(1942-07-18) The Old Man and the Storm
The Old Man and the Storm
Summary: Kathleen and Clifton work to help an old Higsi boy out, as the strange stormy weather presses on. Easy does it with that werewolf strength, Clif!
Date: 1942-07-18
Related: None.
Players:
clifton..kathleen..

Willowby and Clinton, Higsi
Tue, Jul 18, 1942


The pine forest of Willowby Woods is thick and dense where the hiking path of Willowby Trail crosses the rutty dirt driving path that is Clinton Trail. Willowby Woods is popular amongst hikers, as the slopes of Iron Mountain begin to rise above the Watauga River gorge. The air here is fresh and crisp, filled with the sounds of birds and the rustle of Cobb's Creek.

From time to time, giant trucks pulling empty trailers rumble up Clinton Trail, heading to the top of Iron Mountain where the logging camp lies. Just as often, those same trucks creep downhill toward Watauga Drive hauling full trailers of cut pine trees.

Weather:
It is summer. The weather is stormy and warm.


It is at this point in time that this rain, these storms… all of it.. is becoming a true annoyance. Those who are not prepared — ie. in possession of homesteads that are older, not quite as well-maintained — will be dealing with the brunt of the inconvenience, surely. Others in town who run a tight ship (ok bad term), such as a one Kitty Wright, will manage 'just fine' with the worst of their troubles being sick, overall, of the gloom. The Wright residence handles the storms with all of the grim determination and strength of a hardened soldier; clean gutters divert the water, a nearly watertight basement letting nothing in. The yard has been bolstered, things put away…

However, in her diligent preparations for handling the weather, Kitty has begun to think more-and-more about some of her 'patrons' who aren't quite as well off. She can think of a few who live in old, old houses; her mind can easily discern whose house is going to spring what leak, who stands to experience the 'most' difficulty. As she settled on who to go check on first, the woman's phone rang and a very familiar voice spoke quickly to her. This was the nephew of an old codger in town who was a friend of Basil's and, by extension.. Kitty grew up around him. Said nephew, indisposed out-of-town, asked Kitty — a trusted friend — if she could 'pop by and check on the old boy, if it's not a problem?'

Go figure, that timing… as she saw to it that Maddie was safely installed at home with everything she needed ('ya keep those doors locked, make sure t'look before answerin' doors!') the carpenter descended the porch in her rain slicker like a graceful sort of alleycat, moving toward her truck. There, coincidentally, she met Clifton as he came to check in and the invitation was offered: come make sure an old man is alive and not floating. Assuming the Walker accepted, the two shall now be in Kitty's truck, carefully navigating the town's streets with Willowby being the trajectory.

"Ernest Roberts was a friend of my Da… stubborn old bastard, but kind in his way." Kitty explains as her fingers drum the wheel, eyes on the road while rain sluices the windshield. "Got a nephew who lives here in down, only closeby relative… he's worried 'bout him on account of him bein' out of town for the week so that's why I'm thinkin' of going out there. His house ain't in a good way, especially lately…" Kitty explains gruffly, worry beginning to etch it's way into her even voice.

Clifton had gladly agreed to go with Kitty to check on things, sitting in the passenger's seat and running a hand through his wet hair to get it out of his face.  He had left the rain slicker back at home because what's the point of trying anymore?  This rain didn't look like it was going to let up anytime soon.

"I'm sure he's fine" the Walker says about Ernest, trying to reassure Kitty.  "We'll help him out."  Maybe they could check on others in town while they were at it too.  Plenty of people were catching the worst of this storm.  It was bad.

A look into the covered bed of Kitty's truck and there one shall see a standard issue of tools for 'quick' fixes; a couple of old but useful tarps; some random pieces of wood and other material. She can't be lugging ALL of her things in this deluge, but at least having something to use — if needed — is helpful. Kitty is almost always prepared, but to call her a fussbucket will result in being punched. She's just… thorough.

Like Clifton she, too, has 'written off' any attempts to stay dry. Kitty remains in a state of 'perma-damp' with her one thing being not to become so saturated as to track water into peoples' homes. Golden eyes glance out the window at her left as she takes a left turn onto a narrow road, knowing all of the shortcuts. The beauty part about being local! In this weather everything looks the same; few people out and about walking, storefronts and homesteads lit from within but doors kept closed and windows shut to keep out the rain. Houses become smaller and more 'yokel-ish' as they follow Willowby toward the intersection of Clinton. One of Kitty's legit favorite hiking trails can be found here, but the line of the pine forest is dark, brooding and wet.

