IC: "The Night the Lights Went Out"

[HumanBean]

Peter Phillips (profile), with Lana Wilson (profile)

Montaña de Oro State Park
3 miles north of Diablo Canyon Nuclear Power Plant (which has exploded and is melting down)
(On the Pacific Coast, 180 miles northwest of Los Angeles)

Sometime around 6:44am, 5 hours after TLWO:

"Montaña de Oro State Park," Lana called back to Peter as they biked down toward the Spooner Ranch House. "It's a museum now."

There didn't seem to be anything particularly special about the building. Peter had seen many that looked the same. California, and other states, too, liked to preserve these kinds of structures as part of their parks.

"C'mon, I have an idea," she told Peter. "You won't like it, but..."

"But you're going to do it anyway," he called to Lana. She didn't react. She'd heard him, he believed.

"So, I already broke into a private residence..." she said. Then she busted out a window.

"Jesus!" Peter exclaimed in surprise. "It's government property!"

Peter didn't know what was happening, the blackout and all. But he had always been a law-abiding citizen. He really didn't want to end up with charges for vandalizing and breaking into a state museum.

Still, Peter could help but laugh when Lana said, "If they didn't want someone breaking in so easily, they should have had better security."

Inside, Lana went to work searching. She identified what interested her. "Maps, of this area, California, other places; more little lamps like this one, plus bottles of oil fuel; dry clothes, and those little things there are rain ponchos."

"We should leave money," he said. Peter was still worried about getting arrested. He wasn't a wimp or weenie or anything like that. He simply didn't like the idea of spending a night in jail. A jail without lights or heat, he reminded himself.

"Oh God, candy, yes!" Lana said excitedly. She snatched up, ripped open, and chomped on a bag of M&Ms.

Peter watched in silence for a moment. His stomach rolled with hunger. He surged forward to the display, saying, "Okay, fine. I'll just leave another couple of bucks." He grabbed a Butterfinger, ripped it open, and bit. It tasted so good. He laughed. "Okay, so, what's next?"

They filled several backpacks with anything and everything they thought would be helpful during their flight away from the melting nuclear power plant. He thought about more oil lamps for the fronts of the bicycles they'd borrowed. He looked to the windows. Dawn had arrived. The sun would crest the hills to the east shortly.

"We need to get going," Peter told Lana. "The winds were to the east, but that could change." An idea struck him. "Do you see a newspaper?"

They found a copy of yesterday's Los Angeles Times in the recycling. He found the Weather page and studied the graphics and statistics. Then, Peter murmured, "Fu-u-u-ck. We gotta get outta here."

He explained, "When I was in the Navy, I was friends with an Officer whose degree was in Meteorology. He taught me a few things about how to predict the weather. He was a magician. He almost always did a better prediction than the talking head weathermen on the TV."

He showed Lana a series of numbers. Then he traced his finger over the graphic showing the most recent wind patterns. "If I'm right about this, the jet stream is going to shift north. Wind direction will to. The radioactive cloud coming off the plant is gonna chase us north." Then, stressing, he repeated, "We gotta get outta here."

They collected their supplies, mounted their stolen bikes, and continued their flight. They followed the map Lana had borrowed. On bicycles, they couldn't always go north. They had to deal with the coastline, the rolling hills, the streams and rivers and sometimes the lack of bridges over them. It would be a time-consuming ride. But Peter was confident that they could get away before they were irradiated.

 

[HumanBean]

Edited and moved to the new thread

 

[HumanBean]

Henry Gumble and introducing Daniel Matthews (with mention of Eleanor Gumble (profile, pic), and Hannah Blanchard (profile)

"The Bazaar", Austin, Texas

Noon, Sunday, 19 January 2025 (>8 hours after TLWO at 3:44am local time):

(Eleanor and Hannah's last post was here.)

Henry spent the morning trying to salvage those food items he'd started baking, deep frying, and roasting before the power went out. They'd gotten lucky, and most everything had been transferable to some other cooking device. Oh, the quality might not have been the same. And some of the deep fried and baked foods didn't look like their normal self. But they were still edible.

Keeping with The Bazaar's modus operandi, Henry gave most of what he was cooking away for free. It wasn't up to his normal standards. He wasn't about to charge money for it. Several of their more loyal patrons and/or participating vendors or artisans helped Henry with the work.

The power was out everywhere. That had been learned very quickly. Knowing this, Henry began spreading the word regarding perishables. If people had anything that they thought they wouldn't consume before it went bad, they could bring it here. Henry and The Bazaar cooking crew would prepare it for sale.

Everyone would be compensated, of course. Some people wanted good old American cash. The almighty buck. Henry was more than happy to give what he had. But he told them they wouldn't be able to spend the cash at The Bazaar in the future. He and Eleanor feared that greenbacks might not hold their value. But they could control the value of the poker chips by regulating how quickly they were distributed.

Henry still wasn't entirely sure how it was all going to work. They couldn't simply hand out hundreds or thousands or even tens of thousands of dollars-worth of chips. That would make the chips worthless. Inflation. But if they were traded for things of value, didn't that balance it out?

All morning long, people had been coming to Henry for a variety of reasons. Some had something to trade. Some needed something. Some wanted to help. Some wanted work. He couldn't do much or even anything for some of them. But he did what he could for those he could.

Around noon, Henry went looking for his wife.

"I'd like your help in starting a garden," he heard the woman sitting with Eleanor saying, "and expanding it in the way of a hidden greenhouse."

That sounded like a great idea to Henry. They sold locally grown and raised food stuffs as much as they could. It was January, of course, so there wasn't as much as there would be come late spring. Eleanor told the woman, Hannah he would learn, that she thought she knew a place.

He told Eleanor what he wanted her to know, then returned to his cooking. He thought he knew some people who could help Hannah set up her business.

"So, what the hell do you think this is all about?" a man asked.

Henry turned to find Daniel Matthews smiling to him. "Hey, Danny Boy, what're you doin' in town? I thought you were in Dallas doing--" He went silent, realizing that he had no idea what had taken the man with the somewhat sketchy reputation out of Austin. "Doin' whatever it is you do."

"Got back last night, just in time for whatever this is," Daniel answered. He offered out some cash for a plate of food. "I eat anything, so whatever you have too much of."

Henry waved off the cash. "I have a job for you if you're interested."

He told Daniel about Hannah's greenhouse idea. He didn't mention where it was going to be built. Henry was thinking about security. There'd already been looting and rioting. It had settled down since the sun rose. But there were still dangers to be feared.

"You're handy with a hammer and saw," Henry went on. "I remember he barn you built for your father when you were still a teenager. You help with this, and I'll be sure you get compensated."

Daniel thought about the offer. "Let me think about it, Henry. I have to check on my folks. Haven't been there since I got back to town."

They talked more about it for a while, then about the whole of what was happening around them. They shook hands, Henry filled a bag with hot food and a cold drink, and made his farewell.

 

[Alice2015]

Sammi Evans (profile) and Nicky Long (profile):

Eugene, Oregon
6 pm (>16 hours after TLWO at their local time of 1:44am):

(OOC: Continues from here.)

The sun had gone down just a bit past 5pm, but there had been enough fading light -- supplemented by oil lamps -- during the period of dusk for them to continue working on the windmill pumping and tank filling task at hand to complete it. Now, at 5:30 pm, Carl, Nicky, and Sammi -- feeling the effects of the sudden drop in temperature -- finally called it a day and headed inside.

Pamela had retired from the job earlier to start dinner, frying up steak that had been thawing in the now-dead refrigerator prior to the power outage and adding to it other foods that would go bad soon. Seeing the others coming in filthy and sweaty, she stopped them before they left the mud room, telling them firmly, "Strip those dirty clothes off. I have hot water on the stove."

She sent Sammi up to her room carrying two one-gallon plastic water bottles that were hot to the touch on the outside. For Carl, she did the same. For Nicky, Pamela said, "You can use the mud room. I found a pair of coveralls there that belonged to a hand who helped up build the barn a couple'a years back. The man was bigger than you, surprisingly. If they're too big for you, I can take them in tomorrow if you like them."

