apocalypsehowcomm | I like to see it lap the miles [Open Log]

Who: George Milton and various
When: May catch-all
Where: ADI, the library, the train, various
Summary: TDM and non-TDM prompts throughout the month
Warnings: CW from the current TDM posts, will warn in individual threads for anything additional.

1. Well Read

George would never call himself a reader at the best of times beyond a few of the Western pulps always stashed in the bunkhouses back home, the newspaper, and now some select training material so he's not completely useless in his job with ADI. The flyers were inviting, though, and he'd had enough fun at the fair to put on his hat and head out to the library.

Once there, he finds to his disappointment there's nowhere to hang it, a common issue with the places in town it seems, so he holds it in one hand and picks at the books with the other. There are at least a few Westerns that look interesting in the huge pile of the sorts of things he never would have touched or looked twice at back home. Maybe he should now, though? It's different here. These aren't stuff and nonsense, maybe not all of them.

He rubs at his mouth, frowning and trying to decide. Cryptids: Fact, Fiction, or Local Conspiracy? The Haunting of Bell Hollow? Or maybe, The Monster Under the Bed: What to do when it absolutely, positively isn't rats in the wall? Good God, that one sounds grim.

OR

"An' I'm tellin' you I only been in town a month. I don't care what that little box says. I ain't in your system, and I never checked out Pie in the Sky or whatever the hell you're tryin' to say I did." He's clearly had it with the librarian behind the checkout desk, enough that he's committing the cardinal sin (in his time, at least) of raising his voice.

"It's Eye in the Sky, sir," she says, completely unflapped. "We have you burning through the first several books in our Louis L'amour collection. You even have two more on hold right here. George Milton. If you show me your ID, I can tell you if it matches our address on file."

"I ain't showing you nothin', lady. You take alla that out."

If you're waiting in line behind him, sorry. This may take a while.

OR

Someone has stopped behind you at one of the computers while you're taking one of those book quizzes. It's not that he means to be a lookie loo or pry into your business, but you're the one who was muttering to yourself angrily and acting like you'd rather be anywhere but here.

What does he see?

2. Training Wheels Off

Scratchmarks

George very suddenly bursts through the door leading out of your car into the space between the next, wild eyed and breathing heavily. "Jesus Christ!" The sight of you standing right there in his face has him jumping back, which in turn has him twisting wildly to avoid setting foot in the cramped space again.

"I wouldn't go that way if'n I was you," he says, voice steadier but a strange tremor at the edges. "Door's stuck, an' it looks like I wasn't the first one got trapped."

OR

"Hang on! I'm working to get it open quick as I can. You think I'm Jesse Owens? Ain't easy to run on a blasted train." His voice sounds like it's getting closer. You hear a latch turn, and George yanks the door open suddenly.

"What happened? You get stuck?"

Fearful Tunnel Syndrome

George has never been particularly scared of the dark most of his life, except maybe deep out in the scrub with the mountain lions screaming in the night or the heavy, animal lumber of a bear close enough to make him hang onto Lennie and pet his hair to keep him quiet until it passed. This is different. This is night so deep it swallows a man alive. This is the pressure of a void that closes in and chokes off breath, disembodies a body to the point he can't be sure it's his hand in front of his eyes or the secret pressure of another, less than an inch away. Leering and waiting to touch.

And that tapping. What in the name of God would be tapping the windows in a tunnel? He's quiet at first, the tense, drawn in on himself kind of quiet that's a will to disappear and not be seen, but the longer this goes, the harder it is to sit there. Say nothing. Do nothing.

As quiet as he's trying to be, his whisper startles him, much too loud in his own ears. "I ain't the only one hearing that, right?"

OR

You sound like you're having a bad time of it. Despite the shivers chasing themselves down his skin and spine, George can't ignore somebody who clearly needs help. "Hey." It's soft and deep, and if there's an edge of uncertainty to it, can anyone blame him? "You ain't alone, OK? Follow my voice. I'll take your hand. It's George."

Burned Bridges

"No, I'm tellin' you I didn't see nothing. I was looking out the window same as you. If you'll jes' calm down and tell me what you seen, maybe we can figure it out." He's not going to go so far as to say nothing was there, but if it was, he has no idea how he missed it.

3. Wild Card

If you'd like to wild card a prep for the trip thread or something else at the apartments or in town, feel free to hit me. George fairly routinely goes to the general store and a bar by the docks. He can also be found at various bus stops, in the ADI library researching on a computer, and elsewhere on the campus wandering or training.

If you want to thread something weird, please just contact me first so we can get a general idea of what, and I'd rather not wildcard any of the other TDM prompts here. Also, if you take the reading over the shoulder prompt, be aware if George learns truly awful things about your character and hasn't had some incredibly positive CR with them over the past month, it will affect any development with him in a negative way moving forward. I like negative CR and am fine with that, but I also like for these sorts of things to be in the open so nobody gets a nasty surprise.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"I'm telling you..." Malcolm stops and takes a breath, squeezing his hand into a fist along his right leg, so its shaking wouldn't be obvious. "I saw a dead body," he says in an even, measured tone. "An immolated corpse, right along the train tracks."

