or, enter your birth date.*
The sound of machinegun fire in the distance had become a constant reminder of the Ardennes Counteroffensive as the squad moved through the forest. After the recent push by the 212 Volksgrenadiers the platoon had been routed and struggled to rally back into position, even after the Nazis were pushed back to their lines. Enough soldiers had been found to quantify as a squad, although they were beyond lost by this point. Staff-Sergeant Summers had tried to have the squad head back the way they came, although that was quickly stopped when they met a panzer tank that immediately took offence to their presence.
Bullets tore through the frozen air, snapping past heads and whipping past bodies as the group of soldiers dove for cover, plumes of snow flying into the air. Abel had taken a shot to the leg and had fallen, only to be killed when Edward stopped to pull him to his feet. The MG42 roared and both soldiers fell to the ground as the rest of the squad retreated into the whitewashed forest, deeper into enemy held territory. They had tried to break through several times, and every time they had been pushed back, losing soldiers with each attempt.
Summers, now the de-facto sergeant of the squad- considering that they came from two different companies- pushed the men forward, holding his own Thompson firmly in his frozen fingers as they stomped through the snow. Sergeant Kalvin and PFC Rook had taken point, leading the rest through the foggy forest as they tried to find a weak point in the German lines. If they could find a break, or at the very least get to a spot that didn’t have a tiger tank waiting for them.
Gunfire echoed throughout the foggy wood as the squad pushed ahead, the ruckus sounding both near and far at the same time. Samson griped about the cold as his fingers clutched his Garand, and Summers agreed silently. If anything, it felt colder than it had in his foxhole that morning.
“Sarge, do you know where we are,” Rook had asked Sergeant Kalvin at one point. “All these trees look the same.”
“No clue, private,” Kalvin returned before tossing the question to Summers. “Do you have any clue?”
“Not really. Lieutenant Freeman had the map and compass last I saw, although that ninety-day wonder probably lost both during the last push,” Summers grumbled sourly.
“Jesus, why couldn’t we have gotten lost with an eagle scout,” Rook continued to bitch and moan. “At least he’d know where we are.”
“Hey, Rook,” Private Tollen called from behind. “Why don’t you fill out a T.S. slip and send it to the chaplain? You’re going to give us away if some kraut hears you.”
Rook shot Tollen a dirty look but promptly shut his mouth. Everyone gave a small sigh of relief as they stomped through the cold powder on the ground. Everything came to a freezing halt when Kalvin stopped short and raised his fist up and to the side, prompting the squad to stop. Summers waved his hand down and kneeled as the rest of the squad did, eyes warily scanning the mist for movement. Tollen motioned for Rook to move up and the PFC slunk forward, rifle raised as he investigated what Tollen had seen.
Ten steps had brought him closer to the corner of a farmhouse. He turned and motioned for Tollen, who moved up as well before waving the rest of the squad up. The crunch of their boots sounded like a gunshot with every step as each man lined up along one side of the house, kneeling down as Tollen, Rook and Summers moved to investigate what was inside the house.
It wasn’t the best of ideas, to poke around houses behind enemy lines, but they needed a defensible position, either until the counteroffensive pushed into moving the lines east, or until they could recoup their strength and break through on their own. It took all of ten minutes to search, clear and occupy the house, soldiers quickly organized into guard details while the rest got off of their feet and checked their weapons, their fingers and feet for when they’d have to stand guard.
“Everyone seems alright,” Kalvin muttered as he and Summers stood to the side, both men checking their packs for a map or compass that they may have stashed and forgotten about. “No frostbite, at least.”
Summers nodded as he crossed his arms, frowning heavily. “For now, although we don’t know where we are, and we don’t have any supplies for an extended stay.”
Kalvin glanced back at PFC Samson and PFC Jamie as they rooted around their packs for something or another. “Do you think we’ll have to stay long?”
Summers shook his head. “I hope not, although I’d settle for not having to deal with a Nazi patrol.”
Kalvin nodded. “I did see something that looked like buildings further up the way. Village could have food and blankets, assuming we’re in the clear.”
“Maybe coffee,” Summers closed his eyes. “I’d kill for a cup of joe.”
“And I’d pull the trigger for you,” Kalvin patted Summers’ shoulder before heading for the window. “If we’re going to sneak a peek we’d better do it soon, unless tomorrow is a better idea.”
Summers rubbed at his chin and leaned against a table, almost completely sitting on it. “I don’t think some of these guys have eaten in a while. Two days at the most,” he sighed and pulled his helmet off, running his hand through his hair. “The sooner we can find food, or get back to our lines the better off we’ll be.”
Kalvin nodded, turning around and leaning against the wall. “Any idea who you want to send?”
Kalvin shook his head. “Not a clue. Could ask for volunteers, maybe.”
“And that leaves one of us to lead the expedition,” Summers plopped his helmet back on, the chin strap dangling in front of his cheeks. “I’ll go, you get some rest. You look like hell.”
Kalvin laughed softly. “Somehow I’ll try to get along without you, Sarge.”
“You too, Sarge,” Summers smiled before turning back to the cloister of soldiers.
“Alright, listen up,” Summers called out as Kalvin walked up to his side. “We may be staying here for a bit, and I doubt there’s enough food in this house for all of us. As a result, I’m going to be leading a small team out to see if the nearby houses have any provisions we can borrow. Food, water, blankets, anything we can use.”
“Those of you that are going on guard duty within the next two hours are exempt from this. The rest of you, we’re looking for volunteers, three max.”
The soldiers looked among one another. Of their group Samson, and Jamie were on guard duty, and Tollen was going to relieve one of them, leaving Holmes, Rook, Nimer and Kalvin. Holmes and Nimer raised their hands in compliance while Rook looked at Nimer.
“So you two and the sergeants go, right?”
Kalvin shook his head. “No, Holmes, Nimer and you go.”
“What, why me,” Rook looked offended. “Why do I have to go back out there?”
Summers sighed. “If Kalvin and I go out, that leaves Nimer in charge, and if he gets greased, then the command passes to you, Samson or Jamie. Besides, leaving Kalvin back here still leaves you all with someone who knows what they’re doing,” he winked as Holmes and Nimer let out a chuckle.
Rook opened his mouth but hesitated, seemingly considering what he was about to say before his lips found one another and he remained silent. Summers nodded before picking his Thompson from the table, looking at Rook before nodding.
“Empty your packs of everything but ammo. We’re going to need the space if we find anything edible.”
