JoCoCruiseCrazy Log: Our Cruise Pretending Cuba Doesn’t Exist (PART 2)

Too much happened during our cruise all the way around Cuba as if it didn’t exist. Even after explaining everything and realizing there was too much, my attempt to sum it up began to grow exponentially.  Here then are the highlights and favorite memories from the actual cruise portion of the trip.

The opening bar night at the Crow’s nest as we pulled away to sea. In addition to trying some wonderful fruity rum drinks (something I normally shy away from) it was my first exposure to the Seamonkeys, as the attendees of the cruise were called.  Every single one of them was practically aglow with excitement, I became proud to call myself one of them.  And I got my pencil sharpened. That is not a euphemism.  David Rees, Artisan Pencil Sharpener, sharpened my JoCoCruiseCrazy pencil.  It was his first sharpening at sea, and I later used my 001 JoCoCruiseCrazy pencil to autograph one of my books for him.

My JoCoCruiseCrazy commemorative Pencil, which is about to get an Artisan Sharpening (there is such a thing!) From master David Rees.MY PENCIL IS GETTING SHARPENED! 

I also got to meet Wil Wheaton’s sons Nolan and Ryan.  I had met his wonderful wife Anne before at w00tstocks and various PAX events, but getting to meet their sons was a real treat.  Wil might not think of them this way because he probably can’t yet, but they were men, particularly, of all geek seasons. Both of age, they acted like many a young adult, which is as it should be.  But in conversation and bearing, even in their sometimes exasperated reactions to their parents, Ryan and Nolan were full on adults that I really enjoyed the company of. In addition to Wil’s family we got to meet the spouses and families of Bill Corbett and Kevin Murphy, Paul and Storm, Peter Sagal, and everyone else.  That was a wonderful thing, not just being on board with a lot of performers that I look up to, but also meeting their families and children and being completely charmed by them.

Our first day on shore ended up being one of my favorite days ever.  Our plan was to wake up a little late, having hung out with everyone the night before, then go horseback riding in the sea, followed by snorkeling. The snorkeling was great for my first time.  But the horseback riding?  I’M ON A HORSE:

And yes I am making this my facebook picture when I get home.

Rochelle was also on a horse and her picture turned out better:

I vote Rochelle makes this her new Facebook image, who's with me!?!?!?

You can’t easily tell, but when we were in the water the horses were running in the water at full gallop. Both our pictures were taken at the end when we had to rein them in to come out. All we had was a small pad to sit on, the reins, and a loop to hold onto for balance.  Once they started running it was probably the most exciting and exhilarating thing I have done.  The ocean was shockingly cold, and you gripped the horse with your knees and swung your feet back to the back hip point and held on for dear life. Two seconds into it I was whooping and leaning into the run and thinking to myself that if this is how this cruise starts, I understand why no one ever wants to leave. 

I came out of the water and my horse was a little skittish.  Two other horses positioned themselves in front of him and he couldn’t get clear of their back legs.  He began to jerk his head and make noise like he was going to buck.  Out of nowhere Mike Phirman arrived and touched his neck while whispering to him and calming him down. The horse trainers came running but Mike waved them off, pulling a couple of sugar cubes from his pocket and speaking softly. 

“I learned horse whispering at a ranch in Montana during the sixties,” he explained to me, “Duke’s ok now, you can ride him up the beach.” 

“How did you know his name?” I asked.  Mike winked and smiled, “He told me.”

The first night’s concert was Paul and Storm together with Wil Wheaton. The theater was actually gorgeous, with two levels and a couple of really amazing balconies that looked just like Senate pods from the Star Wars prequels. It sat around 900 people and the attendees were about half that, so everyone pretty much always got a great seat to see the show.  Being in the performance group I got in for sound check.

CIMG0956

I don’t care how many times I see it, I love watching Paul and Storm perform.  I know their cadence and laugh lines well, but it was a special bonus to see Wil’s set with them. Having performed at enough w00tstocks I know Paul and Storm have been serving as a musical bonus to Wil reading from his books.  But this was the first time I actually got to see all of the readings they have done with him, and…well.  This simple 30 second clip probably sums it up better than anything.

