Fletcher grinned and nodded to Kelly, then kept moving towards the trailer as she tried to rope in the new guy to help her in her search.

Meanwhile Fletcher tried to see how bad off the rest of the folks who'd been asleep were.  He didn't know that he could help, but Kelly suggested he might, so he at least felt he should take a look at things.

Mateo spun around as Kelly redirected him and made her suggestion.  He looked ready to tell her exactly where she could look for medical supplies, he was going to...  But it died before he could say it.  He still looked apologetic for his thoughts and nodded, "Yeah...  Yeah... I can do that.  Thanks."  He glanced at Syb and mouthed - I'll be back

Crowboy piped up, "I'll go too.  I'm gettin' to know alot of the convoy folks.  I think I know where we can get some stuff."  He nodded off to the crates on the trailer, adding, "Gonna haveta wheel and deal.  Something for something."  The former bandit looked back to Kelly...and Harry, them being the bosses as far as he was concerned.  Making sure he had permission to barter with their goods.

"I'm fine with bartering, if you need to." Harry says. "Just be reasonable. I'd rather agree to a task of some sort than handing out too much gear, if you can swing that."

Fletcher's look inside the trailer would show him Syb and Prudence laid out.  Syb seems quiet and still, unsurprisingly.  Prudence is quite a bit more vulgar and talkative in her tired, pained discomfort.  She's laid out on her stomach, with her back covered in bandaging strips, already reddening.

Dean is another matter.  He doesn't look hurt, but tense... Almost shivering.  His head twitching side to side.  Muttering.  His eyes flicking back and forth beneath his eyelids.  A man asleep without rest.

Notice for Fletcher.  And Harry. 

Fletcher rolled 1,1 using 1d6,1d8, rerolling max with rolls of 1,1.  Notice.

((OOC: 02:53, Today: Rusty Harry rolled 5,-1 using d8-2,d6-2, rerolling max with rolls of 7,1.  Notice.

Not bad for being exhausted.))

Harry looked over Fletcher's shoulder at the patients.  Poor dears.

Having received the go-ahead from Harry, Crowboy hopped down and motioned for Mateo to join him, "Come on.  Let's see what we can get for your gal, eh?"  Mateo took the hint and followed  Crowboy off into the trucks.

Fletcher stared at the injured trio for a long moment.

He'd been full of optimism a few moments ago but it seemed as soon as the reality of the situation hit him he realized he didn't much have any idea how he could lend a hand.

Turning to look at Harry he wondered if the borg had any idea.  Maybe he'd gotten a crash course in what might amount to first aid, even if it was just intended to help him kill folks better.

Suddenly remembering something, Fletcher pulled the wrench based machine he'd cobbled together from his pocket.

"I uh, tossed this here thing together for Kelly.  Gave her a bit of a jolt to try 'n shake the dust off that was weighin' her down.  Seemed ta do the trick.  Dunno how yer feelin', but the battery has a bit more juice in it if you think it'd help you or someone else."  He suggested.

"I'm feeling terrible." Harry says. "More dead than usual, which is probably because this thing keeps interrupting me while my Chip is trying to keep me together. I'm willing to give that a try. I learned some things while in the dream this last time, too. Been hoping for a chance to get us all together to tell you all."

Fletcher shrugged and charged up the wrench.  He wasn't sure if it would even work on Harry.

Hopefully if it didn't, there wouldn't be any other effects.

Positioning it over the most fleshy looking bit of Harry's head he gave it a try.

Fletcher rolled 9,4.  Device

Should remove up to 2 levels of fatigue

Harry felt faintly ridiculous at being gently touched in the head with a wrench, and was sure it looked incredibly odd to anyone looking at them. But damn if he didn't feel worlds better.

"Hot damn, I needed that. Thank you." He says as the fog from his head clears. He uses his free hand to rub his brow. "We could try that on Dean, if there's any juice left." He looks back over. "I'm worried. Does he seem to have lost weight to you? Because there was this...thing in the dream. I think he called it a 'Skinny.' And both times this happened, it went right for him."

Fletcher looked pleased the device seemed to work.

Looking over at Dean, Fletcher nodded.

