Jack Roy Final Chapter Up.

Zombie or Post Apocalyptic themed fiction/stories.

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Jofthepeace
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Re: Jack Roy

Post by Jofthepeace » Mon Dec 01, 2014 4:10 pm

Are you kidding? Another doc66 story that is starting off pretty damn interesting and you think you'll scare us off?!?!?! Keep it going!

doc66 wrote:I hope I didn't scare anyone off with this section. I wanted to try something different...

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Re: Jack Roy

Post by Murphman » Mon Dec 01, 2014 4:36 pm

doc66 wrote:I hope I didn't scare anyone off with this section. I wanted to try something different...
I thought it was great. I was tempted to use the translator to figure out what he said, but it felt more real trying to decipher the Spanish with Jack Roy. Unfortunately, he got more word sin than I did. :oops:
"If you are prepped for pandemic flu, you are more than prepped for Ebola. And pandemic flu is hella more likely, that's the one that scares me, personally." - Duodecima...and she's a freaking doctor. What are you?

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Re: Jack Roy

Post by rednekrampager » Mon Dec 01, 2014 5:13 pm

doc66 wrote:I hope I didn't scare anyone off with this section. I wanted to try something different...
I loved it. Keep on rolling.


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Re: Jack Roy

Post by Hunt4lyf » Mon Dec 01, 2014 5:36 pm

doc66 wrote:I hope I didn't scare anyone off with this section. I wanted to try something different...
The only thing scary is that they're multiplying, :shock:

Otherwise the story is awesome.

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Re: Jack Roy

Post by doc66 » Mon Dec 01, 2014 10:20 pm

They were on the roof sitting under the tattered canopy and sipping whiskey from the bar of the CEO in heavy glass tumblers that should have had ice in them just because it would have been classy to be able to hear the sound ice made hitting the side of a glass that cost as much as the pistol he carried—or so Jack Roy assumed as he sipped the amber nectar in the fading light of the day. From the roof top the light was all deep red and orange and purple as the light faded up into the sky. Beside him, Dairo poured another couple of fingers into the glass from the decanter they had liberated.

In the hours after the near encounter on the street, they had blocked the landings of the stairs for two floors below the eleventh. Anyone—or anything—coming up the stairs would make so much racket getting through the barriers that the men would be aware of the breech in enough time to prepare. With the use of a shatterproof mirror that had been in one of the bathrooms, they had been able to rig up a way to look over the edge of the smoker’s balcony and down at the huddled masses gathered at the doorway to the building to be sure that there was no movement by the brutes toward getting inside the building. There had not been anything like that that they could discern; the creatures seemed more concerned with cutting up their companions than trying to get into the building. Thankfully, the wind was carrying any odor from the fire away from the roof top. Just before the sunset, another group of the aberrations had appeared and there was a brief standoff with the two groups forming a skirmish line and shouting at the foe with unintelligible verbalizations. Jack Roy and Dairo watched with curious astonishment as what they took to be the two leaders met in the courtyard and yelled at each other until finally after shouting and pacing around in circles they seemed to come to some sort of agreement. The two groups merged to share in the unexpected feast that Jack Roy and Dairo had provided them with.

Jack Roy thought he might have an idea where the bones in the street had come from.

Satisfied that they were not being hunted, the two men retired to the kitchen to go about finding something to eat. Dairo had chased Jack Roy out of the way while he gathered up beans and rice and more crab, and spices. He found flour and other baking supplies along with lard. Seeing that Jack Roy was watching, he motioned for Jack Roy to help him and they carried the items into the dining room. A second trip was made for the mixing bowls and utensils. Dairo then proceeded to make tortillas from scratch while the black beans spiced with cumin and dried peppers simmered over the coals of the furniture fire. The rice simmered beside it and a flat pan heated to cook the tortillas as Dairo mixed the flour and salt and lard and dribble of water before patting out the flat bread and pressing it between two gold rimmed plates to form the tortilla. The crab was mixed with olive oil and the mayonnaise and dried spices with bottled lime juice spritzed in. He served the rice and beans together with the crab wrapped inside the tortillas and Jack Roy was in heaven. He to Dairo this.