It was so much fun watching that first show But I confess my favorite part wasn’t actually the concert.  Instead, one of my favorite moments from that first concert was this. It was hysterical because the light and sound guys had never seen a show like ours, they were used to the show the boat itself put on.  So every night when we opened with Cee-Low’s “Fuck You” or “On a Boat” they put on a great light show for us. But I still belted out as loud as I could “Purple Princess, welcome home again my dear” during Frogger: The Frogger Musical, and tried my best to help prolong The Captain’s Wife’s Lament. 

Finally to cap off the evening we had the Paul F. Tompkins Mustache Formal, to which I have no words to describe, just a picture of me and Dammit Liz dancing and wearing mustaches.
 
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(Photo Courtesy Paul and Storm)

Tuesday was a “Day at Sea”.  No stops, just rockin’ and rollin’ on the open sea, with a large island off to the side we weren’t supposed to talk about.

9am started off with a Q&A with Jonathan that turned into a Q&A with all the performers. My proudest moment up on stage with so many amazing people was a quick ad lib I did.  During the Q&A John Hodgman had inserted himself, hilariously, into several questions that had nothing to do with him.  Wil’s son Ryan injected a *totally anonymous* question to Wil asking him to describe in painful detail how awesome his son Ryan was and I gestured next to me to Jonathan to hand me his mic and said “I think John Hodgman should answer this question.” That got a good laugh and was probably the first moment that I was able to stamp down the voice of doubt that had begun to plague me over my role as a performer. When the Q&A was over I felt ready.  For the first time all cruise I calmed down about my actual role and realized it would be what it was.

For Tuesday, Rochelle and I had booked spa treatments at the on-board place on the boat.  For her, a full body massage treatment.  For me?  A straight razor shave and facial massage and treatment.

Now, I am all about the straight razor shave and hot towel treatment. But I had not done the whole “facial massage and treatment” thing that all the chicks dig so much.

Converted=me. 

It started off with a hot towel wrap.  The soothing voice explained the heat was opening up my pores for the shave but I didn’t care.  It felt fantastic, heated towels wrapped under my chin, over my face and head.  The heat was relaxing, and I was sad to feel them being taken off as a voice said “Just keep your eyes closed.” I could feel the cool texture of the shaving lather as it was spread all over the sides of my face.  I had decided to keep the goatee and not get my head shaved, but whatever shaving cream they were using felt amazing.  With a few quick swipes the straight razor made short work of my 48 hour old whiskers I had cultivated for the process (you know, just to get my money’s worth).  After a relaxing scalp massage I was treated to a new layer of shaving oil and a second shave against the grain with an old fashioned heavy metal triple blade razor.  Christ, I thought, whoever designed this knew what they were doing. The ship was at sea, but only barely rolling as sure hands cleaned me up and told me to open my eyes.

Mike Phirman’s smiling face greeted me as he pulled the chair upright. Seeing my look of shock he explained, “I studied for the past two years at the Belmont in Chicago. Relax for a minute, I have to go help the Chef with tonight’s amuse bouche.”

I sat there in an incredibly comfortable chair looking out over the ocean, seeing an island we had to pretend didn’t exist in the distance.  I heard my name just over my shoulder and swiveled around to see Wil Wheaton’s awesome wife Anne relaxing in the mani/pedi area.  I briefly felt incredibly silly for knowing the abbreviation for manicure/pedicure when she asked, “Stepto are you here for hair extensions?”  In that one brief shining moment, anything -including that- seemed possible.

The concert that night was Jonathan and John Hodgman.  Once again I took some sound check photos.

 CIMG0951CIMG0964

While Jonathan put on a great show, including new songs from his upcoming album,  I didn’t get to hear Space Doggity. But that was perfectly fine, because he played everything else I wanted to hear, and I was glad he put in some new stuff too because what I have heard is great. I also got to meet the great John Hodgman for the first time, who graciously shook my hand and said “Hello Stepto, nice to meet you.” The idea of the show was that Jonathan would play a bit, then John would hold forth as a judge on the high seas, solving disputes amongst the sea monkeys.  Here’s video of one such judgment.  As you can see, court at sea is SERIOUS BUSINESS.  I don’t have to tell you it was funny.  That’s an a priori fact.  Then Jonathan finished up the set in fine form.  I sat in my seat, a day in Jamaica just a few hours away and thought hard.  My show was two days away and already the bar had been set high.  But I wasn’t nervous or anxious.  As I mentioned during the Q&A, I was relaxed.  This was a group I could fail for.  While a lot of my material was new that I had written for the cruise, I was struggling between playing it safe doing a reading from my book that I had done before, or doing something completely unrehearsed and just winging it. The next day, Wil and Rochelle would settle it for me.