Holmes and Nimer nodded and got to work as Summers headed for the door, waiting for the trio to finish what they were doing. He tried to turn a blind eye as Rook picked a few things out of his pack before shouldering it again. For a First class private he acted like he was fresh out of boot, and not in the good way, although he was still a soldier and he’d follow directions when the heat got turned up.
Summers swallowed, frowning. He hoped he was right.
or, enter your birth date.*
The 12th of January, 1945, a date marked in blood, sweat, snow and strife. At the height of the Unternehmen Wacht am Rhein, known to the Allies as the Ardennes Counteroffensive the meeting armies had been locked into a frozen stalemate, enduring the weather as well as the skirmishes that each pitted against the other. The rising blizzards and razor-like winds could cut down even the most stalwart of soldiers, as easily as a bullet could. Both grizzled soldiers of the Wehrmacht and the Allies endured as they waited along their respective lines, waiting for the time that they would be called to either charge forward, or repel the next attack.
The 13th of January, 1945 found the region blanketed in billowy, white mist as fresh snow started to fall from the heavens. Fresh reinforcements from the east were able to find the German lines with relative success, although several squads and even a platoon had gotten lost albeit temporarily. Other squads weren’t so lucky, deemed lost to the storm until the snow let up. The commanders of the Heer planned, and set contingencies as another platoon was lost to the foul weather,
A total of three halftracks and one cargo truck had been waylaid by the storm, diverting north along the conflicting lines. Oberleutnant Tabor, sitting in the front-most vehicle, pressed his platoon forward in the hopes that he would eventually come across the German lines and deploy his troops, as well as the needed supplies in time to best help his comrades. Every soldier in the other halftracks, sitting within the backs of the Sd.Kfz. 251 Hanomags had time to think of what was to come when they did find their brothers in arms.
“I swear, this fog is as thick as pea soup,” Gefreiter Koen had said aloud as Oberfusilier Dietz twisted the steering wheel to follow the Oberleutnant’s kübelwagen as it hooked left along the road. “What, this is the fourth time we’ve nearly lost them?”
“You’re telling me,” Dietz replied as he looked up from the map of the region. “I can’t tell if we’re still heading west or not.”
Koen grimaced as he returned his attention to the road, watching the kübelwagen slip into the mist once again before he pushed his boot against the accelerator, closing the distance just enough to bring it back into view. Dietz glanced back towards the passenger section of the halftrack, just in time to see one of the soldiers tap at the canvas covering to work the snow off of the top. A few were smoking the few cigarettes they had, others were talking and the rest were catching whatever sleep the bumpy ride could allow them.
Dietz turned back to the map before looking out of the passenger viewport. “Did you lose them again,” he sighed, glancing towards Koen. “You lost them again, didn’t you?”
“No, I didn’t, they’re right there,” Koen snapped before motioning forward. “I can still see them, now shut up.”
Dietz looked out the port before looking back at Koen. “No, they’re not there. You lost them again!”
“Shut your mouth,” Koen growled before noticing movement from ahead of the hanomag. He stomped on the brakes and the halftrack came to a grinding halt, much to the infinite displeasure of the passengers in back as they lurched forward. Dietz’s skull nearly bounced off of the front controls, only a quick motion from his hands saved him from having a headache for the rest of the day.
“Aah, what was that for,” Dietz groaned as he sat up straight, turning to look at Koen as he practically pressed his face against the view port, looking for something only he could see. “You almost broke my nose, Koen!”
“I thought I saw something, sorry,” Koen sat back down and looked at Koen before looking at the soldiers in back. “Is everyone ok back there?”
The general response was in the affirmative as Koen eased his boot down onto the accelerator, pushing the halftrack forward through the falling snow. It was quiet from then on, save for the grumble of the engine as the convoy moved forward, trailing behind Oberleutnant Tobor and his kübel. His vehicle was found some time afterwards, sitting in front of a farm house. The convoy came to a stop and the platoon of Wehrmacht soldiers filed out onto the roadway.
Unteroffizier Rald and two other soldiers headed to the farmhouse as the rest of the soldiers formed a defensive perimeter. Obergrenadier Heller stayed near the farmhouse’s door, waiting for the other two to return. Edel walked out first, glancing at Heller as he walked towards the Oberleutnant’s vehicle while Rald stopped next to Heller, muttering something before looking at Edel.
“I can’t find any tracks, sir,” Edel called out.
Rald nodded slowly before stepping down from the farmhouse’s porch and heading for the head halftrack, finding Koen waiting with his MP40 in one hand, a cigarette hanging from his lips.
“Did you see Oberleutnant Tobor enter the house, or his assistant,” Rald asked quietly, keeping his gaze from the other men.
Koen shook his head as he snubbed the cigarette. “No, Unteroffizier, I did not. I saw his kübel parked out front and stopped because it was stopped too,” he looked back towards the officer’s car before looking at Rald. “Is he in the house, sir?”
Rald gritted his teeth for a moment before taking a cigarette from Koen’s pack. “No, he wasn’t. He could have walked off, but I don’t know why he would do that.”
Koen glanced over the hood of the halftrack to the house before looking back at Rald. “Didn’t Edel say he couldn’t find any tracks?”
“Yes, but it’s also snowing. Unless some American grabbed him from thin air he could have walked off and the snow could have filled in the boot prints.” Rald took a puff off of the cigarette before handing it back to Koen. “Keep the engine warm.”
Koen nodded and saluted as Rald walked off towards the house, waving the other soldiers over. Dietz walked over as Rald started to issue orders, lighting his own cigarette before watching the men head out.
“So, what’s going on,” Dietz asked after a while. “Where’s the Oberleutnant?”
“We don’t know,” Koen snubbed the cigarette but didn’t reach for a third. “They’re going to look for him but I think Unteroffizier Rald is going to have us head out soon.”
“Head out? Without the Oberleutnant?”
Koen shrugged and headed around the back of the halftrack before clambering in and sitting in the driver’s seat, picking up the map where Dietz had left it and flipping the ignition. He looked back at Dietz, who was looking at him from the back of the halftrack. “He said to keep the engine warm, go and tell the other drivers, ok?”
Dietz nodded and walked off as Koen turned back around and traced a finger over the map. After a few seconds he had come up with the undeniable fact that they were lost. There were no landmarks to get a bearing off of, and the compass he kept in the Hanomag didn’t seem to want to make up its mind on if it was pointing north or south, given how it kept turning, stopping and then turning again. He looked back at the map before tossing both onto Dietz’s seat, tapping the accelerator pedal to keep the gas going into the engine.
