Ogreness, Black Lake-book5

Chapter 49
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By the way Ponwr tapped the steerin’ wheel, I figgered the gas tank was pretty much fumes. I wasn’t gonna lean across the seat to prove my guess. But that's what I do when I'm low on gas. Not knowin’ for sure was bliss compared to the contrary. The sun had been down a couple hours and we hadn’t passed as much as a flattened armadillo, without the hint of a city glow three hundred and sixty degrees.

“Anyone just hate hiking,” Frip asked.

Nuel rapped him hard in the back of the head.

I mumbled, “I had no idea there was so much nothing in the North.

Frip said he’d try the orc again. So it wasn’t just me settlin’ for a description and not a name.

“You answered,” Flip blurted all happy.

He listened long enough to make me impatient, maybe five seconds.

“No idea. we're not getting a GPS signal on this gas station phone.”

I heard the orc’s voice from where I sat. “What do you mean you don’t have GPS?”

“And we’re about to run out of gas,” Frip added.

I’ve heard the shriek orcs are capable of makin’. Always thought that’s what they whooped at funerals, or when they missed the lotto by one digit. It’s scary soundin’.

Frip described vaguely where we had to be, if the orc could find the junction we passed after crossin’ the state line. And then waited. And waited.

“No. Haven’t passed anything,” he said.

“I can’t hike on an empty stomach,” Nuel said.

“Ya’re tellin’ me.”

And with that wise comeback, the engine chugged. The truck jerked, jerked again, as the engine gallantly fought its death.

“That bad?” Frip mumbled.

Ponwr shifted the truck into neutral as the engine gave its last cough, and the volume of the tires rollin’ over asphalt began to fade. As the last of the momentum sputtered, he angled the truck off the shoulder and into the weeds. We couldn’t technically get stuck if the truck wasn’t gonna be movin’ any time in the future.

Ponwr turned off the ignition as Frip ended his conversation, evidently.

“She says we’re in no man’s land.”

“Clearly,” Nuel mumbled.

“On the bright side, she said that if it’s as dead as I describe, she’ll easily be able to see us from the air tomorrow. She’ll head out around five AM. Maybe be in the area by mid-morning. We should be listening for her engines.

“I just hope she can land,” he murmured a little under his breath.

“Why couldn’t she land?” Nuel asked. As usual, there was more than a little irritation edgin’ her voice.

“She says they build these country roads with a hard camber so the monsoon rain runs off fast. Heck to land on, something about skittering off the road is kind of easy. Very scary. Scarier taking off if you survive the landing.”

“Oh. Just great,” Nuel shouted.

“I’m getting some sleep,” Ponwr said.

I think he just wanted to get away from all of us, and the bickerin’. I didn’t blame him considerin’ all the snipin’ the last five hours. He slammed the truck door good when he got out.

“Where’s he think he’s gonna sleep?” Nuel hissed.

Trolls can sleep anywhere. I’ve observed it firsthand. Leanin’ against a tree. Over a keyboard. Fishin’ for pike.

Frip said, “I’ve got dibs on the truck bed. The liner isn’t so bad.” And he got out, shut the door firmly, but left our ear bones in one piece.

I sighed. I never have been a good sleeper. Anything on my mind, it spins, and there’s no drowsy comin’ my way. The ache of five bullet wounds had made the entire day pretty miserable, so leanin’ back wasn’t gonna help. Didn’t expect layin’ in the weeds would help either.

With the AC off, the temp inside the cab rose quickly.

“I’m getting out,” Nuel said.

I didn’t want to join her, so I sat still a moment. Maybe five seconds, then got out too. By the glint of a tiny slice of moon I could see her on the shoulder of the blacktop walkin’ south.

“Where ya going?” I called.

She kept trudgin’ on, then slowed, then slumped over. What was she doing? Oh, I heard the sobs. Ogres don’t sob much. Complain is the closest thing to sobbin’ we do. I’m pretty certain she was folded over in sobs. Maybe she learned that from roomin’ with a human in college.

I picked up lots of bad habits from Dave over the years. But I never got into that apologizin’ thing. Maybe a bridge too far. I exhaled hard. Now what? I’ve never consoled a hen before. It isn’t something bulls get a chance to do often. Our literature is full of bulls being ripped to shreds for suggestin’ to a hen that their emotion isn’t appropriate.

I believe the general consensus in this situation is, run. Run as fast as ya can, the opposite direction.

But this was all my fault, maybe, sort of. It isn’t like I asked her to be a felon on the lam with me, or to throw away her career and flee everything she knew, or even to find herself stranded in no man’s land.

What exactly is no man’s land? I’d never heard that expression. There were certainly no men out here, or signs, or telephone poles. I turned a circle studyin’ the horizon. Not a single hint of light that wasn’t a low hanging star. Hadn't even seen a cow in as long as I could remember, maybe a bit before the sun set.

Nuel came back to mind. She hadn’t walked any farther down the highway. She wasn’t rantin’, kickin’ at stones. Maybe it was safe to approach her.

I took a couple tentative steps. There wasn’t enough light to tell which way she faced. I strode on, pretendin’ to be a confident ogre bull, when what that hen could unleash, scared me to death. There’s a reason Papa never disagreed with Mama. Life is too short. His expression. I’ve heard it many times.

“What?” Nuel snarled.

“Uh. Ya okay?”

“What a stupid question.”

I turned to return to the truck, but she stopped me with a loud, “Don’t.”

Don’t what? That confused me.

“Don’t walk away. I promise I won’t hurt you.”

Papa warned me never to trust an angry hen.

“I can’t exactly blame you,” she said.

Yeah. She pretty much could. A causes B. Kill A.

“Why are we together?” she asked.

Uh oh. Was that a loaded question?

“Here. On this forsaken highway. Why did I meet you that first morning? Why did the Northern council call me and ask me to speak to you, ask for your help? Why did I drive to Black Lake with you? Why were you shot? Why do I feel so—”

I’m pretty sure she turned to face me. “Come here.”

Uh oh. She said she wouldn’t hurt me.

“I don’t feel like shouting,” she shouted.

I padded to within ten feet of her.

“Do I scare you?” she asked.

Well, yeah. She’s an ogre hen. The gods hath no fury fiercer than an irritated ogre hen. Like every bull can’t recite that biblical passage without thinkin’ hard. Maybe it’s not exactly biblical. “Of course not.”

The growl was I think a human-like chuckle.

I took another step, and a sound I’ve heard more than a few times on mountain trails, made me jerk to a stop.

“Cool. A rattlesnake?” she asked. “I’ve eaten rattlesnake. They’re good.”

She ran toward me. I considered bracin’ for impact, but she reached down and grabbed what could have just been a stick, for as still as it was. But she drew it to her face and the squish of teeth sinkin’ into meat reached me.

“Um.”

~ Nuel ~

I buckled over a little and laughed, half-laughed, half-sobbed. What a ridiculous situation. Right up to the moment I found my snack. I thought I was gonna die. For a while there, I considered cannibalism. Considering the folk on the menu, it didn’t sadden me at all.

~