"Can't help ya there, Miss," Seeger answers. "Nearest town on this side of the river is 10 miles north of here. You ask around over there yet?" he asks, gesturing to the south side of the bridge. "Or they bein' assholes to you folks too?"

Murray can feel Seeger's eyes give her the ol' up-down. More than once. The other guardsmen as well. They're trying to be sly about it, but a girl knows.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:26, Wed 10 Oct 2018.

Saul's eyes track the entire exchange.  He wonders, briefly, if the jug the machine gunner is drinking from is water or moonshine and identifies the bearded man in the sleeveless top as the alpha-killer in the proverbial room.  It's hard to tell if he's being played or if this group of militiamen are actually okay.  They are decidedly no standard, but then again, so is his team.  Having given the Arkansas side of things the benefit of the doubt, Saul is acutely aware that he has allowed "his team" to control the narrative. That's a rookie mistake there. "Saul Noble," Saul introduces himself. "Memphis PD and USMC.  Retired from both, sadly.  Our engineer extraordinaire is Xandra Murray," he adds with a grin and thumb over the shoulder.  Deescalate and humanize.

"Alas, the powers that be sent us down here without a boat, so we might just have to take you up on that offer."  He nods slowly.  "We've just come down the road from Grady and they've had a bit of a problem with a prison take over and bunch of escaped violent cons.  The prison has been re-secured, but if you've got folks in the woods, you might want to have them be careful.  We saw a couple of bodies washed up on shore sporting the finest in penal wear."  There's your hook, here's your bait. "Seems like folks on the other side of the river have had some problems with raiders during the flood scooping up some belongings from some homes.  Figure cons are the most likely culprit.  Probably took the pot-shot at you, too.  Everybody here being on the same side and all."
This message was last edited by the GM at 18:41, Tue 09 Oct 2018.

"Nice to meet you, Lieutenant." Lauren is fine letting the lack of a salute slide. She'd become used to that while fighting the Allianza. Granted, she doubts that there's a Venezuelan sniper lurking in the trees but she'll give Lieutenant Seeger a pass on that one. She might not have been quite so relaxed if he'd been enlisted.

She lets the fact that the machine gunner might be swigging locally brewed hooch slide as well, although she's less happy about that. It could be water. But even if it isn't, tearing the trooper a new one in front of his CO is likely to start all manner of shitstorms. A quiet word with Seeger would probably be the most appropriate response. But right now it looks as if Seeger might be part of the problem not the solution.

"If you can spare a couple of men that would also be helpful." She smiles, keeps her tone relaxed. Maybe getting a few of them away from the main group - and the likely ringleaders - will be beneficial.  "And as Mr Noble said there's a number of cons in the wind, some of them armed." Lauren smiles again. "Mind giving me a tour of your defenses? Maybe we can help you out a bit. How are you fixed for ammo?" Her tone is casual, one military officer simply asking another - lower ranking - military officer for the quick tour while they're in the neighborhood as a matter of courtesy, an implied offer of sharing resources thrown in for good measure. The Air Force Captain is already walking - slowly - towards the revetment.
This message was last edited by the player at 19:32, Tue 09 Oct 2018.

Carswell's stance appears casual. He's leaning against the SUV's hood, arms folded, one foot resting against the front tire. Appearances can be misleading though. He might look relaxed but eyes that are hidden behind polarized lenses are alert as they watch the far side of the river. Hanging around like this waiting for something to happen is making him more than a little antsy.

Seeger's face shows concern at Noble's mention of a mass prison-break and the possibility of convicts still on the loose.

"Good to know."

