SHTF fiction: Final Hour
- Thread starter Caimlas
- Start date
- Status
usp_fan
Member
Nice so far. Keep it coming.
Urg.
Just a heads up... I won't be posting here for a while. I got laid off this morning, and at a very unfortunate time. The story isn't finished, and I won't be abandoning it, but other things have a front-seat priority for the time being.
Again, let me repeat: I'm not going to do what is common and just abandon the story. I know everyone says that, but I'm serious.
Just a heads up... I won't be posting here for a while. I got laid off this morning, and at a very unfortunate time. The story isn't finished, and I won't be abandoning it, but other things have a front-seat priority for the time being.
Again, let me repeat: I'm not going to do what is common and just abandon the story. I know everyone says that, but I'm serious.
ShunZu
member
REALLY sorry to hear that, Larry. Will send you some energy to help you in your job endeavors.
Great story, too. I'm sure I speak for most folks here in saying we understand and relate to your job problem... and can wait until your next opportunity to post.
Good luck!
Great story, too. I'm sure I speak for most folks here in saying we understand and relate to your job problem... and can wait until your next opportunity to post.
Good luck!
357fan
Member
If you don't mind living in Nebraska I can get you a job selling booze.
PershingRiflesC-7
Member
Sorry to hear of your job misfortune -- hope it works out soon so those of us waiting on the next installment don't have to back up too much to remember where we were.
Robby
Member
I can live without the story!
I do not know you, but I am concerned and hopeful that your job search will be short and successful. You show talent in my opinion as a writer, I would hate to see you not able to continue even with this story. Let alone what you might do in the future.
I am now and always have been a fan of the type story you have started with us, and hope your able to continue in the future. I subscribed to this thread, so I will know when your able to continue.
I do not know you, but I am concerned and hopeful that your job search will be short and successful. You show talent in my opinion as a writer, I would hate to see you not able to continue even with this story. Let alone what you might do in the future.
I am now and always have been a fan of the type story you have started with us, and hope your able to continue in the future. I subscribed to this thread, so I will know when your able to continue.
Folks,
I know it's been over a month (er, two months, shooooot!) since I've updated this story, but let me assure anyone who's interested in it:
* This story is not dead.
* I've been too busy to update it (I worked 120 hours in the last 10 days, f'instance) and I'm just trying to make ends meet for the time being.
* The story has many chapters in my head, and when I say "it's not dead" I mean I simply haven't had the time to put it in writing.
So please bear with me. Lord willing, we'll see some sunshine by the end of the month.
I know it's been over a month (er, two months, shooooot!) since I've updated this story, but let me assure anyone who's interested in it:
* This story is not dead.
* I've been too busy to update it (I worked 120 hours in the last 10 days, f'instance) and I'm just trying to make ends meet for the time being.
* The story has many chapters in my head, and when I say "it's not dead" I mean I simply haven't had the time to put it in writing.
So please bear with me. Lord willing, we'll see some sunshine by the end of the month.
jobu07
Contributing Member
Glad to hear the story's alive. Good to hear you've been working, hope everything works out. The story can wait!
larry_minn
Member
Hope things are improving in your life. Hopefully things will improve so you can continue the two story lines.
Hey, uh... I don't know if anyone cares, but I've started writing on Final Hour again. I'm sorry for the long absence, but I've been busy. Lord willing, I should also have a fair amount of time to write over the next couple months.
I should have a chapter or two to post this weekend.
I should have a chapter or two to post this weekend.
PershingRiflesC-7
Member
I'll be ready to read more on Sunday -- college football season, you know...
Glad you are finding time to write again!
Glad you are finding time to write again!mike6161
Member
happy to see your at it again. cannot wait to read more.
HeadlandRam
Member
AWsome caimlas, Job and life doin' better?
LJ-MosinFreak-Buck
Member
looking forward to reading more, my friend. Can't wait for the weekend.
Hey, uh, just wanted to let you guys know I didn't blow this off - I had a mess of unexpected things to do this week and I only came around to writing this afternoon. I realize it's (for some, late) evening already, on Sunday, but I'll be making at least one chapter posting tonight.
(I should note that I'm at a bit of a story segway right now, and I'm having a difficult time making the transition/having writers block. But you'll get the chapter within the next couple hours.)
Sorry to get hopes up too much. Thanks for the patience.
(I should note that I'm at a bit of a story segway right now, and I'm having a difficult time making the transition/having writers block. But you'll get the chapter within the next couple hours.)
Sorry to get hopes up too much. Thanks for the patience.
