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Subject: Arron's Chronicles (Mg, gg, inc)
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Arron's Chronicles (Mg, gg, inc)
FIRST things first I guess. This is an erotic story written for the
enjoyment of consenting adults. If you are not consenting don't read it
(now that made a lot of sense). If you are not an adult don't read it.
This story contains pedophilia and incest. If this offends you or violates
your personal moral code DON'T READ IT.
SECOND: While I have the soapbox I want to say something about the
nature of fantasy. That is what this story is FANTASY. I do not condone
or agree with the activities portrayed in this story. Anyone in real life
who harms a child deserves to be castrated then shot. That said, what is
harm? Is a consenting, loving, sexual relationship between a child and an
adult harmful? If done with care it is not physically harmful but there
are other kinds of harm. Is it emotionally harmful? Perhaps, perhaps not,
in actuality it probably varies case by case. Children don't have labels,
there is no tag that says 'I can handle sex'. So for that reason alone
caring adults should not consider a sexual relationship with a child
(uncaring adults are going to do as they damn well please).
THIRD: Now I wish to speak on incest. I have no problem on a moral
level with incest. I even consider the idea erotic (go figure) on an
abstract level. I only have problems with incest is when it involves an
adult and a child. The adult whether he/she be a parent or uncle/aunt or
whatever is in a position of authority over the child. That brings in the
possibility of coercion. Even if this is not intended there will be an
element of it there just because of the authority position. Most children
want to please their parents. A child that is subject to sexual advances
by a parent may acquiesce even if this is not something they wish to do.
I
would have the same problem if the adult were a teacher or a principle.
Other than that I have no problems with incest. If a brother and sister
want to play around under the sheets, as long as certain precautions are
taken, more power to them.
LAST: I want to speak on the nature of eroticism. This is in two parts,
the first ties in with the nature of fantasy above. I find many things
erotic in literature, these include, pedophilia, incest, bestiality,
torture, rape, water sports etc... Very few of these things would I find
erotic if I was a participant. Let me state that again, not only would I
not do them (for moral reasons) but the thought of actually doing them
turns me off like a light. Curious, I enjoy reading about them but the
thought of doing them is repellant. Now for the second part, I have for
many years read erotic stories, starting with filched copies of Penthouse
Letters as a teenager then downloading them from BBS's and finally the
internet. I have found many, many erotic stories that I have enjoyed
immensely. I have also found a great deal of duds. To be erotic a story
needs several things. It has to be believable both in the setting and the
actions/reactions of the participants. A story where a child walks into
a
pool hall, raises her dress and takes on everybody in the place would not
be erotic for me no matter how hot the sex, because I would not believe it.
A story has to be descriptive. Adjectives and adverbs are important.
Don't tell me that Jane dropped to her knees and fucked the dog. Tell me
what she feels, what she says, how she moves. Don't tell me a child is
cute. Describe her, what is her skin tone, what color are her eyes, her
hair? How soft is her skin? What is she thinking?
Arron Winters fiddled with the radio as he droned east on I-64. It was
into the small hours and only semi's and the occasional vacation bound
sport-ute shared the gently winding asphalt with the old Taurus wagon. He
gave up after a few minutes. The car's tired old am radio could only pick
up a half-dozen religious shows and one oldies country station full of
scratchy old voices wailing about their woes. He snapped the knob off then
cranked his window down a notch and lit a cigarette. The Late February
chill that roared through the cracked glass whipped the smoke away and
helped brace up sagging eyes.
He passed reflective green signs announcing exits for places like 'Green
Sulfur Springs', 'Dawson', and 'Smoot'. The green West Virginia forest
rolled by on each side, rendered inky black by the night.
Arron was the older of the Winter's brothers by four years. At
thirty-eight he was over educated and under employed. A masters in
classical literature had done little for his employment hopes so he'd
returned to school and added a BS in geology to his repertoire. That
should have turned the ticket but for one small hitch. He'd found out a
little late that he had no taste for corporate America. Five years and
eleven different employers had proved that out well. He was finally left
with a resume full of bad references and no real desire to submit the thing
to anyone anyway. He'd been rescued from impending poverty only by the
death of an elderly uncle.
Neither brother had seen the old coot since they were children. Arron
had vague memories of a portly, balding man with a florid face who would
regale for hours about crooked politicians and greedy business interests.
Subjects of little interest, at least to a five-year-old.
The old man had lived in a battered mobile home in a park full of
equally battered mobile homes. The fact that he owned the park had never
raised the family's estimates of him in the least, so it was with
considerable surprise that it was learned that the old miser had managed
to
squirrel away $600,000 and then left everything to two sons of a snooty
sister that he'd met only once.
After selling the park and paying the taxes the two were left with about
$200,000 apiece. Arron had seen the gift as a life ring and reached for
it
with both hands. A quick trip to an investment adviser and it was all
placed in nice, safe, low return stocks and funds. Income rarely ran over
ten-thousand a year but it rarely fell below that either. Arron had sold
his overpriced home for the value of the note, ditched most of his
possessions at fire-sale prices and taken to the road as a traveling
pauper, but not a bum at least.
In the past five years he'd crossed the country a dozen times. He'd
hiked the Appalachian trail, visited every battlefield, crawled through
miles of dank caves. He'd hit a state park and set up for a week or a
month then off again to whatever else interested him. In the winter he
drifted south, sometimes as far as Mexico. In the summer it was north,
sometimes as far as Canada.
His happy-go-lucky lifestyle had sit poorly with his over-achiever
family, particularly with his younger brother Carl, an over-achiever's
over-achiever. While Arron had been sitting through lectures on Homer and
Machiavelli Carl had been driving his way toward an MBA. While Arron had
been sitting through lectures on igneous rock formation Carl had baled out
on his first company with a golden parachute and promptly founded another.
While Arron was cleaning out his desk yet again Carl had watched his third
Company go through its third stock split.
Arron had visited his brother only three times in the intervening years.
The visits had been tense affairs full of unspoken accusations and
recriminations. He'd rarely stayed over a day, always bailing out with a
promise not to do that again.
That had made it all the more surprising when Carl had tracked him down
in Colorado and pleaded with him to come East. The voice on the phone had
been tired, worn, not the 90 mph all business all-of-the-time voice Arron
remembered.
"You know the land I bought in West Virginia?"
"Yeah, in the park."
"That's it, can you be there in a week or so."
"Sure."
"Good,.........looking forward to seeing you bro."
And that had been that.
The exit sign for State Road 55 blazed green in the high beams. Arron
slowed and gave a signal. The tires whined and he left the inter-state
behind. State Road 55 was a two lane that wound generally north.