Set back from the road at the end of a long driveway, complete with crooked tin mailbox, there is an old, old rancher home that has seen many days and is in need od work. One bedroom at most, a basement that is sure to be soggy… and the roof looks tired. Kitty's mouth presses into a tense line as she takes everything into account. A lean-to, once set up at the side of the home, looks to have collapsed in on itself atop the old truck that rests beneath it.. no longer running; it hasn't been for years.

"Fuck.." She whispers.

Clifton was completely lost with all these turns and roads.  He had lived in Higsi long enough to know most of the main area as well as the way into town from the mountains, but all of this back road area was unfamiliar to him.  Especially in his kind of weather.

Watching the road as Kitty drives, he tries to keep a mental note in case they get separated.  Which way they had come.  Different roads and markings.  Landscape that was slowly being washed away by the rain.

Then, they come to it.  Their destination.  Looking at the old home, Clifton also sees the collapsed lean-to.  Hearing Kitty's exclamation he looks over to her "C'mon.  Let's get to it."  She was tough and independent, he knew that.  He also knew that this was somebody she seemed to care about at least to some capacity.  He'd help however she needed.

"That lean to was wrecked by somebody last week." Kitty says solemnly as she parks close-by and kills the engine, looking to Clif. Her brow furrows, "Ain't no weather that did it in.. someone was out here causing trouble. I should have come here sooner, done a walkabout with my gun …"

Coulda shoulda woulda.  Clif's urging to get things done pushes her and with a nod, she pushes open the heavy door and swings out of the cab of the truck. Feet land with a squelchy sound as she leaves her things in the bed for now. To approach the house is to pass by the wrecked lean-to and sad  old buried truck.

Kitty pauses to gaze at the dried vomit on the front bumper of the old thing… she considers with a frown.

Clif may recognize the needless damage and stain: demon boy was here.

Clifton surveys the damage to the lean-to as they pass, noting what Kitty says.  Then, seeing the front bumper…it connects.  Just who had done the damage.  His brow furrows into a glare as his form tenses a moment at the memory.

However, that isn't why they were here today.  Continuing forward and following Kitty's lead, Clif goes up to the house with her.  "If this weather doesn't let up soon he may need to look at getting out of this house…at least until it passes."

Yeah.  Clifton would let Kitty be the one to have that talk with the stubborn old mountain man!

The carpenter notes the Walker's expression… she isn't stupid, she knows what and to whom he is connecting this to. "That truck has been dead long before this happened, but Ernie loved it all the same." She remarks a touch shakily, deeply bothered and not letting on as she feels the tepid rainfall running down the back of her neck.
Clif makes another probable observation and Kitty breathes in deeply, as if seeking resolve.  "He's been here for many many days… widowed… wife is buried on property." She explains, looking a bit anxious.  "Gettin' him to move won't be easy because I know yer right. The house is crippled. If we can convince him he can stay in one of my rooms to let."
If.

A deep breath, and Kitty's lithe hand raps on the old beaten front door.

Clifton just gives a nod in agreement with what she explains, getting to the door with her and standing behind her.  As she knocks on the door he looks back out towards the truck before around the property some.  

The property, as in the land itself, is nice enough. Large, expansive… though a stretch of it looks as if it was serviceable as some sort of crop but long since retired. Ask Kitty, she will tell… but she no longer goes on about local history. She stands stiffly, her jaw working and brow furrowed as she simmers with anger and guilt. She should have come here days ago.

The door cracks open and the stale breath of the small house exhales upon the two, smelling musty and a bit like baked beans.  A keen sniffer, sadly, may discern the early signs of some sort of water damage. Kathleen, a professional, already knows of this before the old man ambles into view and squints up at her.

"Kitleen!" Ernest gums out; he looks to be closing in on 90. Skin is weathered and dark like a paper bag; eyes rhuemy and watery as he looks up at Kitty and beyond her at Clif.
"What can I do ya fer?" He asks companionably with the barest hint of discomfort in his tone. "Ya come far out here on such a miserable day, Basil's girl. This here yer man? Husband?"

When the smell comes out from behind the door as it opens, Clifton tenses but does not react past that.  Hold it together, Walker!  As the man talks to Kitty, Clif just stands and gives a nod in greeting.

Then, the question.  It shouldn't be a surprise given the mindset of the times, especially in this area, but it still took the Walker off guard in a way that had his eyes widen a bit.  Yeah, gonna let Kitty answer this one!  

For the moment he tries to see if he can assess the damage to the house from what they can see and what he can smell.

