2019-09-07 - Foxhole

It's a drizzly, late summer day. Autumn is right around the corner, and August is eyeing this weather. Don't you dare, that look says. We get at least another two weeks, damn you.

He's just gotten back from an appointment with one of the trucks. The back is full of tree remains ready to be mulched, and he's pulling his climbing equipment out of the side compartment to stow it back in the storage shed. The mulcher sits to one side, ready to be fed; it's under a canopy, due to the rain. (A canopy which might be up for the next six months.)

Rebecca received a text message earlier from Byron Thorne, indicating that the Bayside Apartments were not safe for her, even with protection, as the killer knows where she lives. Upon passing this information to Itzhak, he suggested they go talk to his friend, August, about staying in his cabin out in the Firefly Forest. Thus the personal assistant packed up a bag of things for a few days, and let Itzhak drive her out to the shop on the outskirts of town. She gets out of the Corvette, dressed down for her, but still dressed up for most, in red plaid slacks, a black turtleneck sweater, and a black leather jacket of a fashionable cut, with matching ankle boots.

Funny enough, Itzhak had thought of August's cabin already, but figured Bex would refuse to stay in it due to her need to be available to run Chef Vydal's life at literally every second of the day. But he brought it up anyway when it turned out that whoever the killer is, they know exactly where Bex lived. He's wearing his usual jeans and boots and scowl, and an NY Excelsior long-sleeved shirt when he gets out of Heartbreaker.

"He's a good guy. You'll like him," he's saying to Rebecca.

August sets to getting his climbing gear stowed, specifically in the hard-sided tub labeled ROEN with the locks on it. He glances around the side of the shed when he hears Itzhak's Corvette, gives him an upnod and Rebecca a speculative look when he sees them. He shuts the shed and locks it up, moves to meet them at the front so they don't have to walk around in the drizzle.

It was a tree day, so he's in a dark red, Off Ramp t-shirt which has seen better days, some denim jeans, and his work boots. Another curious look at Rebecca, then he gestures inside. "Got coffee and tea and cider in there. Might be a couple of waffles left over too." Why make introductions in the drizzle, when you can not do that. He holds the door into the shop open for both of them.

Rebecca offers a hand to August once they are all inside and out of the drizzle. "Mister Roen. My name is Rebecca Carr. I need your help." Well, that sounds like the beginning of a superhero movie or something. Or an episode of Leverage.

Itzhak claps August on the shoulder as he passes him, going in. "How's by ya. Where's these waffles I hear so much about?"

He helps himself to coffee, holds up the pot in an inviting fashion in Bex's direction. What a contrast between him and Bex. If Rebecca is the mysterious beautiful lady who needs help, he's her rough bodyguard plucked up out of the streets. Or something.

"Not too bad," August says with a small smile, and that seems to be true: he's looking better than he has in days. He follows them in, gives Thoma a 'don't let anyone else into the office right now' kind of look. Which means Ignacio will probably breeze on in at any moment, but August is used to that by now.

On the old, repurposed, chrome table that serves as the employee lunch spot there's a donut-dozen size box bearing the Waffle Shoppe logo on the top; inside there are three waffles, the sort you have as a quick snack or treat, bits of sugar baked into the batter. There's mismatched chairs around the table, all used but entirely comfortable.

August's handshake is firm and friendly, though his expression is a touch puzzled at the seriousness of Rebecca's statement. "Why do I get the feeling this isn't a tree problem," he says, flicking a sidelong glance at Itzhak. He takes a seat behind the old, scarred oak desk, flips his tablet shut so nothing there can distract him.

Rebecca nods to Itzhak's offer of coffee. She's been shaky since getting the texts from Thorne, and she has fallen back into her default business mode. "I'm not sure how much Itzhak has told you about my situation. My sister was visiting me from California in July, and was murdered in my apartment by an unknown assailant. This murderer has struck several times over the months, including last night against Miss Erin Addington, who also lives in my apartment building. My landlord has indicated I may be in grave danger, and should stay away from Bayside until this is resolved."

She moves to sit on the edge of one of the chairs uneasily. "Itzhak said you may have someplace we can lay low for a few days."

