better than the alternative / roadhogs, day 1
Mar 3, 2022 21:05:49 GMT -5
Post by calla on Mar 3, 2022 21:05:49 GMT -5
N O W L E S
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It's kinda eerie walking through all the shipping containers like this. There's windows sawed into them - one of them's got a tattered towel up as curtains and they flutter when we go by, even though there's no wind.
I wanted to stay back in the scrapyard, with the metal monsters and the actua cool shit, but Fatima said we needed to find somewhere to lay low for the night. Sure there's better shelter around here, but this place feels haunted as hell.
Even Rosie doesn't like it - I can tell. I guide the metal husk across the sand like it's butter, her legs scuttle across the debris like it's nothing, but the whole mech groans every once and a while, like she's not used to moving so much and, yeah, that makes sense just from looking at it. Poor baby's covered in rust and dents and scratches. My hands are itchin' for an oil rag.
We poke our heads into a few of the buildings, but there's nothing too interesting. One of the squat little shacks has a bunch of fishing nets all tangled in a giant pile, but no hooks. There's a room off the back with a giant unplugged freezer where the worst smell is coming from. There's rusted swing-sets and bits of beer-bottle glass on the ground and I'm pretty sure we pass by a lean-to with a couple of coyotes going at it.
It's not until we get a good ways into the wonky little town that we actually find a decent place. It's just two big storage containers stacked on top of eachother, but it's got more height than the other buildings, with a hole in the side that'll be a good lookout point.
I'm just gonna let the other two fight out who wants first watch - not me! There's a bunch of spare parts in my bag that are just begging to be tinkered with, my schedule's all booked. Swear my whole body clanks when I move I grabbed so much from the scrapyard. A bunch of shit fell from the sky earlier, including something that looks like an actual mini cannon. You know I ain't gettin' any shuteye until I take that bad boy apart at least three times. I cradle it in my arms like a baby and look around our motel for the night.
There's a rickety ladder that leads to the second area above, but I crouch down and poke the nasty looking mattress on the floor, "How many bed bugs d'you think?"
I wanted to stay back in the scrapyard, with the metal monsters and the actua cool shit, but Fatima said we needed to find somewhere to lay low for the night. Sure there's better shelter around here, but this place feels haunted as hell.
Even Rosie doesn't like it - I can tell. I guide the metal husk across the sand like it's butter, her legs scuttle across the debris like it's nothing, but the whole mech groans every once and a while, like she's not used to moving so much and, yeah, that makes sense just from looking at it. Poor baby's covered in rust and dents and scratches. My hands are itchin' for an oil rag.
We poke our heads into a few of the buildings, but there's nothing too interesting. One of the squat little shacks has a bunch of fishing nets all tangled in a giant pile, but no hooks. There's a room off the back with a giant unplugged freezer where the worst smell is coming from. There's rusted swing-sets and bits of beer-bottle glass on the ground and I'm pretty sure we pass by a lean-to with a couple of coyotes going at it.
It's not until we get a good ways into the wonky little town that we actually find a decent place. It's just two big storage containers stacked on top of eachother, but it's got more height than the other buildings, with a hole in the side that'll be a good lookout point.
I'm just gonna let the other two fight out who wants first watch - not me! There's a bunch of spare parts in my bag that are just begging to be tinkered with, my schedule's all booked. Swear my whole body clanks when I move I grabbed so much from the scrapyard. A bunch of shit fell from the sky earlier, including something that looks like an actual mini cannon. You know I ain't gettin' any shuteye until I take that bad boy apart at least three times. I cradle it in my arms like a baby and look around our motel for the night.
There's a rickety ladder that leads to the second area above, but I crouch down and poke the nasty looking mattress on the floor, "How many bed bugs d'you think?"