Sammi hurried to the upstairs bathroom, poured some of the water in the stoppered sink, and stripped down. She poured a bit of scented bath oil into the sink and used a washrag to thoroughly clean every inch of her. Sponge baths were never entirely satisfying, but by the time she was done, she thought she looked decent enough. She pulled her wet hair into a French braid, dabbed on just enough makeup to look pretty for Nicky while also looking like she wasn't wearing anything for her folks, threw on a robe, and hurried to her bedroom. She wanted their guest's attention when she descended the staircase, but also didn't want to be shamed by her parents for obviously seeking that attention.

Sammi decided on a tight-fitting blouse with spaghetti straps and a pair of equally tight, tattered blue jeans; at the last moment, she pulled her hair out of the braid to let it hang down upon her shoulders, feeling it made her look older and more mature. Over the shirt, which she knew would cause her mother to send her back upstairs to change, Sammi donned and equally ragged but strangely fashionable jean jacket.

To add to the what she hoped was a womanly look, she chose a pair of shoes with two-inch block heels; they were tall enough to accentuate her thighs and buttocks but -- hopefully! -- not tall enough to attract undue attention from her parents or, at least, prevent them from calling her out verbally in front of their guest.

When she came down, Sammi engaged as sexy a sway in her hips as she could after seeing Nicky standing in the kitchen helping set the table. She gave him a wide, seductive smile -- which she immediately shed as soon as she saw her mother looking her way. Still, Sammi couldn't help but giggle, continuing her descent and walking closely by Nicky, she said softly, "Hi."

She set about helping her mother as would be expected of her. Soon they were all sat around the table, saying Grace, and dishing up their plates again.

 

[HumanBean]

Nicky Long (profile), with Sammi Evans (profile):

Eugene, Oregon
Just before 8 pm (~18 hours after TLWO at their local time of 1:44am):

(OOC: Continues from the post above.)

Nicky looked up to find Sammi descending the stairs. He smiled, knowing that her parents couldn't see his reaction. She was doing all she could to look good to him. He knew that. Intentionally, he let her see him ogle her from head to toe and back up again.

He felt underdressed in the oversized coveralls. The man to whom they'd belonged had been another couple of inches taller than the 6'2" tall Nicky. He'd likely been broader in the chest and thicker through the belly, too, outweighing Nicky's 205 pounds. He couldn't know that he was far more impressive as a man than the previous one, though. The barn builder had been more fat than muscle. Nicky was anything but.

The teen slipped close past Nicky, saying softly, "Hi."

In almost a whisper and with a flirty tone, he returned, "Hello to you."

They took their normal seats with the table set and the food delivered. It was another impressive meal, which Nicky confirmed with Pamela. They took hands for grace again. Nicky didn't make eye contact with Sammi except to take her hand. While he held it, he checked Carl and his wife. They both bowed their heads. At that point, Nicky ever so gently traced his thumb over the soft flesh of the girl's hand.

They spent the dinner talking about the work done that day, as well as of work ahead. "I bought some of the supplies necessary to better insulate the house. They're out in the barn. But fall harvest, then some other maintenance issues, they got in the way. If electrical power isn't going to return soon, we're going to burn through our supply of seasoned firewood before winter's over."

"I've done that before, insulating structures," Nicky said. In this case, he was actually telling the truth. Of course, it had been clear back when he was 12 years old. But it was still true. "Take a couple of days maybe?"

They went over details of the job. Nicky kept his gaze primarily on the two adults. Every so often, though, he looked to Sammi. He wanted to know if she was watching him.

 

[Alice2015]

Moved to the reboot

 

[Alice2015]

Sammi Evans (profile) and Nicky Long (profile):

Eugene, Oregon
8:30 pm (<18 hours after TLWO at their local time of 1:44am):

(OOC: Continues from the second post above.)

Sammi couldn't wait to hold Nicky's hand for grace, but when he ran his thumb intimately over her hand, her eyes widened and her heart skipped a beat. She looked to him, then quickly to her parents; had they noticed? No, their eyes had been down during the blessing. She squeezed his hand just before they all said Amen together, then -- quite reluctantly -- released her hold on him.

For the rest of dinner, all the teen could think of was holding the man's hand again ... or ... some bit of him. Sammi had never touched a man's penis except, with Vince Ridgedale just last night, through a pair of jeans and the underwear beneath, and even then, she's only touched it with her bared thigh. She would have done a lot more than touch one if only the All-Star linebacker had been willing to fuck her without a condom.

Sammi's father talked about the next project ahead of them, a conversation that she heard as Nicky's staying another night and, otherwise, paid little attention. When dinner finished, she hoped up eagerly to retrieve the apple pie her mother had made. She explained, "These are our apples. We have an orchard. Mom and I preserved them last fall. Six dozen quarts! It was an amazing harvest last year. Apples, cherries, pears, peaches ... I'll show'em to you later if you want."

She cut slices of pie for each of them, ensuring that Nicky's was the biggest of all. They ate to the dancing light of the various lanterns and candles that were their only illumination now. When they were finished, Carl stood, looked to Sammi with a familiar expression, and said, "Help you mom with the dishes, then off to bed."

"It's early!" Sammi argued, not really knowing what time it was. She'd never in her life worn a watch; she, like every girl her age, had grown up using her phone as a clock.

"We need to save the lamp oil and candles," he told her as he took his dishes to the sink. He turned to Nicky, saying, "I'll walk you out to the tiny house."

Sammi knew that was her father's way of saying No chance for you two to flirt anymore tonight. She knew better than to argue with her dad, not just because it was disrespectful but because it would emphasize her yearning to be around the hunk more.

 

[Alice2015]

Lana Wilson (profile) and Peter Phillips (profile):

Montaña de Oro State Park
3 miles north of Diablo Canyon Nuclear Power Plant (which has exploded and is melting down)
On the Pacific Coast, 180 miles northwest of Los Angeles

Sometime around 6:44am, 5 hours after TLWO at 1:44 local time:

(Continued from Peter's last post here.)

"We should leave money," Peter said after Lana started collecting all the gift shop things she thought they would need on their flight north away from the melting nuclear power plant.

She smirked at him, shrugged, and asked, "Think their credit card swiper works...? 'Cause I don't have cash."

"We need to get going," he told her, asking, "Do you see a newspaper?"

Lana was intrigued by Peter's knowledge of reading what to her was random and useless information and then predicting the weather from said information. She got worried when he murmured, "Fu-u-u-ck. We gotta get outta here."

He explained the urgency, they filled the backpacks they'd brought with them as well as some sturdy touristy bags they found in the gift shop, and back out to the bicycles they went. The sun was up by now, so they extinguished and stored away the oil lamps. The trek became harder as they continued through a variety of issues: the terrain got wilder; the road in this area returned to gravel; and -- because they'd left the park and were on private land now -- they ran into a handful of fences or locked gates over which they had to lift the bikes.

As they were trying to get over one gate, a shotgun blast exploded over the landscape. Lana had never liked firearms, and her immediate reaction was to scream and drop to the ground.

 

[Alice2015]

Eleanor and Henry Gumble (profile, pic) and Hannah Blanchard (profile)

"The Bazaar", Austin, Texas

Noon, Sunday, 19 January 2025 (>8 hours after TLWO at 3:44am local time):

(Hannah's last post here, then Eleanor's last post here, and finally Henry Gumble's first & last post here. With permission, I'm posting for Hannah because her "owner" isn't available.)

Eleanor waved her husband to the table at which she and Hannah were sitting and gave him more details about the greenhouse concept the woman from Colorado had presented. He'd already heard enough of it to like it; in fact, he'd already solicited the carpentry skills of Daniel Matthews to help get the project up and running. Eleanor was hesitant about taking on Daniel for this, not because he wasn't up to the job -- she knew he was more than capable -- but because she knew that the man had a bit of a shady past. There were rumors that he had occasionally been on the wrong side of the law, but since -- as far as Eleanor knew -- he'd never been charged or, at the least, convicted of any crimes, she decided to go with her husband on this.