Itzhak pours Bex a cup, brings it over with a waffle in a napkin for her. He slouches into a chair. Himself he's looking tired but wired, big dark circles around his eyes, but jittering. Coffee is obviously what he needs. "Told him about Kelly," he says. "But kinda figured you could tell him about everything else."

The entire state knew about Kelly, after all.

"Yeah, I heard about," August nods, meaning Kelly. He fidgets a second, ducks his head. "Sorry about that, it's awful. And bullshit that we can't seem to stop this asshole." He glances at Itzhak. "Alexander was talking to me about some things he wants to try, though."

The news about Erin has him blinking. "Jesus." He sits back, looks from Rebecca to Itzhak and back. "I was just talking to her, at the coffee shop. Must have been right before it happened." He sighs, runs a hand through his hair. "Ah, okay, yeah definitely, with staying at the cabin. It's a ways down the Forest Service road but it's nice enough. We've even got fiber. Although," he manages a wry smile for Itzhak, "the road's not paved the whole way up. I can drive one of the trucks for a few days, stay with Ellie maybe, if you wanna borrow the Outback. Spare your undercarriage."

"She survived, thanks to intervention of others, but she is in the hospital," Rebecca explains. "I think it's better if I just disappear off the grid for a few days, and see if this monster can track me down there. If he can well, there is no place safe and I may as well be in my apartment." She takes the coffee and waffle from Itzhak with a small smile of thanks to the lanky mechanic, and sips the former.

"I don't wanna drive Heartbreaker on those roads, that'd be great," Itzhak says with a grateful look at August. "I really need a shop truck."

He's having trouble actually talking about the fact that Bex is now literally on the run from a murderer (and Itzhak is personally going to fight said murderer), so, talking about cars is way safer. "Look, thanks," he adds, suddenly and awkwardly, turning the cup of coffee around and around in his hands. "Seriously. Owe ya one."

August's face goes on a small journey; relief Erin is alright, a grimace for the hospital, annoyance Rebecca has to hide, concern the murderer might still be able to reach her. "If they're one of us--" He stops, looks Rebecca over like he's gauging her in some way. He changes that to, "Like me, their reach is gonna be big. I can already make it most of the way across town. If they were stronger than me..." He winces, shakes his head. "You might have to go clear to Seattle."

He shifts in his chair. "But, finding you is another thing entirely. I don't think I've been involved much with any of this, so finding my place ought to be tough for him." Hopefully.

Of Itzhak's need for a daily driver, August says, "Yeah, you do," without a whole lot of sympathy. "If we get snow like in 2004 your girl's gonna be laid up for weeks. You want something with all wheel drive that you can throw chains or studded tires onto." He waves his hand at the notion of being owed. "You don't owe me anything. Letting you stay at my place? That's a win-win for me." He checks his watch. "If you want, we can head up now. Still daylight, so you can see the route."

"They were one of us, once upon a time. Now they are a ghost. They may have a living accomplice. I only have tangential information, but Alexander Clayton has details. You should speak to him if you wish to know more. Apparently he is my distant cousin of some stripe." Rebecca sips her coffee again and sets the waffle down, reaching a hand to just lightly touch Itzhak's arm to try and soothe him. He is so wound up. "I can't thank you enough Mister Roen."

Itzhak is tense physically, too, his arm tight when Rebecca touches him. He's freaked the hell out and trying not to show it. The living accomplice part he didn't realize, and he shoots Rebecca a startled look, then grimaces. Great. Which is better, fighting a ghost or stopping a bullet? Guess he'll find out!

"Yeah, let's head out there. I brought stuff. Hope you guys don't mind me practicing." Itzhak rustles up a tiny quirk of one side of his mouth, at least.

"Eh, thank me after you see it," August says on a rueful smile. He's noticed how Rebecca is dressed; she's probably used to something nicer than his humble place, even if it IS a cut above the average cabin. "Mind if you practice? No. Definitely not."

August gets Thoma up to speed on closing down the shop, chats with Cy, then shifts things out of his Outback into the smallest of the three trucks. It's still a hell of a vehicle, but not the monster that is Big Betty. The Outback's clean and tidy inside, with a set of chains in the hatch (always be prepared for snow).

The rain stays light and misty, so the drive up the highway is uneventful, and the dirt road that branches off from the Forest Service road is still dry and (mostly...) smooth. Certainly the outback and the tree truck can handle it well enough.