“This is awesome,” he said around a mouthful of crabmeat. “I’ve never had anything so good.”

“Mi mamá me enseñó a hacer las tortillas; ella dijo que un buen hombre sabe cómo hacer su propia cena . Siempre pensé que estaba loca, pero aprendí de todos modos para hacerla feliz,” Said Dairo as if Jack Roy understood every word. Dairo slapped Jack Roy on the shoulder and laughed. “¿Sabes cuánto coño hacer una tortilla me ha conseguido?”

“That’s crazy,” said Jack Roy in response.

“Extraño a mi mamá. Ella estaba tan enojado cuando acepté hacer este viaje exposición. Ella dijo que lo único que haría era meterse en problemas; mamá, me dijo , es por eso que voy a tener problemas con las chicas americanas!” Dairo smiled a toothy grin and held his hands out in front of his chest as if he were cupping breasts. He sighed and shook his head, looking sad. “Así que ahora estoy preparando la cena para un hombre con una barba que no se ha bañado en Dios sabe cuánto tiempo. Así es la vida, supongo.”

Jack Roy understood “es la vida” if only from the song that had been popular when he was a kid and “chicas” was pretty much universal to the macho lingua worldwide, thought Jack Roy, and every male over the age of ten knew the motion indicating breasts. He figured that the conversation was about some woman Dairo used to sleep with—an American from what little of the conversation Jack Roy could follow. And then she had left him, he supposed, from the “That’s life,” statement. He swallowed the rice and spicy beans he had been shoveling into his mouth and used a linen napkin to wipe off his lips and anything which might have dribbled into his beard.

“Yeah, I guess that is life, but we don’t have to like it,” agreed Jack Roy. “Especially a life without women. Was yours pretty cool, your woman?”

“Mi madre es la mejor.”

“I’m divorced,” said Jack Roy. “I got married young and thought I had it all under control, but I didn’t. She was probably smart enough to realize I was not going to be a good husband and dumped my ass. So here I am, six years single and probably going to stay that way, the way things are now.” Jack Roy pushed the empty plate away from him and took a long drink from the can of Coke. “Not that it matters; I would have sucked as a dad too; not much of an example, my old man.” Jack Roy raised his can. “But hey, here’s to crappy parents and the kids they leave behind.”

“Salud,” said Dairo, tapping his own can against Jack Roy’s.

“Salute,” returned Jack Roy.

Now they were on the roof and drinking whiskey. Up here, away from the street level so that the desolation could not be immediately viewed, it was almost like having a beverage with a friend in the times before everything had simply stopped. Jack Roy closed his eyes and allowed his mind to drift and relaxed for the first time in recent memory; it was comforting to be able to simply exist. The sound of the wind was almost musical as it whistled over the edges of the buildings and through uprights and cables. There was still warmth in the fading sunlight. Bathed as he was in the final rays of the red orb, Jack Roy took the moment to pretend he was anywhere else. It was a good feeling and interrupted by the soft sound of the whiskey being poured into the glass. Jack Roy looked over to where Dairo was topping off his own drink.

“Gracias,” said Jack Roy.

“Esta bien,” said Dairo.

“We’d better be careful drinking this much,” said Jack Roy, waving the glass toward the decanter. “I’ve got a buzz going; we don’t want to be too fucked up if something happens.”

“No he tomado un trago desde no sé cuándo,” said Dairo, looking seriously at Jack Roy. He held up a hand at the decanter and waved it as if to say he had enough. “Creo que esto es para mí, si quieres más, es tuyo. Yo no quiero entrar estúpido borracho.”