A local couple well known around The Bazaar approached with a wagon full of previously refrigerated and frozen food that they wanted to trade for things they didn't have. They were disappointed to learn that even disposal batteries were no longer of any worth. Eleanor told her husband, "Get them a pair of those Austin City Limits Music Festival lanterns and a couple of bottles of fuel." To the couple -- who had their two toddlers in yet a second wagon -- Eleanor said with a compassionate tone, "Henry'll take care of you. Don't you worry."

Henry led them back to where there were now more than 20 people cooking over or in more than a dozen barbeques, stone and steel grills, or stone ovens, all of them fed by either charcoal or wood. Eleanor knew that her husband would ensure that the couple weren't left hungry or in the dark. She herself turned to Hannah, asking, "Where are you staying? You said you were from out of town, right...? Colorado?"

Hannah confirmed the woman's recollection, after which Eleanor said, "You'll stay with us for now. A block from here is The Village. It's a Tiny Home Community. Most of the people there are Unhoused Persons, but they're good people. We have security people who keep out the alcohol, drugs, and violence."

Eleanor waved a woman who coincidentally was passing by The Bazaar to join them, telling her, "Hannah is going to be staying in THC #8. You can get her a key?" To Hannah, Eleanor said, "This is Mary. She'll get you a key and anything you need. Take the rest of the day to get comfortable. Come back here for dinner, about 5pm. We normally close up here at six, but I have a feeling that tonight we'll be staying open much later than that."

Eleanor returned to her duties in the community establishment while Mary led Hannah to her new home. The next morning, they'd get to work bringing Hannah's vision to life.

 

[sereneotter00]

⊢ TOM DAWSON
HARRINGTON HILLS VINEYARD
HARRINGTON HILLS
SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA
NEAR 7 AM, SUNDAY​

The holding of his hand was a bit alarming to Tom, who gave a rapid look at the still sleeping Glenn. The reluctance from earlier returned—a reminder that rich people had power, not to mention guns, as he had seen not too long ago. Being killed in some Hollywood cult way because of a powerful man misinterpreting advances towards his wife was not on the young man’s bucket list. He simply kept it in place as a reaction to Roxie’s sad appearance but was eager to be let go before Glenn woke up.

He sighed quietly once she let him go, putting his hands quickly into his slacks’ pockets. He listened attentively, debating whether or not to take her words for what they were. He couldn’t deny that he was exhausted—he had a full shift with overtime before their little trip on the bike, and he felt more jell-o than man at this point. He also hadn’t intended to just be rude to Glenn, but what did they expect? For him to linger around and be their little butler or something? He didn’t regret helping one bit, but the longer he found quiet in his head, the closer he got to recalling the urgency he had in the early morning. His family was in Florida. His father in the hospital. His load of homework waiting for him. Figuring out what the hell had happened or just charging his phone to see if he was still expected at work that day.

Roxie broke him out of his chain of thoughts by brushing against his shoulder. He shook his head to himself and turned to look at her with his eyebrows raised once her hand found his. Once again he glanced at her husband. “I…”

The bribe of food wasn’t a bad one; neither was getting access to a drink again—a proper one this time. Maybe he could set his mind straight while relaxing here.

Right, rich people. You can’t trust rich people. He seemed to loosen up this rule, as he let the woman drag him more around the house, seduced at the idea of not only laying down but finally switching out of his fastidious white shirt.

“Wait, hold on,” Tom spoke up, halting his following and pulling his hand away from Roxie’s. “I’m sorry, you’re really nice. Any other day I’d love to take a bath in your bathroom that probably costs a mortgage, but I don’t know if it’s a great idea. And don’t get me wrong; you’re really hot; if this was another time, I’d invite you to that bath with me, but I’m not trying to get your husband to put a bullet in my head for fucking his wife, alright?”

“I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I brought your husband. That was the deal,” he reminded her, inhaling deeply to herd his next words together. “Whatever you two have going on here, good for you, I guess. I appreciate the cash, but I need to get to the east coast. I can’t do that if I’m you guys’ lackey or your third or whatever the fuck you guys have going on here.”

 

[sereneotter00]

⊢ JASON FLYNN
FLYNN-BLANCHARD RESIDENCY
WEST OF DURANGO
DURANGO, COLORADO
AROUND 6:30 PM, SUNDAY​

He should’ve just stayed in that fucking cabin.

Flynn was able to just barely avoid the man attempting to strike him, but the stranger’s momentum ended up pushing the two on the ground. Instantly, they began to wrestle for the rifle, taking jabs at each other however they could. In the dark, Flynn could only tell the direction of the weapon by the current grasp of it.

Flynn took a moment to hold the length of the rifle against the man’s throat, but the other was quickly pushing back. He used the seconds to raise his head and call out to Angel. “Go back! I’ll meet you back at the house; just go already!”

He turned back to the man, continuing his altercation with the hope that Angel would actually follow his instructions. As he continued his brawl with the stranger, struggling more and more to keep tabs on the gun, he punched himself internally. Had he not gone to the cabin, he wouldn’t have a guest who was attacked; it could’ve been prevented by him staying to look for clues about Hannah’s whereabouts, which could’ve been prevented by him not being involved with her stepsister, which could’ve been prevented by him taking up fantasy football instead of having sex with every woman who showed any interest in him. Now, he could easily lose his life.

He always tried to be precise, aware, and observant—it all led to this?

The trigger of the rifle was pulled while the two men were rolling around against one another. Three things were certain.

One, Flynn didn’t pull the trigger.

Two, a scream came out of the men.

Three, the rifle was quickly dropped.

“You stupid, stupid imbecile,” Flynn groaned in pain, his lip busted and hair disheveled. He could feel the warmth of blood against his torso, which had been above the man’s just as the weapon went off. Miraculously, not his own. The man, in his impulse, had accidentally shot himself in the stomach.

Flynn grabbed the rifle and got on his feet wobbly, riding the whiplash of the confrontation. He expected scratches and the promise of bruises, but he was ultimately fine. He held tightly onto the gun, the other rubbing the back of his head. He had hit the ground harder than expected—perhaps the adrenaline had worked as a brief painkiller. Now, however, his surroundings were blurry.

 

[Alice2015]

Angel Daniels (profile) and Jason Flynn (profile)
Outside Flynn's home
Durango, Colorado
6:15pm, Sunday, 19 January 2025 (15.5 hours after TLWO at their local time of 2:44am):

(Angel's last post here, and Flynn's last post here.)

“Go back!" Flynn hollered to Angel as she freed herself from the grip of the man whose nose she'd broken with a hard punch to it. He said with confidence or simply with the hope of saving her, even if he didn't save himself, "I’ll meet you back at the house; just go already!”

Angel wasn't the type to leave a friend behind in a fight, but although she'd been in her fair share of girl fights as a girl and younger woman, she'd never been in mortal danger, as she presumed herself -- and Flynn -- to be in now. Still, self-preservation took over, and she hopped to her feet with the goal of getting the hell out of Dodge.

Her first step, though, became her last for the moment, as the man cradling his nose with one hand caught her by the ankle with the other; he groaned something ominous at her about his nose, but his words were indistinguishable amongst the pain, surprise, and blood filling the back of his throat.

Angel fell flat on her face, crying out at the feel the driveway's gravel digging into her bare skin and through her clothes as well. She kicked, trying to free her leg, and succeeding, she kicked the man right in his already broken nose. He screamed out in agony, and again as she kicked him a second time. Now, he simply rolled away, wanting to get away from her as quickly as he could.

She screamed out loud herself as she heard another gunshot explode through the night. Spinning, Angel looked to the two wrestling men, crying out, "Flynn!"

“You stupid, stupid imbecile,” Flynn groaned at the man before rising unsteadily to his feet.