He steps aside for Cao to pass. The machine gunner ducks down, moves something noisily before reappearing at his post. Cao looks over the sandbagged wall, into the revetment. She doesn't smell hooch, but the machine gunner clearly hasn't washed in at least a couple of days. His pungent funk seems trapped underneath the pop-up awning that provides shade. Inside the ad-hoc bunker, Cao sees a couple of lawn chairs, a camping lantern, and an Igloo cooler which also serves as a small table. Atop it are a pair of binoculars and a couple of old Field & Stream magazines, which don't quite conceal the X-rated porno mag hastily tucked underneath. Sunflower seed shells litter  the dirt floor of the revetment. Cao spots a single ammo can- 7.62mm linked- resting at the foot of the M60. A short belt- 50 rounds, maybe- is hanging from the weapon's feed tray/receiver. The gunner seems particularly nervous now, but perhaps he's just embarrassed.

"We're OK on ammo, but if you're giving it away..." Seeger smiles. He walks over, sits on the Jersey barrier.

"Yeah, as soon as the hunting party gets back, I'll brief all my guys about the prison break. You need to borrow our boat, no problem. Marty used to work on the river, few years back." He glances briefly at the man down by the tents. That must be Marty. "The river," he adds. He must mean the Mississippi. "What's your plan for getting that thing off the bridge?" Seeger asks, pointing towards the barge.<Purple>

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 01:43, Thu 11 Oct 2018.

Chevelle's torso protrudes from Ace Hardware's open roof hatch, a pair of binoculars held up to her brown eyes, shaded from the midday sun by the brim of her USAF-issue patrol cap. She'd removed her blue beret when the captain had instructed her to remain behind, but she still sported a USAF security police arm brassard, its big block SP prominently and proudly displayed.

"Everything looks friendly enough so far, from what I can see," she reports, studying the unit's MSG counterparts on the far bank. The bulk of the bridge blocks her view of the left side of the ramp, opposite.

-
This message was last edited by the player at 02:24, Wed 10 Oct 2018.

Lauren nods, takes another look at the revetment then steps away, trying to ignore the smell of stale sweat and body odour that threatens to assail her nostrils. The porn mag also goes unmentioned as she makes her way over to the barrier that Seeger has perched himself on. Cao doesn't sit, instead stands next to him.

"I'll see what I can do." Her reply is non committal with regards to the supply situation, although it's said with a brief smile. When the conversation then turns towards plans to shift the barge the Lauren leaves that one to Mz Murray, continues to stand next to the barrier, occasionally casting her eyes around the camp.

Xandra waits for the nod from Captain Cao.  "First step is to rope down and find out what the load is and how much more incidental damage it and the bridge can take."  She gives Seeger a moment and a my eyes are up here stare until he focuses on her face.  "Past that, depends on what I see and what we can come up with in terms of tools.  Best option is to get cables on it from heavy equipment and do a controlled pivot off the pylon, then let the current do most of the work to ground it on the bank.  Worst option is that it works loose on its own and keeps smashing other shit downriver.  Breaking its back and sinking it in the channel is sort of a middle ground that'll be a short-term fix with long-term consequences."

She shrugs.  "I mean, yeah, job security, but I don't want to have to come back out here in a couple of years and unfuck my own work when it's time to open up the shipping channel again."
This message was last edited by the player at 22:24, Wed 10 Oct 2018.

"Gotta be tough out here," Saul says after Xandra finishes.  A sigh and a lean means taking a non-professional moment to rest his body against the barrier.  It's part calculated ease and part pain relief.  He'll leave which proportion is which as an exercise for the observer to complete. "Especially if back home isn't throwing a lot of support your way.  And you said the my fellow Razorback fans are being a little less than hospitable?  We'd sure like to figure out a way to get the bridge operational and get both ends of it on the same page."

"Sounds good to me. I have no idea why they've got a stick up their butt over there, but I'm willing to forgive and forget... long as they are."

It's an interesting take, one that raises more questions than answers. What do the townsfolk need to forgive and forget? The Sierra envoys have seen no evidence of pilfered goods being in the possession of the MSG detachment- no jewelry, spirts, tools, or other items mentioned by the residents of Pendleton as having been stolen. Then again, the Sierras haven't been able to inspect the guardsmen's campsite. By the same token, the Sierras managed not to tip their hand, giving the MSG detachment no indication that their ASDF contingent is aware of any reported theft. For the time being, the matter is moot.

