Friday Snippet: Looks Like We're in for Nasty Weather

Alright. We're back with Iris in the hill country outside of Greenville, SC. She's just asked her friend Andrew for a horse so that she can make the ride up to Ashville, NC. Almost two days have passed since the end of the world and all cars, electronics and means of communication are dead. Just in case you don't know, the referenced song is Bad Moon Rising by Creedence Clearwater Revival (they make everything better). Let me know what you think and please leave a link to your own Friday Snippet!

Copyrighted, do not reproduce, material liable to change. Etc.

“You want to go right now? Tonight?”

“Yes,” she said. He shook his head, running his hands back through his shortened hair. He sighed as if frustrated, as if he forgot taking the scissors to it that morning. His mouth twisted in a frown.

“It’s a long ride to Ashville,” he said. “We could make the Traveller’s Rest by early morning. They’re sure to have some clue, y’think?”

“We?”

“Sure,” he said, turning to the house. He left the door open as he rummaged through the front closet. “You won’t be going alone, that’s for sure. And one of my horses doesn’t count for the plural. I’m coming with you.”

“The Traveler’s Rest it is then,” she agreed. He emerged, sneezing. He flopped blankets and a few belts into her arms and slung a dusty army rucksack over his shoulder. She followed him into the kitchen where he packed canned goods, bread and some Cheerios.

“Peanut butter,” she said. He made a face and she said, “I know, I know. You think you’ll suffocate on it. But I shouldn’t have to be without because you’re a baby.” He gave her a put on frown, but tossed the jar and a knife into the sack.

“Do you think we should take weapons?” Andrew asked, lifting their supplies under his arm. Iris strapped two of his belts around the roll of blankets and slung them across her back.

“Weapons? Really Drew?”

“Yeah,” he said. They stepped into the evening and he locked the door. “Like guns.”

“Seriously?”

“It can’t hurt,” he said, smirking. She stopped, leaning her hip out and crossed her arms. He grimaced. “Sorry. Bad joke. But I think we probably should.”

“You have guns?”

“My father left me a few,” he leaned against the barn doors, the scent of hay and horses rolling over them in thick waves. That smell always reminded her of summer and kittens hissing at rats in her father’s loft.

“I don’t want a weapon,” she said.

“Iris.”

“No. You can play cowboy, Drew,” she snapped. Maybe a little harshly. She shrugged it off and said, “I’m just going to find out what happened. You know?” He shrugged, and she followed him into the swallowing shade of the barn. They saddled in rush of cricket song. As she lead her gelding into the yard, he stepped into the tack room.

Fireflies flickered dazedly in the heat. When he stepped out, she saw a long gun broken over the crook of his arm. He loaded it with a shell thicker than her thumb, snapped the barrel into place.

“Drew.”

“I know you don’t like it,” he said. He never looked at her as he slung the over his back by a wide leather strap. “But I shouldn’t have to do without because…” He sighed. He shook his head, and with a tap of his heels, his horse cantered through the gates. Iris followed wanting to say something, anything. And then Andrew pulled up, waiting for her to come up beside him.

Silver filled his eyes, the strange wheeling stars above usually swallowed by the city light. He smiled and she was glad for the dark as she blushed. Then as if in relief, he leaned back lazy in his saddle as they sauntered on. He tilted his head back his profile harsh against the sky.

I see a bad moon rising, I see trouble on the way, he sang. He kept his voice low, as if he shared a secret. Hope you got your things together… She laughed as his voice rose and he played air guitar, picking furiously and running his fingers down the invisible chords.

“Come any closer and we’ll shoot!” a voice cried out of the dark. Andrew pulled his horse up sharp. The mare reared. Thunder roared through the dark. Something hot blazed against her cheek. Blood splattered her shirt. Andrew sprawled in the road, the contents of his pack rolling in the dust. Iris screamed.

So say we all.
Bri