Angel ran to her savior, grabbing him as he teetered a bit from the fight. She begged, "Let's go! Flynn! Let's go!"

She surveyed their surroundings for continuing danger; one man had run off early in the fight, the broken nose man was now fleeing into the dark, and the shot man was writhing about on the ground. Angel didn't know how bad the wound was, whether he'd be dead soon, or would escape with his friends ... and honestly, she didn't care. She did her best to steer Flynn back toward the house, simply desperate to get away from the men who'd likely wanted to rob her, rape her, kill her, or all three.

 

[Alice2015]

Roxie Harrington (profile) and Tom Dawson (profile)
Harrington Hills Vineyard
Harrington Hills (an eastern unincorporated suburb of San Diego)

Nearing 7 am, shortly before sunrise
Sunday, 19 January 2025 (>5 hours after TLWO at 1:44 am):

(Continues Roxie's post from here and Tom's post just a little bit above here.)


“Wait, hold on,” Tom spoke up, showing his reluctance as Roxie playfully pulled him by one hand with both of hers back deeper into the house. “I’m sorry, you’re really nice--"

"I am!" she responded playfully, feeling a bit more joyous than she did moment earlier when she kicked her latest female lover out the front door for embarrassing her.

He spoke about the bath she'd suggested, believing that she'd possibly meant for the two of them to share one. Roxie laughed; she hadn't meant they climb naked into the tub together, but at the same time she certainly wouldn't turn down the chance. Tom was a seriously handsome man, and even though she suspected that her husband might have brought the younger male home for his own sexual pleasure, Roxie didn't believe that Glenn would be too disturbed if she broke Tom in first.

He continued, "...but I’m not trying to get your husband to put a bullet in my head for fucking his wife, alright?”

Now, Roxie laughed even more animatedly. Ignoring the fact that Tom was likely very close to her own age, she said, "Oh, you wonderful young man, my husband would never do such a thing. If anything, he'd want to watch."

“I don’t know what the hell is going on," Tom continued, reminding Roxie, "but I brought your husband. That was the deal.”

"And we paid you for doing so," she reminded him, adding with sincerity, "And I thank you more than you can imagine."

“Whatever you two have going on here, good for you, I guess," Tom told her. "I appreciate the cash, but I need to get to the east coast. I can’t do that if I’m you guys’ lackey or your third or whatever the fuck you guys have going on here.”
Roxie studied Tom a moment, smiled, and said quite firmly, "We'll get you there." She looked for his reaction, then clarified, "Wherever it is that you need to be ... Glenn and I will make sure that you get there. Florida, Carolina, DC, New York, Maine ... doesn't matter."

She couldn't know, of course, that the first state she named was his actual destination. Roxie stepped up close to him again, saying, "Tom, I promise you. Promise! If you'll just stick around for the day, just today ... don't leave us alone right now while the power is out ... I promise you that Glenn and I will get you to wherever it is you need to be. First Class seats on whatever airline you like to fly."

That wasn't going to happen, of course, but Roxie couldn't know that right now. She still believed that the power would come on shortly -- later today, tomorrow, next week at the latest. She had no idea that trains by the dozens had coasted to a stop on their tracks, that planes by the thousands had fallen from the sky, or that automobiles by the millions had slowed, stopped, and/or crashed on dirt roads, city streets, and freeways all about the country.

She reached out for Tom's hand again, unsure of whether he would let her take it or let her keep hold of it. Sincerely, Roxie said, "This isn't about -- how did you put it? -- what we've got going on here, Tom. I think you're a very handsome man, and I'd love to take you upstairs for a hot bath and an even hotter fuck..."

Her lips spread in a flirtatious smirk. Roxie continued with a more serious tone, "But that's not what this is about. I ... I just don't want to be alone right now. And if Glenn wasn't passed out on Oxy, I'm sure he'd say the same thing. Stay, please, and my husband and I will get you to wherever it is that you need to be."

If Tom told her no, that he still needed to leave, Roxie would be disappointed, but she wouldn't stop him. If he agreed to stay, she'd do as she'd promised and get him set up in a guest room, with fresh clothes and a hot -- okay, warm -- bath.

 

[HumanBean]

Peter Phillips (profile), with Lana Wilson (profile):

Montaña de Oro State Park
3 miles north of Diablo Canyon Nuclear Power Plant (which has exploded and is melting down)
On the Pacific Coast, 180 miles northwest of Los Angeles

Starting around 6:44am and ending around noon (10 hours after TLWO at 1:44 local time):

(Continued from Lana's last post here.)

Peter thought it was unnecessary to leave money behind at the souvenir shop. Still, he pulled out his wallet and dropped two twenty-dollar bills on the counter. He knew someone would come in behind them and steal them. But hey, that wasn't his fault. He'd paid for what they'd bought.

They traveled in a serpentine route that continued them generally north for four or five hours. It was hard to tell. His cell phone was dead, so no clock there. His wristwatch was battery-operated, so same thing there. It was somewhere near noon, though. Peter could tell that by the position of the sun.

They reached yet another locked gate. He was tired of gates, fences, ditches, steep drops and rises. They'd had to abandon the trailers they were towing behind the bikes. What they carried simply wasn't worth all the work. Peter lifted his bike over the gate. Lana's was next. He climbed over and was offering a hand to Lana when a shotgun blast exploded behind him.

As Lana screamed in fear, Peter hit the ground. He looked directly at the nearby cabin. The shot must have come from there. After a moment, a figure stepped out of the shadows of the cabin's porch. "Private property! Get the fuck off!"
Peter rose to his knees and raised his hands high. "We're not thieves or anything! We're just trying to get north!"
"Not this way!" the man hollered. He jacked another round into his long gun. "Go back the way you came."
"We can't!" Peter hollered as he rose to his feet. He pointed to the south. "You know about Diablo Canyon, right?"

"What about it?" the man asked.

"It exploded!" Peter told him. He added, "It's melting down!" He paused for a reaction. The man at the cabin only looked to the south. Peter continued by describing in detail what the man faced by staying here. It was what Peter and Lana faced by going back. He promised, "We're not looking for anything from you other than continuing north over and past your property. I promise."
The man looked between Peter and the direction of the power plant. The man had heard the explosion during the night. He hadn't known what it was though. For years, the State had been telling the nuke plant's neighbors that Diablo Canyon was one of the safest power plants in the country. He'd never feared living near it until this very moment.
"Come up to the house!" the man called out. He lowered the shotgun. "Come on. I want to hear more about this."

Peter looked to Lana. "Might as well. We might get some help if we tell him what he's facing. He needs to get the hell out of here, too."

They walked the bikes to the cabin. Its owner, Robert Wilson, didn't seem wary at all anymore. His show had been nothing but bluster for troublemakers. He could see that the man and woman weren't such people.

As the two plant workers told the man about Diablo Canyon, he pointed them to things they should take with them. He offered them more food and water, as well as actual backpacking backpacks. Talking about their packs, he said, "Those are great for a kid going to grade school or a day at the beach, but you need something with better back and hip straps. My kids and I hike. These'll do you much better."

They spent about half an hour repacking their stuff. Robert directed them on how to better load the packs. He told them, "If you're planning on continuing north, I'd leave the bikes and walk. I can show you some roads and trails that'll make walking faster than trying to weave all around the countryside with bikes."

Peter looked to Lana, asking, "Sound good to you?"

If she was fine with it, they'd head north on foot.