Generally because it followed the path of least resistance. The road
writhed around hills with turns so sharp they set the wagon's old cv joints
to chattering then dropped into a hollow so suddenly that the stomach
needed a moment to catch up. Sometimes the road was blasted out of the
side of a mountain with only a single strip of steel or cable between the
passenger's door and a vertical drop of hundreds of feet. At other times
it dropped into forest so dense that it seemed to close overhead like a
tunnel. Arron had a compass affixed to the windshield, he watched in awe
as it swung through 270 degrees in less than a mile of road.
Dawn found him pulling into the bustling burg of Ives. He slowed at a
wide place and pulled off into a gravel lot. An old two story general
store of peeling white planks loomed over three modern, electronic pumps.
The glistening appliances looked out of place. He used his check card at
the pump and set the Taurus to feeding then stepped inside.
A bell tinkled as he opened the door and a friendly, white haired head
popped over the lip of the counter.
"Howdy son. What can I do for you?"
The inside of the store was a maze of tiny paths through towering
shelves offering groceries, garden hoses, car parts and every item in
between. Arron turned from the confusing array and greeted the proprietor.
"Just getting gas. I was hoping you could tell me where I could get
something to eat around here."
"Polly's is just up the road bout half a mile. Good breakfast."
"That's what I'm looking for, thanks."
He bought two packs of Kool's then headed back to the car. The plank
floor creaked as he stepped outside.
Polly turned out to be about five feet tall and nearly as wide. She
smiled and seated him at a corner table. In less than a minute he had a
steaming cup of coffee and a grease stained menu. He was going to have
bacon and eggs till he noticed venison was one of the meats available and
had that instead of bacon. Breakfast arrived with a yeast biscuit so light
it seemed ready to float off the plate. He asked for and got two more
before he'd finished. He paid the bill, left a generous tip and then hit
the road.
A full stomach after a night of driving left him groggy. He debated
stopping somewhere and sleeping in the car but he only had forty or so
miles to go and decided to press on. He cranked the window down all the
way and tried the radio again. To his surprise a classic rock station in
Beckley came in loud and clear. It would fade to static as the car dropped
into hollows then return strongly as he climbed the next hill.
Carl's land was not exactly in a park. It was in Monongahala National
Forest. The National Forest service had a policy of buying up landlocked
parcels of privately owned property within their boundaries when the old
owner died. Such an event had occurred two years before but at the time
the Federal government was experiencing one of its occasional spending
freezes. Carl had stepped in and purchased the land off of the heirs as
an
investment, foreseeing re-selling it to the Forest Service at a profit
later. With a new administration however had come new policies, he still
had the land.
He drove for another hour then sighted the forest station his brother
had told him about. Gravel popped and pinged as he pulled into the lot.
It was not a visitor's center, just a working station. A government
issue prefab with a tower looming behind it. Inside was a tiny
presentation area complete with TV and VCR. A wall with a teller-type
window and unmarked door separated this from a cramped back room that
sported several desks and filing cabinets. A grandmotherly type in an
overstuffed Forest Service uniform was restocking brochure holders when he
stepped inside. She looked up.
"If you want to climb the tower it doesn't open for another half-hour."
"I'm not looking to climb the tower. I'm Arron Winters. My brother
Carl told me to pick up some keys here."
She frowned in concentration for a moment then her face cleared. "Oh,
I
wasn't expecting you for another couple of days. Can I see some ID"
He fumbled out his wallet then extracted his license from the clear
compartment. The woman peered at it for a moment then looked up, comparing
him to the photo. "Reckon you're him." She handed the license back then
went through the door alongside the window. She was back in a minute with
a small manila envelope and another brochure. "Ever been up there?"
"No maam."
She dumped the envelopes contents on a low table. Nearly a dozen small
key rings clattered to the table. She picked one up. It held a single key
along with a metal ringed paper identification disk. The disk had the
number '27' written on it in blue ink.
"The gates are all numbered. There'll be a little diamond shaped sign
either on a post a few feet from the gate or on the gate itself. Be sure
you close and lock each one behind you."
Arron stared morosely as she swept the mass of keys back into the
envelope. His hopes for bed in the next hour quickly evaporating. The
woman turned to the brochure. She opened it up and turned it so the map
on
the back was up. Kneeling on the worn carpet, she took a pen from a pocket
and began to trace a path through the maze of service and logging roads.
"The Roads are numbered too. Generally by rectangular plaques tacked to
trees at intersections and every quarter mile or so along the way." She
tapped the brochure with the pen. "They match the numbers on the map."
"How far do I have to go?"
"As the crow flies about twenty miles. Your probably going to have to
drive twice that though."
The woman rose as Arron's spirits sank further. She went to the
entrance door and opened it. Arron's Taurus was the only car in the lot.
"That wagon yours?"
"Yes maam."
"You got a cell phone."
Arron nodded.
The woman went to the teller window and reached inside she fumbled
around a moment then found what she was after. She turned and thrust a
business card into his hand. Numbly he looked at it, 'RURAL RESCUE, OFF
ROAD TOWING' proclaimed the header. Underneath there were several phone
numbers. He brought the card to his forehead in salute. "Thank you maam."
He drove several miles further on 55 before turning off on a paved
forest service road. A large brown painted sign with routed out letters
in
gold attested to the fact. A metal sign just beyond stated the penalties
for everything from littering to poaching. He drove several miles without
sighting a vehicle, stopping at each dirt turnoff to check its marker
against the route marked on the brochure. He found it and turned off onto
a gravel lane that wound past the base of a pine covered knob. He
encountered the first gate 200 yards in and fumbled in the envelope till
he
found the correct key. It worked and he moved the car through and closed
and locked the portal behind him.
For the next hour he drove over roads that ranged from good graded
gravel to potholed but passable clay. He'd just about decided that the
Forest Service woman had been putting one over on the out-of-towner when
he
sighted a rusty marker sign on the trunk of a brooding elm. For ten
minutes he'd been idling along at a walking pace, as the car lurched
through ruts and holes, looking for his next turnoff. The number on the
plate matched but he'd seen no road. He put the car into reverse and
backed up, brush and weeds scraped along the undercarriage. He stopped
with the offending sign centered in his bug spattered windshield and got
out.
Between two intruding masses of wild blackberry was a space scarcely
three feet wide. Beyond the track opened slightly to reveal a washed and
rutted logging road that led straight up the side of a mountain, vanishing
between serried ranks of pine, fir and maple. Muttering a silent apology
to the Forest Service he climbed back into the car and nursed it into the
inadequate gap.
Thorns squealed on the faded paint as the car shouldered the
blackberries aside. The machine lurched and bounced as it encountered the
first of the deep ruts. Crooning entreaties to mechanical gods he eased
the wagon through. The undercarriage banged metallically as it bottomed
on
the rough surface.
