(2016-08-26) Please Don't Drop the Explosives
Please Don't Drop the Explosives
Summary: Avery and Carilena help Mon unload (most of) the new batch of M0s and ammunition into locked, hopefully fireproof cabinets at the Sheriff's office. ((Retitled, since I discovered I'd used the Matrix Quote for a title already. Also edited so the rifles are now R4s. The newest type.))
Date: 2016.08.26
Related: None

Monica arrives at the Sheriff's office with not one, not two, but twenty of the twenty-five M0s from the new batch (R4s, if you're keeping score) and most of the ammunition she has. She'd rather not make the machine shop a higher profile target than it is already. Plus, she hasn't had Chester hitched up in a while and he's been bugging her (in her mind at least) for some human time. She unloads the cart, carrying two rifles at a time.

Following along on foot, Avery is a bit behind Monica. She can ride, but she hasn't seen about the horse issue. Once she catches up, she picks up a couple rifles and helps Monica out silently.

You say, "Thanks hon. You know you can ride. Chester's pretty mellow. Fact, if you want to ride horseback on him, he'd probably love it."

With out much better to do, Carilena and Cosmo arrive at the police station, Cari in an outfit assembled from the closet's worth of clothes Terry had given her. Her attention initially goes to the horse, which gets a small smile, then she looks at the other women. "Can I help?" she asks as she draws near. Cosmo watches Chester, not being really all that familiar with them.

Shrugging at Monica, Avery offers a crooked smile. "My feet still remember running from a bunch of horses. I'm good with just getting comfortable around them." Looking at Cari she hands off a couple guns for her to carry before picking up more.

Monica nods to Cari (and the dog) "Sure. THey're not loaded, but you should assume they are despite my saying so. Just carry 'em in and put 'em in that closet that's standing open with the other ones in it. Once we have them in, we can get the ammunition and the magazines." She grins at Avery. The younger woman smiles so seldom… "I know what you mean."

Carilena arches her left eyebrow in an expression of mild amusement, matched by the quirk of her lips. She carries the pair of rifles pointed at the ground, so even if she hasn't had formal weapons training, she at least has some understanding firearm safety. "Where do they go?" she asks as she heads into the police station. Cosmo follows along, eyes staying on Chester. There's more curiosity in his bearing than much else, so there's at least that.

Following Cari in, Avery passes her to show where they go. "Here." She sets the pair she had down and trots back out. "We'll be done in no time. Not bad." She nods and looks at Monica for a moment. "We need to find tea bushes."

Monica comes in with a pair. "What're tea bushes? I'm not much of an herbalist. I know survival stuff, like pine needle tea. It'll keep you from getting scurvey… but not much beyond that.

After Carilena sets the weapons in the cabinet, and with a gentleness that may well suggest she /doesn't/ have much familiarity with firearms, she follows the others back outside. As she goes, she says, "I would think that since tea is leaves, a tea bush is where the leaves are taken from…?"

"Mhmm. There have to be some in the US. We need to find them." Avery says and wrinkles her nose. "Only so much Lipton and Stash and all the others. Gonna expire or get bugs…oh, and sugar cane, or stevia plants for sugar." She collects more guns and starts heading inside.

Monica grabs two more and heads in. "I dunno. I thought tea came from China. Shows you how much I know. Now… I know there used to be coffee trees in Disney World. If we can't find them anywhere else, it might be far enough inland to have survived. Once we deal with the mothership, we should send an expedition out there."

Grabbing another pair of rifles, Carilena follows the others, saying, "Is this the right climate for them? And how do we deal with the mother ship? If—you can tell me…" She's still very aware of her status as being under probation, and the mountain she still has to climb to get out.

"Dang…I know there was tea in Oregon, but I heard that all the western most states were wiped out…Elijah and I were reminiscing about sweet tea. It's not hard to make tea if we had the bushes." Putting the guns up she pauses. "The mother ship? Is that the thing that ummm, that guy that knows Quinton was talking about?"

Monica goes back to the trailer and discovers the last rifles are gone. She carefully grabs one of the crates of ammunition and lifts it down. "Yeah on these… don't drop them. It's all caseless, and if you shatter a round, and you're unlucky, it can detonate. And there's like… forty or fifty pounds of nitrocellulose here. Probably enough to bring the house down." She nods. "Devon, yeah. I have my own plan, but…I'm not sure there's time. I'm just taking the first baby steps understanding the technology, and we have to be ready to go before the 22nd of September."