“Good enough for me,” returned Jack Roy. He stood and with his drink in hand, went to the edge of the roof. As the sun disappeared behind the horizon, they could see the glow from the fires around the city. Now that Jack Roy knew that the ghouls were capable of making fire, the flickers of light seemed less inviting to him. It meant that each spark might not be a safe haven; that there might not be as many people surviving as he had hoped. The thought made Jack Roy more than a little sad; it meant that there might not be anyone waiting for him at the other end of his journey.

Dairo followed him over to the escarpment and set his glass on the edge. He searched the buildings and then pointed out at one of the fires.

“Ver que uno?” he asked excitedly. “Ahí es donde mis amigos.”

“Amigos?” repeated Jack Roy. “That’s where your amigos are? Tengo amigos?”

“Sus amigos,” corrected Dairo.

“Sus amigos.”

“Si,” said Dairo. “Y esperemos que tus amigos también.”

“Friends for everyone,” Jack Roy agreed. He went back to the table under the aweing and grabbed up the binoculars. Going back to the roofs edge, he peered through the gloom at the spot Dairo had pointed out. It was several blocks away; not terribly far, even by the new city standards, but far enough away that it would take some planning to make it safely. Especially now that there were at least two known groups of ogres now hunting in the area. If there were two, there might be more, and it would require more stealth to cover the distance than Jack Roy had been practicing previously to his arrival in the city.

He handed the glasses to Dairo, who put them up to his eyes while Jack Roy spoke.

“We need to find the service entrance to this building. It might empty out onto an alley, or maybe a parking garage; that way we can avoid the front doors,” mused Jack Roy. “We’ll have to look and see if we can find maybe a building floor plan in all that crap down on the service floor; I’ve got to find a holster for that revolver anyway. There might be a map of the city as well. We could map out the streets so we’re not just stumbling along and hoping we’re on the right street. It might take a day or two, but I was planning on staying here that long anyway.” He turned to Dairo. “What do you think?”

“Mañana tenemos que encontrar una manera de salir de este edificio,” said Dairo, slowly, as if speaking slower in Spanish would help Jack Roy understand the message. “Alguna manera distinta de las puertas delanteras; una entrada trasera para camiones. Y necesitamos un mapa de la ciudad. Entonces podemos evitar esas cosas en las puertas.”

“Tomorrow—manana.”

Dairo nodded, not sure if the other man understood the meaning, but they were at least in agreement that tomorrow, something needed to be done. He put down the binoculars and picked up his glass. The men tapped the edges of the tumblers together and sipped from the still chiming crystal.
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Re: Jack Roy

Post by Hunt4lyf » Tue Dec 02, 2014 10:30 am

Thanks Doc! I kept cringing when he put the cup on the ledge thinking it was going to fall off and alert the monsters to their presence above. I was looking forward to the ensuing bloodbath...

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Re: Jack Roy

Post by 223shootersc » Tue Dec 02, 2014 11:09 am

Hope some of Dairo's friends speak English

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Re: Jack Roy

Post by Delsaw » Tue Dec 02, 2014 2:03 pm

Doc, thanks for the great post. Loving it so far. Hope Jack finds a Spanish to English dictionary somewhere!

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Re: Jack Roy

Post by jackorchuck » Tue Dec 02, 2014 5:30 pm

Welcome back Doc, I am enjoying the story, thank you.

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Re: Jack Roy

Post by doc66 » Tue Dec 02, 2014 11:26 pm

If I could figure out how to do it, I'd thank you all so that it showed up in your feed; Thank you all.
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Re: Jack Roy

Post by Redeyes » Wed Dec 03, 2014 1:10 am

Very good story so far. It is cool that there is a different kind of monster. I don't mind translating the spanish at all. I was feeling Jack's fear on the bridge. I am somewhat acrophobic
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Re: Jack Roy

Post by Jofthepeace » Wed Dec 03, 2014 9:15 am

Thanks are gladly accepted in .......MOAR!

Liking how the story is progressing....can't wait for more descriptions of the 'ogre's and flashes to how they came about...

