And the road trip is on!
Messy brown curls fell over dark eyes. “You weren’t gonna leave without saying goodbye, right?”
Chelsea sighed. “I respect you too much to lie. I was trying to do that.” She wiped at her sudden tears. “Dammit, I hate goodbyes. And I already told you I was going.”
So when one day that was just like any other day the past eighteen months, my husband saw a job in a small town in Oregon, much farther south and east than we had ever discussed living, but it’s his dream job, at his dream salary, he jokingly asked me if he should he apply.
And, as his manic pixie dream wife, I said, “You’re goddamn right you should apply. Who cares that it’s not anywhere we ever considered living. It’s small and safe, on a lake, in the mountains, in the high desert. Oh no! It’s gorgeous! Whatever shall we do…”
Now, we’re moving to Oregon in a week.
It felt nice to be leaving someone and somewhere on good terms. “You owe me nothing.”
Chelsea fought to hide her worry. The pale-haired hedge doctor was young. Like maybe in high school young. The white-blonde hair and short stature didn’t do much to help him seem any older. Still, Jeff seemed quite competent as he cleaned and stitched Morgan’s arm.
Inside the cracked walls lay a sleeping bag and kerosene cook stove as well as three heavy duty sledge hammers. Bart lifted one and rested it on his shoulder,“Don’t know how much experience ya might got with these, but against a little rock monster it seemed like the best tool.”
Morgan hefted one. “Like a baseball bat right? Choke up on the bottom?”
“And swing from the hips.” Chelsea lifted the final hammer.
In honor of returning to one of my favorite story settings, I want to introduce readers to my main source of Steel City inspiration, Dave Dicello. Dave takes amazing photographs and has been hit hard by the pandemic. He had to close his gallery this spring. However, his prints are available online for purchase. I’ll be adding them to story-links for this chapter.
Bart squatted by the fire, greasy grey hair tucked behind his ears. “The squonk should be sleeping now, but it’ll be up in a few hours. It ain’t afraid of people or smoke, so we won’t bother it none. They eat hemlock though, and this grove is the biggest in the area.”
Chelsea found herself laughing. “Fair enough. Who needs some help?”
Annoyance rose her once more. “Who says I’m a newbie?”
Rita’s grin turned sharp. “You ran into the Trojan and didn’t know it. You ain’t been doing this too long.”
A stand alone short story, featuring the cast of Uncommon Animals.