It wasn’t long before Dietz clambered into the halftrack and the rest of the soldiers took their positions in the back, shutting the door. Koen looked back at them before looking at Dietz. “What happened?”
“Unteroffizier Rald and the search party couldn’t find the Oberlutnant, He wants us to move out until we can find the next village.”
“What about the kübel?”
“It won’t start. The engine’s iced over, I think. Come on, get this thing into gear!”
Koen nodded and the halftrack lurched forward, leading the convoy forward, past the farmhouse and past the abandoned vehicle that Oberleutnant Tobor had been driving. It seemed so surreal that the Oberleutnant was missing, being one of the biggest sticklers for rules and staying together that had ever been seen in the 7th Army of the Heer, even before the operation and stalemate began. Somehow, the fog seemed thicker and the snow heavier without him.
The halftrack’s engine groaned, almost in a labored manner as it pushed through the snow. More than once it seemed that it would finally keel over and stall for good, but somehow it kept going, running like the stalwart old woman that Koen and Dietz thought it would have been. Dietz had even jokingly referred to the Hanomag as “Der bärtige Dame“, if only for the white-washed forest camoflauge that had been painted along the armor.
It felt like an hour had passed before the first sections of fencing had been seen through the viewports and after that buildings melted out of the mist. Koen parked the halftrack along the street and the soldiers filed out before he and Dietz got out as well, grabbing their MP40s along the way. Rald quickly set about to getting the men organized and moving, first squad going to secure the houses along the street nearest the convoy, second squad to keep cover towards the other line of houses. Once the houses were cleared out the men set to getting the gear from the halftracks and the two Opel Blitz trucks inside.
The munitions and weapons were scattered evenly, mortars, rifles, rockets for the towed Nebelwerfer 41 and shells for the Pak 36 housed in the basements while grenades, bullets and anything else that was suitable for guard duty was set on the ground and second floors. From the three houses that were apropriated, there was plenty of room for everyone.
Unteroffizier Rald was quick to organize a pair of scouting parties as well, to verify what village they were in and to search for the seemingly absent vilalgers. Obergrenadier Heller was set to lead one scout team while Overfusilier Dietz was given the lead for the other. The rest of the men were content to stay inside where it was warmer, save for those put on sentry duty.
Rald took his field cap off and ran a hand through his hair as he checked his watch for the fifth time since the teams had left. It had been two hours since they vanished into the mist- which showed no sign of thinning out- with no sight nor smell of them since then. He paced to and fro along one of the bedrooms on the second floor, debating if another team should be sent out ot search for the men or if they were better to wait. The men downstairs and even in the other bedrooms were as happy as they could have been, talking amongst one-another and basking in the warmth of the house from the wood-burning stoves.
It wasn’t long before he made up his mind as the mist started to darken. He grabbed his rifle and headed downstairs, intending to lead the search for the scout parties. The second his boot touched the ground floor the front door opened and the six men he appointed filed in, almost completely covered in flakes of dry snow. He waited for Heller and Dietz to tell them what they found, noticing one of the soldiers take their helmet off, shaking their head free of snow while their hair stayed an unusual white hue.
The soldiers quickly went about their business, the first shift setting up for guard duty, the rest intending to enjoy their time before they were deemed required for the next shift, finding beds, chairs and whatever provisions they could scrounge from their packs. The white-haired warrior, a seeming exception to this rule, found their way into the cellar and sat down against the wall, resting their rifle on their lap before they closed their eyes.
or, enter your birth date.*
The sun was just starting to slant towards the horizon as she drove off of the highway and onto a rural road, her GPS marking the line she had to take for the nearest gas station. Her sedan had been close to running on fumes ever since mile 24 and the gas station that she had been hoping to stop at had been long-since closed, probably for a good year. All she wanted right now was enough time to find the next station and fill up before she was stranded in the middle of what may as well have been Nowhere, Kansas.
She had told her parents that she was going to drive home for spring break and they had wondered if she would be ok driving so far. She had reassured them that she would be perfectly fine, after all it wasn’t the first time she drove as far, if not further. Staying at college, or going with the others to party their asses off wasn’t something that appealed to her. She was much more at home reading in the library or bird-watching instead of drinking enough to puke or getting stuffed into bed with three hunky guys in swim trunks.
Amy rolled her eyes and glanced at the GPS on her dashboard before her eyes returned to the road. She couldn’t help but give a breath of relief when she noticed buildings on the right and left of the road ahead. The first was an old gas station that still had power. Anyone else- meaning, those who watched horror movies- would have wondered if kids with a corn fetish would pop out of the woodwork, but Amy just pulled into the open pump and stepped out. She was instantly greeted by the noonday heat and sun bearing down on her, the asphalt and concrete warm under her paws.
No sooner had she closed the door of her car that she noticed a young man in a mechanic’s jumpsuit sauntering up to her, a friendly smile. She offered a smile in return and briefly wondered if she was about to be assaulted.
“Mornin’, Ma’am. Y’all need a fill,” the teen had a telltale southern drawl, his fur splotched with dark spots, almost like freckles under his strawberry-blonde hair. “Or y’all’s car gotta flat?”
“Oh, uh, y-yeah. Just need gas,” Amy stammered, slightly taken aback at his friendly manner.
“Shore-nuff, ma’am. Y’all just head on to Edna’s diner and I’ll give your car a look-over.”
“N-no. Just gas.”
The teen scratched the back of his head. “Y’all sure, ma’am? I ain’t gonna charge y’all. Little lady like yourself ain’t right to break down ‘round these parts. Only gonna charge y’all for the gas, like y’all wanted.”
Well, this was certainly a surprise. This kind of generosity was only heard of back in the nineteenth century, or in movies.
“I…um… Th-thanks,” Amy managed to spit out. “I’m sorry, what’s your name?”
“Martin Leupold III, but y’all can call me ‘Marty’, if y’all care to.”
“Amy, nice to meet you, Marty.”
“Ayup, pleasure is all mine, Ma’am,” Marty stuck his hand out for a handshake.
Amy, not wanting to seem rude, gave it a soft, single shake before looking over her shoulder across the road. “Edna’s diner is over there,” she looked back at Marty. “Right?”
“Ayup, just over yonder. Y’all can be back in half an hour, reckon y’all should be ready to go by then.”
Amy uttered a short thanks and headed off, keeping her keys in her pocket. If the young mechanic wanted to snoop around her car, he could do so outside of it. Strangers weren’t people you trusted unless you had a reason to, after all, even if he did seem like a good kid all in all. She looked both ways before crossing the street, wondering if hers was the only car in a hundred square miles of this town.