This is a house which bears an elderly man's repairs, ranging from mildly successful to completely ineffectual. Here is a man who is trying hard to hold onto what he has, with very few surviving relatives around to cajole him away from it. One nephew only has so much sway; a young man who has his own aspirations. That and Ernest is just a stubborn goat who is proud of what he had. Just ask him, he'll tell you about his once-successful tobacco farm where he had employees. He made profit. Yet why is Ernest out here alone in a house that is falling down around him?

It's a long, sad story. Staying here, making it all work, is his way of spitting in the face of it. But the appearance of Kathleen and her husband is a welcome thing; the murky, misty pathways in his mind cannot quite place Clifton as a Walker. Not yet, until Kitty corrects his mistake.

"I ain't hitched Ernie… ain't got the time for that. Too busy." Kitty offers affectionately, in a tone that is not typical of her. She can be soft if given half the chance, just see! She reaches out to touch his bird-like shoulder, "This here's my good friend Clifton Walker. He's along with me t'look in on folks, on account of this nasty weather. Are ya doin' okay out here—-"

"A Walker?!" Ernest snorts. Oh no, here we go—-wait? What? He leans forth, squinting. "Ya got some hooch for me there Walker boy? I ain't had an order in weeks."

There's that reaction he was used to!  Ugh.  But then he can't help but be amused as the old man's tone changes as he speaks of the moonshine.  "Yes, sir.  Unfortunately all of this weather has been making it hard to deliver.  I assure you though you are one of my first stops once we're back at it!"

If it helped appease the man and make him more agreeable with what Kitty had to say, Clif would walk the moonshine down here himself.  Storm or not!

"Just as well.. th'reason I got to grow up so hale and hearty." Ernest grates out, tapping his chest beneath a worn plaid shirt. "Moonshine. A cup a day, a cigar at night…" He trails off.. is he serious? Sure looks it. Kathleen smiles down at the old boy whose stooped body is shorter than her own, her expression gentle. Ernest squints up at her, "Yer the picture of yer Daddy. Fine man he was, loved his hooch too." He observes, and lets it drop. He peers past at Clifton again, "Bring me triple next time yer in town. I'm dry." He commands in a way that only crotchety old people can do without fail.

"Ernie, smells a bit muddy in there… that rain gettin' in?" Kitty asks, trying to pull him on track. "How 'bout lettin' us in to have a look? Can't be getting soaked in yer own home ya ol' dog." She pushes, almost firmly, in her suggestion. "What happened to yer lean-to? Has someone been at it?" Kitty asks a question that she always knows of, indirectly fishing for a lead on where the troublemaker may have went afterward.

Ernest scratches behind an ear. "Happened back on th' sixth, nearly a couple weeks ago. I was sleepin' and heard someone poundin' away at the posts. Crying too. What's going on there now?"

Clifton grins at the old man's health advice.  That was his kind of 'prescription'!  "Yes, sir.  Triple.  I'll make sure of it."  Clyde would be happy about that too!  He then lets Kitty get back to the reason they were here.  To help fix up the house.

She also mentions the lean-to, Clif falling silent now as he listens to the old man's explanation.  

And so it began… the efforts to get Ernest out of the house. It was as difficult as one could expect until the solution — there in plain sight — was discovered.  But until then a good twenty minutes was spent wandering the old rancher home, surveying the overall signs of a tired structure. A slow drip-drop leak was discovered in the kitchen, under which Kitty (with Clif's help) pulled an old metal soaker tub for catching drops. This house may be empty for a bit.
So help her god Kitty would get Ernest to leave.

A quick look at the dug out basement was even more dismal: slowly, but surely, it was taking on water. Knowing what had to be done, Kitty vowed to return… but Ernest had to go somewhere safe.

Poor Clif: he was charged with entertaining the old man and listening to twenty minutes' worth of stories about his defunct tobacco farm while Kitty quickly and covertly packed a suitcase for Ernest: clothes, a picture of his wife,  personal documents and whatever important baubles she could fit.
And then… the moment of truth: getting Ernest to leave. It was Clif who offered the idea that made the old man practically run out the door: booze. All the booze and bacon he could want at the Wright home. Walker shine, brandy, gin. ALL of it. Clif pimped out Kitty's liquor cabinet and it worked.
Bah, Walker.

…. but it worked.  After closing up and securing the poor old house with a note taped to the door out of the rain, they were into Kitty's truck and off… and that brings us to the present.

Reinstated behind the wheel and driving competently, with Ernest nestled between them both, Kitty watches the road. She has taken another route to get her home even faster but the road is older, narrower… and wetter. Suddenly the truck lurches to a stop!