Ok boys (and gals), here's a chapter. Sorry - not much happens. Too tired to go on for tonight; must be up shortly for work. I'm not sure if it's done, but by god, it's done for now.
Recap: Frank and friends (Mitch, Bruce, Susan and Michelle) are making their way back towards SD from Minneapolis in Mitch's van and just narrowly escaped a nasty shootout. Jason is at the family farm/ranch with his mom and dad clearing brush to hopefully avert an approaching fire; it is nearing dusk and he has just received a voice mail from a scared Amy, the touchy-feely sociopath with a nice body.
Chapter 11: Unintended Consequences
Jason gave his mom a kiss on the cheek as he grabbed a cookie as he sped out the door. His mom yelled at him as he moved towards his Jeep - but dinner would have to wait. He didn't know what Amy's problem was, but in all the years he'd known her, she'd never even so much as hinted that she wanted any help. Oh, the signs were there that she needed help – clinically – but never the whisper of a request.
He drove down the drive, oblivious to the bumps and jolts being sent through the Jeep by his excessive speed. His mind was wandering through the possibilities: abusive boyfriend? Drunk stalker? Strange noises coming from the plumbing? With Amy, it could be almost anything.
The ride back into Rapid City was uneventful. Jason was thankful for the late afternoon's cool breeze; it was a welcome reprise from the heat of midday. As he drove into town, long afternoon shadows were already starting to play off the backs of the buildings. After the shootout at Sam's the day before, he was not about to run into an uncontrolled situation. The speed limit dropped, allowing him to more easily control the car as he pulled his holstered 1911 from beneath the seat and clipped it under his belt.
Jason didn't know where to start looking for Amy, directly. She might be at the apartment building waiting for him since last night, or she might be dead on the street – for all he knew.
The logical first stop was, indeed, the apartment. He nosed the Jeep into the parking lot and parked at the base of the steps, not bothering to turn off the ignition. He bounded up the stairs two at a time. Before he reached the top of the flight, he noticed something amiss.
The place was in poor repair – the absentee landlord saw to that – but not in such poor repair that the doors or windows should be broken. Amy's door, the first door on the walkway, was slightly ajar, and there was glass on the wooden boards in front of his own window.
Jason froze mid-stride two steps from the top, his balance compromised by his swift approach. He hadn't expected this. Pay attention! Be alert! he chastised himself, as he slowly drew his pistol and held it at a low ready position.
Now, instead of the careless bounds from just a moment earlier, he stepped gingerly on each of the remaining steps as he climbed. Each board creaked perceptibly. It wasn't much, but to Jason it sounded like the aged hull of an old barn in a storm.
He crept to the side of the doorway. With his strong right hand he held his pistol ready and slowly pressed the door open.
The room was pitch black despite the red backlight of the setting sun; Amy must have drawn her blinds. Returning his off hand to his pocket, he fished out an old AA Maglite and deftly turned it on.
The flashlight did little to illuminate the situation. The light's cast was weak and flickered, but since it was all he had with him, he continued into the room after making sure there was nobody behind the door. He quickly scanned the room for movement as he hastily passed through the door's threshold and into the room.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he surveyed the room room for movement. Spotting a floor lamp, he moved toward it.
He had never been in Amy's apartment before. His flashlight illuminated the surroundings in its yellow cast – worn wooden floors, flaking plaster, and ancient electrical wiring (just one outlet). The room was – unexpectedly and pleasantly – decorated with doily wall hangings, a throw carpet, and lots of little knickknacks. Jason was relieved that it wasn't decorated with ash trays and beer cans.
Jason flicked on the lamp just as a movement exploded in his periphery, towards his face. Still gripping his pistol, he swung wildly with his free hand as he jumped backwards. An angry grey cat jumped to the ground in front of him.
I almost shot her cat, Jason thought as he took a deep breath and. His body tingling from the sudden adrenaline high, he looked around the room to to calm his nerves. The kitchenette was tidy with a couple dishes on the counter, the bed was made, the dresser drawers were slightly open: nothing was out of the ordinary.
His thoughts were brought back to glass on the walkway. He pulled the blinds back; the window was shut and locked.
He turned the light off and moved quickly towards his own apartment, pistol again at the ready. As he passed through the doorway leaving Amy's apartment, he felt something tug on his shirt. Looking askance, he noticed the door jam was splintered inwards, as if someone had kicked it in. Jason's sense for urgency increased as he again turned his interest towards his own apartment: was someone in there now?
The glass was indeed from his apartment window, though there was only a little – the glint of the sun must've amplified what was there to look like more. However, the glass was broken out entirely.
