Post by Wilhelm Opens-the-Way on Dec 6, 2009 13:20:39 GMT -8
Hannibal Relays-the-truth climbed up into the cab of The Yellow Brick Road and sighed.
"Asleep again huh?"
Holly Walks-With-Dreams lay curled up in the passenger seat in wolf-form inside a tumble of blankets, only her slightly moist snout showing from outside of the worn comforter, the nostrils flaring slightly with every snoozing breath.
"Fine," said Hannibal to her sleeping form. "More jerky for me."
Hannibal put the bag full of snacks down in one of the wide center console's many nooks and shook his head before looking at his map, carefully folded in the clip to the right of the big rig's steering wheel.
"Lessee... four mile out of Seattle, so just keep on 5 and keep on truckin', then take that exit there... gotta check in at the weigh station and then there's that rest stop Holly wanted to pop umbral to look at... ok, should be there in four more hours, give or take a potty break."
He was talking to himself aloud, as many truckers he knew often did. Kept 'em from forgetting how to be sociable with folk, never talking for those long hauls, and even though he had a travelling companion nowadays, it was a habit Hannibal hadn't quite kicked, and had no plans to. Hannibal saw a clipboard half-wedged beneath his packmate and gently slid it out from beneath her blanketed, wolfen bum.
"Cargo is light this trip Hol," He said to the sleeping wolf. "You're right, we can't afford to keep the Road runnin' if we come back empty-handed again."
He ran through the tally of trade goods promised by the almost-a-sept:
"Fishery fish - yep, got 'em on ice in the back. Everybody likes fresh fish. Mead, a few cases, though not as much as I'd like. Craft goods, silverware, forged goods, pottery, check. That smithy kinfolk does fine work too. These things ought to be worth a lot to those in more rural caerns. Windows, copper pipe, about a thousand miles of wiring, chandeliers, and a 1930's style telephone. No idea who'd want these things, but you never know. Gaia guide my feet that's a load. Hopefully it's enough for all Seattle needs."
Hannibal tore open the plastic on a stick of jerky and began to gnaw on it before looking at the next page in the clipboard.
"Okay, so, generator for off-the-grid power, steel scrap - gotta call Murray about his junkyard and see if they got any of those steel springs... Brick, mortor. Fill soil, gravel, cement. A pre-fab warehouse kit... I think I know a guy who knows a guy can get me one of them on the cheap maybe... and logs, at least a truckload. Might have to make more than one trip on this... but that's ok, as long as I keep movin', the Road keeps rollin'.
A smile on his face and the open road before him, the comforting hiss and snap of the hydraulics kicking in as the rumble of the long haul diesel trundled out onto the freeway, Hannibal couldn't help saying to the world...
"Roll, baby roll!"
"Asleep again huh?"
Holly Walks-With-Dreams lay curled up in the passenger seat in wolf-form inside a tumble of blankets, only her slightly moist snout showing from outside of the worn comforter, the nostrils flaring slightly with every snoozing breath.
"Fine," said Hannibal to her sleeping form. "More jerky for me."
Hannibal put the bag full of snacks down in one of the wide center console's many nooks and shook his head before looking at his map, carefully folded in the clip to the right of the big rig's steering wheel.
"Lessee... four mile out of Seattle, so just keep on 5 and keep on truckin', then take that exit there... gotta check in at the weigh station and then there's that rest stop Holly wanted to pop umbral to look at... ok, should be there in four more hours, give or take a potty break."
He was talking to himself aloud, as many truckers he knew often did. Kept 'em from forgetting how to be sociable with folk, never talking for those long hauls, and even though he had a travelling companion nowadays, it was a habit Hannibal hadn't quite kicked, and had no plans to. Hannibal saw a clipboard half-wedged beneath his packmate and gently slid it out from beneath her blanketed, wolfen bum.
"Cargo is light this trip Hol," He said to the sleeping wolf. "You're right, we can't afford to keep the Road runnin' if we come back empty-handed again."
He ran through the tally of trade goods promised by the almost-a-sept:
"Fishery fish - yep, got 'em on ice in the back. Everybody likes fresh fish. Mead, a few cases, though not as much as I'd like. Craft goods, silverware, forged goods, pottery, check. That smithy kinfolk does fine work too. These things ought to be worth a lot to those in more rural caerns. Windows, copper pipe, about a thousand miles of wiring, chandeliers, and a 1930's style telephone. No idea who'd want these things, but you never know. Gaia guide my feet that's a load. Hopefully it's enough for all Seattle needs."
Hannibal tore open the plastic on a stick of jerky and began to gnaw on it before looking at the next page in the clipboard.
"Okay, so, generator for off-the-grid power, steel scrap - gotta call Murray about his junkyard and see if they got any of those steel springs... Brick, mortor. Fill soil, gravel, cement. A pre-fab warehouse kit... I think I know a guy who knows a guy can get me one of them on the cheap maybe... and logs, at least a truckload. Might have to make more than one trip on this... but that's ok, as long as I keep movin', the Road keeps rollin'.
A smile on his face and the open road before him, the comforting hiss and snap of the hydraulics kicking in as the rumble of the long haul diesel trundled out onto the freeway, Hannibal couldn't help saying to the world...
"Roll, baby roll!"