As it turned out, Edna’s diner had a parking with other cars in it, the diner’s back having been facing the gas station. An odd way to position the diner, but she wasn’t an architect by any means. There were four police cars- looking like they were from the 1950’s- as well as an old sedan and pickup truck in the parking lot, one such driver holding the door open for her on his way out. He flashed her a smile, revealing tobacco-stained teeth before she turned away and headed inside.
“Hey hun,” a waitress called out from behind the diner’s counter, her hair done up in a bun, wearing a blue skirt and apron, looking every bit like the archetypical diner worker. “Grab yourself a seat, I’ll be right over.”
Amy nodded but the woman had turned away already, calling something out to the cook in back. Amy glanced over the available seats and booths. Four sheriffs were occupying a booth near the door, brown uniforms contrasted by the gold stars on their chests. One of them glanced at her before looking back at his friends, his blue eyes hard and narrow. Another booth further back held a boy and girl, looking like they had just come out of high school.
Amy chose the booth furthest from the door and sat with her back to the wall, glancing at the distorted reflection in the napkin dispenser. She looked up and saw the waitress sauntering up to her, a small notepad in her hand.
“Hey hun, my name is Edna. What’ll ya’ have to drink,” Edna smiled as she pulled a pencil from her hair bun. “Coffee, juice, milk?”
“Uh,” Amy felt awkward for asking. “Are there any menus I can look at?”
“Sorry, hun, but Jim-James took the menus for some odd thing or another. I’m afraid Billy,” she nodded towards the boy and girl, “Will be making more soon, but not until next Wensday.”
“Oh, um, what kind of juice do you have?”
“Well, we got orange, apple, I’m sure Cecil can squish some tomatos if you’re wanting tomato juice.”
“And what’ll ya’ have for your meal?”
Amy looked at her car, still parked at the gas station. “I’m sorry, I’m not planning on staying long, just until that ki-… Martin, fuels my car up.”
Edna followed her gaze towards the window and gas station beyond. “Oh, bless his heart. Little Marty offered to give your car a tune up, did he?”
Amy looked back at Edna, “How did you know?”
“Well shucks, hun, he offers that to all the cute girls with cars.” She leaned closer to her, cupping a hand over her mouth as if to gossip, “between you and me, he’s not very good with cars, just spends time in the station cause of his daddy wanting him to follow the family trade.”
Amy blanched and looked back at her car. “He isn’t going to wreck it, is he?”
Edna laughed, the bubbly sound echoing off of the walls of the diner. “Oh, lord no. Little Marty’s as harmless as a fly, but he likes to make his daddy happy. He’ll just give it a little scrub with some soap and wait for ya.”
“I see,” Amy looked back at Edna. “I guess I can have a small lunch then.”
“Little girl like you looks like she needs to eat anyway. I’m sure Cecil can whip up some chicken and waffles that’ll fill you right up.”
The college girl looked a little uncomfortable. “Don’t you have anything lighter? I’m not a big eater, sorry.”
“That’s just fine, hun. Cecil makes a mean turkey on rye, if that’s more your appeal.”
Amy agreed and Edna jotted down the order before taking it back towards the kitchen. Even from this distance she heard something that was genuinely profound.
“Pluck the turkey and roll him in rye!” Edna called out to the cook in back as she started to pour a tall glass of OJ for Amy. Amy couldn’t help but roll the phrase around in her head, having heard similar phrases in old movies and comedies. It wasn’t long before Edna dropped the glass of juice off and topped off the cop’s coffee mugs.
Every so often she would glance over her shoulder to the gas station, watching Marty in his red jumpsuit walk around her car and occasionally slip under it, doing whatever it was that his father would be proud of, apparently. It wasn’t long until Edna came back with a fair sized turkey sandwich, loaded with tomato and onion, lettuce and even cranberry sauce and a pickle spear on the side. They certainly went all out with their food, certainly more than restaurants at home did.
Amy gave the sandwich a tentative bite and rolled the turkey-bread combination in her mouth as Edna dropped off a fresh glass of OJ, savoring the taste before taking a bite of the pickle. Damn, this was better than mom’s cooking. Amy picked up her fork and applied a fair amount of cranberry sauce to the sandwich, between the turkey and lettuce leaf before taking another bite, and another snap of deliciousness.
It wasn’t long before Edna came by with her receipt and asked how everything was. Amy was completely honest in her words, which made Edna beam with delight. Before she knew it she was at the front desk, fishing money out of her pocket to pay for lunch when she overheard one of the cops call out to Edna.
“Hey Eddie, you and Cecil have any more of those steaks left?”
Edna spoke without looking up from the register. “Sorry Frank, won’t have any more steak until dinner hour. Jack’s supposed to come by with a fresh shipment later today.”
“Well, tell that peckerhead to hurry up,” another cop blurted out.
“Hey, how many cows do you think he has on that farm of his,” another cop asked the others. “I ain’t seen them before.”
Edna rolled her eyes and handed Amy her change.
“Who’s Jack,” Amy wondered aloud. “Does he work at the supermarket or something?”
Edna laughed a polite laugh. “Oh, no hun. He lives on a farm around here, usually comes by every week or so with fresh meat and some veggies. Saves us the time of having to buy as much from the city.”
“So, what, he raises cows?”
“Cows, some pigs, a chicken or two. I still think it isn’t right for a boy that age to not have a lady to take care of him,” Edna looked up at the ceiling. “I’m gonna have to find someone to take him his lunch, come to think.”
She looked at Amy, a smile playing across her lips. “Say, you’re headed out of her soon, right?”
Amy shrugged. “Towards the highway, yeah.”
“Now, I know I ain’t got the right to ask this of you, but would you mind doing another gal’ a favor and taking Jack his lunch? His farm is on the main road but away from the highway. Just go to his farm, give him his meal and you can drive on back to the highway and go wherever you and God want to go.”
Amy glanced at the gas station before looking at Edna. “You don’t have anyone else who can go?”
“I wish. Frank and his friends are on their lunch break, Marty isn’t gonna leave his daddy alone at the station, and my hands are full enough making sure Cecil doesn’t cut his finger off again.”
Amy gave it a moment of thought and shrugged in agreement. It seemed like a good deed to do since Marty was giving her car a tune up (or so he pretended to), as well as a respect to Edna’s motherly, accommodating personality. Edna clapped her hands together in delight and soon Amy was headed back to the station with a bag lunch. The sandwich was wrapped with paper, although it was hot and smelled delicious, making her stomach shift greedily even though she had just eaten.