"Should be a few more charges left.  I dunno if he's lookin' thinner.  Dunno much 'bout that dream stuff neither.  If we was closer ta back home I could get some answers maybe, but I think we're stuck unless we figure things out."

Fletcher walked over to Dean's side and gave him a closer look as he rubbed a thumb over the wrench based device in his hand.

"It'd be good ta try 'n figure what's the common factor 'bout who gets stuck in that dream.  I slept this mornin' while you were drivin' for a bit 'n was fine.  Dunno if anyone else was asleep at that point, so maybe it's a numbers thing?  Have ta have a certain amount of folks sleepin' at the same time or somethin'."

Fletcher charged up the device and then decided to follow Harry's suggestion and see if it would help.

Fletcher rolled 4,20.  Device

If it was going to do anything, that should do it.

"It's a good thought." Harry says. "I think it also has something to do with those of us what deal in weirdness. It skipped Crowboy twice, and the new kid. But the girl fell right into the dream with the rest of us."

"Huh.  Makes me wonder 'bout distance now.  I dunno if anyone else in the convoy would fit that group too.  If so, wonder if they were affected."  Fletcher pondered aloud.

As the gadget zapped Dean, he seemed to seize for a second.  His whole body tensing up...then slowly relaxing back into the bed.  The syker blinked slowly...like waking up, but then his sleeping/waking reached a tipping point.  Dean suddenly snapped awake, sitting up and looking all around.  Checking sightlines, like he was trying to find a target, "Where is it?  Did you get it?"

"Afraid not." Harry says as Dean comes to. "And I'm not sure I'm clear on what 'it' is, exactly. What are we supposed to be on the look out for?"

Harry hoped Dean had more information that he did about whatever this thing was. Maybe since it was focusing on him, it was clearer about whatever it was it wanted. If nothing else, though, Dean was the only one of them that had been to Faraway and might have any information at all to help clarify things.

Fletcher stepped back in surprise, and then stayed there to give Dean some room.

He didn't know what Dean, or Harry, was talking about but he figured voicing that fact wouldn't be productive so he waited and listened.

Dean's degrees narrowed up at Harry, "The skinny.  The thing we are trying to stop.  Something happen to your systems?". The syker looked around the camper, trying to take it in.  His attention lingered on Syb and Pru.  Confusion.  "Where are we?  How did we get away from the ranch?  Who's left?"

Harry frowned at that. "Um, come again?" he had an ugly thought. "I'll answer that, but first, I need you to tell me who you think you are right now. I can't tell you sensitive information without verbal confirmation of proper authority. My Chip won't let me." He shifted enough to bring his chainsaw arm into view, though he didn't rev it.

Fletcher looked at Dean like he had a second head for a moment before things started to potentially compute.

A moment later when Harry said his piece Fletcher was relieved Harry seemed to be confirming Fletcher's own thoughts and waited to hear Dean's answer.

Dean's eyes narrowed again at Harry's response.  Suspicion...then concern...  Worried understanding beginning to dawn, "Sergeant Dean Mitchel.  U-N EX-FOR.  Nine-four-eight-six-oh-six-seven-three-four-oh."  The syker straightened as he rattled off the rote information, then got back to the important bit, "You said, who I think I am right now.  Why would I not know who I am right now?"  Oddly, the chainsaw was, apparently, not the important bit.

It doesn't take long for Kelly to find some likely help.  In fact, it was heading her way.  That always makes things easier.  The potential help took the form of Turk, along with "Reefer Man."  The quick ask about medical attention got the "Reefer Man" to give a shout back to his rig.

"MAYTAG!  911!"

Turk explained, while indicating they should continue on to the Black Dog, "He's one of our medics.  Used to drive ambulances.  Walk and talk?  What happened?"  Turk started to head off to the Dog with that natural leader way that indicated this conversation was moving.  Reefer Man waited for Maytag to get his go-bag and the pair followed after.

The rest of the convoy crews continued to take care of things and not try to find reasons to swing close...catch a bit of information...  Or at least not be too obvious about it.

In reply to Dean Mitchel (msg # 172):

Well, it didn't seem like the most horrible possibility he'd considered, some sort of mind swap, was in the offing, but it still paid to be cautious. "Tell me this. When the skinny grabbed you...how did you escape?"