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Re: Jack Roy

Post by Spazzy » Wed Dec 03, 2014 10:30 am

Jofthepeace wrote:Thanks are gladly accepted in .......MOAR!

Liking how the story is progressing....can't wait for more descriptions of the 'ogre's and flashes to how they came about...

Just got back from 2 weeks in WI, can't agree with this more! Great stuff!
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Re: Jack Roy

Post by DAVE KI » Thu Dec 04, 2014 8:24 pm

Thanks doc this just keeping better. Well are of your stories do.
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Re: Jack Roy

Post by doc66 » Sat Dec 06, 2014 3:09 pm

They had all the blueprints for the building they could find spread on the conference room table. Outside the window, the rain lashed at the pane, sending rivulets of water streaming down the opaque surface and ridding it of the grime that had collected there since the last rain.

That morning, as the skies had gathered the clouds and the lightning and thunder had filled the empty offices with light and noise; Jack Roy had made the trek to the second floor of the stairs and carefully opened the door that led to the overlook of the lobby. He had managed to sneak out onto the balcony of the lobby area, the part which overlooked the front doors, and had been both discouraged and relieved; he was disheartened to see that the fiends were still camping in the vestibule of the courtyard. The filthy beasts were lying about in huddled piles of hair and flesh and scraps of detritus covered their stinking bodies. The fire they had built was out, but a small group of the creatures were working to coax the thing back to life; their hoots and grunts muffled through the glass. Every time there was a clap of thunder, the creatures would glance angrily up at the sky and fall back to building the fire; even the beasts hated to get wet, supposed Jack Roy. The monsters had not tried—or managed to, Jack Roy did not know which—to break down the doors that kept them out of the building. With the coming of the rain, that might change, he knew. It was when the first of the droplets began to fall that he felt a little safer; one of the ghouls who had been working to bring life back to the cold coals picked up a large fire axe and began to kick at those who still slept. He grunted and screamed at them until there were babies crying and angry sounding hoots, but the gathered were on their feet. Gesturing and pointing, the leader of the other group—Jack Roy recognized the monster from the previous night’s engagement—also started to push and prod so as not to lose face to his own clan, supposed Jack Roy. The two leaders seemed to confer with much gesturing and pushing and shoving between the two until suddenly the rain came in sweeping gusts. The leaders pushed their people out of the miniscule protection of the overhang and sent the group trotting down the street, presumably in search of better protection from the weather.

For a moment, Jack Roy felt a chill vibrate his body; the axe toting leader paused a moment in herding the stragglers and cast a dark gaze back at the glass façade of the building. If asked, Jack Roy would have sworn that the thing had made eye contact with him, but he knew that it was nearly impossible to see into the building with the layers of grime over the windows and the tinting of the glass. He watched until the horde was gone from sight and nothing was left but a black puddle where the fire had been and the bones of those Jack Roy and Dairo had killed. With that comfort attended to, Jack Roy then ran the ten flights of stairs back up to the executive level where Dairo had prepared breakfast.

Dairo was wearing the robe he had found hanging on the back of the CEO’s bathroom door; his own clothing was hanging out on the balcony with Jack Roy’s own garments where the musty cloth could be air dried in the winds from the storm, yet still be out of the torrential rain. They had gone to the roof top when the rain had started as a warm, gentle, summer rain, taking with them the soap they had found in the executive washrooms and taken showers under the gray skies, washing off months—at least a week or more, in Jack Roy’s case—of grime and stink from their bodies. Then, using a wash tub discovered in the work area of the maintenance floor all the clothing they had with them; changing into the extra clothing that the executives had stashed in their offices; the robe in Dairo’s case and a pair of sweats and an Underarmor shirt for Jack Roy. There had been other clothing; a spare suit which was too large for either of them, dress shirts, casual business attire with khaki slacks and polo shirts, golf shoes, workout clothing, all things that a power person might need at a moment’s notice for that special client. Jack Roy and Dairo had taken all the clean pairs of socks that they could find and divided them between themselves because new socks were like having found the Holy Grail at the bottom of a dumpster. It did not happen every day.

Since it was raining, the two had agreed—or so Jack Roy assumed, with the language barrier—that they were going to spend the day exploring the floors of the building above and below as well as look for the loading doors. Dairo had found the blueprints to the building in a set of flat drawers in the office area of the maintenance floor; they covered everything from how the water flowed up and down the building, the electrical wiring of each floor and the air conditioning duct work, to the layout of each floor with addendums for how the individual lessor had alter the spaces. On the fifth floor was a massive workout space and a cafeteria, according to the schematics. With broken Spanish, English curse words, drawings, and pantomime, Jack Roy was able to convince Dairo that they needed to check out the contents of the cafeteria. Because of the buildings pristine condition when he had entered it, Jack Roy believed that there had not been any explorers in the structure since just a few weeks after the apocalyptic events of more than a year before. If there had been no scavengers in the building, it stood to reason that in the cafeteria there would be untouched food items they could survive on. It had also occurred to Jack Roy that if they were about to increase the population of the building by eleven more people, they were going to need the supplies.

Dairo pointed to a large area on the map they had laid in front of them. It portrayed a walkway from the building they were in which appeared to stretch across the street to what was labeled; Parking Garage.

“¿Es esto lo que estamos buscando? Parking Garage?” read Dairo. “Esto parece un pasillo del edificio , en otro, aquí; un passage, yes, si?”

Jack Roy leaned over the drawing and deciphered the type. He pulled free a street map from the piles of paper they had pushed to one side and compared the blueprint to the map, orienting the street map to fit the blueprint. Sure enough, according to the city map, there was a four or five story parking garage behind the building they were currently in. He had not paid too much attention to the parking garage for two reasons; because it had been below his level of sight from the roof top and the flat, nearly empty space on the garage’s last level had not made him think of threats from there, and he had not realized that the garage was connected to the building he was occupying. The thought of an unlock, unencumbered entrance to the place where he was at the moment being so lax about protecting, made his stomach clench in fear; who or what could have been roaming the lower floors without his knowledge? Just because the ground level door and lobby had not been molested, that did not mean that the floors above it, from the second level—according to the blueprint—and up did not contain some sort of threat. And how would he have known? Mused Jack Roy. After all, Jack Roy had pushed his way to the top of the building almost right away; he had never bothered to check other levels or secure doors because he had assumed that if there were no tell tail disturbances in the stairwell, there had been nothing in the building.

All of this meant that they were now going to have to take pains to at least clear the floors below them. Jack Roy sat down in a convenient chair so that he could take some of the metaphorical weight that had suddenly settled on his shoulders off and put his head in his hands.

“Que?”

Jack Roy waved a hand at the litter of papers. “We’ve got to clear the other floors.” Dairo stared at him. Jack Roy sighed and dug into the limited Spanish he had picked up in the last two days. “The passage, it makes the edificio peligroso. We—,” Jack Roy pointed at Dairo and then at himself, “Tengo seguro uno edificio.” He pantomimed holding a long gun and pointing it at things around the room, and then pointed at each blueprint representing a floor. “All of them. Completo.”

“Su español es una mierda,” said Dairo, taking a seat of his own. “Pero, usted está mejorando.”


Dairo leaned forward and looked at the blueprint. “You and me,” he started hesitantly, “We go—a cada piso—all,” and waved a hand over the paper, “comprobar a cabo y asegurarse de que no hay nada ni ningún cuerpo en cada piso?”

“Si,” said Jack Roy, hoping they were speaking about the same plan of action.

“Mierda.”

“Si.”

They both stared for a long time at the blueprints.

Finally, Dairo stirred himself from the table. He stood and made sure the robe was straightened around his body. With a casual looking gesture, Dairo indicated the blueprints and pushed them around on the table while he pretended to not be concerned with the situation they found themselves. Clearing a building was difficult to be sure, clearing eleven floors of that building on a dark, rainy day, with no lights in the buildings, using only the flashlights they had found on the maintenance floor, with batteries that might or might not last the entire process with only two people; that was a recipe for disaster. By the time they reached the third floor where the walkway stretched from the building to the parking garage, they would be exhausted.

“¿Puedo sugerir que hacemos esto en porciones? Idea,” added Dairo. ”Us, we, Yo digo que tomamos tres, tal vez cuatro pisos por debajo de éste , claro ellos—one, two, three, stop—a ver qué pasa y luego descansar—eat, rest, yes?” Dairo pulled out the map for each floor as he spoke, gesturing that they would search each one, “—despejar los próximos tres o así—one, two, stop—y luego se detiene para el día? More manana, si?"

Jack Roy nodded. He pulled the blueprints indicating the first five floors below them toward him and shuffled them together. “Right, si, yes. I think I get it. Tengo search, right. We just do a few at a time so we’re not killing ourselves and getting sloppy.” He separated the floor plans from the others. “Uno, dos, tres, siesta, uno, dos, maybe tres, alto, stop, and then pick it up again. Maybe we could pack light and sleep where we stop, that way we’re not killing ourselves going up and down stairs.”

Realizing that the last part was probably beyond Dairo, Jack Roy pointed at the schematics for the seventh floor, the last floor they would clear that day. “Tengo siesta aqui?”

“Totalmente masacrados que uno; dormimos aquí,” corrected Dairo. “Pero lo entiendo. Sí , vamos a dormir allí. We stay.” Dairo tapped the same floor plan Jack Roy had indicated. He looked at Jack Roy speaking slowly, so that Jack Roy knew he was teaching him something. “No; tengo siesta; Dormimos aqui. Dormimos aqui.”

“Dormimos aqui,” repeated Jack Roy several times.

“Bueno.”

“You know this whole language thing needs to go both ways,” said Jack Roy. “You should learn some English. Habla inglas.”

Dairo laughed. “I no speak English.”

“You did okay there,” grumbled Jack Roy.

“Si, usted habla español bien también,” smiled Dario. “Para un gringo.”

“Fucker,” said Jack Roy in response.

Putting two thumbs up, Dairo grinned. “Fuck you.”

He then walked away and disappeared out of the conference room whistling a song to himself. Jack Roy looked at the maps of the building after Dairo was gone. It was going to be a lot of area to cover. The good thing was that they were just clearing the floors; they were not conducting a complicated search for more food, weapons, or whatever else might have been located in the offices. The only goal was to make sure that there was no one sharing the building with them. They did not want any surprises waiting for them when the rain cleared off and they decided that it was time to go back and link up with Dairo’s friends. Jack Roy wondered if the people would even be waiting for the man when they went to the building where they were holed up. After all, through their stilted conversations, Jack Roy had discerned Dairo had been looking for a clear path out of the city. What if in the intervening two days since he and Dairo had met, the group had decided waiting for Dairo to return was a waste of time—or they had been pushed out of where they had been hiding? It was nearly impossible to determine that the fire they had seen the night before was a fire made by the people Dairo had left behind.

There were just too many ifs and buts to the equation.

Jack Roy knew he had to trust that Dairo’s people would be waiting on him. He gave a small, gloomy chuckle about the last thought. After all, had he not waited several days the last time someone he knew had walked away and never returned? In the here and now, people tended to hope the best; after all, there were not a lot of normal thinking people left in the world and one tended to hang on to threads of optimism no matter how murky things might appear. Pushing those thoughts of abandonment aside, Jack Roy leaned over the diagrams of the floors and began to form a plan for searching the office spaces they held. They would need a pry bar for locked doors, light would be taken care of by the various flashlights they had found in the maintenance area; when one died out, they would switch to another working light rather than try and replace with found batteries from the maintenance stores on the fly. That meant carrying several with them. That meant using the cheap logo day packs which had been found in a storage closet—probably give aways at some event—since Jack Roy had no intention of lugging his big pack with him. They would also have to carry food; water too, but there were probably water coolers on each floor; he could sleep without his bag for a night. Jack Roy knew that his clothing would not be dry; he would prefer wearing his own clothing for this, but could get by with the workout gear and such found in the offices. As he made his mental list of things he needed, Jack Roy cast a glance out at the skies beyond the window.