The cat-girl reached her car and found a small note in the windshield wiper with Marty nowhere to be found. The note detailed that something had happened and he had to help his father with something. Payment for the gas, however, wasn’t an issue as Marty wrote “free for cute girls”. Her ear twitched in both embarrassment and annoyance before she took out a ten-dollar bill and folded it within the note, slipping it into the door-frame of the station.
The car started with a silent purr, the gas gauge flipping to “F”. Awfully generous of him to try and give her a free tank of gas, but courtesy only went so far. She took out the instructions that Edna had slipped into the bag and set the bag itself on the seat next to her. They were easy enough to follow, just simple “Turn left at X” and “Turn left at Y” comments.
She saw the farm house well before she reached the bottom of the instructions. As far as farms went, it seemed to be pretty standard fare. There was the farmhouse, a barn towards the rear of the property- assuming that the fence marked his property-, as well as a windmill. The paint on the house itself looked fresh, and the barn looked like someone had started to paint it and then stopped suddenly. For one guy, he was probably happy with just having the house painted.
She pulled along the side of the road and threw the car into park before switching the ignition. Looking out through the passenger-window someone was coming out of the house and walking down towards the front gate, clearly intending to greet her. She picked up the bag lunch and clambered out of her car, walking around towards the gate and waited for Jack to walk up.
“Well hello there,” he called out, shielding his eyes against the falling sun. “Haven’t seen you around these parts!”
“I’m passing through,” she smiled at him. “Edna at the diner wanted me to give you this,” and she offered the bag to him, holding it over the gate.
“Edna, well-well,” He took the bag from her and sniffed at it slightly. “Lady’s as sweet as peaches, although I’m sure you found that out yourself. Thank you very much for delivering this, Miss…?”
“Amy, well I’m Jack, although I’m sure you knew that already,” He offered his hand to shake hers.
Again with this. Amy bit back a comment and instead gave his hand a polite shake.
“What are you doing out here, if you don’t mind my asking, Amy?”
“Passing through, going home.”
Jack smiled slightly, looking towards the highway in the far distance, barely seeable over the corn stalks that blanketed the opposite side of the road. “You’re a college girl, aren’t you. Miskerton State, right?”
Amy’s ears perked immediately. “How did you know that?”
Jack’s smile turned into a grin. “Went there myself a few years back. Had to come home when mom got sick and dad couldn’t take care of her on his own while keeping the farm.”
“What did you study,” Amy asked, despite herself. “I-if that’s ok.”
“No harm in asking. I went to study medicine and surgery, did pretty good at it for a corn-fed boy too.” Jack looked back at her, his eyes hardening slightly. “Shame I had to stop, although this is good living too.”
Amy nodded. “I hope your mom and dad are doing ok right now.”
“I bet they are. Together in heaven, I’d assume.”
Amy gasped softly. “Oh, no… I-I didn’t mean to-” but Jack cut her off.
“That’s quite alright. Mom went first, leaving me to take care of dad. Nearly lost the farm after that, but I showed dad how we could save it by raising and breeding cows as well as crops.” He glanced down, his eyes filling with sorrow. “He didn’t agree with what I did, especially after mom passed, but eventually he came to accept it and even shook my hand at how much money were able to make to pay off his debts. Sometimes I wonder if he was silently wishing I would fail.”
He looked up at her again, forcing a smile. “Either way, they’re happy together now, and I’m taking care of the farm and the cows.”
Amy nodded before glancing back at her car. “It was nice to have met you, Jack, although I should be going. I don’t want to be late in getting home.”
He nodded and took a step backwards, his flannel shirt shifting in an errant breeze. “You do that, Amy. Make sure you stay safe, yeah?”
“I will, thanks.”
Amy headed back to her car and got in, turning her head to see Jack watching her, stopping to wave which he returned before flipping the ignition and pulling the car into drive. She made a U-turn and drove back towards town without looking back at jack. In the rear-view mirror she saw him look down at his lunch and start to head back towards his house. She didn’t give him a second thought past that point.
The trip back into town had taken her a good thirty minutes by car and the sky was already starting to turn rosy-orange as it started to bend down towards the horizon. She briefly considered fiddling with the radio before the car jerked and she heard a loud “pop”. The wheel in her hand went livid and she slammed on the brakes, hearing the brake pads and rubber tires squeal loudly.
She breathed heavily and looked around the inside of the car to make sure everything was still in one piece. Having done that she threw the transmission into “park” and hit the emergency brake before getting out to see what had happened. It was as clear as the failing day when she saw it. The front-two tires had ruptured, leaving her with one more near-heart-attack experience. She knelt down to see what had done the damage and found herself looking at several nasty looking metal spikes jutting out of the rubber. The spikes were welded together, almost as if whoever had made them had designed them so one spike was always sticking up.
Well, fuck. Here she was with two flats, no spare, and daylight was running out. She could always hoof it back into town, but her delicate paw pads gnashed at that idea, as did the idea of waiting for someone to drive by who could help her. She racked her mind, trying to think of something before glancing back at the way she had come. The windmill, although faint I the distance, still stood above the cornstalks. It was possible that Jack had a phone she could use to dial for a tow truck, or even Martin’s father.
Amy sighed and gathered her important things from the car. Her cell came with her, although it had died shortly after she set out on her trip. Her book bag came with her as well, although she reconsidered and left it in the back seat. The doors were closed and locked before she set off, walking along the shoulder of the road towards the farm. The sky had slowly but steadily turned more and more red as the sun edged further and further down. By the time she made it back to the front gate the sun had disappeared under the horizon entirely although the barest amount of light still shone upwards into the sky.
She tried to open the gate but soon opted to clamber over and head for the house She called out several times as she walked, hoping he didn’t mistake her for a burglar and react accordingly. The porch light turned on and the door opened to reveal him still clad in his jeans and undershirt, having taken his flannel off sometime after she left.
“Amy, I didn’t expect to see you back so soon, or at all. Is something wrong?” he called out from the screen door as she made it to the porch.
“My car got a flat. Two of them, actually. Do you have a phone I can use?”
Jack nodded and unlocked the screen door. “Sure do, come inside.”
The small portion of Amy’s brain that remained skeptical of all things quietly asked her not to go inside, but the rest of her mind agreed that if he was willing to let her use his phone then she shouldn’t look a gift-horse in the mouth. She opened the porch door and headed inside, letting it shut behind her as she followed Jack into the living room. It was largely Spartan dwelling, although she was surprised to see a new-ish TV and even a laptop.