 

[Alice2015]

Moved to the reboot

 

[sereneotter00]

⊢ TOM DAWSON
HARRINGTON HILLS VINEYARD
HARRINGTON HILLS
SAN DIEGO, CALIFORNIA
NEAR 7 AM, SUNDAY​

Roxie’s laughter surprised him, resulting in a confused look on his behalf, only for his eyebrows to slide up at her explanation. Oh, I guess they’re that kind of couple. Good for Glenn if his wife was into that cuck lifestyle, but it was quite new to Tom. His shock subdued the more his host spoke, evolving into intrigue at the proposal of them helping him get to his family. It wasn’t that he doubted their ability to carry out Roxie’s promise, but he continued to be confused on why they were so… helpful. He was just a random guy that helped once. Even the wealthiest of people, who could lose millions without any concern, were hardly considerate of those below them

At the woman’s close proximity, he held his breath and looked down at her, studying her features. He thought Glenn was very handsome, but he had fantastic taste as well. His wife had a point, too—the circumstances could just complicate his journey, one that they were offering to pay. A guy like him didn’t belong in first class, but he wasn’t stupid enough to give up a free flight across the country.

Feeling her grab his hand, the possibility of sex returned to his mind. His eyes darkened as she continued, particularly at the compliment and proposition. The mere idea of sleeping with someone like her was causing his slacks to tighten and his heart to speed up, only motivated by her wink.

"But that's not what this is about. I ... I just don't want to be alone right now. And if Glenn wasn't passed out on Oxy, I'm sure he'd say the same thing. Stay, please, and my husband and I will get you to wherever it is that you need to be."

“Okay, I’ll stay,” Tom finally agreed. His doubts would always be in the back of his head, but it seemed that his current stay with a wealthy couple and flight to his destination would be doable. There were worse things people did for that kind of assistance than lounge with a couple that was as alluring as they were loaded.

His mind was also decided on how to approach Roxie, especially with the reassurance that it wouldn’t harm the man he had helped. Tom closed the proximity between the two, sensually kissing the other woman. While his left hand settled around her waist, drawing her against him, his right slid up the back of her neck and to the back of her head. He threaded her strands in between his fingers, pulling softly at the base of her hair to tilt her head as they continued.

Eventually, he needed some air. He broke the kiss and pulled her hair down carefully so she could look up at him. “I do really need a shower, if you’d like to join me.”

 

[sereneotter00]

⊢ JASON FLYNN
FLYNN-BLANCHARD RESIDENCY
WEST OF DURANGO
DURANGO, COLORADO
AROUND 6:30 PM, SUNDAY​

Hazy, Flynn struggled to walk back to the home. Aiming for such a spacious terrain as his home had definitely worked against his favor. With some of Angel’s help, he managed to return and just barely walk up the stairs of his back porch, following back into the kitchen. His vision was clearing, but his head still felt terrible.

Giving one last look over his shoulder, long enough to wait for Angel to enter and make sure they hadn’t been followed, he went for the sink. The man placed the safety lock on the rifle and placed it on the marble surface beside the sink. Grabbing a kitchen towel, he drenched and squeezed the rag, folded it into a thick square, and pressed it behind his head, inhaling sharply. With his free hand, he supported himself up.

“All things considered…” Flynn began, his voice strained from the ordeal and rush back home. He turned fully around and rested against the kitchen counter with his back, still adapting to the coolness. “You alright?”

He did want Angel to be okay, but the question was also for himself. Durango didn’t seem to hold any violence issues—at least none Hannah had ever brought up. The idea that those men were comfortable enough to roam so close to his property, particularly with nefarious intentions, made Flynn nervous. He didn’t love violent confrontations, whether in self-defense or not, but he began to develop a higher chance of them. Knowing they’d be near a place where he was meant to be safe made him feel nervous. Not even their lights seemed to work; how the hell was he supposed to protect his property? Or himself? He only had so many bullets.

“Don’t interpret this as me putting any fault on you, because those assholes should be in hell for even trying that,” Flynn continued, “but where were your dogs? You had them snarling at me when you broke into my cabin, but they were nowhere back there.”

 

[Alice2015]

Roxie Harrington (profile) and Tom Dawson (profile)
Harrington Hills Vineyard
Harrington Hills (an eastern unincorporated suburb of San Diego)

Nearing 7 am, shortly before sunrise
Sunday, 19 January 2025 (>5 hours after TLWO at 1:44 am):

(Roxie's last post here.)

“Okay, I’ll stay,” Tom finally agreed.

Roxie smiled wide with delight at the young man's acceptance of her immediate hospitality and imminent offer of travel to what many of her well-to-do friends called the right coast. Her smile became an even more delighted smirk when she realized that he was coming close to embrace her.

She willingly let Tom wrap his arms around her, pulling her body to his, his mouth to his. Her lips parted, and her tongue danced erotically with his. Her own hands took part as well, one of them sliding up his back to help hold them close, the other sliding downward throughout the length of the hot, wet kiss until its claws closed on a firm butt cheek.

When their lips finally parted, Tom said, “I do really need a shower, if you’d like to join me.”

"Love to," Roxie said cheerfully.

She pulled back, snatched one of his hands again, turned and led him away toward one of the first-floor guest rooms. It had an ensuite bathroom that connected to a second room built for the benefit of occasional visitors, friends and family both. It included a steam room, Jacuzzi, and an inside lap pool.

Inside the ensuite, Roxie released Tom's hand, turned to face him, and undressed. It didn't take but a moment; after she'd left her bed and the woman with whom she'd made love last night and again this morning, Roxie had slipped into only a pair of warm sweats and panties. Pulling the top upwards and the other two items downward together, the beautiful redhead was suddenly naked before Tom.

She was a tiny, tight little thing, just 5'2" and 102 pounds, with a 33-23-34 body that featured wonderfully pert B-cup breasts and ever-pert, pink nipples, a narrow waist, and a tight, apple-shaped ass. She was heavy with freckles on her shoulders and arms, with the rest of her skin less dotted and fairer than her uppermost flesh. With the exception of her head, there wasn't a hair on her body; with the lack of pubes and her building excitement at being naked with the handsome man, Roxie's womanhood was already swollen enough to cause her darker red clit to peek out as if to say hello.

 

[Alice2015]

Angel Daniels (profile) and Jason Flynn (profile)
Outside Flynn's home
Durango, Colorado
6:30pm, Sunday, 19 January 2025 (almost 16 hours after TLWO at their local time of 2:44am):

(Angel's last post here, and Flynn's last post here.)

The two of them struggled back into the house, with Angel encouraging Flynn through the backdoor first while she hung back to slide it shut, lock it, and pull the drapes closed. Flynn had looked for signs of the men following them, but Angel did so again just to be sure.

“All things considered…” he began before asking her, “You alright?”

"I'm fine," she answered, moving up close to him to take the wet rag and wipe his face, neck, and hands; he was covered in dust and dirt from the tumble on the ground, and a closer inspection revealed to Angel that some of the dark stains on his clothes were blood. With obvious concern, she asked, "Are you alright, Flynn?"

She was about to tell him how heroic he'd been and that he'd possibly saved her life, when suddenly he said, “Don’t interpret this as me putting any fault on you, because those assholes should be in hell for even trying that ... but where were your dogs? You had them snarling at me when you broke into my cabin, but they were nowhere back there.”

Angel took immediate offense, interpreting Flynn's words exactly as he'd told her not to, but after a few seconds of calming herself down -- This is a traumatic moment, he doesn't mean it, he doesn't know what he's saying -- she explained, "Nutter and Butter are all bark and no bite ... at least with people. If that had been a bear or a wolf, they would have been all over those guys."

She looked him over again and tugged at his shirt, asking, "Are you sure this isn't your blood...? You're not shot, right?"

Whether he resisted or not, Angel would try to get him out of his shirt, saying, "Take this off. We need to clean you up. I need to make sure you aren't--"

And that was when she saw it -- one of the blood stains was getting larger. She exclaimed with shock, "Flynn! You're bleeding! You're shot!"

He wasn't, actually, but Angel didn't know that; the bullet that had entered his attacker's belly had ricocheted off the pavement beneath them as they rolled about, and a fragment of it -- or a piece of concrete, who could know -- had come up to penetrate Flynn's side. As she tugged him over to a chair at the kitchen table, she was panicking, "Jesus! Jesus Christ! You're shot!"