Banging, clanging and swearing he finally rounded the mountain and
started down the far side. At the bottom a good sized stream ran swiftly
but shallowly over a wide sheet of slate. He idled across the ford then
returned to banging and swearing.
It was noon before he stopped the car at the base of a long, winding
pig-path of a road. According to his map his brother's land lay only
little more than half a mile away. He got out of the car and glared at the
final obstacle.
Actually pig path was a generous term. The lane was an old logging road
but this part of the forest hadn't been logged in a dozen years. In the
intervening span the road had been serving perfectly as a path for the
spring rains. A wide gully, in places two feet deep meandered down the
center. Tree roots and exposed outcroppings of rock were liberally
sprinkled about. Lesser ruts and miniature gullies branched off here and
there.
Shaking his head Arron got back into his long suffering wagon and
pointed the machines nose uphill. The going was rough. Made more so by
the fact that the center rut kept him for switching from one side of the
road to the other to avoid really bad sections. If he dropped a wheel into
that canyon it would take a bulldozer to wrench the car free. At a snail's
pace he scraped his way up the mountain. Several times the car tried to
high-side on some obstacle or another. Each time only judicious use of the
accelerator and violent sawing of the wheel kept it moving. He emerged
onto a mini plateau after ten minutes only to be confronted by a 't'
junction that was not on his map. He stopped the car and simply stared for
half a minute. Finally inspiration bubbled up through his tired brain
cells and he got out of the car. The right fork was virgin. Nothing had
passed since the last rains. The left held a single set of tread marks.
He noted dully as he returned to the car that the tread marks had been made
by a rather aggressive off road tire. Carl hadn't tried to bring a street
car up Satan's pike. Ten minutes later he emerged onto a grassy meadow.
A
high-riding 4x4 pickup was parked a short space from a large cabin tent.
Another tent, this one screen walled enclosed a folding table that was
itself burdened with masses of camping gear and cookware. The charred
remains of a fire was located midway between the two tents.
He parked the wagon alongside the truck and got out. The latter he
noticed with grudging approval was a Quad Cab Ram 2500 with the Cummins
diesel and an Allison transmission. The truck was about as rugged as they
came for backwoods work, not at all what he would have expected of Carl.
One of the snooty but impractical utes, a Lexus, Lincoln or Mercedes was
more his brother's style.
He wondered through the campsite but no one was around. Shrugging, he
walked back to the wagon. Someone would show eventually, he'd just nap
till they arrived. He delved into the mass in the back of the car and came
up with his sleeping bag. He unrolled it onto the bare ground and kicked
off his shoes. Within minutes of stretching out he was asleep.
He was teased from the depths of dreamless sleep by quiet giggling.
Eyes opened and stared at the puffy cumulus clouds that moved slowly
overhead. Brain noted dully that the clouds were tinged red. Sunset or
sunrise it decided. Memory kicked in with a dull 'whump'. Sunset brain
decided.
Arron groaned and blinked away the fogginess. He lowered his gaze.
Standing at his feet were two bookends, they weren't quite matching. Left
bookend was blond and about 3 1/2 feet tall. Large eyes of a beautiful
blue stared out of a very cute tanned face. A graceful neck led to narrow
shoulders and a flat chest. A tight pink one piece bathing suit swelled
down to barely rounded little-boy hips the fabric was cut high revealing
a
creamy expanse of smooth hip. Thin, tan thighs and muscular calves ending
in tiny bare feet rounded out the ensemble. Right bookend was similar,
though shorter, straight, glossy black hair was cut into a short bob.
Brown eyes replaced blue. Right bookend was wearing blue instead of pink.
Right bookend had also stopped giggling, hard to giggle with your thumb in
your mouth.
Arron noted a rather hairy pair of legs centered behind the little
girls. He raised his eyes further to meet the grinning face of his younger
brother. Carl was dressed in only ragged cutoffs. He held a dripping can
of beer in either hand.
Arron levered himself upright with a groan. He accepted the proffered
beer and drained a quarter of it before he felt steady enough to continue
to his feet. "You just getting back from your hike?"
"Nope, we've been back for hours and we weren't hiking we were swimming.
You looked like you needed the sleep though so we let you be till supper
was ready. He motioned to where Jenny, his pretty brunette wife, knelt by
the fire stirring something savory.
"Swimming, in February?" It was now up into the sixties he estimated,
a
warm day for the season but still damn cold for swimming.
Carl grinned. "We've got a hot spring. It's not real big but it is
hot."
That piqued the geologist in Arron. He knew there were some hot springs
on the East coast but they were damn few. He hadn't known there were any
in West Virginia.
The little blond stepped forward, "After supper we'll take you down and
show you uncle Arron."
Arron grinned at the adorable child her blond hair he now noticed was
wavy, and reached almost to her firm little butt. He looked back at Carl,
"This must be Lena?" At Carl's nod he turned to the other child and leaned
down. "That makes you Sarah." The last time he had seen her the child had
been a screaming babe in diapers. "How old are you honey?"
Lena butted in, "She's just three, I'm six." She said it with all the
haughty pride a six year old could muster.
Sarah shot her bigger sister a glare and jerked her thumb from her
mouth. "Four!" She said with wounded pride.
"Nuhuh, not for another month!"
"Almost."
"Nuhuh!"
"Uhuh!"
Carl looked at Arron over the quarreling heads of his daughters and made
pantomimed throttling motions with his hands. Arron grinned in response.
Supper was a good stew well seasoned with bay leaf and a touch of
pepper. Arron cleaned his plate and gladly accepted a second portion.
Midway through that plate a squirming little eel in a blue one piece wormed
under one arm and plopped down into his lap. Sarah looked up at him and
promptly stuck her thumb back into her mouth. Conversation was limited to
small talk. Arron was dying for an explanation of just why he was here,
hell he wanted to know why Carl was here. Younger bro had never been the
woodsy type. He sensed the subject was being carefully avoided though so
he played along and upheld his end.
That was getting harder to do though with Sarah wiggling around in his
lap. To his chagrin that hard little butt squirming around on his cock was
starting to get a response. He hoped the child didn't notice, when he
glanced down at her she just stared up with those liquid brown eyes.
As soon as he finished the second plate Lena stepped over and started
tugging on his arm. "C'mon let's go to the spring. You promised to take
us."
Carl was about to point out that he'd promised no such thing when Jenny
piped up with an amused lilt. "You'd better take them or you won't here
the end of it for the rest of the night."
