Zone Defense
Posted: Wed Mar 15, 2023 6:17 am
The sun had begun to set. It was the beginning of the end of the second day. They'd made it. One night's sleep away from the third announcement. He breathed a sigh of relief as he pushed open the house's door. They were safe, and they were sound. For a time, anyway. But time was a commodity, and they had more than enough.
S043: DONOVAN LAUER — CONTINUED FROM "Morning Pyre"
Of course, they hadn't accomplished much of anything at that time. Since they'd fled the campground, nothing of consequence had arisen. They just ran, ran, ran as fast as they could across the mountain paths until they'd found themselves here, in the town on the other side of the divide. No breaks until they hit their breaking point.
But this was a game about pace—not a sprint, but a marathon.
And, as far as Donovan was concerned, their pace was good. They'd lost some tempo, but that didn't matter. Their supplies were a safety net. And, of course, they had enough food and water to not fret about running dry any time soon. Before, they'd run laps around the others. Now, they were leading the pack—they just had to stay ahead.
His right hand held a pistol, his left hand a flashlight. Donovan put his left hand under his right to support it—the Harries Technique, though he didn't know its name—and pointed the pistol and flashlight into the open doorway. Then, when he saw it was clear, he stepped inside. He did this for one room after another, Jenny at his back.
Eventually, they cleared the whole house—nothing. Empty as the wind. Then, Donovan slid the gun into his pocket and turned. "All clear. We'll stay here for the night," he said. It was the same commanding tone he used when it came to basketball, even if he wasn't the coach or the team captain. A part of him still felt like he'd earned that title.
"I call dibs on first pick," he followed before she could interject. "Hope that's okay—you got the bed last time." There were two bedrooms—one standard, one larger—and he wanted to get his pick of the two. As far as he was concerned, that seemed more than fair. He'd slept on the floor last time, and she was getting a better deal than that.
Donovan walked to the master bedroom, opened the door, and slinked inside. Even as abandoned and wretched as it was, it seemed so much better than his little room ever had. He'd never lived in a house, only tiny tenements and run-down apartments. Those made this place look like a palace. Compared to that, it was the high life.
He grinned to himself. Things were starting to look up. Especially considering that, for the time being, they had this place all to themselves. He knelt and slid his bag under the queen-sized bed, then put his hands on his knees and stood up. He sat on the bed, tossed off his shoes, and rolled over. With any luck, he'd get a good night's sleep.
And, soon enough, luck proved him right.
S043: DONOVAN LAUER — CONTINUED IN "The Draft Pick"
S043: DONOVAN LAUER — CONTINUED FROM "Morning Pyre"
Of course, they hadn't accomplished much of anything at that time. Since they'd fled the campground, nothing of consequence had arisen. They just ran, ran, ran as fast as they could across the mountain paths until they'd found themselves here, in the town on the other side of the divide. No breaks until they hit their breaking point.
But this was a game about pace—not a sprint, but a marathon.
And, as far as Donovan was concerned, their pace was good. They'd lost some tempo, but that didn't matter. Their supplies were a safety net. And, of course, they had enough food and water to not fret about running dry any time soon. Before, they'd run laps around the others. Now, they were leading the pack—they just had to stay ahead.
His right hand held a pistol, his left hand a flashlight. Donovan put his left hand under his right to support it—the Harries Technique, though he didn't know its name—and pointed the pistol and flashlight into the open doorway. Then, when he saw it was clear, he stepped inside. He did this for one room after another, Jenny at his back.
Eventually, they cleared the whole house—nothing. Empty as the wind. Then, Donovan slid the gun into his pocket and turned. "All clear. We'll stay here for the night," he said. It was the same commanding tone he used when it came to basketball, even if he wasn't the coach or the team captain. A part of him still felt like he'd earned that title.
"I call dibs on first pick," he followed before she could interject. "Hope that's okay—you got the bed last time." There were two bedrooms—one standard, one larger—and he wanted to get his pick of the two. As far as he was concerned, that seemed more than fair. He'd slept on the floor last time, and she was getting a better deal than that.
Donovan walked to the master bedroom, opened the door, and slinked inside. Even as abandoned and wretched as it was, it seemed so much better than his little room ever had. He'd never lived in a house, only tiny tenements and run-down apartments. Those made this place look like a palace. Compared to that, it was the high life.
He grinned to himself. Things were starting to look up. Especially considering that, for the time being, they had this place all to themselves. He knelt and slid his bag under the queen-sized bed, then put his hands on his knees and stood up. He sat on the bed, tossed off his shoes, and rolled over. With any luck, he'd get a good night's sleep.
And, soon enough, luck proved him right.
S043: DONOVAN LAUER — CONTINUED IN "The Draft Pick"