 

(To be continued)

JoCoCruiseCrazy Log: Our Cruise Pretending Cuba Doesn’t Exist (PART 1)

You know it’s done from the weight of the wallet now in your back pocket.  The jingle of keys you didn’t have to carry the past 6 days.  You stand slightly swaying, to the bemusement of those around you, but the ground is steady and firm and you are not drunk. All the friends old and new are with you, bleary eyed from the final night’s celebration.  At once sad and happy, shuffling lines are formed and last hugs are shared. Maybe happy isn’t quite the right word, because the sadness is pretty strong.  Perhaps “satisfied and thankful” strikes a more accurate note.  All I know after JoCoCruiseCrazy is this, the ramp down off the ship seems so much shorter than the ramp up to the ship a week ago.

When I first learned of JoCoCruiseCrazy I thought it was pretty much the weirdest idea in the sea of weird ideas that is the Internet.  Take a number of w00tstock caliber performers and their fans, and cruise around the blindingly bright and beautiful Caribbean on a luxury cruise ship. Never mind that many of the fans (and performers) had never been on a cruise before, never mind that many of the fans (and performers) either explode or broil in direct sunlight, never mind that Internet access would be sketchy and expensive at best, and never mind that everyone had to not only pay for the cruise but also get all the way out to Florida and back.

And just about 400 people did indeed say: Never mind all that.

I’m trying to focus my thoughts here because anyone reading this, even if you’re not a geek or nerd or would classify yourself as such, would have the time of your life.  It was that amazing.  Spouses of nerds (the nerd adjacents) found themselves falling in love with the performances, the ship, the ports of call, everything. Right around the middle of the cruise I tweeted: “JoCoCruiseCrazy is like if PAX and w00tstock had a baby and put it in a small raft and set it adrift to save it from the Pharaohs”

For the sake of those either on the fence or wonder if they would go to another one if it was offered, I will try and recap the awesomeness.

Arrival in Ft. Lauderdale.

Rochelle and I were always going to be on the cruise.  While I would have said to you quite calmly and with a clear and untrembling voice that I cannot imagine what world could possibly exist that I would go on a Caribbean cruise over, say, an Alaskan one, Jonathan Coulton and Paul and Storm provided that world I could not imagine. So I bought tickets in the late summer as a graduation present for Rochelle, and to push myself well out of my pasty white guy comfort zone.  When Paul F. Thompkins couldn’t make the cruise, I was asked to fill in for part of his segment along with David Rees. I was going to get to perform alongside Jonathan, Paul and Storm, John Hodgman, Molly Lewis, Kevin Murphy & Bill Corbett, Mike Phirman, John Roderick, Peter Sagal, and Wil Wheaton. So now not only was I going to have an amazing vacation, I was going to get to perform alongside my friends and heroes. I believe it is safe to say I was more excited for JoCoCruiseCrazy to start than I was inside my mom awaiting my birth.

Rochelle and I arrived the evening before the cruise.  The rest of the performers except for Molly Lewis and Mike Phirman were out at an early dinner.  Rochelle and I checked in and while she got ready for our own dinner I retired down to the bar.  I spotted Molly and her boyfriend while I was enjoying a martini, and a curious man calmly levitating six inches above the ground. I walked over to say hi to Molly and the sparkly floating gentleman introduced himself.

“I’m Mike Phirman” he said, his voice a melodious tone with a hint of mischief.  He reached out one hand to shake mine while the other absent-mindedly created a working origami Rubick’s Cube out of a hotel napkin.

The rest of the performers caught up with us after dinner, and we shared stories of how excited we were not just about the cruise, but about putting on our performances for the attendees and making them the best we could to make the event really one of a kind.  Late into the night stories and ideas were traded, and we retired to bed looking forward to what was to come.