Sensing that perhaps husband and wife wanted some time alone Arron rose
to his feet. They collected a Coleman lantern, towels and three big fluffy
robes. The walk back might be chilly. They detoured by the Taurus and
Arron had the girls stand on one side of the car while he changed into
trunks on the other. They descended the slope and entered the woods.
There was no real trail but the sound of gurgling water drifted musically
up from lower down the hill. Guided by the hissing lantern they bobbed and
weaved between the trees toward the sound. They'd covered perhaps
one-hundred yards when the distinct smell of sulfur reached Arron's nose.
Another dozen yards and they emerged into a small clearing. The pool was
tiny, not really big enough for swimming. It was perhaps ten feet to the
far side and twice that from end to end. The bottom was smooth slate and
nowhere more than three feet from the surface. The floor shelved at the
upper end creating a series of natural chairs and couches. Steam rose from
the placid surface.
With a whoop the girls dropped their burdens and waded in. Arron took
long enough to find a secure resting place for the lantern, then hung his
towel and robe along with those the children had dropped from a convenient
branch.
He tested the water and found it to be maybe one-hundred degrees. He
eased in then squatted down, letting the soothing heat climb his chest.
The girls had started to wrestle and splash, fighting for position on the
'couches' at the far end. Horseplay on the hard, slick rock was not among
the safest of activities. He felt as if he should call them down but he
did not feel comfortable doing so. They weren't his kids. He also didn't
want to come on as a four-hundred pound ogre on the first night of his
stay.
He was still debating when events forced his hand. Lena pinched Rachel
and the three-year old gave her older sister a hefty shove in retaliation.
The blond lost her footing and, arms windmilling, went backwards off the
ledge she'd been standing on. She came up a second later, coughing and
sputtering, then lunged for the smaller girl with murder in her eyes.
Arron clapped his hands together loudly, "That's enough!"
The two children halted as if a switch had been flipped. Both heads
rotated his way as if on gimbals. Meekly they dropped their arms, the
rough-housing was at an end. A moment later he had his arms full of
giggling, wiggling little girls. Both tried to climb into his lap at the
same time. Lena won by dint of greater mass and plopped her butt down onto
his lap before reclining against his chest. His cock was laying flaccid
between his legs but began to harden as the scantily clad little butt
wiggled down on it. 'For god sake, she's six', he thought. 'Heel', he
ordered his dick. The mutinous bastard refused to obey and rose till it
was wedged into the crack of the child's butt. He feverently hoped she
wouldn't notice.
Rachel stood alongside and bounced on her toes for perhaps thirty
seconds then began to shove at her sister. The elder girl slid aside with
good grace, her tight little cheeks giving his now raging dick a final
caress as she went. Instead of simply climbing into his lap Rachel crawled
up onto his thighs on her hands and knees. Once balanced she rose and
wrapped her arms about his neck. Instinctively his hands moved to support
her. His right ended up cupping her tiny butt.
The younger girl still had a good portion of baby fat, oddly it filled
out her thighs and buttocks giving her a more womanly figure than her
sister. The hot little buttocks under his hand was soft and delightfully
smooth, all the more so since her bathing suit had pulled up into her crack
as she had moved about. Most of what his hand touched was bare ass-flesh.
His cock gave another twitch and tried to tear its way out of his trunks.
It was a chilly trio that trudged back up toward the distant fire. With
the coming of full dark the temperature had plummeted into the fifties.
Even with the plush robes it was a teeth chattering trek. They gathered
around the fire and warmed cold flesh. After summoning his courage Arron
left the girls to their parents and headed for his car for some dry
clothes.
He pitched his tent halfway around the fire from Carl's, about midway
between it and the screened dining fly. His was a small backpacking model,
he had a larger one in the car but he didn't need the room and it was more
of a hassle to erect. After installing his foam mattress and his sleeping
bag he returned to the fire. The children had already been put to bed so
the three adults sat around on the log benches saying little. After a few
minutes Jenny yawned and said she was going to turn in herself. They
watched her go then Carl stood and walked to the dining fly. The soft
whine of a zipper cut the night and then he was back. He set two plastic
cups on the ground then cracked the seal on a bottle of Dewers. He
splashed a generous slug into each and then passed one to Arron. "Cheers."
They clicked cups then drank. Carl felt the scotch burning its way down
his esophagus. It hit his stomach and then the warmth spread into his
limbs, chasing the last of the damp chill away.
Carl lifted his glass and examined the diminished level of the liquor
before turning his gaze to his older brother. "I guess you're wondering
what all this is about. Why I asked you to meet me here and all that."
Arron nodded.
"Good of you not to pry before now."
Arron shrugged, "I figured you'd tell me when you got ready."
Carl jerked his head and tossed of the remainder of the liquor in his
cup. "Well I guess I'm ready." He refilled his one cup then topped off
Arron's. "Tell me brother, how much of that 200,000 do you have left?"
Arron shrugged, "All of it, a little more actually. I generally don't
spend all the interest each year so it builds a little."
Carl took a sip of his drink. "In that case you're probably worth a
little bit more than me right now."
That statement thudded between them like an anvil. The silence
stretched for a moment then Arron gasped, "For god's sake how?"
Carl waved his cup in a vague gesture. "I was well off, maybe even
rich. But I saw an opportunity to get really filthy rich and took it.
Cashed out all of my stock's and bonds and put the whole shebang into a
little company that was going to release the next breakthrough in computer
sound. The firm was legit, the research solid, everything on the level."
"What happened?"
"Happened, I tell you what happened", he chuckled, perhaps a little
drunk already and took another sip of scotch, "Three guys working out of
a
garage beat 'em to the punch. A little case of parallel engineering. The
little guys got it working first, they got a working prototype, they got
the press and then they got the patents. Overnight my golden goose turned
into a plucked turkey. I was in for ten million, pretty much everything
I
owned, even mortgaged the house. The lawyers are still sorting through the
debris but I'll probably be lucky to see ten-thousand of it again."
Arron finished off his drink and signaled for a refill. As the liquid
gurgled into his glass he spoke. "So what. Hell Carl you were a
millionaire before you were thirty. You have the touch. You're still
young. Build another fortune. Hell if you need some capital I suppose I
could-"
"No!" Carl topped his own glass then leaned the bottle against his leg.
"Let's lay that to rest right now. I didn't bring you up here to hit you
up for a loan. I've got contacts. If I wanted a million I could probably
have it in a week." He took another gulp of scotch. "What you said was
correct. I could probably make it all back. Another ten years or so of
twelve hour days, another thousand or so redeye flights to god knows where.
Another ten years of seeing more of my secretary than I do my wife. Yeah
I
could make it all back and then some." He leaned forward, his face suddenly
almost fierce. "But what if I don't want to!"
