Marlene, like matryoshka dolls, layered by size, your baby Sarah is nestled in your lap and her teddy in hers. You must have fallen asleep like this, as happens often. Sarah seems to talk more in her sleep than she does awake. But, what she says is often unintelligible, incoherent. A soft snore emanates from Sarah's tiny fluttering nostrils. A mass of white cotton is sprouting from the teddy's eye socket. It's always a shame when Sarah falls asleep in your lap, because you have such a hard time moving without waking her. But, your muscles are aching and you feel like you need to stretch, badly. The room is lit faintly by the constant flickering of a small interior cabin light. The door is ajar and the swaying of the barge causes the door to dance to and fro ever so slightly, sometimes smacking against the door frame, making this metallic clanking sound.
You smell smoke. Wafting in from outside on the deck somewhere? Fire? On the barge? It's hard to tell. You're close enough to shore to be able to smell a campfire or something. Maybe not.
What do you do?
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#DiceRoller( 2d6+2 ) (highlighted)
On a hit: What should I be on a lookout for?
On a smash: What's my best escape route/way to the fire? Who's in control here?
Marlene attempts to extricate herself from the bed as gently as possible. Any calm sleep Sarah gets is a treasure. As part of the situation assessment, she looks around quietly for the other kids.
The other kids? You don't see 'em or hear 'em.
What next?
When you step out on deck, Timmy looks up at you and smiles.
"Marlene!"
Sometimes you wonder if you could tell the kids apart if Timmy called you momma, like Jimmy does.
When Timmy shouts this, Jimmy turns to look, and when he sees you he runs across the barge and slams into your leg, hugging you fiercely. You think you see a glint of wetness in his eyes as he comes to you.
"Oh, Marlene. Our stomachs are aching. We don't have no food. Vera's done gone up to the market to try and get some, but she's taking forever. I was just trying to cook something up for breakfast."
Jimmy shakes his head no. And, then points over to the side of the barge. If you try to move toward the place he pointed to, he tugs on your leg trying to keep you from going.
You can go ahead and read Jimmy if you want.
#DiceRoller( 2d6+2 ) (highlighted)
On a hit:
What's Jimmy really feeling? What does he intend to do?
"Momma, please don't go. Let's just drive away. Vera will know we left and find us. I promise."
If you start moving toward it, you sense he's ready to flee below deck.
You have one more hold if you need it.
Timmy's struggling to put the fire out. He's got this unwieldy bucket he's filled up and trying to lift it up to dump onto the fire. He's biting his lip as he struggles to lift it and his voice is strained.
"Nah. Just some dead body Jimmy's been poking at all morning. I told him to leave the guy alone or he'd have nightmares. But, he didn't listen to me. Says he's the XO and he can do what he wants."
Finally, the bucket lifts up and tilts enough to spill some out and the fire sizzles. He sets the bucket down now and looks up at you with a soot covered face and large brown eyes.
"I'm hungry."
"Don't know. She was gone when we got up. I figured she'd gone to get some food since we're out. Found this fish, and thought we could munch on it until she got back."
There's a rancid smell coming from near the water by the body. You're not sure how long the guy's been dead, but the body has already been waterlogged and swollen, the flesh having a greenish hue. He's got leather pants and a jean vest with the Rough Rider's logo on it; he's definitely from Uncle's gang. You don't recognize him off hand, but by your best guess, he's part of some patrol or something. Looks like he's got a few bullet holes lodged in his body - one in the forehead. He ain't pretty, that's for sure.
"Marlene, now you're gonna have nightmares too!"
It's Timmy's voice. He's standing next to you now, looking down at the body.
"He got shot up, yeah?"
When you approach the dock, the last half of it has collapsed with portions of the collapsed half jutting up like stalagmites out of the lake there. There are a few small boats tied to the dock, the waves from your arrival causing them to knock against the remaining bulk of the dock. Barney's there too, dominating the scene, parked in its special spot.