They come to the gate leading into the primary fence; there's space to park the car under a simple carport just outside it. August leaves the truck a little further back, among the trees. He's not staying, after all. Inside that fence is the cleared area: cabin, solar panels, single aspen tree, large garden, and a series of pens and sheds for goats, ducks, chickens, and...

The second people not August get out of a car, the alarm from the geese pen begins. Honking, hissing, flapping; four guard geese, two Pomeraian and two Chinese, all full of piss and vinegar and How Dare You Come Near This Gate. STRANGERS!!!!

Rebecca steps out of the Outback with her rolling suitcase in hand and the geese startle her. "What are those!? Are those geese? And goats?" she asks Itzhak in a hissed whisper. The California girl doesn't even have a damn goldfish. She gives the geese a wide berth.

Itzhak's badly startled by the sudden chorus of ANGERY GEESE when he gets out of the Outback. He whips towards them, weight shifting forward, fists coming up, one heel sliding back to brace against the dirt--it all happens in less than a second and he's ready to throw down with all challengers. Six foot one of aggro in an Overwatch League shirt.

He takes a moment, glaring furiously at the yelling geese. Then he yells back at them, "Ah FUCK YOU!" and stomps over to yank open the back door of the car and get out his duffel bag and violin case. "Yeah those are geese. Assholes."

Fortunately the geese are in a double-fenced pen, so their noise is all show and no go. "Girls!" August calls as he comes into the main fence and shuts it behind him. That quiets all but one goose, whose wings stay spread. She keeps hissing at Itzhak. "Mei-mei," August says, tone stern. The goose slowly folds her wing in, gives Itzhak one last ugly look, then paces away from the edge of their pen. For now. 'I've got my eye on you' has never been more clear.

By contrast the goats look on, bored and unconcerned. The ducks and chickens mill about in their shared space, riled up by the geese but calming as soon as August shuts them up.

"Don't mind them, they just think they run shit," he says on a sigh, leading them to the front entrance. The A-Frame itself, despite all the animals, is entirely well-appointed and clean. The exterior siding was restained maybe one or two years ago, and the roof's been cleaned off, so it looks almost like new.

The working garden is large; the drizzle has driven off most of the insects, leaving it a quiet walk to the front door. All manner of vegetables are in season and crowd the ground on either side of the rocks that line the crushed shell path. August opens the door and gestures inside. "Loft bed is a king, the futon there unfolds into a queen."

If the outside is rustic, the interior is less so. The kitchen counter is a custom piece, slate-blue stained concrete with glass made to look like a stream, complete with suggestions of plants and small fish embedded in it. Stainless steel appliances, and a big, deep, chest freezer. Back corner with a record player, sitting chair, and bookcases full of books, bathroom with a soaking tub for old bones full of metal.

Once the geese quit hissing and honking, Rebecca's shoulders relax a touch. She wheels her suitcase after her, following August, her eyes moving around to look at the grounds and the cabin. "It's pretty out here, angry birds aside," she says quietly to Roen. The interior has her relaxing further. Its less like being on a farm and more like being in an expensive glamping cabin. She sets her bag down and rubs her hands together. "This is absolutely lovely."

Itzhak sticks his tongue out at Mei-Mei. "Jerk." He stalks after August and Bex. It's so pretty here, though, that his mood calms. Now he understands some why Roen chooses to live out of the city, live in this particular way. It's soothing.

"You got like a tiny enchanted kingdom here," he says, dropping his duffel to the side and unslinging his violin case. "Is that an actual record player? You old softie." The kitchen counter he's got to have a closer look at, and does, nearly smushing his big crooked nose against it to see the details. "Gevaldik," he mutters.

"Thanks," August says to Rebecca, even managing a smile. He seems genuinely pleased with the compliment. That turns into an eyeroll for Itzhak. "Of course it is. Some of those records are as old as you. Careful with them if you decide to listen to any." It's a hefty collection of Blues, R&B, Jazz, and Soul. There's also an iPod docked with a small set of bookshelf speakers, so that's not all he has.