He leaned back. "Did you know I had a heart attack?"
Arron started at that. Carl had always kept himself in decent shape,
hand and racquetball had been part of his weekly schedule as sure as board
meetings and deadlines. Now that he looked for it though he could see a
difference. His siblings color was paler, his shoulders more rounded, the
cheeks perhaps a tad shrunken.
Carl continued, "Last year. Thirty-fucking-three and I pitch over right
at my desk. If my secretary hadn't come in to ask for a clarification on
a
letter she was typing we probably wouldn't be talking. Stress, the doctors
said. A fucking decade of burning the candle at both ends while fucking
trying to light the middle." He took a gulp of his drink then picked up the
bottle and held it up examine the level. "We're not doing enough damage
here bro, drink faster." Taking his own advice he took another gulp.
"There were other problems as well", he continued. Six months ago Jenny
told me to get help or she was leaving. It was the stress again you see.
It had rendered certain equipment non-functional. A woman has needs and
I
wasn't filling them." He tried to take another drink and found his cup
empty. He refilled it and then Arron's as well.
"Do you remember your last visit, the fight we had that night."
Arron grimaced, the memory still hurt. "Yes."
"Did you know why I was so pissed at your devil-may-care, freebooter
lifestyle?"
"You said I was wasting myself."
"Yes", Carl slurred, "that's what I said. That's not the real reason
though." He leaned forward again. "I was fucking jealous. You'd decided
to chuck it all and go have fun and I was fucking green. I had a wife,
kids, responsibility. I thought it only fair that you be as miserable as
me. I was in a trap, a fucking mime in a box."
"Anyway, it's too late to make a long story short but I'll shorten it.
Me and Jenny sat down last month and had a heart to heart. Maybe the first
real one we'd ever had. Turns out we both had some notions about each
other that we're wrong. I'd always assumed she wouldn't be freaking happy
without the big house and the cars and Wednesday evenings with the women's
club. Turned out that she didn't give three shits for all that stuff. She
had a secret cache of BackPacker and Mother Earth News magazines. She hid
them because she thought I wouldn't approve. She'd dig them out while I
was away and dream of something simpler and cleaner." He grinned. "Did you
know she wanted to sign up for the Peace Corp."
"Well we found out that deep down we wanted the same things. For years
we wanted the same things and we'd never told each other. We discussed our
options then I remembered this place. We sold everything. I bought the
truck and some camping gear, told my lawyers to freaking handle it and here
we are. I've always wanted to write. I've got at least a dozen versions
of the 'Great American Novel' rolling around in my head. Now I've got the
time to try them. I'm not totally destitute. I figure we'll build a house
here, maybe stay a year, maybe a decade", he looked around at the darkness.
From somewhere a whippoorwill began to call. "Maybe forever."
"Where do I come in?", Arron asked.
Carl shook his head. "Bro, I am one shitty carpenter. I thought maybe
you could give us a hand and maybe enjoy some time with a brother that's
not looking down his high-falootin nose at you."
Arron thought about it for a moment then grinned and nodded. They
clicked glasses and drank.
II
Arron awoke to the sounds of childish play. His eyes fluttered open.
For a moment he stared at the bright yellow nylon over his head and debated
going back to sleep. The smell of fresh coffee and frying bacon pulled at
him like a magnet however. Groaning, he crawled from the sleeping bag and
fumbled till he'd found his jeans. He unzipped the door of his tent then
crawled out.
"Good morning", Jenny piped cheerfully from the dining fly.
He grumbled something unintelligible back. That set the girls to
giggling. The screened sides had been rolled up on the fly, saving him the
effort of fumbling for the door. He dropped onto the hard bench seat and
winced as the impact set off fireworks in his head. A plate of scrambled
eggs and bacon appeared before him along with a steaming mug of coffee.
His stomach roiled at the smell of the food but the coffee smelled divine.
He grasped the mug with trembling hands and took a big gulp. It burned his
lips and tongue but it was still delicious.
Jenny seated herself on the opposite bench. "Feeling a little under the
weather this morning are we?" He looked up to see a knowing smile on her
pretty face. She held the empty scotch bottle between one thumb and
forefinger. The girls giggled again. Arron gave her a wan smile and stuck
his face back into the coffee mug.
After finishing most of his coffee Arron found that the food smelled
better. He tucked into it with gusto. He was finishing his second helping
and starting on his third cup of coffee when Carl emerged from the cabin
tent.
Arron by now felt at least remotely human and joined in the good natured
ribbing his brother received about his condition.
Once Carl was fueled and watered the two brothers held a short
conference. Carl confessed that he had not as yet done a full survey of
the property. That seemed the first thing on the agenda. While Carl went
to dress Arron wondered over to his wagon and rummaged in the cluttered
cargo compartment. He finally found his hiking boots along with a thick
pair of all synthetic socks. He put these on then rummaged some more till
he came up with a long sleeved shirt, a machete and a compass. He laid the
latter items on the tailgate while he put on the shirt.
Carl came up as Arron started to dig yet again. "I though you had a
4x4. I'd have made other arrangements if I'd known what you were driving.
I'm surprised you got this up here."
Carl backed out with a leather western-style gun belt wrapped around a
holstered revolver. "I had a blazer. Motor blew up in New Mexico last
year. So I got the wagon." He was buckling on the gun before he noticed
his brother's raised brows. Carl was politically a little left of center
and disapproved of guns on principle.
Arron finished buckling the belt on then pulled the pistol and checked
the load. It was a Ruger single-six in .22 caliber. Not much to impress
bears or elk but just the ticked for the occasional snake. He opened the
gate and rotated the cylinder. Five and one empty, just as it should be.
He clicked the rolled the cylinder till the empty was under the hammer and
re-holstered the gun. "Carl you're well back in the sticks here. You
can't call on animal control if you sight a rattlesnake or a rabid animal.
You're going to have to deal with those things yourself. That means a gun
is going to be a necessary tool."
Carl pursed his lips. After a moment he nodded but it was obvious he
was still not comfortable with the concept.
Carl had a survey map done at the time he bought the property. The two
of them unrolled it onto the hood of the Taurus. They turned this way and
that finding and pointing out landmarks then Arron aligned the map, made
a
guess as compass deviation and took a couple of sightings. He longed for
a
USGS topo of the area. It would have been invaluable but they didn't have
one.
They headed downhill to locate the property's southern boundary first.
Their path took them close enough to the hot spring to here Jenny and the
kids laughing and splashing. Carl's lot was rectangular and a little under
1000 acres. A big chunk of land, especially to be enclosed in a national
forest. The actual border measurements were almost exactly a mile by a
mile and a half. That meant to do a full circumference they'd need to walk
five miles. Not a problem on open land or even on a trail. Through heavy,
mountainous, woods it might be a problem.