The envoys return to the center of the span, above the stranded barge. Murray slips into a rappelling harness (Skillins, apparently having slept through the whole #MeToo movement just over a decade earlier, winkingly offers to assist her) while Cao and Noble begin securing a rope to the bridge's crash barrier. Murray slowly rappels down, focusing first on the stanchion. She notes a significant crack in the reinforced concrete pylon  several meters above the wreck, passing almost through its entire circumference. At present, there's little risk of a collapse, but if the pylon sustains another heavy impact, or sustained lateral pressure, the odds of a catastrophic failure rise dramatically.

Next, Murray lowers herself to the upper deck of the barge. Whatever cargo it carries, if any, must be contained within. She gingerly sets foot on deck. It doesn't budge- it's lodged firmly against the piling. She could jump up and down and it likely wouldn't move an inch. Several hatches provide access to the interior of the vessel. All are covered by large, one-piece clamshell doors fashioned out of heavy-duty plastic. All are padlocked. Murray's come prepared. She brought a pair of heavy bolt cutters. She pops one of the locks and lifts the hatch up enough to get a glimpse of what's inside. Water- quite a bit of it- but, partially submerged and already beginning to rust metal pieces as well, I-beams and other structural components for some sort of construction project.

No one from the MSG contingent arrives on site to assist the operation.

Meanwhile, assisted by Kabua, Doc Carswell sets up a tent in the lee of Ace Hardware to act as a walk-in clinic. Every other building in town is either still partially inundated, suffering the lingering effects said floodwaters, or is currently double or triple-occupied


Your Turn.

-
This message was last edited by the GM at 23:04, Fri 12 Oct 2018.

"Hey D, how am I supposed to murder these M, I, crooked letter, crooked letter, I, crooked letter, crooked letter, I, humpback, humpback I, assholes if we don't have Capitol of Peru, Trash Grouch on Sesame Street, Sierra on the OPFOR," Cole said as he saw the team disappear from LOS around the curve of the bridge.  He figured he'd give Skillins the ending of LOS, because who knew if PBS was available in whatever bum-fuck Arkansas village Razorback's driver had grown up in.

"Let's shift positions and see if we can find a place we can track the .50 cal from.  If that's not an option, I'm either going out with the SAW and GL, or rigging a sling for hip firing the .50 cal, like I saw on Youtube; you know, before TDM broke the Internet worse than any of Kanye's shit" Anderson said.  He'd see if Duane could find a firing position that would provide overwatch on the team now chatting it up across the river.  If not, he'd dismount and get ready to play rock, scissors, M60, M320...
This message was last edited by the player at 16:38, Fri 12 Oct 2018.

It takes Duane a minute to put the pieces of Anderson's phonetic puzzle together, but when he finally gets it, he laughs out loud. Anderson, he's concluded, is one funny dude- funny ha-ha and funny weird. Either way- both ways- Duane finds him quite amusing.

"Roger that, Sarge." he replies, putting Razorback in reverse. He backs up a few meters, then turns the wheel a bit before slipping her back into drive. He advances and pulls the J-LTV up tight alongside the right-hand guard-rail, but again stops short of the potentially damaged pylon.

"I ain't gonna put this thing's weight on that pylon- not 'til Miss Murray gives us the go-ahead."

-
This message was last edited by the player at 01:13, Sat 13 Oct 2018.

Razorback's slightly revised position gives Anderson partial LOS to the MSG position. He can now see most of the revetment and the edges of the tents peeking out of the trees to the east of the bridge ramp. If he wants LOS to the entire north end of the bridge, he realizes that either he or Razorback will have to advance to the crest of the bridge's gentle hump.

-

Hanging halfway between the bridge deck and the rushing water, Xandra whistles to herself, the Five Finger Death Punch cover of Want You Bad playing in her head.  Duane hadn't quite known how to react when she suggested that he might be a better candidate for being tied up with the rappelling gear.  Between that and watching her don her wet suit, she's pretty sure a breaker has popped in whatever passes for the boy's tiny redneck brain.

She eases her patrol pack around, withdraws a spray paint can, and tags the concrete with a few acid-green reference marks.  If there's further damage or movement, that'll help her identify it through binoculars without having to come back down here.  Ever so carefully, she swaps the can for the team's irreplaceable digital camera, looping its lanyard around her wrist before shooting a good dozen photos of the damage.

She stows everything and double-checks that her ruck is zipped shut and carabinered to her harness before descending the rest of the way to the barge.  Touchdown is anticlimactic.  She unsnaps the retention strap on her holster before walking to the nearest inspection hatch on the cargo cover and violating the crappy Master padlock.  She lets her Nighthawk and flashlight lead the way inside - she's not so worried about human threats, but she's seen snakes and larger wildlife get into some damned odd places.  The sloshing knee-deep water in the first compartment is more of a concern, validating her expectations of some sprung hull welds.

"Looks clear," she reports over the borrowed radio clipped to her harness.  "Leakage is stable.  Cargo looks like a few hundred tons of structural steel.  Give me sixty feet of slack for entry."  She waits until Saul pays out the line, then checks her knives in case she needs to cut away and eases inside.

She finds the plastic pocket where the cargo manifest should have been.  It's empty, of course.  It would have been convenient but she wasn't counting on the job being easy.  So she does it the hard way, working her way through the barge, taking notes and photos on every marking that's still spraybombed or chalked on the steel, looking for damage to the vessel, listening and feeling for the signs that distinguish a hull at rest on rough water from one that's about to try to kill her, checking in with Saul every five minutes to confirm that she hasn't run afoul of bad air (though it's not like anyone's equipped for a confined space rescue if she goes down).

It's been more than an hour by the time she emerges into sunlight again.  She secures all her gear, double-checks it, double-checks that, gives the slack rope on the deck its own inspection, and finally signals for Duane and Cole to winch her up (she appreciates that Cole is probably erudite enough to make the "winch the wench" joke while being too subtle to actually say it).

She stands behind Razorback to avoid giving the Mississippi Mouthbreathers a free show and unselfconsciously changes out of the wet suit while she breaks it down for Captain Cao and anyone else who wants to listen.  "Right now, the bridge should be good for normal traffic up to the posted limit," she points at the somehow-un-shot-up road sign on the Arkansas side, "but I wouldn't want to overstress it.  If it takes another hard hit or if the barge keeps grinding on it, that goes out the window."

She hands the camera to Saul.  "The barge has some sprung seams.  It's still leaking, and if we don't do anything, it'll probably sink in a week or two.  So that's Option One, which would kinda suck.

"Option Two is that I go back down there with most of our demo to break its back and split it around the pylon.  If I don't fuck any of that up, the halves will get swept downriver and sink.  Probably in the channel, where they'll be hazards to navigation.  Assuming they don't stay afloat long enough to beat the shit out of anything else.  Also, there's the risk of collateral damage to the bridge because I'll be setting off a bunch of fucking bombs right next to it.

"Option Three is we scrounge some heavy equipment.  I'd want to do it with three pieces - excavators, cranes, bulldozers, whatever we can get.  We put tension on the barge to pull it off the pylon, then ease it over and let the current do the work while we guide it to shore.  It'd be best if we unloaded the six hundred tons of steel that was supposed to go into Lock Number Three up at Huff's Island, but shifting the load might let the barge work loose, so I'd want tension on it before we started that process anyway."

She realizes she's almost relaxed.  It's the first time in months she hasn't desperately needed a cigarette.
This message was last edited by the player at 12:27, Sat 13 Oct 2018.

