Waking up a Unicorn

by Alden MacManx

Chapter 2- Back to Work- 2Oct to 9 Oct 15

After dinner, Rapid Transit gathered the grandkids in the front room. Making themselves comfy on the cushions, he went back to his story.

I wake up to find Sethra snuggled up against me, something she did occasionally. I lifted my head up and looked around, blinking some, because the dreams I had while asleep, while vivid, were rapidly fading from my conscious mind. Something about being in a school for unicorns, and a warning not to try more than I’m capable yet. Getting out of bed made me realize I was not the same Dominic Capobianco I was before, falling out and whacking my nose yet again against the nightstand. Sethra got off the bed when I started rocking and went to the door, meowing as she usually does to be let out. After a yawn, a shake and a stretch, I let her out, fumbling some with the doorknob to do so. Apparently, my mouth, lips and teeth can be used for somewhat finer manipulations than I had expected, but not as good as a hand.

I looked around and saw the pile of cases of water and oatmeal boxes in the living room, on the coffee table. I could also smell the trash and fridge, so, before I did anything else, I focused on the fridge. The silver glow came from my horn and lifted the fridge up far easier than when I had put it in the year before. I eased the thing through the kitchen and out the door, following it as I took it across the street and pitched behind a wall on the other side. Out of sight, out of mind, right? I soon followed it up with the trash and debris in the kitchen. “MUCH better!” I said as I went back inside to open all the windows wide to let the house air out. Then, I was able to eat and drink something without wanting to retch it out again, something I had not done since the kidney stones I had back on Statehood Day 2002 and frankly hope to never do again.

Once that need was filled, I went outside, back behind the trailer on the south side to needfully empty what was already full. That was when I realized I had been tromping around without any clothes on. Well, it IS hot in the North Phoenix area in October. Sethra peeked around the shed and meowed as I finished watering the oleanders. “Yes, girl, even I need a litter box now, or the equivalent thereof.” I told her. I swear she laughed as she went back around the shed.

Now, on to more serious work. I went back inside to see what I had to work with. Admittedly, not a hell of a lot. What in hell do I know about living well in a world with nobody home, no power, no water, no gas, just my wits. I didn’t have any supplies here to handle that, but… I knew where a lot of stuff I could use was. At work, in the fulfillment center. As a sorter and packer, I have seen thousands of useful items pass through my hands there, and I knew that I could find them in there, IF I had patience. Next up was to find a set of wheels that I could be comfortable in. Zira, while dependable, lacked one crucial ingredient for comfort… air conditioning. So would the warehouse. Either I go down by day and sweat while I hunt, or go down at night and fumble about in the dark. I mused on that while having some water when the idea hit me. There was an RV sales place down by work, right where I get off the 10 westbound. Since nobody was about, why not try to pinch an RV? One that would have air conditioning, and be big enough for me and Sethra. Mind you, I didn’t know diddly squat about how to hotwire a car or work on a motor. The only motor I ever worked on was a Fairbanks-Morse 38ND8 1/8 diesel turning a 600-kw jenny aboard the Grant. I figured it would be worth a try, at least. I would not have to worry about traffic, my pet bane about working there. Calling Sethra over, I told her my plans and gave her the option to come along or not, knowing she really did not like car rides. As I thought, she wasn’t really interested, so I made sure she had plenty of food and water before putting the door back on the hook, so she could shelter without coyote worries. “Back whenever, silly cat!” I said before getting back in Zira and getting her started, heading to work for the first time since April.

I was glad I left relatively early in the morning, because the RV place was a real pain in the tuchis.

“What’s a tookis?” Silent Flight asked.

“Hebrew for your butt end, kid. A language seldom used now.”

Finding keys was hard, finding the RV’s that matched the keys harder, finding one that was fueled harder still, and getting into the things, well, you do the math. Finally, about noonish, I got one to start. It ran a bit rough, but, what the hell, it ran, it had air conditioning, it had power, it had air conditioning, it had room inside, it needed some tweaking with duct tape, sticks and padding so I could see over the dash to drive and work the pedals, oh, did I mention it had air conditioning? Fortunately, it had a full tank of diesel, so, leaving it run to cool down the inside, I got my kipple out of dear old Zira and gave her an affectionate nuzzle before loading the stuff into Oberon. (Yes, I name all my cars. Been a habit of mine since my first one, a ’67 Pontiac, back in ’79.)

Driving carefully and slowly, I went the three-quarters of a mile down to the warehouse. There were a bunch of cars in the lot, but all of them showed signs of heavy monsoonal rains. In fact, two sections of the lot showed obvious past signs of flooding. I pulled up in front of the place and parked. The doors were open, as I thought they would be, but the next barrier was a bit tougher to overcome. Electric lock and no power. So, with the grace of your divinity of choice, telekinesis and a crowbar, I got the hinge pins out and the door pulled out of the frame.

Going in, the skylights gave some light, enough to see by. My hooves clopped loudly on the bare concrete as I walked through the building to my normal work sector. I can see they were doing some work on the east side, removing the library and putting in racking. They had just started, it looked like, only encroaching into the east half of D section. It wasn’t as hot as I thought it would be in there, finding some loading dock doors in the back open. The safety rails along the PIT lanes, instead of coming up almost to my chest, now were above my ears.
Looking through the sort area, I did manage to find some things of immediate value, namely a bag of rice, two BIG first aid kits (the type issued to field paramedics- those packs are big, considering my new size), a hatchet, three boxes of MRE’s, some survival ration tubs (the type in pouches, you add hot water and wait nine minutes type) and half a cage of Perrier water. I loaded the dried food, MRE’s, several cases of Perrier, the rice, and a first aid kit into a cart and pushed the cart from the back of the building to the front, where Oberon was idling.