“Phone’s on the wall over there. Number list should be taped on the receiver.” Jack said as he headed into the kitchen.
Amy nodded and picked up the receiver and was about to dial a number when she realized that the phone had no tone. She tapped the receiver button several times but couldn’t coax the phone to life.
“Jack, I think your phone is dead.”
Jack popped his head out of the kitchen doorway and frowned. “Dead? Did you try tapping the button?”
“I just did that.”
“What about the cord to the wall? Sometimes you have to jiggle it.”
Amy traced the cord from the base of the phone to the wall and unplugged it before plugging it back in. Not that it made a difference.
“That’s odd,” Jack said after he had left the kitchen and tried his own hand at bringing the phone back to life. “Was working fine this morning.”
He shrugged and set the phone back on the receiver. “I’ll walk into town when daylight comes and get Jason here with his tow, and pick you up on the way.”
“Don’t you have a car,” Amy heard herself ask. “I mean, you live all the way out here, right?”
“Yes, but the transmission is shot. Been trying to talk to Jason and Marty about replacing it, but Jason always was a hard man to haggle with.”
Amy looked down. “So I’m stuck here until morning?”
“Afraid so, although there’s a guest room upstairs that you can sleep in. At least until morning. TV should have something to please a college-girl like yourself, too.”
Amy looked back at Jack as he headed back into the kitchen, apparently to finish the meal that Edna made for him. She sat down on the couch and grabbed the remote from between the cushions, flipping from news channels to the public broadcast and finally to something educational. Jack eventually joined her on the couch and they watched TV for a while.
He checked the clock and stood up. “Well, time for me to head to bed. Come on, I’ll show you to your room.”
Amy looked up at him before looking back at the TV, noticing that the show had switched to some pasty-faced news anchor who was forecasting a storm headed north, predicting that it was about to “roll over the entire county”. She switched the TV off and stood up, letting Jack lead her upstairs and into the guest bedroom. The bed was small, and the window looked painted over, but at least it was comfy. Jack mentioned that his room was across from hers and if she needed anything she had but to ask.
“Thank you, Jack, for letting me stay like this.”
The german-shepard smiled and shrugged “Just doing what feels right. Did it back then with mom and dad, and I’m doing it now.
Amy nodded, a soft smile on her lips as he closed the door behind him as he left, leaving her alone in the room with only the bedside lamp to shine. She glanced out the window and saw the barn looming from its corner on the property, barely illuminated by the half-moon in the sky. She eventually checked her paws for burs or bugs and slipped into bed. Her jeans rubbed at her furry thighs and her shirt collar tugged at her neck under the blanket, but she endured the feeling, letting her head rest on the pillow.
It wasn’t long until she slipped under the murky waves of slumber. She jerked awake after a while to the sound of rain pattering against the window and roof. Moonlight filtered in from outside as Amy swung her legs over the side of the bed and rested her paw pads on the floor. She rubbed at her eyes and looked at the window, hearing something slam from outside. It didn’t sound like one of the window shutters, but more like a car door.
She was on her feet in an instant and tried to open the door to the hallway but the knob clicked as it refused to open. She twisted it this way and that, only for the lock to stay securely in place. She glared at the door for a moment before looking back towards the window. It was hard to see anything with the rain, but she could barely make out someone near the front gate and a car. Someone got out of the car, the two exchanged something- she couldn’t tell what- and then the car drove off. Amy returned her attention to the door, trying to shove it open although her petite frame didn’t have much force behind it and all she ended up doing was making her shoulder ache.
The front door opened and she stepped away from the door, hearing heavy footfalls echo from the steps and then into the hallway. She quickly got back into bed and pulled the covers over her, feigning sleep. The sound of the door unlocking sounded like a gunshot but the door didn’t open. She held her breath, a trickle of sweat running down her scalp, waiting for the door to open, but it never did. Instead, she heard the footfalls head into Jack’s room and the door shut behind them.
She got out of bed once more and opened the door to her room as quietly as possible, peeking out into the hallway before stepping out. She tip-toed down the hallway and down the stairs, wondering if one of the steps would let out an ungodly creek under her weight. She breathed a sigh of relief once she made it to the landing, turning out of the foyer and into the kitchen. Leaving via the front door seemed like it would get her caught, plus if he did come downstairs she could always say she was getting a glass of water.
She moved slowly through the house, trying not to trip over anything. The back door was unlocked, thankfully, and she snuck out, guiding the door back into position with great care. The rain was still coming down, not that she really cared at this point. Something had struck her wrong with the whole affair: her being locked in, the car being at the front gate, Jack interacting with the driver. It all stunk to high heaven.
Her shirt and jeans were soaked through within moments of leaving the back porch, her paws sinking into the mud as she circled around the house towards the front gate. She risked a glance over her shoulder and saw the light in the guest bedroom flash on, a figure silhouetting the window. She started to run, throwing all subtlety out of the window, sprinting for the gate and clambering over it.
The car had long-since driven off, leaving her to stand in the road, looking towards town. Jack had caught up to her, holding an umbrella. She favored him with a wary, almost fearful glance but he kept his distance.
“What are you doing out here,” he asked, speaking just loud enough to be heard over the rain and thunder. “Come on, you’ve got to get inside before you get sick.”
“What about the car, Jack,” her eye burned into him. “The car that was out here, the one you greeted. Why didn’t you tell them about me?”
Jack shook his head. “That guy came for the steaks I was supposed to deliver to Edna’s diner. He also has a record with the sherrif and you didn’t need to experience what he can do to girls like you.”
She turned to face him, her hands balling into fists. “He could have taken me back into town!”
“He could have raped you,” Jack shot back. “Raped you and left you for dead!”
Amy felt as if he had slapped her across the face. “W-what?”
Jack didn’t repeat himself, but the grim look he wore spoke volumes. Instead, he opened the umbrella and took a step towards her. “Come on, we need to get you inside and dry.”
Amy didn’t resist when he placed his hand on her shoulder, holding the umbrella to shield her from the worst of the rain. He gently pulled her against his side and the two walked back to the farmhouse. Lightning struck some distance away, the booming echo of the thunder carrying both far and short. Jack escorted Amy to the bathroom and left her to dry off, taking her clothes to dry and handing her a fresh pair of his hand-me-downs. The jeans were a bit loose, and the shirt was a bit oversized, but at least she was dry.
She left the bathroom and headed downstairs, her eyes downcast. Jack was bust boiling water in the kitchen, a small box of tea resting on the kitchen counter with two coffee mugs. He heard her sit down and offered her a kind smile.