Clifton had helped Kitty with what he could before being assigned to Ernest Duty.  Listening to the old man, the Walker actually didn't mind nearly as much as one might think.  Sure it was long winded and a lot of here and there story jumping, but it reminded him of his days at the butcher shop in a way.  Hearing stories about the 'old days' while working with the butcher.

Then, they were home bound.  Or rather, bound for Kitty's home.  Glad they were finally able to talk Ernest into coming, Clif scoots himself over in his own seat to give him more room.  As Kitty drives them back, the Walker watches the weather and road around them…until they jerk to a sudden stop!

"Everything alright?" Clifton asks, looking over to her before out ahead of them in the road.  Was it something out there or something wrong with the car?  Either way, this could be a bad situation.

There is silence in the cab for a half minute before Kitty tries to give it a bit of gas. There: the unmistakable sound of a couple of wheels caught in a pit of mud! The truck DOES feel as if it's tilted back some. As the front wheels try to find purchase, the back are snared just 'so' …

Kitty looks past the dozing old man at Clif. "We're caught… nothin' a good push won't help while someone gooses the pedal." She muses, brow furrowed. The sound of the rain hitting the exterior of the truck is maddening.

That sound may not have been ideal, but oddly enough Clif is relieved.  At least the truck was fine.  Like Kitty said, nothing a good push wouldn't fix.

"I'll get out and push.  When I hit the side of the truck twice with my hand, give it the gas.  If I hit the side just once, it means stop giving it gas."  With that said, Clifton opens his door and hops out of the truck and into the rain.  

Walking around to the back of the truck, he assesses the situation a moment and see where he needed to lift.

The old man won't be of much help, and quite frankly Kitty doesn't want Ernie even touching the operating parts of her baby. Freida may be cranky sometimes but she's a good truck; a well cared for truck…. a stuck truck. Kitty watches Clif as he volunteers to push while she feeds and the woman's damp-haired head nods once. There's no anxiety about it to be found whatsoever in her countenance; Kitty is competent with her vehicle.

"I'll be listenin'," She offers as the Walker departs the vehicle. To walk around to the back is to indeed see the rear axle dipped into a sizeable hole of mud and water. This is where the old road was eaten away by the weather and repeated efforts of vehicles prior, and Kitty's 1935 Ford pickup was the lucky contestant to getting caught! The bumper is heavy and solid; the rightmost side of the wheel base seems gummed up just that bit more, giving the truck the barest lurch to that side. But it doesn't look too difficult.

Exhaust puffs away into the gloomy sky as the truck idles, waiting.

Sizing up the extent of the 'stuckness', Clifton figures he can handle this easy enough.  Especially with the added strength that came from being what the Walkers were.  So he walks around to the side of the truck that is sunk in mud.

Positioning his footing, and making sure it is solid enough ground under his feet to prevent slipping, Clif bends at his knees and readies himself for the lift.  One hand goes under the far edge of the bumper before his free hand moves to strike the side of the truck.  Once.

That free hand then goes under the part of the bumper closest to him, adding extra leverage with the lift.  Sure he could lift and move the truck easy enough without her doing anything to help, but that wouldn't be the smartest approach for maintaining the Walkers' secret.

So he makes a go of making it seem as 'normal' of an effort as possible.  Lifting enough to raise the truck from the mud, but not enough that would indicate anything out of the ordinary.  Clifton hoping also that the conditions around them and her companion in the truck helped distract from his efforts.

Luckily Kitty is plenty distracted… not enough to be inefficient to hearing out and responding to any slaps to the truck accordingly, but being none-the-wiser to how strong Clif is in this circumstance. COULD be, at that. Ernie's head slowly tilts back, his maw opening in that 'I look dead but I'm just sleeping' way that certain elderly people can adopt.
Hearing the single hit, Kitty yet waits. By then Clif is braving himself and gauging exactly how much strength to allow himself to tap into.

"Shit.." She is about to consider this, try to at the rear view mirror to look at Clif.

Ernie comes through to protect Clif's cover. While sleeping, he let's rip a long, low, snarly.. THICK… old man sleep fart.

"Jesus Christ, Ernie!" Kitty hollers, he sleeps on. In this window of time Clif can do as he must, and upon giving the signal a disgusted Kitty will give er gas!
…. in a far more competent way than Ernie.

Even without the weight of the truck being a problem, between the rain and the mud around him, Clifton does give a grimace with his efforts to lift the vehicle.  As Kitty puts on the gas, he tries to move the truck forward in a way that helps speed up the process while still not letting onto to the fact of how much of the work the Walker is doing.

