c. 2026 Rod Ice
All rights reserved
(4-26)
Evergreen Estates had always been prone to episodes of flooding, during its active life as a trailer community. In part because of being located downhill from an old stone quarry, but also due to having been constructed on what was once a reserve of swampland property. The ground was never stable enough for traditional homes, and became a residential space only because it had no other marketable value within the township. It was a bastard asset, even before the Great Uprising exploded every concept of social order on the North American continent.
For the university professor, bringing Kelly Strafe back from her fall on the trail above this remote development, proved to be more difficult than first expected. The crude path he took meandered in a zig-zag course up the slope of Sidley’s Hill. There were gaps in the road surface that encroached upon this artificial line. A product of years spent without regular use. Though some evidence of raiders having visited could be seen, here and there, a general sense of abandonment prevailed.
After multiple attempts to get the former lieutenant back to their outpost in the pines, Judson Baines finally relented to riding the Digger shuttle, despite storm activity that buffeted the area. He powered up the C-drive propulsion, at its lowest velocity, and circled overhead until locating the ping of his companion’s com-link. Then, settled on a ridge near enough to teeter in place, while bringing the young woman inside through an access hatch.
She was still dizzy from her tumble onto the broken tarmac.
“Dammit Juddy, I didn’t want to create more issues for us! Maybe I wasn’t paying enough attention. But it’s hard to know where to step when the ground is covered with weeds, brush, and tall grasses...”
Her companion from the school shook his head as if to offer comfort.
“Nah Kells, don’t blame it on yourself. It could have happened at any time. We’ve had a run of good fortune so far, being in an environment like this one. I knew it couldn’t last forever.”
Strafe was groggy and her eyes refused to focus. It appeared that she might have suffered a concussion.
“I don’t know how it happened. Everything was fine and then I took a step in the wrong direction...”
The Digger was clumsy as it flew southeast, back to the abandoned community of manufactured homes. High winds rocked the tiny craft from side to side. Once they had been able to park on the vacant, concrete slab by Lot 13, pangs of vertigo continued. Debris was scattered around the park, as if giant gamers had been competing on an outdoor field of play.
Judson debated with himself over the relative safety of staying in the craft, or disembarking for a short walk to the singlewide abode of his ancestor.
“These longboxes are moored by anchor straps, underneath. They are bolted to metal spikes that run deep into the foundation. That should provide some measure of safety. Our shuttle only has its own weight for ballast, but can be maneuvered in an emergency. I don’t know which is safer for us, with the meteorological conditions turning so ugly...”
His partner was at the point of an unconscious collapse.
“I can’t keep my eyes open, Juddy. Everything looks blurry. I just want to sleep!”
The professional scholar supported her head with his right hand.
“Stay with me, Kells! I need to be sure you aren’t going to drift into a coma or something weird. Once the cyclical storms have passed, we can get out of this tin can, and have a better look at your wounds. Right now, I just want to keep us sitting with the runner pads down, and our roof on top!”
A river of muddy water had begun to cascade from the hillside incline, down into their park. It ran along the street’s edge, with a forceful spew of brown. Yards all around the neighborhood were soaked to their limit. Peals of thunder shook the ground. The sky had an angry look of finality, overhead, as if Mother Nature were about to wreak havoc on her own environment.
Both refugees from Mars were tossed around inside their cramped cabin, as the Digger floated sideways off its concrete perch. The tiny vessel shifted several feet before finding a higher spot of ground, where it could rest.
Kelly clutched at her stomach. She felt nauseous, almost like being seasick.
“Ugg, Juddy, this is making me want to vomit! Everything is spinning in my head!”
A crackle of lightning divided the dark sky, with brilliant intensity. It struck one of the empty trailers directly, causing an explosion of breaking glass and shredded, vinyl siding. The resulting flash turned everything a pale shade of white, for an instant. Then, there was a rush of sediment that spilled from what had been the on-site sewage beds. A stench of decomposed, organic matter filled the air. The waterlogged soil could not absorb any further abuse.
The shuttle literally began to float. Airtight seals incorporated in its design prevented any damage. But they were set free to bounce along the temporary canal, with abandon.
Baines looked over his shoulder, while attempting to stabilize their position by using thruster nozzles in the hull. He saw that his compatriot had finally succumbed to her injuries, and fallen into a silent slumber of oblivion.
Storm activity was widespread enough, that they had little chance of escaping the calamity in their craft. So instead, the university nerd chose to simply ride out its effects. He strapped himself into the pilot seat, after securing his passenger with a harness and blankets. The shuttle became coated in a layer of thick mud, which helped it to slide aimlessly around the landscape. Eventually, the small craft reached a point east of the rural development, along the remnants of Pine Trail Road. Felled trees arrested their travel, with a cluster of splintered wood. When the morning arrived, a golden glow of sunrise at last signaled that they had survived.
Kelly moaned softly, but did not wake. Her body trembled from some unseen force.
From a receiver connected to the control panel, there was a raucous burst of static. Then, a human voice calling out to be heard. The device had been set to scan all available frequencies for any contact, in dire situations.
“This Grafton Depot, from Mountaineer country, with a fine selection of hillbilly hootin’ and hollerin’ fer listeners all across the way. Power up those vacuum tubes, ladies and gents. We’re goin’ back to a simpler time here, when the crops would grow, livestock was in the fields, and the water tasted clean. Y’all might not remember it, but I’ll bet yer great-great grandaddy did! Or maybe somebody he knew...”
The sound of a stylus dropping on a vinyl artifact could be heard. What followed was the plucking of vintage, acoustic instruments, and a dry-throated vocalist at work. The musical tones were steeped in traditions long lost from any civilization on the planet. A fiddle doubled the melody with vigorous amusement.
“Old Phoebe Ice was strong as an ox
Quick as a wink and sly as a fox
There was never no trouble at the old Ice place
For she was a ruler of the human race
Old Phoebe Ice, she’s darn dear dead
Rearing and a tearing with a pain in her head
With her toes turned out and her eyes turned in
She’s a darn good gal for the shape she’s in
Old Phoebe Ice has laid a plan
That every woman should have a man
So don’t be shy, step right in line
Go get yours, like I got mine
Old Phoebe Ice was out too late
She didn’t get home ‘til half past eight
She fiddled all night and the folks all said
Was the best darn dance in the wagon shed.”
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