Lauren had tried not to pace about too much while Xandra had been on the barge, had spent most of the sixty plus minutes hanging around - not, obviously, in the same sense as Xandra - waiting, trying to make small talk with the rest of the team to pass the time. Skillins hadn't said much, perhaps still recovering from the sight of Xandra getting changed. At least she and Cole could swap Air Force stories and Saul had plenty of tales to tell. She'd interspersed that with the occasional walk over the roadway to look downriver as well as upriver. A qualified diver herself, having completed the USAF combat diver school at Panama City before she'd washed out of the CRO course, Cao didn't doubt that Murray knew what she was doing. Still, the regular radio checks were reassuring.

CRO. Combat Rescue Officer. That was one part of her career that hadn't gone according to plan, a career that she had carefully mapped out. Failing at something hadn't been part of that plan. Dropping out of CRO School still stung. Badly. Sometimes she wondered where she might have been now if she had made the grade, had won her maroon beret. Europe probably, or maybe Korea. Or dead.

"She's coming up." Lauren is sitting in front passenger seat of the JLTV when she hears the call, writing up her report on Gould. She's literally writing it, the old fashioned way, paper and pen rather than using her iPad. Guillory would have his report as well of course, and his would form the official record for Team Sierra. The one she's writing would find its way to the DIA office at Little Rock AFB, go through military channels only. She's got no reason to think hers will be any different from Scott's.

Slipping the notebook back into the cargo pocket of her pants, Cao swings her legs out of Razorback's open door, steps down onto the asphalt. As a concession to the rising temperature she'd taken off her fatigue jacket about half an hour ago, now wears a coyote t shirt under her omnipresent plate carrier vest.

Moving around to the back of the JLTV in time to get an eyeful of what the Mississippi Guardsmen are being denied the Air Force Captain stands, her arms folded, her eyes hidden behind her shades listening while Xandra brings them up to speed on the state of the barge, her expression unchanged as she watches the shorter woman wriggle out of the wetsuit and a random thought passes though her head. Nice ink.

"If I had to choose I'd say three, one, then two in that order." Lauren offers when Xandra finishes speaking.  It's not her call of course, this isn't a problem that falls within her remit. Unless Seeger's men start shooting at them as they try to do whatever they ultimately decide to do. "One and two both mean we lose the barge and its cargo and two sounds like it has a lot of additional risk attached, especially to the bridge. And if it also means using up most of our demo..." the Air Force Captain lets her voice tail away without finishing the point. We might need that another time.

"But that presumes we can lay our hands on heavy equipment." That would probably be easier said than done.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:32, Sat 13 Oct 2018.

"Thanks man." Carswell says to Kabua when they've finished setting up an impromptu field clinic. The sound of the VOAR radio can be faintly heard coming from Ace Hardware, playing The Weight by the Band. Kinda appropriate. It's not Nazareth that they've pulled into, but it doesn't look like a man would be able to find a bed here.

Hopefully the clinic will get some traction, might even go some ways towards assuaging some of the complaints that they'd heard during the course of the morning about lack of help from the State leadership in Little Rock, although that was a fringe benefit from the paramedic's point of view. He's not doing this to make the Governor and some other politicians look good, he's doing it because it's needed. Besides, it had been kinda funny watching Scott wriggle a little trying to cover for Team Ralford.

Mike's ex wife is on that Team as well of course, works for the Governor's office. Yeah, Mike had wondered from time to time if that means she's banging Ralford. Or one of his Team. Which includes Guillory. Amongst others of course. Not that it's any of his business anyway. He and Luisa got divorced five years ago.

But yeah, looks like Team Ralford has taken a hit here. Maybe the Sierras can stick a band aid on it, in Mike's case perhaps literally. The paramedic calls over to Guillory. "Hey, Scott. I'm gonna go have a word with her honor the Mayor, see who the usual go to Doc is here." He would have done it sooner but the Mississippi stand off had precluded it. Given that it looks like things on the other side of the river aren't about to go south he's relaxed a bit. "If I get any customers in the meantime tell them I'll be right back."

