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Stories from the Verse
Con Version
Chapter 110: Takano 118
Table of Contents
Previous chapter: Cooper 35
Tommy found her property near the edge of the park, and realized just how comfortable she had made herself. Her sleeping bag, ground cloth, horse blanket, and light throw blanket were all in a heap where she had been sleeping. Her mess kit and canteen were a dozen feet away next to where the firepit had been. Her pack was almost completely empty, its usual contents scattered around what had been the interior of the nest. The only things that were really packed were her tablet and her cellphone, neither of which had been much use once they were camping.
It thus took her several minutes to shake out everything and get it all packed up.
As she lifted it to her back, she realized just how debilitated she had become from the winter shortages, despite her efforts to keep exercising and practicing. The fact that she could now climb her rope was undoubtedly in part due to the fact that she was lifting a lot less weight. Hopefully she would be able to change that.
Barely had she managed to get everything together and take the moment to reach out for that scriff sense when she saw a man waving to her. She waved back by reflex before she realized that this had to be Mister Justice, now in his, what did he call them? Civilian clothes? Pulling from her reserves, she pressed toward him.
When he was nearer, he called her name, Tommy; at least, she thought he called her name. He wasn’t quite close enough to hear clearly. She was about to call back, but realized that she didn’t know what to call him. So she trudged forward slowly until she thought he could hear her normal voice.
“So,” she said, “what do I call you?”
“Oh, right,” he said, as if he hadn’t expected the question or considered the answer. “I’m going by Brian Barrelmaster.”
“So, Brian, or Mister Barrelmaster?”
“Ah, the age thing. Of course, from what I’ve been told about versers, you might be older than I am.”
“Well, I’m older than I look, but not that much.”
“I’m sure Brian will be fine.”
She wasn’t sure she was entirely comfortable with that, but she had a thought. “What about Uncle Brian?”
“Uncle Brian?”
“Well, if I pose as your niece people won’t think it odd that we’re out together.”
He paused only for a moment, perhaps wondering whether a Japanese niece would be credible for a Black American. but apparently resolved it. “O.K.,” he said. “That works. Now, what about lunch? I know a pretty good barbecue place if you like southwestern food.”
It occurred to her that she could murder a cheeseburger, but then beggars can’t be choosers was the old saying, and she was more concerned to eat something than to worry about what. “I’ll eat just about anything at this point,” she said, “except, I’ve been living on mostly venison and wild turkey for several months, only just got fish back into the diet. And if I’m smart, I’ll eat some vegetables, as we were usually short on them.”
“Sounds like barbecued ribs with corn on the cob and apple cider would work?”
“Lead on, Uncle Bri. Not too fast, though–I haven’t carried the pack for a long time, and it’s a bit heavier than it was last time I did.”
“Do you need help?”
“As much as I’d like to say yes, I need to rebuild my strength, so unless it looks like I’m going to faint before you feed me, I’ll manage.”
He nodded as if he understood, and indicated a direction so they could start walking toward their eatery.
As to the old stories that have long been here:
