Travel Arrangements and Insurance
The small cabin was lit only by the rain-spattered streaks of dusty sunlight that slipped between the slats of wood that made up the walls. The light rays glistened and danced across the worn splintery boards and cast strange shadows across the figures of the two men.
The older man's nose was a crooked little stub of flesh, barely leaving a visible bump in between his unshaven cheeks. The small cup of brown liquid was clasped tightly in his hand, he savored the smell and smell of the plain, bitter liquor that rested inside the shattered ceramic.
He waited for his companion to speak, but still there was little sound. A dog barked somewhere deep in a nearby canyon, and the branches of the nearby trees creaked under the weight of the surrounding rainstorm. Off in the distance, the lights of the small town played on the horizon, there was something sinister about the shadows that danced across the walls as if the figures that were crafted within were alive.
"It has begun," The older mans voice was quiet, almost a whisper.
The younger had fallen silent once again, his open mouth hung silent open, bloodshot and lifeless eyes stared up at the ceiling. The old man had to be careful in his accusations, he was treading into dangerous waters.
With a sigh, he emptied the last of the brown liquid down his throat and felt a wave of relief sweep through his veins. He picked up the last of the tins of powder, and placed them discretely inside his coat pocket. He would collect more supplies later, there was just something that attracted him to the thing.
There had been a long moment of uncomfortable silence, and it was only now that the older man realized that he had almost missed the name of the younger man. Still, there was no information, no data at all. He shook his head, he couldn't afford to dwell on it now; he needed to think this through.
The two men made their way towards the door that was shaped like a small square 'V', with a narrow exit door at the top. They pulled on the dusty handle and felt the warm air of the outside, blowing visibly across the pitch-black walls.
The older man stepped out of the small cabin, and heaved a deep sigh of relief. He realized that the cabin was now a place he would never willingly return to, the harsh smell of old blood and death filled his nose with a nauseous stench. He turned around and smiled knowingly at his companion, the younger man still lay passively on the wooden bed.
"It has begun."
The old man said again.
"It has begun."
Strange weather patterns became very apparent here in the Rocky Mountain ranges, of late it seemed that the world had suddenly gone mad. Storms that raged for weeks on end, hail that fell heavier than a man would normally be able to lift. Even the temperature seemed to have changed, and the snow no longer melted, it just froze and stayed that way.
The Old man sat in the office of the Mayor, listening to him prattle on about his seemingly infinite supply of semi-important problems. The old man just sat nodding at the old man's face, occasionally wondering if he could just have a drink, just this one time. The Mayor checked his watch, no longer interested in what he had to say. The two men clearly shared the same manner in which they controlled their…shall we call it an addiction?
The Mayor leaned back into his chair and thought about the pile of paper work that he still had to deal with. He had a 'volunteer group' that were going to come out the following week, supposedly to pick up some rubbish that had become festering for the past 3 years in the little town of Glastonbury. Now mind you there had been a bloody storm not 3 months before, and it was all the rubbish that had ended up floating back to town, so the idea of picking it up wasn't as easy as he first thought.
The Mayor decided to stand up and head for the door. "You can get back to it once they arrive, obviously there is the issue of the power. If it keeps off like this we will be living like lepers in a rat-cage."
The old man stood up lazily and pulled the coat of his suit closer around his neck. He had a brief case in his hand, it clearly held something valuable. No one would ever find out what it was though, just more of the Mayor's problems.
The two men both stood in front of the desk of the Mayor, it was clear that the Mayor was not going to hold anything back now.
The older man's hand picked up the pen and he stared at the paper that lay before him. The Mayor maintained his usual smug smile as the man scribbled something onto the paper in front of him. He could never feel comfortable with this man, it seemed almost unnatural.
As the man was about to leave, the Mayor's voice echoed out through the bare office walls.
Conclusion:
The man turned to the Mayor and smiled before finally leaving. The Mayor was left to his tasks, and meandered around his desk to rest into his chair, allowing a small sigh of relief.
The storm continued to rage outside, it had been going all morning, and there was no end in sight to the downpour of freezing rain that pelted the corrugated roof of the building. The Mayor stared out of the window and continued to ponder the potential of the strange situation.