His carbine slung over his shoulder Mike sets off for what is likely to be a bruising - but hopefully brief - encounter with Pendleton's Mayor, hoping she can point him in the right direction to speak to whoever usually looks after the town's medical needs. He's never quite sure what that will entail. On previous occasions it's ranged from a couple of pre med student to a retired Harvard trained cardiac surgeon with arthritis. And in some cases it's been nobody and communities have just had to make do the best they could.

Saul dutifully plays out line and follows Xandra's commands without complaint.  He knows when he's outside his wheelhouse and when it's wise to bow the knowledge of the expert.  Still, knots are knots whether someone is rappelling or rigging a truck and his hands seem to know what to do even while his mind tries not to wander from the task at hand.

Something odd is occurring here, to be sure.  The opposite sides of the bridge have opposite ideas of what's going on.  Which is pretty standard in any kind of complex situation, but Saul is not used to one side being accused of straight up asshole-ness then have that side turn out to be, at least on the surface, relatively okay.  No one is ever as clean as they would have you believe, a fact that Saul ran into in Memphis day in and day out.

When Xandra arrives back on the bridge, Saul feels the muscles of his back unwind, bleeding out tension he hadn't been aware that he'd been holding.  While the young woman changes, Saul gentlemanly averts his eyes, focusing instead of coiling the rope and stowing the gear used for the expedition.

"Steel might as well be gold," Saul says to the options presented.  "I'd hate to lose the resource if we can get a hold of it.  It's not worth spending an life to get it, but it is worth some risk.  Maybe substantial risk.  Especially if it can go to use at the dam."  The former Warrant Officer removes his cap and rubs the sweat off his head with a forearm in the common gesture of farmers since time was young.

"We could interview chuckleheads North and South and see what they can come up as far as knowledge of heavy equipment near by.  I can turn Car loose on finding us a spot to clean up for camp, that girl is resourceful as can be.  Might as well settle in here.  Make nice-nice with and for the neighbors."

"I saw one of those big tow-trucks- the kind that can haul a 16-wheeler- back in, uh, Gold or whatever," Duane offers, trying to be helpful. "I don't know if it's got enough cable to reach that barge, but those things got heavy duty winches, and a lot o' horses under the hood too."

The others remember seeing a Bobcat (a very small front-end loader) being used for flood clean-up in west Pendleton. That's probably the extent of "heavy" machinery in a settlement of Pendleton's size. Perhaps the grain-loading stations a little ways downriver have some construction vehicles on site.

-

"That's... not a bad thought, Duane," Xandra admits.  "We can splice a longer cable if we can't reach with what it has on board.  Did it look like it was in running condition?"

She drapes her wet suit over Razorback's pushbar for a little bit of air-drying.  "The Bobcat will be good for hauling cable but that's about as far as it goes.  We'll need operators, too.  I can do the rigging but I haven't driven a lot of the equipment we'll need.  Wasn't there a retired Army tank guy back in Grady?"

"It was clean as shit," Duane replies, oxymoronically. Idiomatically, he means it looked to be in very good shape, at least externally.



"Yeah, I think so," Duane answers. "And I can drive a Bobcat no problem."

-
This message was last edited by the player at 18:50, Sat 13 Oct 2018.

Pendleton's acting mayor is Wendy Thomas, a retired nurse practitioner and the town's only health care professional. She's currently apprenticing a local teenager, a tomboyish young woman with a mall punk hairdo (currently undyed) and a nose ring. They've been doing the best they can with what little they've got, but that consists mostly of dispensing sound medical advice. They have no proper medicines to speak of, save a few over-the-counter analgesics and antacids, only folk remedies crafted with local flora.

Mayor/Doc Thomas introduces Carswell to her latest patient, a senior citizen with a wounded heal. He stepped on something sharp concealed under the knee-high floodwaters, cutting his heel to the bone. Thomas has cleaned it as best she can, and sewed it up, but it's already showing signs of infection, and the old man can't remember the last time he's had a tetanus shot. Another patient also took a tumble whilst traversing a flooded yard, twisting an ankle and breaking a wrist.