Clif also stays aware of his footing and position, shifting forward with the movement of the truck and adjusting his steps as needed.  Hopefully this would be an easy enough just.  The rain and wind start to pick up around them.

As she struggles to breathe, rolling down the window to admit some of the stormy air to blast into the cab, Kitty yet maintains her end of the deal. Between Clif's covert efforts to speed up the process and the motion of the truck's wheels, old Frieda lurches forward and is then freed——

Wait wait no; it needs more.  The back of the truck can be felt easing back in the struggle. It was caught up more than anticipated… Kitty curses as she notes this. "Got one more of those in ya? I will have to give this a stronger hit of gas." She calls out to the Walker.

Clif may have to get more aggressive… which could be a conundrum for him.

"Should I get Ernie to goose it and come back with ya?" She asks.. this is good; Kitty didn't catch on to Clif's strength just yet.

Shit.  The truck still wasn't freeing up just yet.  This was going to be interesting.  When Kitty calls back, Clifton just nods in confirmation.  However, when she asks about Ernie coming out to help he shakes his head "No.  I've got it!"

The strain in his voice is real enough, between the rain and focusing on not slipping in the mud.  "Just give it gas!"  With that, he leans his shoulder into the truck enough to help push it forward more.  Again, a normal enough course of action and it did help with the leverage he already had built up.

The woman's silhouette can be seen nodding once before she buckles down again, waiting for the pair of slaps to the truck's flank. There's the sound of strain; Kitty's amber eyes flit to the rear view mirror across the passenger side to see, just barely, a glimpse of the Walker's straining, intense face—-
Whack, Whack!

Without fanfare Kitty GUNS it, the wheels kicking up mud that she hopes won't spray Clif too badly. The truck pulls free and finally… finally… it stops in the road, apart and safe from the mud hole. Kitty can be heard exhaling in relief and her lean arm jerks out through the open window to give a thumbs up. She then rolls it back up to keep the cab dry.

Huzzah!  Despite all the rain and mud and Ernie gas, the truck is free!  Clifton lets his grip on the bumper ease up, the truck settling with all it's weight back down on the road.  The tire had never left the ground, but his strength had helped enough to lift and push it forward through the mess.

With the truck free now and Kitty's thumbs up of clearance, the Walker nods and leans over to put his hands on his knees a bit.  Catching his breath it would seem.  Then, looking at his pants and shoes, he sees mud all over himself.  

Walking around to Kitty's side of the cab, he motions over himself for a moment before pointing at himself and then back towards the bed of the truck.  "Dirty.  Gonna' ride in back!"  He didn't want to get her truck anymore water logged or muddied and he certainly didn't want Ernie having to sit next to a soaked and muddy Walker.

The lissome woman leans back into her seat with a relieved sigh, though the inhalation is through the mouth.. *cough*

The truck sits, idling, as if nothing was amiss. Kitty looks back toward the mirror through which she spied Clif earlier only to see him moving toward her door, and she pivots a bit in the seat so that she may peer out at CLif through the window. In this case she would say 'fuck it' to her typical level of cleanliness in the truck and insist that Walker get in to avoid the rain, but… the cab still smells rotten. She may have to get a priest in to exorcise poor Frieda. 

"A'ight.. taking a main road, can't risk this again." Kitty calls out, then pauses. "Ernest gave 'er gas too in here, yer better off in the bed." Just in case… though what would she care, if Clif thought she made mud in her pants and stunk out the truck? AHEM.

AS the Walker hoists himself up into the bed, there will be ample space for him to hunker down. A tarp-covered heap comprises Kitty's tools and Ernie's suitcase.. the bed itself has tiny tracks through which water can flow and empty out from the back of the bed. Clif won't end up sitting in puddles, though the rain is still fast and furious. Once she is certain he is settled, Kitty puts the rig into gear and continues on. She does so at a decent clip, not breaking any laws but not creeping along either. She wants to get home to Maddie, to get Ernie into a room and get a strong, hot drink. THere is also a worry for Clif back there, and a need to get him somewhere dry.

In the span of about ten minutes, the Ford shall make it's way through town, lending to Clif a view of the sodden, gray, miserable streets and businesses as Kitty turns onto Butler. Very soon the truck noses into the driveway of the homestead, and the engine is cut again into ticking silence. Ernest is still sawing logs; Kitty kicks open her door and slides out gracefully.

OOC: Had to fade, RL ate us.

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License