"Awwright, Malcolm. I believe you." He has seen enough of him to know he's observant at least and not given over to talking nonsense. "Jes' 'cause I didn't see it don't mean much. We's going fast enough."

He licks his lips, thinking. "We should report it to somebody on the train. You'd know who better than me. Maybe call the law, too?" He'd seen all kinds of messed up things on tracks most of his life. This isn't the sort of thing they can do much about.

“Aren’t we the ‘law’ of Messed Up Stuff?” He starts hurrying towards the back of the train. “How fast do you think we’re going? Did you ever ride the rails? What’s the fastest that it’s safe to jump off?”

"Hey!" He's quick to crab after him, shooting a hand out to grab him around the biceps, his grip hard from a lifetime of physical labor.

"You ain't jumpin' off this train. It's too fast, an' it ain't safe. If we's the law of messed up stuff, then we share it with the rest 'a the folks. They think it's a big enough problem, they can stop the whole damn train and give us a chance to check it out."

Malcolm looks at him and looks almost desperately at the window, the scenery going by, carrying them fast away from the crime scene.

"Who's even in charge?" he asks.

"Well, that's somethin' we can find out together, ain't it?" No way no how is he about to let him go, not seeing that look and knowing he's exactly the sort of squirrely sum bitch who'd take a flying leap if he thought it would do some good.

"I'll back you up. Jes' 'cause I didn't see it don't mean you didn't. What I ain't gonna let you do is break your neck or worse jumping out of this train. Don't make me set on you. I'll do it."

That last remark makes Malcolm stop and look at George. Really look at him. Really meet his eyes.

Is he acting crazy, to elicit such concern? He takes a very intentional breath and nods. "Okay, so... let's go up to the engine and see who's driving," he suggests.

The only things he'll see there are concern and determination. It's a rare moment George isn't fidgety or looking all over the place. He nods immediately at the suggestion and loosens his hold on his arm, thinking to himself he hopes he doesn't make him regret extending that trust.

"That sounds like a good idea, yeah. Let's go." If he's insistent on following up behind him, coincidentally closer to one of the boarding doors, well. It's no accident.

"We'll have to see if they c..." He glances out the window, then suddenly rushes over to it, pressing his face against the glass to try to see behind them.

"Another one! There was another one. Just there!" He looks at George. "Do you think someone is trying to send us a message?"

He is way too young for heart attacks. Malcolm rips out of his looser hold, and all he can do is follow behind, jam himself up against the glass right next to him with his hands around his eyes to try to see better, and see...nothing.

"I don't know. I don't know what's goin' on with it, and I don't know how to tell you this other than straight. I still don't see nothin'. Not back behind us, not in front of us, and..." He shifts his angle of view. "Not ahead. Nothin' but stones next to the tracks and trees edgin' in close."

Malcolm looks helplessly back out the window, then looks at George. He saw them. He's sure he did. But he sees a lot of things doesn't he? He wants to shout that he's not crazy, but that isn't exactly true.

His mouth opens and then shuts and then he goes to the window, straining to look back behind them down the tracks.

"Somethin' like this happened to me and Garner in Dogtown," he says low, still watching him from the sides of his eyes, not bothering to hide his concern.

"He thought one thing was happening, and I thought something completely different. I still don't know who was right. That Crowley fella said something to me about...not letting it get under your skin. That it gives it power. That mean anything to you?" He has been here longer. He's bound to have more context, right? If he can get that brain of his kicked into gear, he can snap him out of reaction mode. Maybe.

Malcolm, still clutching the window sill with white knuckles, looks at George over his shoulder, blinks at him, then seems to process what he said.

“The Entities. They feed on fear responses. The people who serve them create that fear.”

He frowns, looks out the window, then back at George. “You think it’s an Entity or Avatar induced psychosis.”

"I think it's one possibility," he says, brow furrowed.

"Ain't the only one. We know we're digging into some dark places. But..." He rolls a shoulder in a quick jerk. "How easy would it be for anybody to jes' string a line a' corpses along a train track? They ain't never as deserted as people think they is."

Malcolm looks out the window again, then at George again.

"The circus... there was a circus in town and the main attraction... it was a man who could... who could set himself on fire and burn - really burn to death and then come back to life." He looks out the window impulsively, then at George again. "Maybe it has something to do with them. Burned bodies. Immolated bodies."

"Could be. Now we're back to lookin' for who we need to report this to and see what they have to say about it." He wasn't here for that, so he can't speak to it. They're nowhere near a point where they can discount the different possibilities or settle on one.

Malcolm looks at him uncertainly for a moment, then looks out the window one more time. He nods, and starts towards the engine again, looking to see if George is coming too.

Right behind him, and hopefully, crisis averted.

((OOC: Good stopping place? It feels pretty natural!))

I like to see it lap the miles [Open Log]

2. - Burned Bridges

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