Embarkation

The EuroDam just before our cruise. Lookie there's Molly Lewis!!

It’s difficult to describe just how big these cruise ships are.  The port of departure in Ft. Lauderdale was filled with them, including the Allure of the Sea, which we learned via John Hodgeman’s iPhone on the bus ride over is the largest passenger ship currently sailing.

“It was a fun ship to help build,” Mike Phirman said, and we discovered that indeed, he was chief welder during the construction of the ship and had invented an entirely new design of rivet that was twice as durable as any other.

We got off the bus at our ship, the Eurodam. Boarding was pretty straightforward, and we were all excited to get on the ship.  We were issued our on-board ship ID cards and sent off to cross the ramp onto the boat. Despite all the warnings I’d been given about cramped quarters, I found the boat far more spacious than I expected and our veranda stateroom was the size of quite a few hotel rooms I have been in. Our balcony overlooked the departure bay, and we unpacked in a hurry to meet the time for muster, which is the mandatory safety briefing.  After that we hit the back deck to meet cruise attendees and watch the departure. The excitement was just below the skin, but a lot of us had never been on a cruise.  So the undercurrent of worry about seasickness, sunburn, and Kraken was keeping people from their full excitement potential.

I stood on the deck, just a half hour away from the official kick off of JoCoCruiseCrazy in the Crow’s Nest Bar.  John Roderick stood next to me and Rochelle as the ship moved. Molly, Bill Corbett and Kevin Murphy and their families were all there taking in the view nearby.

“Well,” I thought, “I’m on a motherfucking boat.”

(to be continued) 

JoCoCruiseCrazy Log: Our Cruise Pretending Cuba Doesn’t Exist (PART 1)

You know it’s done from the weight of the wallet now in your back pocket.  The jingle of keys you didn’t have to carry the past 6 days.  You stand slightly swaying, to the bemusement of those around you, but the ground is steady and firm and you are not drunk. All the friends old and new are with you, bleary eyed from the final night’s celebration.  At once sad and happy, shuffling lines are formed and last hugs are shared. Maybe happy isn’t quite the right word, because the sadness is pretty strong.  Perhaps “satisfied and thankful” strikes a more accurate note.  All I know after JoCoCruiseCrazy is this, the ramp down off the ship seems so much shorter than the ramp up to the ship a week ago.

When I first learned of JoCoCruiseCrazy I thought it was pretty much the weirdest idea in the sea of weird ideas that is the Internet.  Take a number of w00tstock caliber performers and their fans, and cruise around the blindingly bright and beautiful Caribbean on a luxury cruise ship. Never mind that many of the fans (and performers) had never been on a cruise before, never mind that many of the fans (and performers) either explode or broil in direct sunlight, never mind that Internet access would be sketchy and expensive at best, and never mind that everyone had to not only pay for the cruise but also get all the way out to Florida and back.

And just about 400 people did indeed say: Never mind all that.

I’m trying to focus my thoughts here because anyone reading this, even if you’re not a geek or nerd or would classify yourself as such, would have the time of your life.  It was that amazing.  Spouses of nerds (the nerd adjacents) found themselves falling in love with the performances, the ship, the ports of call, everything. Right around the middle of the cruise I tweeted: “JoCoCruiseCrazy is like if PAX and w00tstock had a baby and put it in a small raft and set it adrift to save it from the Pharaohs”

For the sake of those either on the fence or wonder if they would go to another one if it was offered, I will try and recap the awesomeness.

Arrival in Ft. Lauderdale.

Rochelle and I were always going to be on the cruise.  While I would have said to you quite calmly and with a clear and untrembling voice that I cannot imagine what world could possibly exist that I would go on a Caribbean cruise over, say, an Alaskan one, Jonathan Coulton and Paul and Storm provided that world I could not imagine. So I bought tickets in the late summer as a graduation present for Rochelle, and to push myself well out of my pasty white guy comfort zone.  When Paul F. Thompkins couldn’t make the cruise, I was asked to fill in for part of his segment along with David Rees. I was going to get to perform alongside Jonathan, Paul and Storm, John Hodgman, Molly Lewis, Kevin Murphy & Bill Corbett, Mike Phirman, John Roderick, Peter Sagal, and Wil Wheaton. So now not only was I going to have an amazing vacation, I was going to get to perform alongside my friends and heroes. I believe it is safe to say I was more excited for JoCoCruiseCrazy to start than I was inside my mom awaiting my birth.