She practically had to rip the shirt off of him, turning him so that the oil lamp burning on the kitchen table lit up his injury. Again she stated what seemed obvious and which was, in a sense, true: "Flynn, you're shot. We have to get you into the bathroom so I can clean this up, or you're gonna bleed to death or die of infection or both or whatever."

He wasn't actually bleeding that bad, but that didn't change the fact that he had a piece of metal or concrete inside him that had to come out.

 

[HumanBean]

Peter Phillips (profile), with Lana Wilson (profile) and newer character Robert Wilson:

The Town of Baywood-Los Osos
North of Diablo Canyon Nuclear Power Plant (which has exploded and is melting down)
On the Pacific Coast, 225 miles northwest of Los Angeles

6:45, 90 minutes after sundown
Sunday, 19 January 2025 (17 hours after TLWO at 1:44 local time):

(Continued from here.)

Los Osos was the first town or city that Peter and Lana (and Robert, too) had seen since TLWO. It surprised him. Shocked him. He'd viewed civil disobedience, riots, looting, and extreme acts of vandalism on television or on the internet. But never had he seen it firsthand. He was a smalltown boy who had luckily avoided such mayhem first-hand.

Los Osos was totally without power. Still, there was illumination. All about the town, fires were burning. One of them, on the eastern, far side of the town, was massive. Peter estimated it had probably already engulfed several blocks. It reminded him of the fires that had raged through parts of the Los Angeles metro area earlier in the year. Some of them were still burning to this day.

There were differences, of course. The LA fires had included the sights and sounds of a dozen water dropping planes, hundreds of fire fighting vehicles, thousands of fire fighters, and tens of thousands of fleeing residents. Here, though, the only sound was the roar of the fire. Peter was sure that if he were closer to the fire that he'd hear the residents, too. But no planes, firetrucks, or fleeing passenger cars.

Meanwhile, other parts of the town were as dark as space. That included where Peter, Lana, and Robert were. Occasionally, they would come across a burning barrel or a torch someone was using to light up their yard.

Robert offered out two handguns. Lana waved them off, but Peter happily took one. Robert told him to take both of them. He revealed yet another pistol, in a holster on his ankle. He laughed. "I used to be a cop, an undercover detective. This baby and I have been best friends for decades."

Robert handed Peter additional ammunition. "For the Beretta--" he said. He gave Peter two additional clips. He also handed over two quick reloads for the revolver, saying, "For the Taurus."

Robert led them into his sister's house, where he partook of a tearful reunion with his daughter. The only other resident was the sister's black labrador. Robert told them to find a room and rest. He said he'd figure out food in a while.

"I'm not hungry, but thanks," Peter said. He pushed open a bedroom door. It had the feel of being the home of a teenage boy. "I'll take this."

He gave Lana a look. It wasn't meant to have a message behind it. But Peter's mind was working hard. He was a married man. And yet, he couldn't help but think, You can sleep with me if you're afraid or just don't want to be alone. He knew it was wrong. But thinking about cheating isn't the same thing as cheating, right?

 

[HumanBean]

Glenn Harrington (profile)
Harrington Hills Vineyard
Harrington Hills (an eastern unincorporated suburb of San Diego)

Sometime after sunrise, a few hours after TLWO at 1:44 am:

Glenn was stretched out on the couch in his den, tucked in by his loving wife. He was zonked out on Oxy and additional pain killers. He shouldn't have taken both of them together. Glenn had a high tolerance level to drugs, though. It wasn't as if he was an addict. He was a dabbler. He had the money and independence to try everything in life once. Sometimes he tried that which he'd enjoyed more than once. The better, more effective drugs, legal and otherwise, had been one of those things.

His tolerance allowed him to briefly awake at a sensation that disturbed him. Glenn blinked his eyes open and looked around. His wife was absent. So was his savior. Glenn really did consider Tom that. He'd seen the mayhem exploding across the Gaslamp Quarter. He'd known it would only get worse.

Tom had gotten him out of there. Sure, he'd likely done it just for the money. But Glenn preferred to lie to himself about the young man. He preferred to tell himself that Tom had done it because he was heroic.

There was another slight tremor. Glenn's mind was too hazy to really think deeply about it. When he didn't feel another one, a worse one, he closed his eyes. Seconds later, he was once again asleep.

What Glenn didn't know what that he hadn't experienced an earthquake: minor, major, or otherwise. What had shaken the ground was an explosion. Just ten years ago, the US Government had closed Naval Amphibious Base Coronado. (OOC: Google Map Link, for the fun of it.) Less than a year later, the property had been sold. Less than six years after that, Dominion Energy had begun Liquid Natural Gas operations there.

Glenn had seen the fires the TNTLWO. Now, those fires were spreading. They hadn't reached the half dozen 40,000 cubic meter tanks on ground yet. The first explosion had been one of the ships sitting at the docks. It had been loading for a delivery of LNG to a smaller facility on the Oregon coast. Its tanks held only a combined 10,000 cubic meters of liquid.

The explosion sent a fireball hundreds of yards into the air. The true damage, however, was the shock wave it sent out for miles in every direction. It was the combination of explosion and shock wave that had awoken Glenn.

Ironically, the shock wave put the current fires out. It was essentially the same technique fire fighters used to put out oil well fires. Only incidental, not intentional. However, the damage to the plant was still releasing fuel. And the fires would continue. And even though no one could know it yet, the big tanks were in danger.

Catastrophe was imminent.

 

[Alice2015]

Lana Wilson (profile) and Peter Phillips (profile) and Robert Wilson:

Robert Wilson's sister's house
The Town of Baywood-Los Osos
North of Diablo Canyon Nuclear Power Plant (which has exploded and is melting down)
On the Pacific Coast, 225 miles northwest of Los Angeles

7:45 pm, Sunday, 19 January 2025 (18 hours after TLWO at 1:44 am local time):

(Lana's last post here; Peter's last post here.)

"I'll take this," Peter said when he opened a bedroom door and found it suitable for him.

Lana caught the look he gave her from the doorway as he entered the hall. She knew Peter was married, but that didn't prevent him from having inappropriate thoughts for her; things like what they'd been through over the last dozen and a half hours tended to make men -- women, too -- imagine doing things they wouldn't normally do.

She smiled back to Peter, then turned and headed down the hall. Lana wanted him as much as he presumably wanted her, but she'd never be able to forgive herself for letting him break his vows in such a way. She held her oil lamp inside the next bedroom door; it looked to be the living space of a teenage girl. She selected it and closed the door behind her. She set the lamp atop a dresser, laid down on the neatly made bed, and -- without even realizing how tired she was -- fell asleep within seconds.

Later, she would rouse just enough to realize that she was shivering from the cold. Lana kicked off her shoes, shed her jacket, but otherwise remained dressed as she rolled the bedding around her as if she was a burrito. She fell back to sleep.

(OOC: Unless something else happens, Lana is done until morning.)

 

[Alice2015]

Roxie Harrington (profile) and Tom Dawson (profile);
Harrington Hills Vineyard
Harrington Hills (an eastern unincorporated suburb of San Diego)

Nearing 7 am, shortly before sunrise
Sunday, 19 January 2025 (>5 hours after TLWO at 1:44 am):

(Roxie's last post here; I'm writing with permission for Tom because SereneOtter, his writer, isn't available at the moment. The last post that included Viola can be found here.)

Roxie stood naked before Tom, a tiny, tight little thing at 5'2" and 102 pounds. Her 33-23-34 figure with its wonderfully firm B-cup breasts and ever-pert, pink nipples trembled a bit at the chill in the room. She smiled and chuckled, saying seductively, "If you got naked, too, we could slip into the Jacuzzi and keep each other warm."

She pushed the button that should have withdrawn the cover from atop the Jacuzzi, but nothing happened, of course. Roxie laughed, saying, "Duh! Don't know what I was thinking." She flipped a lever, disengaging the motor from the gear box, then asked Tom, "Help me pull this back, will ya?"

They got the cover pulled back from enough of the tub to allow them to use it before the rolling cover jammed. Roxie ran her hand through the surface water, saying with joy, "Good! Still warm."