“Are you feeling ok,” he asked. “Clothes fit alright, I hope.”
She gave a bare nod. “I’m fine, thanks. I just want to go home.”
He nodded in sympathy. “I know how it must feel. You want to be where it’s warm, safe and familiar.”
She looked up at him. He turned to the kettle and took it off of the burner, pouring the scalding water into the waiting mus. She looked down at her lap as he opened the tea box and pulled out two tea bags. It wasn’t long before he set her mug down before her and sat across from her. “I’m sorry, but all I have is tea. Haven’t been able to buy coffee for a while now.”
“It’s fine, thank you,” she picked the cup up with both hands and blew on the steaming liquid before taking a small sip. “It’s good,” she said softly as a faint smile played across her lips.
“Mom’s recipe. She always was the herbalist in the family. Tea, coffee, heck, even tobacco. She could make any plant sing.”
She nodded and took another sip, feeling the comforting warmth run down her throat and pool in her belly. By the time she was halfway finished her arms began to feel heavy. She was far from tired, if anything she was wide awake but her body began to feel heavy.
“J-Jack I think something’s wrong,” she managed to set the mug down safely before her arm fell slack. “I think s-something was in the tea.”
Jack smiled as he stood up, looking at her with what could only be contempt.
“J-Jack,” Amy whimpered. “W-what’s happening?”
“Well, I’d say that you’re starting to feel the muscle relaxant kick in. Edna fed you turkey, didn’t she,” Jack took the mug away from her side of the table and ran his fingers through her hair. “Amazing how long it can take for this stuff to kick in, isn’t it?”
She opened her mouth to protest as he slipped his hands under her arms and pulled her out of her chair. She tried to flail and fight back but all she managed to do was barely wiggle her arms and flex her toes as he pulled her into the hallway.
“Let me go Jack!” she managed to scream out.
“Cows should need to be quiet.”
“Wh-what? I’m not a cow!”
Jack dropped Amy to the ground, the back of her head smacking against the wooden floor. She cried out in both surprise and pain before he knelt over her and started to unbutton the shirt she was wearing. She managed to look down at his hands as they started to expose her breasts.
“Edna’s a nice woman, you know,” he spoke as he opened her shirt, exposing her bare, A-cup breasts. “I think she looks at me as the son she never had. It’s funny how she always asks beautiful cows like you to bring me lunch or dinner after they stop by. I never asked if she drugs the turkey, or if Cecil does it, but she’s always telling me that I should find a girl who will cook and clean for me.”
The final button was undone and he pulled the shirt off of her, sitting her up by pulling her up by her hair. He let her fall back once again, smacking her head before he set out to the borrowed pants. She had started to scream as loudly as she could. It was a futile gesture, but the loud noise was starting to give him a headache. He had yanked her pants down to her ankles and found that she was still wearing her rain-drenched panties. He grabbed the wet undergarments and ripped them off before bunching them up and forcibly stuffing them into Amy’s open mouth.
She retched once at the sensation of her panties touching her tongue but didn’t get the chance to completely question what was happing. He grabbed her wrists and pulled her up, slinging her over his shoulder and heading for the front door. The rain pelted her back and legs, running down into her eyes as he carried her away from the house.
“People always wonder where I get my steaks from, you know,” he continued to participate in the one-sided conversation. “The sheriff’s department loved them, Cecil loves them, not even Marty and Jason can’t help but partake.”
What the hell was he talking about? Amy’s mind struggled to comprehend where he was taking her, the landmarks of the farm quickly being lost in the night storm. She heard the door to the barn open and he carried her in.
“And here we are, where the cows belong.”
The fear that had been boiling in her stomach and chest had putrefied into full-blown panic when she saw, in the stall reserved for horses and cattle, there were women tied to beds. Some of them were hooked up to breast milkers, much to her dismay.
“And here you are,” he said as he shrugged her off and turned her around, pushing her over the long-end of a sawhorse. The wooden beam pressed against her bony chest, resting between her breasts as he undid his belt.
“P-please don’t! J-just let me go and I promise I won’t tell anyone what you’re doing,” she sobbed miserably. The only noise that escaped her mouth and panties was muffled beyond recognition. Jack didn’t so much as blink as he looped his belt around the wooden beam and her waist, cinching it tightly to keep her postured as submissively as possible.
“Whenever you get a new cow, it’s always important to give them a proper examination, you know. Dad was always adamant about that whenever a new sow came to our farm, or a breeding bull was sold from a neighbor,” Jack said to no-one in particular as he ran a hand across her back. “Soft fur, taut muscle,” he touched her knee and ran his hand up along her hip. He gave her rump a firm swat, almost cruelly so, “I’d say you’re a perfect specimen, if Dad didn’t teach me to be so thorough.”
Amy managed to turn her head and saw Jack unbuttoning and unzipping the fly of his pants. Although whatever she had been poisoned with she dreaded to think of what he was going do to her next. He grabbed at her ankles and spread her legs side, the sides of her foot-paws touching the legs of the sawhorse. An intruding finger touched the outer lips of her sex, making her scream out in terror.
“Such a lovely spot to plant my seed. Mommy would call me a sinner for fucking a cow, but with a snatch like that its hard not to.”
His hands found her waist and he pressed his hips against her thighs, his stiffening member brushing along the tendon that led from her pelvis into her leg. She managed to shift her weight before he dug his fingers into her sides and dry hump her, his girth grinding along the fur and skin between her legs before he leaned back and took one hand off of her hips. She knew what was coming next and she struggled to move away, even though she was trapped between the sawhorse and her rapist.
He grasped the base of his prick and guided the head towards her slit. It was dryer than a well in the desert, but that wasn’t going to stop him. He pulled away, leaned down and spat before rubbing it into her cunt. His fingers dipped into her reluctant tunnel and scissored outwards, loosening her up for the upcoming fun. She had started to sob openly, laying limp and accepting her fate.
“That’s right, Amy. Be a good cow and get bred like you’re supposed to,” Jack smiled as he touched the head of his cock against her violated slit once more and pushed. She wailed as he pushed into and through her hymen, red ichor leaking out around his shaft as he gripped her waist and started to thrust into her slowly, shallowly, testing the leeway he had with her.
It wasn’t long before he had started to deepen his thrusts, his nails clawing into her sides as his girth wedged her womanhood open. He threw his head back and groaned loudly as she wept with equal volume, knowing that the other cows could see them. It felt good to have a cow that was still lively, still fresh, even if his father hadn’t approved.
