registry: brush him
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- Jun 11, 2020
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- #1
Jacob whistles a catchy tune as he tightens the final stays of the sailboat docked by the island where the rest of the Long Haulers are taking refuge. He's rusty on the art of sailing, which is why the captain's quarters have a manual to consult for that very purpose. If he doesn't know what to do, he'll figure it out.
"Right. Roll call," he mumbles as he steps onto the ship and checks the supplies. Two boxes contain two weeks of provisions. Food and water - jam-packed salted meats, canned foods, rations and the like. A bunch of meat that doesn't go bad for a long time.
He opened up the water bins and reveled in the absolute ENORMITY of bottled water that lay at the bottom of the box.
"Yeah, that'll prolly do it."
Apart from that, he also has a few mementos from the Long Hauler. One of them being, of course, his shotgun - a rectangular shotgun which he had made some modifications. The addition of a heat shield, the removal of the ends of the barrel, the addition of a sticker that simply says "This Is Jacob's, No Touchy." As there is no other way to mark it as his own.
The final memento he had brought was a single mug with his name on it. He was going to protect it with his life if he had to.
The Composer set the mug to his left, in a cupholder generously provided by the creators of the boat, and the gun in a small box to his right. Then he placed both of his newly free hands on the wheel.
Jacob sat there with his hands on the wheel for six minutes before he realized he hadn't raised the anchor, or lowered the sails, so he took his hands OFF the wheel and stepped out to the deck to yank the lever and raise the anchor.
"I hope no one saw that."
He yanked down the rope which connected to the sails, and they came unfurled at last. The wind wasn't quite IN the sails, not directly, but it was enough to get the ship moving. It was quite sudden - watching as the boat suddenly slid away from the docks, heard the water moving beneath him, watched the clouds begin to move. He whistled in amazement, then retreated back to the captain's deck where he could better observe the movement of the sailboat.
Just to make sure he was headed to the right place he checked the map once more. Guessing one position on the West side of Europe to be the dock he was on, judging by similar landmarks, he charted out a single path which would lead him to shore at Maine.
It would be a long trip. A very long trip. But once he got past the grim smog that had blanketed the continent, got far from the shores of the East and was out in the open sea, he would have a cosmic guide to aid him in his travelers, high above the sails and high above the mountains.
All he needed to do was watch the stars.
"Right. Roll call," he mumbles as he steps onto the ship and checks the supplies. Two boxes contain two weeks of provisions. Food and water - jam-packed salted meats, canned foods, rations and the like. A bunch of meat that doesn't go bad for a long time.
He opened up the water bins and reveled in the absolute ENORMITY of bottled water that lay at the bottom of the box.
"Yeah, that'll prolly do it."
Apart from that, he also has a few mementos from the Long Hauler. One of them being, of course, his shotgun - a rectangular shotgun which he had made some modifications. The addition of a heat shield, the removal of the ends of the barrel, the addition of a sticker that simply says "This Is Jacob's, No Touchy." As there is no other way to mark it as his own.
The final memento he had brought was a single mug with his name on it. He was going to protect it with his life if he had to.
The Composer set the mug to his left, in a cupholder generously provided by the creators of the boat, and the gun in a small box to his right. Then he placed both of his newly free hands on the wheel.
Jacob sat there with his hands on the wheel for six minutes before he realized he hadn't raised the anchor, or lowered the sails, so he took his hands OFF the wheel and stepped out to the deck to yank the lever and raise the anchor.
"I hope no one saw that."
He yanked down the rope which connected to the sails, and they came unfurled at last. The wind wasn't quite IN the sails, not directly, but it was enough to get the ship moving. It was quite sudden - watching as the boat suddenly slid away from the docks, heard the water moving beneath him, watched the clouds begin to move. He whistled in amazement, then retreated back to the captain's deck where he could better observe the movement of the sailboat.
Just to make sure he was headed to the right place he checked the map once more. Guessing one position on the West side of Europe to be the dock he was on, judging by similar landmarks, he charted out a single path which would lead him to shore at Maine.
It would be a long trip. A very long trip. But once he got past the grim smog that had blanketed the continent, got far from the shores of the East and was out in the open sea, he would have a cosmic guide to aid him in his travelers, high above the sails and high above the mountains.
All he needed to do was watch the stars.