They've already left, he thought, noticing a pair of his jeans draped over the sill. Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he considered reporting the incident to the police. Damn, still no signal!
He holstered his pistol as he returned to his Jeep.
Jason couldn't believe the chaos at the police station. There was a dozen people sitting on benches in a holding room on the other side of a steel and reinforced glass door. The desk officer, who looked bored the last time he'd been in there to renew his concealed weapon permit, looked like a panicked college freshman trying to complete a term paper. Officers were coming and going, and they all looked exhausted. Nobody seemed to notice him – even the guard at the door who cleared him through.
It was like a scene from an urban cop movie, and not what he expected to see in the sole station in the sedate Rapid City.
He walked up to the front desk; the desk clerk didn't even notice him. He cleared his throat.
“Excuse me. I think I need to report a missing person.”
“What do you mean, 'think'? Is the person missing or not?” the desk officer snapped as he glanced at Jason before returning to the papers before him.
“I mean, she called my phone last night and left a vague message about being scared,” he fibbed. Better this get reported now, so I don't have to come down tomorrow. “I went over to her place, and the door had been kicked in. I don't know where her family is, or if she even has local family, so I thought it was a good idea to report it. My phone isn't working now, for some reason, or I'd have called.”
The officer deftly whirled his chair around, grabbed a form from a stack 5 feet away, and handed it to Jason. “Fill this out, keep it short. Best I can do right now.”
Jason grabbed a pen from the counter and sat down to fill out the form in resignation. From the looks of things, they probably won't get to this paperwork for a couple days, he thought. He caught a whiff of air coming from the holding room as an officer took a detainee out. From the smell of things, it might be even longer.
It was almost 10PM before Jason completed the paperwork and got back to his Jeep. He was hungry. Traffic was sparse except for the police cars, and he hoped he could find somewhere open, or if he'd have to wait until he got back to the farm.
As he drove back towards the side of town his apartment and the exit for the farm was on, he noticed several vehicles along the road with broken out windows and smashed windshields. Maybe I should stop at the co-op before heading back, he thought. For whatever reason, everyone seemed to be overreacting to the communication problems.
Arriving at the co-op, Jason found the gate chain cut and the gate open. Dread swept over him as he slowed the truck to a stop in front of the gate. Leaving the Jeep running, he got out to survey the damage. The cast from his headlights showed fresh, dusty tracks in the turn-in heading towards the road – large, deeply impressed tracks, as if from a loaded tanker or a pickup with a 4-wheel rear axle.
“Today is not my day,” he said, as he pulled his phone from his pocket again only to see the now-familiar “Searching...” moniker.
He pulled the Jeep up to the front of the store and parked. The front window had been knocked inward, a large stone laying evidence on the ground. He walked in over the shards, hoping the valve shutoff key for the tanks was still in the back room storage locker where it was kept after-hours.
He didn't even have to get to the back room. As soon as he turned on the hall light, he could see boxes and papers were strewn all over the place, with the red door of the locker visibly pried open and empty.
Jason was starting to drag. He grabbed a bag of chips, a soda, and some beef jerky from the displays, and threw some money on top of the register. Like it matters now, he thought. He didn't even want to go out and look at the tanks or read the meters to find out how many hundreds, if not thousands of dollars in fuel were stolen.
He plopped down onto one of the chairs and leaned back. As he munched on the jerky and chips he recalled the old CB radios Dan kept in the shed behind the store. Maybe he could contact law enforcement about the break-in on one?
Out of habit, Jason let himself out through the door, despite the gaping hole in the front window. Making his way around the building, he was relieved to find the shed was still locked shut. He took his keys and flashlight from his pocket and opened it up.
There were piles of old electronics, machinery, and tools covering the walls and floor of the shed, but fortunately for Jason the chrome face of a CB caught his attention on the far wall. He walked gingerly across the shed and took it down. It was an older, pre-digital model. The knobs still turned, but the wire looked a little frayed; a second CB radio of similar age and condition sat next to it. He took them both down and brought them to his Jeep.
Recap: Frank and friends (Mitch, Bruce, Susan and Michelle) are making their way back towards SD from Minneapolis in Mitch's van and just narrowly escaped a nasty shootout. Jason is at the family farm/ranch with his mom and dad clearing brush to hopefully avert an approaching fire; it is nearing dusk and he has just received a voice mail from a scared Amy, the touchy-feely sociopath with a nice body.