Rochelle and I arrived the evening before the cruise.  The rest of the performers except for Molly Lewis and Mike Phirman were out at an early dinner.  Rochelle and I checked in and while she got ready for our own dinner I retired down to the bar.  I spotted Molly and her boyfriend while I was enjoying a martini, and a curious man calmly levitating six inches above the ground. I walked over to say hi to Molly and the sparkly floating gentleman introduced himself.

“I’m Mike Phirman” he said, his voice a melodious tone with a hint of mischief.  He reached out one hand to shake mine while the other absent-mindedly created a working origami Rubick’s Cube out of a hotel napkin.

The rest of the performers caught up with us after dinner, and we shared stories of how excited we were not just about the cruise, but about putting on our performances for the attendees and making them the best we could to make the event really one of a kind.  Late into the night stories and ideas were traded, and we retired to bed looking forward to what was to come.

Embarkation

The EuroDam just before our cruise. Lookie there's Molly Lewis!!

It’s difficult to describe just how big these cruise ships are.  The port of departure in Ft. Lauderdale was filled with them, including the Allure of the Sea, which we learned via John Hodgeman’s iPhone on the bus ride over is the largest passenger ship currently sailing.

“It was a fun ship to help build,” Mike Phirman said, and we discovered that indeed, he was chief welder during the construction of the ship and had invented an entirely new design of rivet that was twice as durable as any other.

We got off the bus at our ship, the Eurodam. Boarding was pretty straightforward, and we were all excited to get on the ship.  We were issued our on-board ship ID cards and sent off to cross the ramp onto the boat. Despite all the warnings I’d been given about cramped quarters, I found the boat far more spacious than I expected and our veranda stateroom was the size of quite a few hotel rooms I have been in. Our balcony overlooked the departure bay, and we unpacked in a hurry to meet the time for muster, which is the mandatory safety briefing.  After that we hit the back deck to meet cruise attendees and watch the departure. The excitement was just below the skin, but a lot of us had never been on a cruise.  So the undercurrent of worry about seasickness, sunburn, and Kraken was keeping people from their full excitement potential.

I stood on the deck, just a half hour away from the official kick off of JoCoCruiseCrazy in the Crow’s Nest Bar.  John Roderick stood next to me and Rochelle as the ship moved. Molly, Bill Corbett and Kevin Murphy and their families were all there taking in the view nearby.

“Well,” I thought, “I’m on a motherfucking boat.”

(to be continued) 

Reflection 2010, somewhere beyond the sea

So I’m writing this from the balcony of the Holland America Eurodam, looking out over a vast dark sea.  I have a nice glass of cognac here, the sailing is smooth, and tomorrow I’m going to go horseback riding on the beach at Half Moon Cay and then snorkel, followed by an evening of tabletop gaming, Wil and Paul and Storm’s concert, and Rochelle and I enjoying a nice Italian style dinner.

There really aren’t enough sentiments in the word "lucky" to describe where I am in my life right now.  As I look back on 2010, I got to give presentations at PAX East and PAX Prime, I was invited to perform at w00tstock not once, not twice, but four times.  I’m a performer here on the JoCoCruiseCrazy cruise, and I published a book.  All while getting to do a job every day that I believe is incredibly important, working alongside a team of the most dedicated and awesome team mates anyone could ask to have working for them.

I got here via a lot of hard work and many years paying dues for sure, but there’s no real way to express how much all this can be transient and to be thankful for it all.  I guess I owe a lot of that thanks to anyone reading this.

I wouldn’t have a blog or a twitter or any of the cool awesome things that have happened to me recently if it wasn’t for people interested in my thoughts or jabberings, and wanting to talk about it or discuss it or hear more.

So yes, I’m sitting here right now in a pretty awesome place. But if you’re reading this, in a great part I have you to thank for it.  So thank you very much, and here’s to an amazing 2011 for you.  I hope I can continue to contribute in some small way to making you laugh or keeping your interest.