He seems mildly proud of the counter. "One of the guys down the road, he's a retired contractor. Used to do custom stuff. Traded him this for some work clearing his place and getting a garden set up for them. Figure, if I'm cooking, I should like where I cook, right?" He indicates the fridge with a nod. "Plenty of stuff in there to cook with. Erica up the road, she's the neighbor's daughter, she'll take care of the animals. She'll leave any eggs and milk she and her moms don't want in the chest out front, you can just grab them and bring them in."

Next the TV. "I don't have cable or anything--just use Netflix, HBO, and Amazon. Honestly I barely have time to make use of those, anyways." He points at the woodstove. "Doubt you'll need that, but the wood's under the back deck." Now the lights, which is to say, the power. "Battery array's in the crawlspace, should be fine for power but the generator's on the back deck if you need to fire it up."

He sets his workbag down, goes into the kitchen to fetch himself a soda water and mix up something. "I've got syrups and soda water, some lager, some ginger beer. And..." He leans to one side, "An unopened merlot."

Rebecca nods as August goes over all the information. "We'll try not to eat you out of house and home. I am guessing they don't deliver takeout this far?" she asks with a wan smile. "I can stay down here on the pullout. I don't want to invade more of your space than necessary Mister Roen. This is really very kind of you."

Of course Itzhak is sticking his nose in the record collection next, with no apparent sense that he should be polite and not get up in August's very personal business. They've touched each other's minds. The physical living space seems just an extension of that. "Don't watch much TV," he says absently, carefully flipping through the albums. "Guess I'll be doing a lotta cooking, huh?" He glances dubiously at the woodstove. "I have no idea how to use that. I'll hafta look it up." On Youtube, the bastion of all human knowledge.

He follows August back to the kitchen, and just kind of looks at him, as if August should know what he wants to say.

August waves a hand. "Don't sweat it. You can use the main bed if you want, it's not a big deal. I'll go up and change out the bedding before I head out." He sighs about take-out. "Unfortunately, no. But eating me out of house and home isn't a problem, that chest's still a quarter full and there's always more from the garden than I can handle."

He snorts about the woodstove. "Doubt it'll get that cold. Range is in here--propane, which can get real fucking hot, so watch yourself if you've never cooked on it before." It's a single-unit propane range; his desire for anything rustic largely stops at the cabin's overall construction.

He starts mixing up a soda, leaves the syrup jars out for their perusal, if they're so inclined. Elderflower syrup and rhubarb bitters for himself. He arches an eyebrow at Itzhak, inviting, well...some sort of elaboration. "Oh, wifi password." He gets out his phone, taps a bit. A second later, Itzhak's phone dings. Yep--it's a launch code.

Rebecca moves to sit on the sofa, folding her hands in her lap. She is holding it together just barely at the moment. She lost her first apartment to this horror, and has been chased out of her second. She has nowhere solid to call home. It's destabilizing to even the very controlled woman. "They have to stop him. I can't live like this."

Itzhak just hikes his eyebrows back at August. Then he realizes Bex is upset. Well of course she is, look at all this stuff that's happening to and around her--but sensing these things isn't Itzhak's strong point. Hey schmuck, pay attention.

So he pats the counter and goes to sit next to Rebecca and put his arm around her. "Hey," he murmurs, just a soothing nothing. "Gonna be okay."

August makes a low sound, pulls a bottle down from over the fridge: the bourbon. He pours a couple fingers into a pair of tumblers, brings those over to Rebecca and Itzhak. It's not a super fancy or expensive bourbon, but it's decent. He sets the glasses in easy reach on the coffee table, sits in one of the sitting chairs that flanks the futon, glass of soda in one hand.

"We're going to get this bastard. We'll do everything we can to make him stop." He lets out a sharp breath, looks at the floor. "We have to. So we will."

"Every moment I'm running from Gohl, I'm not doing my job. It adds up," Rebecca says quietly. Her OCD. Her task lists. Falling behind is a nightmare of its own for her, on TOP of the whole 'might get murdered' thing. She leans lightly against the mechanic for a moment, just taking in his strength. Then she seems to realize she's doing that, in front of August, and she sits up straighter again. She doesn't know how much Roen knows about them. If Them is something they are. It's very confused all up in her head at the moment. She reaches for the glass of bourbon and takes a drink. "Thank you."