Chapter 11: Unintended Consequences
Jason gave his mom a kiss on the cheek as he grabbed a cookie as he sped out the door. His mom yelled at him as he moved towards his Jeep - but dinner would have to wait. He didn't know what Amy's problem was, but in all the years he'd known her, she'd never even so much as hinted that she wanted any help. Oh, the signs were there that she needed help – clinically – but never the whisper of a request.
He drove down the drive, oblivious to the bumps and jolts being sent through the Jeep by his excessive speed. His mind was wandering through the possibilities: abusive boyfriend? Drunk stalker? Strange noises coming from the plumbing? With Amy, it could be almost anything.
The ride back into Rapid City was uneventful. Jason was thankful for the late afternoon's cool breeze; it was a welcome reprise from the heat of midday. As he drove into town, long afternoon shadows were already starting to play off the backs of the buildings. After the shootout at Sam's the day before, he was not about to run into an uncontrolled situation. The speed limit dropped, allowing him to more easily control the car as he pulled his holstered 1911 from beneath the seat and clipped it under his belt.
Jason didn't know where to start looking for Amy, directly. She might be at the apartment building waiting for him since last night, or she might be dead on the street – for all he knew.
The logical first stop was, indeed, the apartment. He nosed the Jeep into the parking lot and parked at the base of the steps, not bothering to turn off the ignition. He bounded up the stairs two at a time. Before he reached the top of the flight, he noticed something amiss.
The place was in poor repair – the absentee landlord saw to that – but not in such poor repair that the doors or windows should be broken. Amy's door, the first door on the walkway, was slightly ajar, and there was glass on the wooden boards in front of his own window.
Jason froze mid-stride two steps from the top, his balance compromised by his swift approach. He hadn't expected this. Pay attention! Be alert! he chastised himself, as he slowly drew his pistol and held it at a low ready position.
Now, instead of the careless bounds from just a moment earlier, he stepped gingerly on each of the remaining steps as he climbed. Each board creaked perceptibly. It wasn't much, but to Jason it sounded like the aged hull of an old barn in a storm.
He crept to the side of the doorway. With his strong right hand he held his pistol ready and slowly pressed the door open.
The room was pitch black despite the red backlight of the setting sun; Amy must have drawn her blinds. Returning his off hand to his pocket, he fished out an old AA Maglite and deftly turned it on.
The flashlight did little to illuminate the situation. The light's cast was weak and flickered, but since it was all he had with him, he continued into the room after making sure there was nobody behind the door. He quickly scanned the room for movement as he hastily passed through the door's threshold and into the room.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he surveyed the room room for movement. Spotting a floor lamp, he moved toward it.
He had never been in Amy's apartment before. His flashlight illuminated the surroundings in its yellow cast – worn wooden floors, flaking plaster, and ancient electrical wiring (just one outlet). The room was – unexpectedly and pleasantly – decorated with doily wall hangings, a throw carpet, and lots of little knickknacks. Jason was relieved that it wasn't decorated with ash trays and beer cans.
Jason flicked on the lamp just as a movement exploded in his periphery, towards his face. Still gripping his pistol, he swung wildly with his free hand as he jumped backwards. An angry grey cat jumped to the ground in front of him.
I almost shot her cat, Jason thought as he took a deep breath and. His body tingling from the sudden adrenaline high, he looked around the room to to calm his nerves. The kitchenette was tidy with a couple dishes on the counter, the bed was made, the dresser drawers were slightly open: nothing was out of the ordinary.
His thoughts were brought back to glass on the walkway. He pulled the blinds back; the window was shut and locked.
He turned the light off and moved quickly towards his own apartment, pistol again at the ready. As he passed through the doorway leaving Amy's apartment, he felt something tug on his shirt. Looking askance, he noticed the door jam was splintered inwards, as if someone had kicked it in. Jason's sense for urgency increased as he again turned his interest towards his own apartment: was someone in there now?
The glass was indeed from his apartment window, though there was only a little – the glint of the sun must've amplified what was there to look like more. However, the glass was broken out entirely.
They've already left, he thought, noticing a pair of his jeans draped over the sill. Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he considered reporting the incident to the police. Damn, still no signal!
He holstered his pistol as he returned to his Jeep.
Jason couldn't believe the chaos at the police station. There was a dozen people sitting on benches in a holding room on the other side of a steel and reinforced glass door. The desk officer, who looked bored the last time he'd been in there to renew his concealed weapon permit, looked like a panicked college freshman trying to complete a term paper. Officers were coming and going, and they all looked exhausted. Nobody seemed to notice him – even the guard at the door who cleared him through.
It was like a scene from an urban cop movie, and not what he expected to see in the sole station in the sedate Rapid City.
He walked up to the front desk; the desk clerk didn't even notice him. He cleared his throat.
“Excuse me. I think I need to report a missing person.”
“What do you mean, 'think'? Is the person missing or not?” the desk officer snapped as he glanced at Jason before returning to the papers before him.
“I mean, she called my phone last night and left a vague message about being scared,” he fibbed. Better this get reported now, so I don't have to come down tomorrow. “I went over to her place, and the door had been kicked in. I don't know where her family is, or if she even has local family, so I thought it was a good idea to report it. My phone isn't working now, for some reason, or I'd have called.”
The officer deftly whirled his chair around, grabbed a form from a stack 5 feet away, and handed it to Jason. “Fill this out, keep it short. Best I can do right now.”
Jason grabbed a pen from the counter and sat down to fill out the form in resignation. From the looks of things, they probably won't get to this paperwork for a couple days, he thought. He caught a whiff of air coming from the holding room as an officer took a detainee out. From the smell of things, it might be even longer.
It was almost 10PM before Jason completed the paperwork and got back to his Jeep. He was hungry. Traffic was sparse except for the police cars, and he hoped he could find somewhere open, or if he'd have to wait until he got back to the farm.
As he drove back towards the side of town his apartment and the exit for the farm was on, he noticed several vehicles along the road with broken out windows and smashed windshields. Maybe I should stop at the co-op before heading back, he thought. For whatever reason, everyone seemed to be overreacting to the communication problems.
Arriving at the co-op, Jason found the gate chain cut and the gate open. Dread swept over him as he slowed the truck to a stop in front of the gate. Leaving the Jeep running, he got out to survey the damage. The cast from his headlights showed fresh, dusty tracks in the turn-in heading towards the road – large, deeply impressed tracks, as if from a loaded tanker or a pickup with a 4-wheel rear axle.
“Today is not my day,” he said, as he pulled his phone from his pocket again only to see the now-familiar “Searching...” moniker.
He pulled the Jeep up to the front of the store and parked. The front window had been knocked inward, a large stone laying evidence on the ground. He walked in over the shards, hoping the valve shutoff key for the tanks was still in the back room storage locker where it was kept after-hours.
He didn't even have to get to the back room. As soon as he turned on the hall light, he could see boxes and papers were strewn all over the place, with the red door of the locker visibly pried open and empty.
Jason was starting to drag. He grabbed a bag of chips, a soda, and some beef jerky from the displays, and threw some money on top of the register. Like it matters now, he thought. He didn't even want to go out and look at the tanks or read the meters to find out how many hundreds, if not thousands of dollars in fuel were stolen.
He plopped down onto one of the chairs and leaned back. As he munched on the jerky and chips he recalled the old CB radios Dan kept in the shed behind the store. Maybe he could contact law enforcement about the break-in on one?
Out of habit, Jason let himself out through the door, despite the gaping hole in the front window. Making his way around the building, he was relieved to find the shed was still locked shut. He took his keys and flashlight from his pocket and opened it up.
There were piles of old electronics, machinery, and tools covering the walls and floor of the shed, but fortunately for Jason the chrome face of a CB caught his attention on the far wall. He walked gingerly across the shed and took it down. It was an older, pre-digital model. The knobs still turned, but the wire looked a little frayed; a second CB radio of similar age and condition sat next to it. He took them both down and brought them to his Jeep.
loose cannon
Member
good story or should i say MOAR lol.
wonder what happened to amy the silly goose hottie?
wonder what happened to amy the silly goose hottie?
MagnumDweeb
Member
Got me Hooked.
loose cannon - You'll just have to wait and see. Let's put it this way: Amy isn't a character I'll be developing too much more.
I started a new job today, so I'll be pretty busy - at least through Thursday. Not sure I'll have time to add another chapter this week... I need to research CB protocol so I don't make a fool of myself writing about it.
Let's put it this way: Amy isn't a character I'll be developing too much more.I started a new job today, so I'll be pretty busy - at least through Thursday. Not sure I'll have time to add another chapter this week... I need to research CB protocol so I don't make a fool of myself writing about it.
Jeff F
Member
If the time of this story is today theres not much in the way of CB protocol anymore. Just a bunch of kids and jerks dropping f bombs and the such. I gave it up a few years ago.
ArmedLiberal
Member
Keep it coming Caimlas. You've got an audience now and ya can't let us down. Looking forward to your next chapter.
Is it true that adversity in the life of a writer brings inspiration?
AL
Is it true that adversity in the life of a writer brings inspiration?
AL
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