After getting the first load stowed, I headed back in to find some more easy to reach goodies from the sort area. I was looking for a camping stove and fuel for it, so I could make hot water, and hopefully a percolator. Yes, there was a range in Oberon, but I could not count on keeping him running all the time. I nosed my way through the sort carts waiting to be packed out, hoping I would find what I was looking for. I found several small stoves and the solid white fuel for them, and was hunting for the coffeepot when I heard a noise from outside- barking, growling and yapping, the noise coming from an open loading dock door. Curiosity overcoming sense, I went to look.

Outside, there were a pack of dogs, big and small, all looking a bit scrawny. When I clopped up to the door, they all looked up at me. The biggest one growled some, but they all looked… expectant? Hopeful? Hungry? I chose option D: all of the above. “Now, y’all just hold tight down theah, and ah’ll dig up somethin for y’all.” Okay, my voice does drift accents a lot. Always has. Most of the time, it’s deliberate. Not all the time, though.

“Why do you do that, Grampa?” Silent Flight asked.

“Sometahms, mah boah, it to make sure you is listenin.” Rapid Transit said with a smile before changing accents. “Othah times, it for emphasis. You knows I is serious when I talk dis way, right?” he said in his native Bronxish.

“Got that right, Grampa.” Silver Spiral said. Both kids folded their tails tight against their rumps, remembering one time their antics angered the old unicorn enough for him to chase after them, yelling in his coarsest New Yawkese, and tanning their butts properly. They learned to tone things down after that.

I stepped back from the lip of the dock and went inside, to find something I saw earlier- a cage with about twelve bags of dog food. Using my silver glow, I pulled the cage to the dock edge before lofting four bags of food, one at a time, out to the pack. The dogs easily tore through the paper and started enjoying themselves.

“Now, ah don’t promise to be here every day, but ah DO promise that every day ah IS heah, ah’ll put out some food for you. In exchange, you don’t hurt me, okay?” I drawled out to the doggies. The leader, a German Shepherd I think, looked up at me. I swear that he agreed with me, and was willing to do so.

“All raht now, y’all enjoy. Ah have work to do.” I said before going back to my business. I thought about it as I walked back to sort. What was I doing, talking to a pack of hungry dogs? More importantly, why were they agreeing with me? The looks the lead dog gave me reminded me of how Sethra looks at me, or down on me. Whatever happened while I was away sure had an effect on them. Hell, look what happened to ME. I decided to finish up down here for the day before loading up and heading home, taking it slow and careful. I have not driven anything bigger than a pickup truck in years.

Back home, I was worried about what Sethra would think about Oberon, but it turned out all the worrying was for naught. I opened the door and she trotted in with a ‘what took you so long’ look on her face before finding the bed and curling up, enjoying the cool.

My life pattern wound up being like that for a week or so, going to the warehouse and hunting for useful supplies and food. I got lucky the second day, finding a supply of 12-volt battery operated water pumps. With a little backhanded engineering (at which I’m merely a journeyman, not a master) I came up with a way to lower a suction hose into a diesel storage tank and pump out the fuel I needed to keep Oberon running and Sethra happy, and another one to fill the water tanks. Did take me a while to figure out how to dump the sanitary tank, though. Down there in the morning, back home in the evening.

The second evening, I did something I needed to do- move my computer and phone to Oberon for charging. I also brought my mp3 player and aux speaker. It had been too damn quiet- I needed SOMETHING to fill in the silence! Fortunately, I have about 3,000 songs stored in my computer, Eldrad IX. (Okay, so I’ve been a Whovian since 1979.)

I became more adept at using the silver glow as a form of telekinesis, using them as more than just auxiliary hands. After the first incident, I stopped trying to do ‘spells’ with the glow, and just focused on how to use it for living. The lock-opening… spell, for lack of a better term… was not difficult to use, it was a matter of finding the damn locks first before essentially searching for the right skeleton key. Practice did make perfect, essentially ‘feeling’ around the affected lock or door with the silver glow to find the way in before feeling for the right key for the lock. So I became proficient at doing B&E. I’m not proud of it, but where is anyone to stop me?

“Let’s pick this up later, kids. Almost time for the poker game. I haven’t missed that in years.”

“But, we’ll be in bed when you get back, Grampa!” Silver Spiral protested.

“So? We still have a few more days, kids. I need my time out, but you already know that. Be good with Grandma, and I’ll make some blueberry pancakes tomorrow, okay?” Rapid Transit said as he dug out his poker poke and flipped it around his neck.

“For your blueberry pancakes, we will, Grampa!” Silent Flight said earnestly.

Author's Note:

Chapter Two- okay, how to get what you need to live comfortably when you don't know a lot?

Comments

[Dances With Unicorns]

Someone needs to make fan art, or better yet Garry's Mod and Source Filmmaker models of these characters.

[erictheblue]

(Okay, so I’ve been a Whovian since 1979.)

"whovian"...Dr. Who fan? that's one i haven't heard before.
to be honest, i used to be a fan, but i lost interest shortly after Tom Baker quit.

[Alden MacManx]

8772166
That was just when I was getting started...