Wednesday, August 4, 2010
bitter milk, pt. 12
Winston frequently wondered why Rosalind put up with him. He had no right to tell her to stay put like that. The news was trickling in and it was not good - there were earthquakes everywhere, and the house could collapse at any moment. But he had to do something.
Of course, on the other hand, the roads were closed. He thought that maybe it had something to do with assessing damage, but if that's what was going on, it seemed off. There were no road crews, as such - or rather, they had come and left. These were blockades manned by some police and some officials who didn't say much. And the police weren't being too friendly to questioning.
Winston always had a plan, though, and when he didn't he always did his research. In this particular situation he had a plan to get back to the city - that much, he was certain, would be easy. He did not know what was going on with the roads, though, and that was more important. Rosalind didn't do research - she was just a kitten. She could get herself in serious trouble.
He took up shelter in the library and started reading. It seemed to be the place where a lot of the townsfolk whose homes had been damaged were sheltering, as well. He didn't notice the storm outside; he had more important things to worry about. Before he could start worrying, though, the lights started flickering and the wind started howling, and he started trying to hurry. By the time he heard the first thunder, he made sure his laptop was plugged in and he was frantically trying to save everything. Then the lights went out and, even though it was early afternoon, the library was pitch black. Then someone screamed, then the panic began.