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This message was last edited by the GM at 18:51, Sat 13 Oct 2018.

Scott frowns in thought when Xandra finishes speaking.  "Okay.  Couple things here.  First, river traffic is going to be a while getting back online.  Whether it's the Corps of Engineers or someone else, the channel's gonna have to be dredged anyway, and I'm sure there's a lot of other stuff that's sunk in the past couple of years.  So if we have to add one more item to the salvage list, that won't break the project."

He holds up a hand to forestall protest from the engineer, who obviously doesn't like the idea of leaving an untidy work site.  "This bridge is critical infrastructure, and keeping it standing is the number two priority.  Doing whatever we do safely is number one, if for no other reason than to not look stupid in front of the neighbors."  He tilts his head eastward.

"Having said that, I also recognize that no one's going to be making any more barges for a while, and if it came from the Huff's Island project, the state or the Corps will still need the cargo eventually when someone gets around to finishing the repairs on that lock.  So if we can do it safely, and do it before the accrual of debris breaks the bridge anyway, then I say we go for Option Three."

He flips to a fresh page on his own notepad and begins scrawling.  "So.  Tentative plan.  As soon as we're done here, I'm going to write two orders for that wrecker.  First is a contract in case the owner-operator is still alive.  Second is a requisition order to use if it's unclaimed or if no one is willing to run it for us.  Rios will take Skillins and Watkins up to get it and bring it back here."

"Meanwhile, we'll also put out a survey team downriver to see what we can find there.  I'm thinking Kabua, Saul, and a couple of locals who can navigate and make introductions as needed.

"The rest of us will hold here, continue the hearts-and-minds work, continue to work the allegations of looting, and try to get the Mississippi troops on side for the recovery operation.  Xandra, I want you to start working up three action plans.  First is for your Option Three if we can find a crane capable of handling unloading.  Second is Option Three without a crane, having to shift the barge and its load at once.  Third is a contingency for leveraging the barge off the bridge and letting the current take it if all we have is Skillins' wrecker and whatever we brought with us."

He raises his eyebrows at Cao.  "Captain, are you good with that?"
This message was last edited by the player at 13:42, Sun 14 Oct 2018.

"So what's your name?" Carswell asks his new - and very temporary - assistant as they make their way west along Miller Lane on foot.

"Maggie." The teenager with the nose ring replies.

"Maggie. Cool. I'm Mike." Maggie nods. They're doing house calls to the two patients that Mayor / Doctor Thomas had told him about. Both of them having foot injuries it seemed to make more sense than making them hobble along the road to Ace Hardware. And it isn't as if he's going to have access to more facilities at the truck. Everything he has is in the black 5.11 Rush12 backpack that he's currently carrying.

"This is Mr Kowalski's house." Maggie announces after a few minutes, indicating a house on the left hand side of the road. They're dealing with the twisted ankle / broken wrist first. The damage the property has suffered in the storm is evident . Walking up to the porch the medic notices a service flag with a blue star in an intact window. "His daughter. She's with the Army in Europe." Maggie adds, unprompted. Mike nods, walks up to the door, knocks firmly, calls out. "Metro EMS!"

It's already a squeeze inside. Carswell counts five adults, ranging in age from around twenty to what looks like nearer fifty, and two kids and that's before him and Maggie enter with assorted medical gear. And a longarm. Space is made to examine Mr Kowalski's wrist and ankle, the medic making small talk as he does so, much of it innocent enough although he does make sure to ask them about the troubles they've been having with the guys across the bridge on the Mississippi side. And once he's taken care of Mr Kowalska he'll pack everything up, move on to see his next patient, the old guy who had cut his heel.

Carswell
Administering medical assistance
Attempting to discretely get more info about what's happening in town by talking to townspeople (Interrogation / Persuasion?)

"No major objections here." Cao says in reply to Guillory. This is his show to run. "Although I'd prefer to put more people on the survey team. Just to be on the safe side. Either myself or Sergeant Anderson." There's still a number of escaped cons in the wind so she wants to make sure that if they're sending people out on patrol they'll be able to look after themselves if they run into any trouble.