Thankfully, Glenn had had one of the best hot tubs on the market put in when they'd built the first-floor ensuite. It was so well insulated that despite not having had power to maintain its constant 102 degrees, the water was still warm enough to be comfortable. Roxie stepped inside the water, dropping into its deepest depth until her heavily freckled shoulders and arms were covered, causing her to moan with delight.

"Strip!" she commanded. "I want to see you."

Tom did as ordered, revealing himself bit by bit. Roxie ogled him intently, smiling and licking her lips hungrily. Lately, most of her lovers had been women; Tom would be her first cock -- other than her husband's, of course -- in almost a year. Tom was rather average in physique, maybe 160 pounds, perhaps less; he wasn't overly muscular but at the same time wasn't carrying the layer of excess weight over his frame that Glenn did. The couple referred playfully to as wealth fat, the layer that came from the indulgence of delicious meats, cheeses, wines, and more of which Glenn's doctors had told him he needed to cut back.

"Nice," Roxie said with a sincere tone, adding after his underwear went down and his already hard cock popped out, "Very nice."

<<<<<<< >>>>>>>
​

~9am:

(OOC: Viola's image is out of context. Imagine her dressed in a leather jacket and denim jeans.)

They fucked in the Jacuzzi until each had partaken of the euphoria of orgasm, then padded naked into an adjoining bedroom where they fucked yet again ... and again ... and again! Roxie wasn't shy about taking control of the encounter, asking Tom for this position or that, this speed or that, this roughness or that; she knew what made her happy, and it seemed to do the same for her new lover as well. After she'd enjoyed her fourth or maybe fifth orgasm -- two of them had been so close that they could have been the same one, just extended -- Roxie whispered to Tom, "If you're not finished yet, do with me what you will. I'm all yours."

Eventually with them both spent, they spooned under the warmth of the blankets until Roxie was awoken by a voice she hadn't expected to hear again for some time. She rolled to face the young man, kissing him passionately before saying, "Stay here. I want to check on my hubby. He might need some more Oxy."

Wrapped in a robe she took from a hook in the ensuite, Roxie headed out into the foyer, finding Viola staring at her with a sad puppy expression. Roxie asked annoyed, "I thought I sent you away."

"My car wouldn't start," Viola said responded. "I fell asleep out there, but it's fucking cold." She looked around for signs that there was power in the home. "What the fuck's going on?"

"Power outage, duh," Roxie said, her tone one of annoyance. She thought of all that was happening in the house -- her husband passed out in the den, her newest lover in bed in the guestroom, and the previous lover who'd embarrassed her in front of both of the others -- and said, "Well, you can't stay here."

Viola looked crushed, moving toward Roxie as she begged, "C'm'on, you can't be serious? It's gotta be 40 degrees out there, and it's six or seven or eight miles to my place from here, I dunno."

She was close enough to Roxie now to smell the combination of chemicals from the Jacuzzi and sweat from the two-hour sex session. She looked toward the den for Glenn and the other man who'd been here earlier in the morning, then looked back to Roxie with a suspicious expression. Backing away toward the open den door, she shook her head, saying, "Fuck, really, girl?"

Viola found Glenn passed out on the couch, then turned to find that Roxie had followed her to the den's entrance. Unnecessarily, she asked, "Did you fuck that guy...? While your husband was passed out?"

"I fucked you, and you didn't seem to care," Roxie reminded her.

Viola only laughed. She knew there was a big difference; she'd known Roxie long enough to know that she and her husband had an arrangement regarding extramarital philandering, and she doubted that it included Roxie fucking the help while her husband lay in a nearby room passed out on Oxy. Viola walked back to stand close to Roxie, smirking to her knowingly, before saying, "I'm only asking to stay here until the power comes back on. I'll stay out of the way." Then, more sincerely, she apologized, "I'm sorry if I embarrassed you earlier. It wasn't my intention. I mean that."

She moved up close enough that their bosoms -- Viola's behind her leather jacket, Roxie's behind her wool robe -- came together. Leaning in to press her lips softly to those of the other woman for a soft but intimate kiss, she whispered, "Please, Roxie. Please, I didn't mean to hurt you. Forgive me."

The beautiful redhead thought on the issue a moment, then told the sexy blonde, "I don't want you interacting with either my husband or my guest--"

"I thought I was your--"

"You wanna stay or not?" Roxie cut her off. When Viola nodded, the hostess continued, "Go to the kitchen if you need something to eat or drink, then use the back stairs to get to the end bedroom. You know the one."

Viola smiled wide; she most definitely remembered that room from the first time the two women had made love. She took Roxie's face in her hands, kissed her again, and responded, "Thank you. You won't be sorry." She passed around Roxie, but then stopped, smiled, and said, "He's a very good-looking man. I would have fucked him, too ... whether my husband knew or not. Good for you."

The blonde headed across the foyer for the kitchen, and -- after taking a moment to check on her still-passed out husband -- Roxie turned and headed back toward the first-floor guest room. It was then that she found Tom standing behind the partially closed door, apparently still naked and eavesdropping on the previous conversation. When she reached him, Roxie explained, "Just a friend of mine who needed a place to stay during the blackout. She won't bother us again."

Back in bed and wanting to take Tom's mind off what he had or hadn't seen and heard, Roxie knelt between his thighs and sucked his cock until he flooded her tongue with his thick, warm seed. They fucked again until the energetic redhead had also enjoyed her satisfying moment of euphoria, and it was back to sleep in the warmth of the covers once again.

By the time they drifted off, it was already getting dark outside as twilight approached.

(OOC: I added the time to better establish it; the post above was rather vague.)

 

[HumanBean]

Angel Daniels (profile) and Jason Flynn (profile)
Outside Flynn's home
Durango, Colorado
6:30pm, Sunday, 19 January 2025 (almost 16 hours after TLWO at their local time of 2:44am):

(Continues from Angel's post here. I'm writing for Flynn while his writer is unavailable. I will do my best to stay true to his character.)

Flynn wasn't entirely satisfied with Angel's explanation about her dogs. They'd seemed protective enough when she'd thought he was threatening her. But when three men attacked Angel, all they did was jump around and bark? That didn't make sense to Flynn.

She looked at his filthy shirt, asking, "Are you sure this isn't your blood...? You're not shot, right?"

"No, no, I'm fine," he answered. "Beat up but fine."

He wasn't, though. The adrenaline of the fight and gunfire had prevented him from sensing the wound in his side.

"Flynn!" Angel exclaimed. "You're bleeding! You're shot!"

He tugged at the shirt, trying to see what Angel was seeing. "No, it's his blood. The asshole from the--"

"Jesus! Jesus Christ!" Angel said excitedly.

Flynn resisted Angel's tugging at his shirt initially. She ripped it open at the puncture. "You're shot!"

Flynn felt pain all over from the tussle. The injury to his side didn't seem any worse than anything else. Then, when Angel exposed the wound, he saw blood gurgling out.

"Flynn, you're shot," Angel repeated. She began tugging him out of the kitchen. "We have to get you into the bathroom so I can clean this up, or you're gonna bleed to death or die of infection or both or whatever."

He resisted at first. But Angel was right. Or it appeared she was right. The bullet he'd put through his attacker's belly must have ricocheted into him. He snatched up one of the lamps with one hand and a candle with the other. They'd need light.

In the bathroom, he pulled the soiled and bloodied shirt off over his head. He pointed to a cupboard. "There's a first aid kit in there. Alcohol and hydrogen peroxide in the medicine cabinet.

It was only now that Flynn began to feel a bit woozy. He plopped down onto the toilet seat cover. He didn't want to believe that he'd been shot. He didn't want to believe that his life was in Angel's hand. Not Angel's hands in particular. But anyone's. He'd taken care of himself just fine so far. With Hannah's help, of course. But she was gone now.

He didn't want to do it, but he resigned himself to letting Angel take care of him.