The found the southern boundary about thirty minutes after setting out.
The Forest Service had helpfully erected signs on the tree's lining a small
stream that stated that the land beyond was Forest Service property.
Looking around they soon found several stakes with faded pink ribbons. The
southern verge roughly followed the stream. The poorly disciplined little
watercourse writhed like a snake, sometimes wandering fully onto government
land, sometimes fully onto Carl's. The thick forest canopy had held down
the undergrowth so they made decent time. They found the western boundary
a little after ten, spitefully the stream had abandoned them a quarter of
a
mile back.
The western border was rougher going. Arron took a compass sighting
then the two set out directly up a steep mountain. It was after noon
before they crested the top, they'd come a little over a half-mile north
and almost as far up. They rested on the top for about twenty minutes then
started back down the far side. Several times they sighted what appeared
to be ruined structures of some kind but fought off the urge to deviate
from their planned course. They found the northern boundary a little after
three in the afternoon. It was halfway up yet another mountain. Legs
ached and empty stomachs were now growling. By mutual consent they decided
to call it a day and head back to camp.
Arron took a compass sighting and led off. They'd gone only a few
hundred yards when they encountered another stream. It was deep with
steeply cut sides, a trickle of water moved over moss covered stones at the
bottom. They found a narrow point and jumped across. They were about to
set off again when something glinted through the bare branches of the trees
about fifty yards downstream. Unable to resist they detoured to take a
look.
The glint had come off the back glass of a car. A 59 Buick complete
with portholes and tail fins to be precise. The old machine rested half
in
and half out of the stream. The body showed little rust and the two-tone
paint though faded was still identifiable as to color, maroon over gray.
There were no wheels or tires but all of the glass was still intact, the
windows were even rolled up. Arron moved to the high side of the machine
and tried the drivers door. It opened with a long groan. He had to
struggle to pull the heavy door up against gravity. The seats were
tattered but in place, as was the dash and most of the interior trim.
Arron shook his head and let the heavy door fall closed. It sealed with
a solid 'thunk'. As they started again back to camp Carl groaned, "Isn't
that going be a bitch to haul out of here. Wonder if we could con a
junkyard into coming after it?"
Arron's head swiveled around. "I was kind'a thinking about fixing it
up."
Carl gave him an incredulous stare.
"Well it's mostly all there, the body's in good shape. I've always
liked old stuff." He shrugged, feeling defensive under that stare. "Hell
the poor thing survived all these years sitting in a stream bed. Seems a
shame to send it to the crusher."
Carl grinned and slapped his brother on the back. "Bro if you want it
you can have it. We still gotta get it out of the stream though."
It was five-thirty before they reached camp. Jenny was preparing a
supper of macaroni and steaks. The latter were the last of the fresh meat.
After eating the girl's again wanted Arron to take them to the stream.
As soon as he gave in they scrambled to get into their swimsuits. He could
tell from the look that passed between Jenny and Carl that they had plans
for the time alone.
This time they were scarcely in the water before the girl's mobbed him.
For ten minutes the three were a writhing mass of wet, slick flesh
wrestling around in the shallows. Finally he gave in and allowed the girls
to pin him. Rachel sat on his shoulders facing his feet. He could feel
Lena straddling his legs though he couldn't see her past her younger
sisters blue-clad back.
Arron had managed not to have any inappropriate thoughts about the
youngsters and his traitorous cock had thankfully gone along with that
concept. But as the giggling children settled into their triumphant hold
he raised his head to find Rachel's perfect little butt only two inches
from his nose. Her bathing suit had ridden up during their play leaving
most of her round little cheeks bare. Oh lord, that did it. Arron could
feel his dick swelling and hardening. Worse, there was no way the girl's
could avoid seeing it.
He heard the giggling drop off and knew they were both staring at his
rampaging prick. Lena said something and both girls snickered. He decided
that this had gone far enough and tensed to buck them off. Just before he
did though he couldn't resist leaning forward and planting a quick kiss on
each of those perfect little cheeks.
They retired early that night, worn out from the days activities. Arron
made a covert trip to his car and retrieved a roll of toilet paper. Once
snuggled into the warmth of his sleeping bag he freed his rampant prick
from his briefs and began to stroke furiously. In less than a minute he
sprayed cum all over his stomach and chest. It burned like fire as each
powerful spurt raced down the length of his cock. Afterwards he lay in
guilty wakefulness for a long while before sleep took him.
The next morning dawned gray and wet. A cold mist sluiced down from the
sky. Determined to proceed with their task regardless Arron and Carl
wolfed down a quick breakfast then donned ponchos and set out.
They started where they had stopped the previous day, at the
north-western corner of Carl's property then headed east. The going was
bad. Much of the time they were moving latterly along the face of the
large mount that formed a good portion of the property's northern border.
The path started steep then got steeper. Soon they were slipping and
scrambling along a seventy degree slope. Mini, limestone cliffs sometimes
a dozen feet from top to bottom reared up from the thin soil here and
there. More than one had water trickling from between the rock layers to
course down its moss covered face.
The rain remained a steady light drizzle, despite the ponchos constant
contact with wet, clinging vegetation ensured both men were soaked by the
time they found the north-eastern corner of the property. The first part
of their southern trek was a steep descent into a blackberry choked hollow.
So precipitous was the drop that they were forced off the boundary several
times to find an easier path. Once at the bottom the blackberry thicket
seemed endless. After attempts to get around either end failed Arron drew
his machete and began to chop a path.
Throughout the trek little conversation had passed between the two.
Carl's few attempts had been met by monosyllabic grunts from his brother.
Carl figured that discomfort and the general dreariness of the day was to
blame. The truth was far different.
Arron was wallowing in guilt. God what kind of monster was he. Getting
a hard on over two little girls, neither yet in first grade. He had kissed
Rachel's little ass! Why had he done that! His traitorous cock started
to
swell at the memory but he drove it down with a wave of self-disgust. He
was a man of strong appetites for good food, good drink and good sex. His
rugged build and handsome looks had ensured that he seldom wanted for the
latter along his nomadic treks. He had bedded women from eighteen to fifty
and enjoyed them all. A thoughtful lover, he had always insured that his
partner had enjoyed him as well. But he had never, ever even thought of
a
child in a remotely sexual way....until now.
They made it through the blackberries more soaked than ever and with
numerous stinging scratches. This time they had remembered food and they
stopped for a chilly, dismal lunch in a mini cave formed by a limestone
overhang.
Policing up their trash they moved on. After struggling up yet another
hill they finally found the properties final corner just a few hundred feet
from its fir clad peak.