"What happens the twenty-second of September?" Carilena asks as she grabs a crate as well. There's a small exhalation—but two years ago it would have been a loud grunt of exertion.

"I dunno." Avery shrugs. "So Devon, he's not a part of the camp? Elijah doesn't seem to like him much." She drags a crate to the edge of the cart and hefts it up as she puffs out her cheeks. She's being careful, but it's awkward so she waddles with the case, puffed out cheeks in the wake of the amazonian goddess that is Cari in front of her.

Monica blinks. She gets the dolly out of the cart and wheels the third crate in. "Please do not drop the high explosives…" She chuckles. "The twenty-second is the vernal equinox. Word is the Aliens intend to blow us all up then." She says it matter-of-factly, like it might rain or something.

While not about to drop her crate, Carilena still carries hers with gritted teeth, setting it on the floor of the cabinet with a quiet and dull thump. She's not about to argue with the use of the dolly. "That is a deadline…" she murmurs dryly as she rests her hands on her hips.

"Shouldn't we like, be building the mother of all bomb shelters then?" Avery asks and gingerly sets her crate down as she huffs and puffs. "I mean, look at how low tech we are. The best we can hope is to survive as long as possible. We'll never really rebuild…Not enough of us left, and the ones that are…it's like tribes isn't it?"

Monica looks down at the case and carefully hauls it into the closet. "You know the crater a couple blocks from here? That was a bomb the size of the joint of your little finger. Even if we did survive, there'd be nothing left to survive for. We can rebuild. If we can stop them, if we can find enough people, stabilize our food supply and… breed, basically. But if they blow everyone who's left up and the only survivors are little family groups scattered all over creation? I think I'd rather not survive that way twice."

"Nor would I," says Carilena, arching her left eyebrow in thought. As she grabs another crate to set on the dolly, she adds, "But we do not need much—three hundred thousand people? From seven billion, that is a somewhat reasonable number." She looks at the others, there, as she sets her case down.

"How?" Avery leans against the desk and keeps out of the way. "We got our asses kicked back to the like 17-1800's." She sighs and pushes her hair back from her face. "Would you want to breed in these conditions? People are gonna die in labor, kids won't make it, it's bad odds. Or if mother ship is mother ships?"

Monica leans on the dolly. "Supposedly all seven billion of us were descended from a few thousand individuals a hundred thousand years ago. So… that's probably your minimum gene pool. Hell, if we were willing to selectively breed people we could do it all with what we have here… but like livestock, we'd be a monoculture. One good disease could kill us all unless we're mighty clever. And to selectively breed… you must cull. I'm not sure we'd still be human in any meaningful way if we got so we could do that comfortably. And nah. This stuff is strightly 20th century. Plus we're making headway into alien tech. Ironically it may be that they give us the tools to replace stuff we can't make easily anymore. If we have the time." Mon looks up. "Rumor has it there is one mother ship. And that there are no living beings on it. It keeps me up some nights thinking about what it means. Are we fighting an old program that got left running when everyone died, or something?"

"I would wonder where these rumors come from," Carilena says as she looks between the others, "and why there is so much apparently known—the date, the number of ships, its being empty… I do not think I would trust it." It would be nice, but also too convenient.

"Christ, I don't know." Avery shakes her head. "That's some Tron level fucked up though, if it is a program." she looks down and rubs her nose. "Like Terminator. The machines won though." Looking between the two women she shrugs deeper into her coveralls.

Monica nods gravely to answer Cari's question. "The rumors come from other silencers. So. Listen, but bear in mind there may be an ulterior motive, has been my approach. This Devon silencer may be on the up and up, or he may not." She doesn't go into her list of beefs with the guy. That can always come up later. She looks at Carilena and Avery. "We gotta get you guys cleared. Things are getting to the point where we have to trust people if we want to go on living." She locks the closet with the rifles and the other one with the ammunition, pockets her key, and turns to take Chester home, or out riding in the dark like an idiot, or who knows. "Take care, guys. If you need something, I live in building A, just knock. Seriously, please do knock. I have a boyfriend who sleeps over sometimes, and loaded guns. It's awkward either way.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License