads over to the windmill end of the tower. "Okay, hook the winch cable up to the gin pole, just like last time." Except this time she's keeping her tender anatomy a few dozen feet away. If she gets clocked this time, it will be with the windmill end, and at that point she's unlikely to care where it hits her by virtue of being dead. But Mon's no fool. She's rigged a pair of pullies to two of the derelict truck trailers and has rope tied to the top of the tower. From there, she can control any swing of the tower, and (hopefully) from a safe distance. Worst case, we have to steal another tower from Sunray. We'll be doing that soon enough as is, she figures.

Terry hops out of the truck, grabs the winch cable, and hooks it up to the gin pole, just like last time. He double-checks Mon's outside of the proverbial blast radius, just in case something does indeed go wrong. "On your count, Mon. Say when." He notes, audibly.

Monica tightens up on the guide lines to the tower and makes a mental check of all the wires. Guy wires to the ground on three sides, one very loose? Check. Guy wire from the gin pole to the tower? Check. Anchor to tie the gin pole off to? Check… "I can't believe we're getting this close," she says, just loud enough for Terry to hear. "Okay, take up the slack and lift this end about… ten feet off the ground. Stop there so I can check on the slack guy wire, make sure it's not tangled in our turbine."

"Copy that. Moving now." Terry begins taking up the slack, easing the beast skyward in a gradual, steady motion, not one of those gas-brake-gas-brake jerky motions some folks are into. "How's it looking, chief?" He calls.

Monica checks it out. She ties her guide lines off and goes into harm's way to check on the big guy wire. Tugs on it once or twice and makes sure it's not kinked. She makes similar checks to the side guy-wires, but they're already more or less taut. "That looks pretty good to me…" She gets back to her position and takes up the guide ropes again. "Take her the rest of the way up. If she hitches on you for any reason, stop. Last thing we want is to bend the tower or rip an anchor out while she's halfway up.

What happens next is a series of unfortunate events.. Terry's driving is great, but then "Mr. Rock" shows up to ruin his day. The resulting 'speedbump' causes Terry's foot to slip from the pedal, and jerk the wheel to one side, which spins the truck, and causes a "crack the whip" of sorts which upsets the delicate balance of the tower, and rips the pulley clean off. Camp Hope now has their very own Leaning Tower. Is it fixable, or a lost cause?

You say, "Whoa, wait, stop stop stop!" Mon yells. "Fuck!" She runs to the truck. "Are you ok?""

Terry, thankfully, was wearing a seatbelt. "Yeah, I'm good. Damn, that rock came out of nowhere. … I should go find that rock, clone it, and plant them all around the camp. We'd be totally safe from invasion, then…" Yeah, he's fine. Maybe a bit shaken up, but fine.

Monica punches Terry's shoulder gently. "Okay. You sit tight. I'll see where we are." She walks back to the mostly-up tower and cringes a little. It's twisted. When the truck swung the gin pole out of place, the guy wires held, and the tower just twisted. She walks back to check out the anchor. She goes to the truck to get her comealong. "Yeah, it's going to smack me again, I can just tell." She sighs and hooks the comealong to the anchor, unrolls the wire on it, and connects that to the gin pole. She takes up some slack with the comealong until it's tight. "Okay, come straight back a couple feet and swing the back end of the truck toward me. Let's see if the tower will straighten on its own." She hopes so. If not, it will buckle at the first wind.

"Copy that." Terry says, leaning briefly out of the window and flashing a thumbs-up to make clear that he did indeed hear. He settles back in, shifts into reverse, and begins backing up, slowly but surely. The truck might not have the 'backing up' audio warning, but anyone who's ever heard one can probably hear one in their mind right now.

Monica breathes a sigh of relief as the gin pole swings around and the tower resumes its normal shape. "Hold it there!" she yells. "Stick it in park and come out and give me a hand with this thing. We should have most of the weight off the gin pole, so we can just muscle it down. I think."

Terry shifts the vehicle into 'park', pops open the door, hops out, and walks over. "Let's see what we have here.." He mutters to himself, eyeballing things. Once Mon starts issuing orders, he falls in line and plays good little soldier.

Monica points upward. "They're springy. It looks ok." Mon pats Terry. "basically you crank down on this comealong lever until the gin pole is horizontal, and um… I'll hold onto it and try and keep it from swinging around and clobbering you. Been there, done that."

Terry nods. "Copy that, boss." He grips the lever, and begins cranking away, slowly but surely, not going hog-wild. Slow and steady wins the race.

<FS3> Monica rolls Jury Rigging: Good Success.
<FS3> Terry rolls Body: Success.
<FS3> Monica rolls Body: Success.

Monica manages to keep the gin pole from swinging any great amount. And hey, she's leaning on it, so it can't clobber her. Throw her, sure. Clobber no. Together they get the pole down to the anchor. Mon drops down and shackles the gin pole to the anchor, twisting the bolt in tight. "We got it!"

Terry waits for Mon to give him the signal, and then backs away. "Awesome. We make an epic team, don't you think?" He fires a grin her way.

Monica chuckles. "We totally do." Mon leans against Terry, sweaty and tired. "Have I told you you're awesome, Terry? Seriously."

"Right back at'cha, Mon." Terry responds, giving her a playful, friendly squeeze around the shoulders.

Monica stretches, enjoying the hug. "I think we're done here. I should probably get to work on the bath house. I have about half a dozen toilets to steal.

Terry nods. "I should get back to working on my sheriff duties." He offers a quick salute. "If you need help, holler.. I'll have some of my guys head your way."

Monica nods. "Don't let it drive you crazy." Whether she says that for Terry's benefit or her own is hard to say. She's never been in government before. "Oh by the way, are there any automatic rifles that don't have owners? When it was just me in the woods, my Sharps was adequate. As a mainline battle rifle, it's day was past a century and a half ago.

"I'll pester logistics, see what we can scrounge up." Terry nods. He stretches, luxuriously. With that, he begins heading off to do sheriff stuff.

You say, "Okay. Thanks." She watches Terry go, reminded for a moment that he's not her brother. She watches him walk away, as the song goes, then blushes and shakes her head. "Yeah. Climb the tower tomorrow. Steal toilets today.""

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