It was four in the afternoon by the time they finally reached camp.
Arron retrieved dry clothes from his car and went to his tent to change.
His boots had soaked through and his cold feet were wrinkled up like
prunes.
That night at supper Jenny mentioned that they were running low on food.
They still had box and canned goods but the fresh food was gone, as was the
ice. It was decided that Arron and Carl would make a supply run the next
morning. That would delay their survey of the properties interior by a day
but it couldn't be helped.
After supper they all trekked down to the spring and splashed for a good
hour. The hot soaking was well worth the chilly climb back to camp. For
his part Arron had started to emerge from his funk. He didn't know why the
children turned him on but they did. It was a fact, deal with it. He had
no intention of harming either of them, and that sure conviction meant he
was a man not a monster.
The children had sensed their uncles mood and avoided him. When he
moved into the fray and plucked a screaming Lena from her laughing mother
it was like the breaking of an old and leaky dam. His despair flowed away
like the water on its long trip to the sea.
The two men set out at dawn. It was again wet and drizzly, so perhaps
the delay in their exploration wasn't such a bad thing. They took the
truck but Carl insisted Arron drive. He had little experience in off road
driving and he knew his older brother had quite a bit.
Arron didn't mind a bit. With a machine made for it he found off-road
driving to be an enjoyable challenge. The big, high-riding Dodge made
light of the rugged roads the Taurus had banged and clanged on. The
conversation was light and slightly banal moving onto practical matters
only when Arron took time out to give his younger brother yet another
pointer on the fine art of off-roading. This was generally followed
immediately followed by a practical example.
They made good time and pulled onto the blacktop only a couple of hours
after leaving camp. The nearest town was Huttonsville, fifteen miles up
US55. The Ram's off road tires roared as they headed north.
Huttonsville was a small berg. But it boasted a surprisingly large
grocer. They parked the truck and went in. In less than a half hour they
had located everything on the list Jenny had made. Arron threw in a bag
of
candy for the kids, this brought a frown from Carl.
"Hey they're kids."
"Uhuh. Kids with big dental bills."
They spent another twenty minutes maneuvering coolers around in the back
of the truck. Once all perishables were smothered between layers of ice
they set out for the return trip. Arron spotted a hardware store and on
impulse swung in. The brothers browsed for a while before purchasing a
long tape measure and a few hand tools.
A gas station on the edge of town was the last stop. The Ram drank
seventeen gallons of diesel then they were on their way.
It was early afternoon before the truck lumbered up alongside the mud
spattered Taurus. "So you don't want to use the brakes on long downhill
runs?" Carl asked as they dismounted.
"Nope, put the transmission in low gear and let the engine do the
braking. You ride the brakes they overheat and when they overheat they
quit working."
Carl nodded. "That happened a couple of times on the way up. I thought
I'd burned them up."
"Nope, just got 'em hot. When they cool off again they work fine. That
is assuming you haven't wrapped yourself around a tree in the meantime."
"Daddy!", Came a scream from across the clearing. Jenny and the kids
had just emerged from the woods and Rachel was now tearing pell-mell across
the knee high grass. She never slowed just leaped and cannon balled into
her dad, trusting him to catch her. He did with an 'oof' of air rushing
from his lungs. He leaned down and kissed her on the nose. "You're
getting heavy girl."
She giggled.
Jenny and Lena walked across the clearing at a more sedate pace. The
six-year-old sniffed at her sisters 'childish' antics with all of a
six-year-olds dignity. She giggled readily enough though when Carl put
down her sister and swept her up.
They unloaded the truck and moved the coolers into the dining fly. The
girl's jumped with glee when Arron produced the candy but pouted when Jenny
immediately took charge of it. "None of this till after supper."
That night the entire clan again trooped down to the spring. Arron
horsed around with the girls for a while then passed them off to their
father. Curious about the spring he began to examine the place where the
hot water welled up from the ground. It was in a cleft between two rocks
but he managed to worm his hand in. Once there it encountered an iron
pipe, old and heavily encrusted but definitely a pipe. The spring was not
entirely natural.
The women wanted to bathe so Arron and Carl dried off and wrapped up for
the trudge back to camp. Once there they changed into dry clothes then
Arron busied himself splitting wood and stoking up the fire while Carl
began preparing a big batch of hot Cocoa. The night was chilling rapidly
so Arron retrieved a blanket before seating himself a short way from the
now roaring blaze.
The females arrived amongst a flurry of giggles. We swimsuits were hung
from branches. A moment later a robe encased Lena wiggled between the
edges of the blanket and plopped her damp butt down in Arron's lap. She
leaned back against his chest, her wet, strawberry shampoo scented hair
just tickling his chin. He reached down to adjust her position and his
hand fell on a hot, bare thigh. The flesh was smooth and still slightly
damp. He made to withdraw but a tiny hand came down on top of his and held
him in place. Fuck!, his damn dick was getting hard again.
Carl had retrieved a second blanket and he, Jenny, and Rachel were all
snuggling on the opposite side of the fire. Lena raised up slightly and
wiggled around a bit. She sat back down in a more slouched position. The
movement caused Arron's hand to slide further up her thin thigh. God, his
fingertips were damn near in her crotch. He brought his other had around
and rested it on her robe just below and on the outside of her left hip.
At least that had been the plan. When his hand made contact he found not
the fuzzy plush of the robe but the soft warmth of bare skin. His cock
gave another lurch. He began to massage the child's left thigh with his
fingertips then slowly eased his hand up her hip. He had intended to cop
a
quick feel of the little girl's panties, only she wasn't wearing any. Oh
fuck, she was bare under the robe. Worse the robe had ridden nearly to her
waist. In seconds his left hand was cupping a handful of soft ass-cheek.
His dick threatened to rip out of his pants. He was debating whether to
try and move his right hand enough to 'accidentally' brush the child's bald
little twat when his brain noticed the expectant silence around the fire.
He jerked himself from his erotic daze, "What?"
Carl grinned, "Damn bro you must be beat. I said do you think we can
survey all of the interior tomorrow?"
"Oh sure, least most of it." He faked a yawn to cover his inattention.
"I definitely want to look at those ruins."
"Well in that case, you'll need an early start", Jenny said, worming her
way out of the blanket. Her robe fell partly open in the process exposing
a tantalizing portion of bare leg. "C'mon girls, bed time."
Lena wiggled about and gave Arron a quick peck on the lips then slid
down until her feet were on the ground. When she emerged from the blanket
her robe was again in place. Sarah came over and demanded a kiss as well
then the children trudged obediently off to bed. Arron and Carl set up a
while longer discussing the next days plans then parted for their sleeping
bags.