(OOC: Since we're trying to move on to Day Two, Angel, I think it would be fine for you to deal with the wounds, give him some pain killers, and put him in bed.)

 

[HumanBean]

Tom Dawson (profile), with Roxie (profile), Glenn profile, and Viola (pic);
Harrington Hills Vineyard
Harrington Hills (an eastern unincorporated suburb of San Diego)

Nearing 7 pm, Sunday, 19 January 2025 (>17 hours after TLWO at 1:44 am):

(Continued from here. While Tom's writer is unavailable, I'm writing for Tom.)

Tom awoke to find Roxie still in his arms as he spooned her beneath additional layers of blankets. She felt so good against him. His cock immediately began hardening. He smiled, thinking Down boy. You've already had her, again and again. He was tempted to wake her and start again. She was quite the passionate, energetic lover.

The sounds of shuffling footsteps caught his attention. They had been the reason he'd awoken, though, he didn't know that until now. Sitting up, Tom found Glenn standing in the doorway. His heart skipped a beat. He recalled speaking to Roxie about not wanting to be shot dead by her husband for fucking her.

Glenn lifted an extended index finger to his lips. He didn't want to disturb his wife's deep slumber. He knew how deeply she could sleep after sex. He also knew how bitchy she got if you woke her prematurely. He curled a finger to Tom, signaling the man to join him. Still shuffling on his bad ankle, he turned and headed toward the kitchen.

The younger man caught up with the elder. The latter held out an arm, asking, "Help me, will you?" He saw the expression on Tom's face and chuckled. "Don't worry. You're not in trouble. C'm'on, give me a hand."

Tom helped Glenn to a stool at the kitchen's central island. With the latter's direction, the former gathered food from the fridge, freezer, cupboard, and pantry. Soon, the island was covered in foods. Some of them were going to perish without electricity. Glenn told the other man, "Might as well pig out on it now."

"I hope I didn't do anything wrong," Tom said. He was addressing the elephant in the room. He considered putting the blame on Roxie. She was the one who stripped in the bathroom. But then he remembered that it had been he who'd first kissed her. And it had been him who'd invited her to his bath.

"No, you didn't do anything wrong," Glenn said. His tone was casual. No hint of his being offended. No hint of his being angry. "My wife and I have an understanding. We love each other very much, and we give the other what they need, even with we can't give it to them ourselves."

Glenn looked to Tom, asking, "You understand what I mean by that, yes?"

Tom nodded. "I think so."

"Did you enjoy her," Glenn asked. Clarifying unnecessarily, he added, "My wife."

Tom didn't know how to answer that question. Roxie's husband was asking him if he'd enjoyed fucking his wife? Who asks that? As far as that goes, who so casually lets another man fuck his wife? And then feeds him and asks for a review?

Glenn laughed. "It's okay. Like I said..." He was going to repeat his declaration concerning his and Roxie's open marriage. Instead, he explained, "We tell each other about these things. Describe them."

His lips spread in a devilish smirk. "To be honest, I like hearing about my wife's fun with others. Women. Men. Both sometimes. I enjoy it. Sometimes..." He paused, unsure of whether he should be telling Tom this. "Sometimes, I watch. I don't consider myself a cuckold. I seek no humiliation. I feel no humiliation. I simply like to watch Roxie enjoy herself. And she likes to keep me happy."

Tom wasn't sure how to feel about what he was hearing. Rich people, he again thought about the couple. Who knows what gets them off or why? He believed what Glenn was saying about his relationship with Roxie. Still, he wasn't ready to describe what he'd done to the man's wife with his cock.

"Could you do me a favor?" Glenn asked. "I left the Oxy on the coffee table in my den."

Tom retrieved the bottle. Glenn popped one in his mouth and washed it down with wine. They continued eating in silence. After some time, the elder asked the younger, "You got your money, yes?"

"Yes, thank you," Tom said. He wondered for a moment whether or not he should be worried about not leaving the house with the cash. Was there a chance it had been a con? Naw, not these people, he thought. They've got enough money not to worry about a mere ten grand. "I appreciate it. It'll make getting to Florida easier."

"Florida?" Glenn asked. This was the first time he was hearing of Tom's plans to get back to his family.

Tom couldn't help but smile a bit wider. That's right, you don't know, he recalled. He wondered whether he should let the man's wife give him the news. Instead, he told Glenn, "Roxie said that if I stayed--"

Suddenly, Tom remembered what had happened between him and Roxie when he had stayed. Maybe I should leave this.

"She didn't ask you to stay so that she could fuck you," Glenn said with a matter-of-fact tone. He knew his wife. There had had to be another reason. Roxie didn't like to be alone. She rarely was. "She said that if you stayed ... what?"

"If I stayed, the two of you would get me a first-class airline ticket to Florida," Tom answered, "so I can see my family."

"Done," Glenn said firmly and without hesitation. He smiled, adding, "If Roxie told you that we'd do that for you, we will. It's the least we can do."

Glenn had no idea how true that was. Tom's assistance might very well have saved Glenn's life. The explosion at the LNG plant had been less than 2 miles from the Gaslamp Quarter where he and Tom had initially met. The damage from the blast wave had been extensive, even at distances greater than that. Flying glass and other debris, as well as collapsed buildings, had caused dozens of deaths and thousands of injuries. There would be more to come when the land-based tanks began exploding, too.

Glenn studied the younger man a long moment. When Tom caught him being ogled, he smiled. "What's on your mind?"

"I'll be honest," the older man began. "When I brought you home with me, or, more correctly, you brought me home, I thought maybe that it would be you and me sharing the bed in the guest room." He hesitated, looking for Tom's reaction. The younger man only continued to stare at him. There was no negative reaction. A straight man likely would have protested. "Am I wrong in thinking that maybe that was part of why you offered to bring me home?"

"No," Tom said. "You're not wrong."

Tom liked men as much as he liked women. He might very well have slept with Glenn first if only he hadn't passed out on Oxy upon getting home. He thought again to Roxie. She'd been a firecracker in bed. He most certainly wanted to continue fucking her. But he most certainly found Glenn attractive as well. The man was handsome. He was charming. He was rich, not that Tom did it with well-to-do men only because they had money.

Seeing Glenn smile happily, Tom did as well. Again, thinking of Roxie and what they'd done with, to, and for one another, Tom asked, "So, about your wife. We're good there?"

"Of course," Glenn said. He held out his glass of wine. They clinked glasses, after which the elder man said, "Help me upstairs, will you. I'd like to sleep off the Oxy in my own bed."

Tom aided Glenn up the stairs. Near his bed, the elder man began stripping. When he got to his boxers, he found the younger man studying him. Smiling, Glenn said, "You should get back to my wife. She won't want to wake up alone."

Tom hadn't intentionally been ogling his host as the man undressed. He simply hadn't yet turned away. He did now, stopping to inform Glenn, "I'm not the only guest you have, by the way."

"Viola," Glenn said, well aware of the second woman. "Where is she now?"

"The guest house," I think. "I only caught part of the conversation between the girls."

"Thank you, Tom," Glenn said as he slipped into the bed. It still smelled of the two women and the sex they'd enjoyed. He smiled. It was a poor substitute for his wife's description of her night with the other beauty. But it would work for now. "Let's talk again in the morning, shall we?"

"Yes, sir," Tom said. As soon as he'd said it, he wished he hadn't. Sir didn't fit the relationship he wanted with Glenn, his wife, or the two as a couple. He was in the hospitality industry. But he wasn't their servant. Before departing, he corrected, "Thank you, Glenn."

Glenn was asleep in a minute or two, thanks to the Oxy. Tom first returned to kitchen. The fridge and freezer were without electricity, of course. Still, he put some of the perishables away if they seemed worthy of saving. It seemed like such a waste to just leave them out to go bad.

After that, he returned to the bed in which the warm bodied redhead was still soundly asleep. She stirred in Tom's arms. If she awoke, he hoped she'd want to continue their fun. If not, he was fine with simply holding her as he once again went to sleep.