The rain was slacking off. Perhaps there would be sunlight to aid them along. They would have to start soon to avoid searching in total darkness. The seventh floor was the goal. Dairo walked back into the room now wearing a set of high end exercise clothing and carrying the shotgun. To the barrel of the weapon, Dairo was taping a flashlight.

“Good idea,” said Jack Roy. “You want to get some food together while I get my stuff? Aqui comer?”

“Si, Voy a nosotros conseguir algo de comer mientras sigue a la mierda. No probelm.”

“Cool,” responded Jack Roy. He found the box of day bags. “Here. Put it in this.”

After tossing one of the green bags to Dairo, Jack Roy stepped out to gather his own gear and prepare for the search. So much for a couple days of rest, he thought to himself. When this was all over, and he was finally not travelling and walking and hiding and scrounging to stay alive, Jack Roy vowed to himself that he was going to do nothing but sleep and sit in a rocking chair and read a book. A long book.
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Re: Jack Roy

Post by Nancy1340 » Sat Dec 06, 2014 3:25 pm

Really, really enjoying this story. Thank you.

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Re: Jack Roy

Post by DAVE KI » Sat Dec 06, 2014 6:55 pm

I completely agree. Looking forward to more.
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Re: Jack Roy

Post by 91Eunozs » Sat Dec 06, 2014 10:35 pm

Thanks Doc...great read so far. Hoping this tale turns into a long book to enjoy in my favorite chair as well! :mrgreen:
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woodsghost wrote:... A defensive gun without training is basically a talisman. It might ward off evil, but I wouldn't count on it.

vthunter
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Favorite Zombie Movies: original "Night of the Living Dead"
Resident Evil series
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Re: Jack Roy

Post by vthunter » Sun Dec 07, 2014 5:46 pm

91Eunozs wrote:Thanks Doc...great read so far. Hoping this tale turns into a long book to enjoy in my favorite chair as well! :mrgreen:
Agreed!! Even with my rusty Spanish, this is a fun read so far!!

Keep up the wonderful pace - much appreciated!!

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Spazzy
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Re: Jack Roy

Post by Spazzy » Mon Dec 08, 2014 1:44 pm

I know three words in Spanish from my Navy days...
pollo
cerveza
baño

Makes for interesting conversations.... But those were the only three I ever really needed.
Overheard at my USN retirement ceremony....
"So he's not a team player then?"
"You mean Spazz...? Hes not even a fan of the team."

Quartermaster
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Re: Jack Roy

Post by Quartermaster » Wed Dec 10, 2014 3:07 pm

Chicken, beer, and the head. Sometimes that is all you need although apart from food, booze, and crapper, I am somewhat surprised you didn't also have "How much?" and "Where?"

Quartermaster

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KYZHunters
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Re: Jack Roy

Post by KYZHunters » Wed Dec 10, 2014 3:58 pm

Donde estan los communisto insurgentes....am I dating myself?
crypto wrote:It's not that you were being "harsh" so much as a "douchebag".

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doc66
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Re: Jack Roy

Post by doc66 » Thu Dec 11, 2014 11:10 am

KYZHunters wrote:Donde estan los communisto insurgentes....am I dating myself?
No Se! No Se!
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223shootersc
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Re: Jack Roy

Post by 223shootersc » Thu Dec 11, 2014 3:01 pm

Very sad now, Doc66 was hoping for MOAR

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