Once in bed Arron freed his cock and jerked himself to a thunderous
orgasm. Afterwards he lay remembering the feel of Lena's smooth little
butt. He idly wondered how her robe had ridden so high up then remembered
her rising and wiggling around shortly after climbing into his lap. Had
she raised the robe intentionally. Damn, his dick was hard again at that
thought.
The next morning was bright, clear and cold. Frost was visible on the
vehicles and the sides of the tents as Arron rolled out. They had a
breakfast of pancakes and eggs then headed out. The first target was the
ruins they had sighted from the western border. It took only thirty
minutes or so to reach the first of these. Nestled on a steep slope
surrounded by birch and pine was a large, square, mortared stone
foundation. It was intact though the mortar joints between some of the
blocks showed numerous cracks. The tilted remains of a concrete walkway
led up three well made stairs to where a front door supposedly would have
been. Here the foundation was only about two feet off of the ground.
Arron stepped up onto the lip and peered down. The interior floor was gone
affording a clear view to the flooded basement fifteen feet below. Rotted
timbers, some charred, leaned against the interior walls. Smaller chunks
floated in the scummy water below. From below a buzzing rattle drifted up
in warning, another joined in and then another till over a score were
sounding off. Arron stepped back quickly.
Carl stared at him, "What was that?"
"Rattlesnakes, lots of rattlesnakes."
The moved around to the side of the ruined structure then half walked,
half skidded down the steep slope. At the lower end the fitted stone
reared twenty feet over their heads. A large door was visible near the
midpoint of the lower wall. Carl started for it but had only taken three
steps when his brother called out "Freeze!"
The Rattlesnake had been sunning itself atop a rotting log till Carl's
foot came down two feet from it. Now it pulled into a coil and began
rattling fiercely. Arron took a large sidestep to clear his sight line
then pulled the revolver from its holster. The double click as the hammer
came back seemed very loud. He crouched and took a two handed grip on the
weapon then calmly laid the front notch right on the serpents head.
The sharp report slapped painfully at their ears and echoed off the
nearby hillsides. The rattler's head exploded in a mini spray of gore.
Muscle twitches sent the dead serpent writhing off the log to flip around
on the ground as Carl jumped back. Arron replaced the pistol in its
holster. He looked at Carl, his younger brother was at least three shades
lighter than a minute before.
"That's what a gun is good for."
Carl jerked a nod. "I believe bro, I believe."
Being very careful about where they put their feet they moved to the
opening. It was large, big enough for a car or truck. Water lapped at its
lip. Rotting shapes were visible through the gloom of the interior, debris
from the collapsed upper section. One again the current tenants began a
noisy protestation of the two-legged presence. Arron upped his estimate.
Twenty rattlers couldn't make that much noise.
Down slope a hundred feet or so was another structure. Rather than
falling down this one had simply slumped to one side. As they approached
it became apparent that the floor was a poured slab. Timbers had been
socketed in the concrete when it was poured and these had supported the
walls and roof. These had rotted away and crumbled allowing the walls to
buckle and the roof to collapse. Upon peering in through one end it became
obvious why the roof had not continued its fall. A small tractor of
elderly vintage sat inside, it was holding the rotting roof up on one side.
Excited Arron ducked low to duck walk in for a closer look when a familiar
rattle stopped him. It was answered in seconds by a dozen more.
Arron backed out and looked at his brother. "We're gonna have to see
about eviction procedures for your boarders."
"Agreed."
They pushed hard hand completed most of the interior survey that day.
In addition to the two structures they found another small barn, this one
empty and totally collapsed, a caved in mobile home of 1950's vintage,
three privy's and three more cars. The mobile home was occupied by
rattler's. The three cars were stripped, rusted out wrecks. The last one
having been burned and then crushed by a fallen tree.
Carl looked at it morosely, "You wanna fix this one up as well?"
"Naw, the junkyard can have this one."
It was after nightfall when they finally stumbled into camp, having lost
their way twice in the darkness. They found two tearful little girls and
a
concerned Jenny awaiting them. The women had heard the gunshot earlier in
the day. That and their late arrival had ratcheted up tensions in the
camp. Jenny had been on the verge of using her cell phone to call in the
Rangers when they finally arrived. Carl cuddled Jenny and Arron cuddled
the girls. Soon all was well.
The next morning found Arron and Carl again in the truck. Carl drove
this time, accepting the occasional pointer from his older brother with
good cheer. Once on the blacktop they again headed north. They drove
through Huttonsville this time and kept north on 55 till they entered
Avery, a good sized town. A quick stop at a gas station got them two belly
bomber chilidogs and directions to a large home center.
They found the home center and parked the truck. Then, with all the
enthusiasm of two men who know its time to spend some serious money on
tools, went inside.
The ignored the shopping carts and commandeered a large wheeled flat.
The first stop was the chainsaw display. Arron looked through them and
finally selected a 24" bar model that was on closeout. The generator
department yielded a 3000 watt display model with a missing gas cap. They
talked to the department manager and finally got him to let it go for
little more than half the list price. They had no such luck on welders.
Gasoline powered plasma welders were a fairly specialized item and their
were no display models. They selected a heavy duty version with an eight
horsepower Briggs and Stratton overhead valve engine and placed it on the
flat. The cutting torches were something of a disappointment. Yes the
story carried them complete with tanks, no the tanks were not filled. They
finally grabbed a set with complete with cutting and brazing heads,
regulators and hoses but no tanks. Arron reasoned that if they had to go
to a gas supply house anyway they could probably pick up used tanks there.
A heavy duty electric motor along with couplings, wire and a half dozen big
circular saw blades joined the pallet Big ticket shopping done they
wandered through the store picking up smaller items, rope, a come-a-long,
a
power drill and a side grinder joined the heap on the cart. By now
management had taken notice of them and they had a helper in constant
attendance. Three steel five gallon gas cans with spring loaded caps, two
cycle oil, hand tools, the list went on. Down one isle Carl noticed a
display for rechargeable alkaline batteries. They wandered down to it.
The charger used a propriety battery type, not a problem since every type
of battery conceivable was on display. They bought a charger and a set of
every kind of battery they had anything that used, including twelve D cells
for Arron's laptop.
They were moving through the checkout when Arron spotted a display of
blister packs with two four-channel two way radios in them, the type
commonly used on construction sites. He tossed it onto the flat after
checking to see what kind of battery they used then sprinted back to the
charger display and picked up eight 'AA's.
Both breakfast and the chilidogs were wearing thin so they stopped at
a
diner for mystery stew and rock hard biscuits.
The gas supply house also sold fuel which saved them a further stop as
well as a little cash. The three cans were filled with gasoline with no
Posted By Nikki
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