Itzhak squeezes Rebecca's shoulders gently and lets her go. He's not a dignified guy but he has his pride; he understands. "I never say this kinda thing, but seriously. With Alexander and everyone on the case, the guy's gonna get taken out." Justice will be served says something in his soul. "This is just temporary, Bex. You just gotta put up with it a little while. Chef will be okay."

August is one of those polite sorts of hosts; his eyes are casually averted when Rebecca leans into Itzhak, don't return to her until Itzhak's moved away. It's almost like he had no idea they were even remotely close. He nods at Itzhak. "Just temporary," he echoes. "And anything you can do from remote, you can do here. Don't worry about bandwidth; it's the one thing we've got sorted." He can't do much about things which aren't done by phone and computer, but, from his point of view this is a bonus.

He nods towards the front. "It's...relatively safe, to use your power out here. I haven't had any problems yet. Forest's clean so far. So if that's something you're working on, you can." He pauses, considers something, makes a face. "Just bear in mind They might come knocking." He sips from his soda.

"I just worry, if they have a living accomplice, if they'd be able to track me that way," Rebecca explains. Like Gray Harbor is Silicon Valley and full of hackers. At the mention of power use, Rebecca takes a deeper drink of the bourbon. Yeah, that is something she's still learning to adapt to.

Itzhak half hopes some asshole does show up and he only barely manages NOT to say that. He clears his throat. "Yeah, well, an alive asshole is gonna regret messing with you while I'm around."

Truthfully, he wants to pound some murder guy's face in so bad, his teeth hurt. Figures maybe don't say that either. Then he looks at August, suddenly, eyebrows up. "And the geese'll yell out if someone's snooping around, huh?"

August frowns, thinks about that. "I guess it's possible." He allows this with total reluctance. Hackers tracking people seems...well. 'Crazy' comes to mind, except, he can literally talk to someone across town with his mind, and heal near-mortal injuries, so he's got no leg to stand on thinking of it that way.

He studies Itzhak a spell, maybe getting a whiff of that desire. He can't say he wouldn't feel the same if it was Eleanor they were after. Hell, he'd have carted her off to Portland already.

"Yeah, anyone but me or Erica gets the middle finger soon as they smell or hear them. So if they're honking, feel free to go on high alert. And," he sighs, "I hope I don't regret saying this, but I understand if the place gets roughed up while you're trying to protect her. Shit happens." A bob of his eyebrows,

"Killer attack geese, clever," Rebecca murmurs. At the mention of the place getting roughed up, the woman pales a few shades, and not from fear. She coughs and covers it with her bourbon because they've trashed a few rooms in her apartment with no sign of Gohl or his helpers.

Itzhak hesitates, just long enough for Bex to make that little cough, and then he gives them both away by blushing beet red. Dammit! Stupid capillaries!

"I can't fix stuff like you can," he says, bravely pretending that he isn't glowing, "so gonna try my best not to let that happen. If it does, I guess I can save the pieces for you?"

August hadn't meant it like that, but at those looks he sure does now. He raises a critical eyebrow, settles a wry look on Itzhak. "Yes," he says, tone dry as Death Valley in summer. "Just keep the pieces. I'll take care of it." His mouth twitches; he's trying so hard not to smile. So hard.

"Alright, let me see if Ellie minds me showing up on get doorstep with a duffle bag. Maybe I'll soften it with some things to cook with..." He sets the drink aside, gets to packing. True to his word, he changes the sheets on the upstairs bed and brings down additional bedding for the futon. It only takes him about thirty minutes all told, and then he's stopping everything in the work truck.

"Do not hesitate to call or," a glance at Rebecca, "otherwise, if you need to." Then he's off, paying to make 'I've got my eyes on you' gestures at the geese. The big truck engine fires up, and he's off.

Rebecca thanks August once more on his way out, and stands by the front door, watching the man drive off and leave them alone in the woods. Then she turns and gives Itzhak SUCH a LOOK. "What did you TELL him!?" OMG!

Itzhak and August had had a drunken night of racy girl talk, is what happened. And he told him a lot. And Itzhak didn't really, at the time, think that chicken would come home to roost quite so expediently...

Absolutely lying his ass off, he shrugs blithely at Bex. "What? He's got eyes, he can see how gorgeous you are." Then he's sauntering back inside like it ain't no thing. "I'll get started on dinner."