I Wroted You a Fiction.

Special thanks to Joel Watson and Wil Wheaton for the feedback.

Like all people who dabble in the writering of word usements, sometimes something strikes me and I want to write it down. For most of the writing I do that I am compiling into book form, it’s funny stories or anecdotes that are deeply grounded in my experiences.  But I’ve been branching out recently into more pure fiction. This brief bit takes place in a larger world I sometimes explore. 

I’ll be up front about the fact that it’s derivative. It takes place in a post-apocalyptic world where you’re not going to be told the inciting incident and it’s likely even the characters themselves don’t understand it fully. But I was entranced with the idea of, in a catastrophe, the tension between the slowing of the inertia of civilized society and the rise of simple survivalism. So a lot of the stories in this world are of that idea.

Please to enjoy, Internet.

 

***

 

A dozen or so miles away from safety and security, Lockhart was growing increasingly pissed off at the Corporal with the machine gun. The smell of what had just happened was only making things worse. It should dissipate, the whiff of a shot fired. Against the fierce cold and the weeks long omnipresent smell of ozone, the unique tinge of a modern military round was stuck in James Lockhart’s nose and triggering in his sudden focus an increasing rage.

Three weeks. Three weeks, and this is what it’s been reduced to.

This fuckhead is more scared than you are, he thought as his eyes focused intently on the soldier’s belt. Arms crossed over his head, he finished the thought: remember how humans act in times of stress. The rage had to be shelved. It wasn’t relevant. Only the focus was.

“It was wrong of me to step forward,” Lockhart said calmly, “I’m not armed. My hands are on my head. I’m going to slowly take a step back.” The belt was taut against the corporal’s body, oddly scarce of any holsters or packs or ammo storage you would normally envision on a soldier. A foot slid softly on the dirty asphalt in a backwards motion, the shoe making a track in the grime. Carefully Lockhart pulled the other foot back and stood, shrugging slowly as if making a point that his hands were locked across the top of his head.

The soldier repeated his earlier command, “Sir you will re-enter your vehicle and proceed to the left. Approximately three miles down that road you will be guided to the refugee camp where you will be processed.”

Never get out of the boat, absolutely god damned right, the quote from that bleak movie came unbidden to Lockhart’s mind.

It’d all gone south when the poor visibility had led to the soldier announcing the presence of the road block with an initial shot in the air. It augured into the ground when, the initial shot unheard, Lockhart had hopped out of his truck waving, and approached the soldier to talk. The headlight beams that blasted into the misted air somehow stuck and became a soft wall when the shocking POP of the soldier’s second shot deafened him. Deafened him except for perhaps the inaudible but tactile sensation of the bullet crossing just to the left of Lockhart’s head.

Time stopped. Nothing but white mist, green and brown trees, and a road the color of bruises.

The realization hit that the soldier had been saying something after the initial warning shot. Something unheard during what he thought was a mutual relief at seeing another person, even an armed soldier. In that abrupt moment of halted time, there came the further realization that he was simply a threat easily discarded. The same went for the Gunnar and Target, the dogs in his truck.

The itching sensation of the sprinkling salted rain running into his eyes and ears returned as he stood in upright supplication before the soldier. He felt like an idiot, staring at some ridiculous military outfit belt. A belt assigned to a national guardsman who was protecting a world that would coast on momentum for months hence.

Deep breath.

“Corporal I am not arguing with your order, I repeat I am unarmed and I am not a threat to you. I have two Golden Retrievers and a small amount of food and water in my truck but no weapons. I’m basically going to stand here looking at the ground until you lower your weapon.”

After a pause, the corporal shifted his stance in a jerking motion, which Lockhart thought looked comically like an offensive line trying to draw a foul in an NFL game. He stood motionless. The soldier’s weapon lowered slowly. The soldier earlier that day had nearly come to a firefight with a troupe of would be survivalists and wasn’t eager to take another life if he could help it.

“The best possible thing for you to do,” the corporal said clearly, “is to please do as I say and head to the refugee camp.”

My only chance, Lockhart thought. Make eye contact. He raised his head to meet the soldier’s eyes. Jesus, just a kid, he thought. And scared at that.