There are three Riders when you step out onto the deck. Two guys, one gal. The guys have some rifles, but they aren't carrying any magazines with 'em outside of the ones loaded, and if those have bullets, you'd be surprised. Of course, this is the entry-point to The Chateau from the lake and they just might.
The girl is sitting on this shipping crate, her knee cocked to the side. She's got this huge fucking machete she appears to be sharpening on the toe of her boot; steel toe? She is giving you the meanest fucking stink-eye ever. What is up with that?
One of the guys, Tum Tum, approaches. He rests the rifle on his shoulder, muzzle in the air and does the talking for the three.
"Yea... I know'm. He's one of the guys from the night patrol. Left outta here earlier in the night. Damn. He's fucked up. Yo, Tao, help me drag this piece of shit up here."
The dock is just an old boathouse dock, and not in the greatest repair, but it's not going to fall into the water any time soon. And, yeah, a few guards. Not enough to discourage any determined raid, but one of them has a flare gun, in case.
"Sorry to bring him back like this. If I'd been there when the piece'o'dren did this to'im, I like to think things would have turned out differently. On another matter, any o'ya'll seen my Vera? She was headed to the market a while back, and I want to make sure she don't come back with magic beans."
"Goddamnit. Uncle ain't gonna be pleased."
Tum Tum pulls out this funny looking, plastic gun and aims it into the air. There's a loud whizzing sound as this tiny ball of fire flies up into the air and glows brightly in the dimly lit, rainy haze of the morning.
The bitch is walking over to you, waving her machete around like it's some kind of air traffic control wand. She's got this short mohawk that comes down in the back to some longer dreadlocks, and strange fucking tattoos on the sides of her head.
"Hold up. How the fuck we know you didn't pull the trigger on this motherfuck?"
She's clearly got something to prove. Tao steps forward and tries to speak.
"Lala..."
She retorts.
"Shut the fuck up, Tao. I don't know this fat fucking bitch from anyone. For all we know, she turned this dude cold."
"Down girl. She's right. Doesn't make any sense. Now, back the fuck up."
Tum Tum doesn't really give her a chance to respond. He yanks Lala back away from you and steps between you and her.
"Ok, lady. If you're so sorry for our loss, then you can help us heave this dead weight up to The Chateau and explain to Uncle exactly what the fuck happened."
Tum Tum doesn't give you a chance to explain otherwise. Motions for Tao and Lala to help you carry the corpse and starts clambering up the hill toward the gates.
Tao bends over and grabs the legs.
"Aight you two, Tum Tum gave us an order."
"Naw, Marlene."
You can tell he's lying. But, you also notice the shift in his eyes toward the other Rough Riders there.
"He was just floating there. Like I said."
He returns the salute and starts to march off to take up a position on the boat. The boys like to set up these old sandbags and wear their oversized helmets, keeping their BB guns pointed out off the barge.
Tum Tum's already made his way halfway up the hill toward the front lawn, where the market is being set up for the day. You take up the dead man's upper torso, behind his back and under his armpits. The fucker's head is bobbing lifelessly and you can't help but look down into the guy's face, swollen and sickly. There's a clean hole in his forehead. Fuck, you think to yourself, guy must've been executed at point blank. The whole back of his head's missing.
It's a pain carrying this dead ass weight, and Tao and Lala keep bitching at each other about who's doing all the work. Meanwhile, this dead motherfucker's head keeps dangling. Occasionally though, his eyes will catch yours. And, it's like a pause when it happens, just for a moment. Strange, the fish didn't eat his eyeballs right out of the sockets. But, stranger still, his eyes look like they've had the color sucked right out of them. They're as pale as the fog that lingers over the lake and through the valleys and up the mountainside. It creeps you the fuck out.
The three of you make it to the front lawn and there's a fat, shorter man kind of sitting on a stump there. He's got these wide, dirty work pants on and just suspenders draped over his hairy shoulders. He's sitting on this stump and he's fiddling with something in his hands. Something small. It's something of Vera's. What is it?