He looked down at her rump and gave her furry cheek a firm slap, making her leg spasm in reaction. She was tighter than he had felt in a while, too tight. He opened his mouth to speak but all that came out was a long howl as his balls clenched and he pumped her womb full of his young seed. Her eyes widened, feeling the scalding warmth pool in her innermost parts, the last rational part of her brain fearing that he had just impregnated her.
“It’s been a while since I had an ass as tight of yours,” he chuckled as he pulled his hips backwards, his member vacating her ruined womanhood, the mess left slowly trickling down her thighs. “Give me five minutes and I’ll be ready to sample you again.”
She sobbed quietly, her cheek resting against the wooden beam of the sawhorse. She felt sick, angry, and defeated at the same time, her tail resting along her rump to protect what was left of her dignity. Jack’s hand touched her back before wrapping itself in her hair, craning her back with a strangled cry escaping her throat.
“Oh, cheer up, buttercup. A cow like you will be so happy here; you get free food and a bed, and in return I get what I want.”
She gritted her teeth as he pulled on her hair again before the sound of metal ringing against something and Jack’s body falling over hers before flopping to the ground could be heard. She twisted her head to look at what had happened and found herself looking at Marty, holding a shovel in his shaky hands. He had knocked Jack out, or so she silently begged. She really hoped that Marty hit him hard enough to crack his head open like a rotten egg.
“Oh, jeez,” Marty breathed as he dropped the shovel and rushed to her side, tugging on Jack’s belt to free the tabby girl. “What in tarnation happened here?”
Amy shook her head and kept her tail down, almost wrapping it just enough to turn it into an impromptu thong. The belt came off and she managed to drag herself off of the sawhorse, collapsing to the ground on her hands and knees. Her tears were still flowing, but at least a glimmer of hope had dried up the streams.
“Come on,” Marty held his hand out for her to take. “We gotta’ get to the sheriff.”
She managed a brief nod and took his hand, letting herself get pulled to her unsteady feet. She stumbled once as she tried to follow him before he took her arm and brought it over his shoulders, walking her forward.
They had made it to the doors of the barn when Marty asked the burning question. “Who were those other women? Is Jack responsible for this?”
Amy nodded before a rage-filled voice filled the stormy night.
“She’s mine,” cried out from behind right before the shovel collided with Martin’s shoulders and Amy’s forearm, bringing the two down to the ground. Jack’s eyes burned with unholy rage as he brought the shovel back up over his head, intending to cave the poor kid’s head in. “Mine!”
Marty shoved Amy to the side just as the shovel came down, rolling away as well but the shovel came down on his shoulder. He grabbed at the head and wrestled with the psychotic farmer as Amy got to her feet and took off running. The storm and clouds above had immersed farm in near-total darkness. Only the faint light that shone from the moon through the clouds allowed her to see where she was running to with any degree of certainty. The run to the gate and road would be her end, since Jack could just sprint and tackle her into the mud before beating her into submission.
Instead, she ran in the opposite direction and into the rows of crops. The sounds of Jack and Martin fighting were soon silenced as her bare paws splashed in the puddles of water and mud as she ran and ran and ran until she was certain that her lungs were going to burst. Her guts hurt, her tail hurt, everything hurt and eventually she stopped running, letting herself slump to the ground, panting hard.
She was naked, cold, wet and alone. Alone in the field with Martin or Jack dead on the farm- both of them were, for all she knew- with her running without knowing where she was headed. She swallowed the bile that rose in her throat and forced herself to take slow, even breaths. The ensuing silence gave her the chance to hear him coming.
“Amy,” Jack’s voice floated through the air. “Amy, where are you? Come on, buttercup, we got to get you inside before you catch a death from cold.” A silent pause followed before he roared in anger. “Where the hell are you, you bitch!?”
Amy covered her mouth to stifle the sob that threatened to come out. She wanted to be away from him, away from him on another planet. Oh god… what was he going to do to her if he found her?
She froze dead-still when she heard the sounds of his boots stomping through the mud, the splatter of puddles as he moved somewhere to her right. The crops had suddenly turned from her hiding place into a labyrinthine deathtrap with him coming ever closer. She crept out onto her hands and knees, moving away from his voice, trying to stay as silent as possible.
Lightning flashed and the world was noon-time bright for the briefest of moments. He heard his cry from behind and the stomping of water and instantly she was on her feet. He had seen her and was coming for her now, staying silent was going to get her killed now. Killed, or worse.
Her lungs fought against her and the muscles in her legs tried to seize but she endured the pain and strife, somehow managing to evade him as she broke from the crops onto a roadway. Her head whipped around and she looked back as she kept running, the asphalt digging into her paw pads as she kept running. She couldn’t see him, but the sound of boots on the road couldn’t be heard.
It had been six months since the waking nightmare she had to endure. She had managed to flag down a car and never looked back. Occasionally she would wonder about Martin, and if he was still alive, but thoughts of Marty would always turn into thoughts of Jack and, inevitably, the time she spent in the hospital and the emergency contraceptives the doctors ordered her to take.
Miskerton State hadn’t changed since she had come back from her extended vacation. The A/V club was still fawning over their century-old cameras, cheerleaders still dated and banged the football team, and every year the archaeology classes had to scrounge for their annual expedition to the bone desert out west. Nothing had changed, save her.
She went back to being the tabby with the long hair, the white-orange fur, which had too-small breasts and slender hips who spent way too much time in the library and drawing. Amy had finally regained some semblance of normality in her life, at long last. The week had started and she endured as she always had, heading to the library for her afternoon routine of shelving books, helping the librarian with odd jobs and practicing her anatomical doodles.
She had picked up a stack of history textbooks and was heading towards the back of the library. This particular stack had been rather tall, forcing her to twist her body this way and that to see where she was going. It wasn’t long before she ran into someone and the textbooks went scattering about.
“Oh no, I’m so sorry,” she said hastily as she stooped to pick the books back up. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”
“Oh, that’s perfectly fine, buttercup,” the other person said as they stooped as well, although they made no move to help pick up the textbooks.
Amy looked up and felt her blood run cold when she say Jack smiling at her, his flannel shirt and torn jeans replaced by a black T-shirt and dark blue pants.
“J-j…” she stammered, her mind shutting down.
“What’s wrong, buttercup? You look like you saw a ghost,” he smiled, his eyes glimmering with malice.
|I am who I am and those who say I am not are not. I like to write, to critique and give feedback to art made by (a) friend(s). Anything else you want to know you should ask me personally.|