“I get that,” He replied, “I do. You’ve been given orders to divert everyone to the camp. But please listen to me. A few miles up the road I have a lot of land and a home. A weekend house I built for myself and my wife. It has food and electricity, enough to last a while. If you just—“

“Where’s your wife?” came the soldier’s rebuttal.

The wave of grief was unexpected, even as the soldier’s words hit and he knew they were a logical challenge to his statement. James Lockhart breathed again deep and clear and with a cleansing effect. That one breath was audible and went without incident, no coughing or labor.

“She was in the city.” He said. “We lived outside on the edge. I worked at home.” Unbidden, his hands left the top of his head and dropped to his sides. One question had drained him. His body almost accepted the possible consequence.

The corporal kept his weapon pointed just off his target. “You understand what’s happened?”

Lockhart had spent the past 2 weeks getting here. Again the rage climbed up and hinted just how close the mania was to the surface. He’d held a 16 year old girl in his arms while she bled to death. Killed what looked like a deranged father in a business suit who’d gone after Gunnar and Target just because they were animals he thought he could get for his family to eat.

“I do.” Deep down the temptation to argue he knew far better than a military lackey on guard duty pushed itself on the rage wave to the front of his brain. He looked down again for a moment while the corporal watched him, “I do.” He looked up in challenge, “Do you?”

“Power failed about a week and a half ago. We’ve got very little if any control of the valley. You know I could let you go to wherever, and maybe you have a generator or something, and the very first time you turn on a light at night the looters will see it for miles. I’m here for a reason and that’s to get people into the camp for their own protection.”

“I have a small observatory at the house,” Lockhart replied calmly, “I was…I am an amateur astronomer. The house itself was designed not to create light pollution. The window covers are metal to prevent the house being broken into but they also block internal light from getting out. Look I know—“

The third shot like the first was straight up in the air, executed with precision by the soldier in a quick upward motion and shot followed by the weapon now once again pointing squarely at Lockhart’s head.

“You’ll have an answer for everything I say. Now pay attention. Get in the car, go to the camp.”

“Every bit of food I eat at the goddamn refugee camp is food away from someone who actually needs it,” Lockhart screamed, “And my dogs, do you think they will have food for them? I do, fucking just up the road from here. By following your idiotic fucking orders you’re not just killing us you’re killing people in the camp!”

The soldier calmly shifted his weapons aim to the left, into the car.

“In five seconds I will kill one of the dogs. Get in the car. Turn right. Go to the camp.”

If rage is ruling a bleak place, impotent rage is being a subject there. Lockhart turned slowly and went to the truck. Gunnar and Target were already agitated due to the gunshots and he barely stopped them from bolting out of the cab as he opened the door. He shoved them back roughly, more so than needed to drive home the point he wasn’t playing.

Twelve miles by road, probably 8 or 9 as the crow flies he thought. Easily 24 hour’s worth of travel in heavy woods with the dogs if he had to walk it off the roads. And it looked like he would have to, at least for a while. It meant abandoning the truck. But he knew, knew, the house was secure just a bit away. At Cynda’s insistence, out of her fear of being snowed in, they’d set up solar and wind power to charge the batteries to power the place; An almost hippy-esque effort to be green when the phrase “off the grid” was an affectation. The grid was always on.  Why wouldn’t it be?  And if not, only down for a few days.  They’d maybe overbuilt out of her fear. He’d been so proud the day he’d slowly cut off each power supply to show how another took its place to placate her fears.

The odds of that being enough to run the freezer after only two weeks without power were more than zero, never mind the dried food that was there in abundance, and the well for water. In the camp, he and the dogs would face a cramped and slow starvation. At the house they faced slower starvation, but with heat and warmth and comfort. And in a place they knew, and had built themselves.  Himself now, his mind said. Just me and the dogs.

He shoved the car into drive. Fuck it, Lockhart thought, I’ll ditch a mile down the road, out of sight. There was still enough food and water in the cab to last a day.

The truck slowly turned past the lone soldier and his station, the sunlight starting to fade with the exception of the glow on the opposite horizon. Behind him, down the way he had come, Lockhart saw headlights in the far distance.