Bourbon Street

Rios, Guillory, Watkins and Skillins pull into the garage parking lot in Gould. The signage on the storefront reads 'Zo's Tow & Automotive'. The garage bay doors are open. A man and a boy turn away from an exposed truck engine to eye the visitors. It's not likely that they get a lot of new customers these days.

The man is missing a hand. In its place is a elaborate mechanical hook. Flecks of grey peek out from under his trucker hat, more grey in his close-cut beard. He identifies himself as the titular Zo (short for Alonzo).

Rios and Guillory explain that they'd like to hire Zo's wrecker and that they can pay him in cash. He's somewhat skeptical when they describe the job.

"Serena's not a crane, you know. I don't know if we can do what you're askin'." He slowly wipes his hands with a rag, asks, "How much money we talkin'?"

Razorback

Cao guides the M1278 down the riverside road to the first grain storage/barge-loading facility. The vehicle heavy but agile, powerful yet responsive, unlike any wheeled vehicle the Captain has ever driven before. It will take some time for Cao to get used to operate the armored truck. She takes it slow and steady, easing into the job. Trees line the river, providing concealment to any would-be sniper. However, the roots of some are still underwater, eliminating them from contention as the likely hide sight. Unless the aspiring sniper was particularly sloppy, it will take a skilled tracker to identify sign of recent occupation.

The first grain storage/barge loading site comes into view. It's tall silo would make a good sniper's aerie, but probably three-quarters of a mile separate the structure from the north end of the bridge. Cao stops to have a look around. The facility shows clear signs of disuse and neglect, not to mention various attempts at salvage. Floodwaters have damaged some of the riverside structures, probably beyond repair. There are no obvious signs of human habitation. A raven watches the humans from atop the silo, cawing to a distant companion.

The next such site, though a bit larger, is in much the same state as the first, abandoned and decaying, slowly breaking down under the ungentle ministrations of time and the elements. It's just over a mile, as the raven flies, from the crossing, and trees block line of sight from the silo to the north end of the bridge.

The party proceeds towards the dam, curving away from the river, cutting through heavy woods. They haven't gone far when a treefall bars their way. It's possible that the J-LTV can climb the obstacle, but this will certainly test Cao's driving skill. Alternatively, it can be dragged out of the way. This will be easier, but take longer. The team's chainsaw and explosives are currently on board Ace Hardware.

Ace Hardware

Carswell wraps Mrs. Kowalska's sprained ankle, gives her a few anti-inflammatories for the pain and swelling. Ice would help, but for most folks these days, it's just a pleasant memory. When asked about the alleged thefts perpetrated by the MSG contingent, Mrs. Kowalska replies, "Someone emptied out my jewelry case, but I didn't see who did it. Some folks are saying those Mississippi guardsmen came over in a boat during the storm but I don't know. I mean, you'd have to be crazy to cross the river when it's like that. It's possible sure, but it seems unlikely to me. I hate to say this, but I think it was probably someone local. I don't have any suspects, though. It's just a hunch."

Maggie takes him to Mr. Morley's place. The old man's cut heal looks pretty bad. It's inflamed, hot to the touch. Carswell cleans the wound, doses him with antibiotics. He'll need to wait for the swelling to go down a bit before he can sew it up. Morley can't remember the last time he's had a tetanus shot, but he reckons that it's been well over five years since. If he's contracted the bacterial infection, there's not much more that can be done, besides symptom management.

Murray meanwhile, works on a plan for removing the stranded barge's heavy metal cargo and removing the vessel from the damaged stanchion. Saul notices a couple of figures on the bridge where Razorback had been parked earlier. He studies them through a pair of binoculars. Two men, crudely uniformed, carrying long-arms, red-white-and-blue patches on their left shoulders.


Your Turn.

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This message was last edited by the GM at 06:56, Thu 22 Nov 2018.