Doc
BoDoc Horseman
Hey, guys. So this is a thing that I've been working on somewhat for the past months. Originally, I did not plan on posting the story to ZD. I felt that some parts were a bit long and would be difficult to sit through. However, I realized that the site I was posting them to now (fictionpress.com) was not at all helpful to get feedback on my writing. You folks here on ZD can give advice to help improve my writing. Heck, that's one of the main purposes of the writing section.
I also need a bit more motivation to write. There is close to nothing written even though this is a project I've spent some time on. I just always find myself procrastinating or doing stupid, unimportant activities.
Anyways, now that that little unnecessary explanation is over with. Please enjoy the first part of the prologue. (This was one of the longer pieces of The Mechanical People).
Warning: This is a PG-13 esque story, so keep that in mind when reading.
Thanks for reading! Any constructive criticism will be extremely welcome!
I also need a bit more motivation to write. There is close to nothing written even though this is a project I've spent some time on. I just always find myself procrastinating or doing stupid, unimportant activities.
Anyways, now that that little unnecessary explanation is over with. Please enjoy the first part of the prologue. (This was one of the longer pieces of The Mechanical People).
Warning: This is a PG-13 esque story, so keep that in mind when reading.
Prologue (Pt.1)
The camp was quiet, Jean noted. It was not usually silent, so she was unsure whether to panic or be at peace for the moment. The woman dared a glance outside the tent and spied her two sons trying to build a fire. They look so much like their fathers, Jean thought. Cameron had Carl’s broad shoulders and a mop of dark hair. In a year or so, he might have the same thick beard. Jean was thankful he didn’t inherit that bulbous nose.
Nathan looked nothing like his older brother. Where Cam’s hair was dark, Nathan’s was a pale blonde. He would never grow to be as big as Cameron either. Nathan would age to become a slim, lanky figure, it could be told by a quick glance at him. The boy was eleven, yet people would often confuse him to be eight. The only similarity the half-brothers had was that eternal scowl.
Jean knew not to interrupt them. Cam had the experience and knowledge of how to build a fire. Nathan had not yet learned how to accomplish that task, so she told Cam to teach the boy. I should have taught him years ago, Jean thought. But whenever she had considered, she was reminded why it was important. If the worst happens… Cameron did not take the order lightly. Even now, he was doing the bare minimum and being irritable to every little mistake Nathan made.
“A fire!?” he had exclaimed loudly after Jean told him to teach Nathan. “I can’t do it now. A hunt is about to begin! If I am not there, we may miss out! I will teach that brat some other time, alright.” Cam had grabbed his father’s old rifle and started to stomp off. Jean had grabbed his shoulder tightly and pulled him back.
“And what if you don’t return from this little hunt of yours!? You and Larson can die and what then?! Your brother is inexperienced and there are things I can’t teach him. No more hunts until I tell you otherwise. Is that clear, young man?” Jean shouted back at him. “I said, is that clear!?” Cam violently shook himself free and threw the rifle down. He stormed out of the tent as Jean’s hands began to shake.
It was the right thing to do. She now only feared that the older boy would realize that Nathan could be taught by some other man; Larson had a few friends near the camp. But it was important that Nathan and Cameron bond together. Their relationship was strained by their different male parent, and Jean was unsure if Cam would abandon his half-brother.
I am being too negative, the woman realized. Jean turned back into the tent and shuffled through her knapsack. Underneath a stained cloth she pulled out a small gun. With the weapon concealed and a wooden bucket, Jean went outside and past her sons. “I will be back later. Make sure you have the fire going by then.” The two didn’t answer, not surprisingly. She strode down the hill quickly, keeping her hand by the gun. It would kill any man, but against the true enemy she would be lucky if it slows it down.
A gunshot far off made Jean jump. “Just be one. Oh god, just be one.” She whispered to herself. After a short period of time, Jean figured she was safe and the sound was just a part of the hunt. She heard the trickles of moving water and knew she was near the creek. Jean knelt down beside the water and splashed it into her face. She paused and looked at her reflection.
She was never a very pretty woman. Jean had sad eyes and her forehead was creased with years of worry and stress, making her look ten years older. Her long hair was thin and disheveled. Even as a girl, she hadn’t troubled herself with her appearance. I have such beautiful boys though, she reminded herself. Jean stopped judging herself and began to fill the bucket.
As she pulled it out of the water, she noticed the fluid inside lowering. Jean inspected the bottom where she located a small crack where water was leaking out. “Damnit, Larson,” she said aloud. I told that bastard to fix this. The woman placed the useless bucket on the ground and stripped off her clothing. She slowly lowered herself into creek and let the freezing water wipe away days of sweat and dirt.
It was miserable to bathe--rubbing off the filth made her skin raw, and the creeks were always cold—but she had grown accustomed to doing it. When Jean was a little girl, no older than Nathan, her grandmother would often tell her stories of when people always bathed and they didn’t have to hunt, where shelters were permanent and electricity surrounded the people; a life she could only dream of. Now, all people did was run or hide beneath rocks or pray to be saved from the clinking sounds. They never bathed anymore. That is why Jean loved it, not because she liked to feel clean. Because it is the only thing she can do like people used to. It helped her forget. Although she never really forgets.
A snapping branch awoke the bathing woman from her thoughts. She lowered deeper in the water to hide. They found us, I knew they would. My gun, where’s my gun? Jean slowly swam closer to her pile of clothing. She reached up behind the rock she laid them and tugged around at the pile. Jean’s hand knocked into a mound of dirt sending it splashing into the creek. The intruder heard, Jean could tell. Frantically, the woman snatched the entirety of her clothes and pulled them into the water. She pulled out the gun from her pants pocket and jumped out of the creek, pointing her gun at the other.
“Jean!?” A woman with dark auburn hair and a frail face stood before her, only a few years younger than Jean. The woman’s eyes were wide in panic and her breathing was slowly returning to a calm. She awkwardly looked away from Jean’s naked body and darted her attention to Jean’s forehead. “You startled me.”
Jean felt her cheeks flush and she quickly regretted pulling her clothes into the creek. She had no other pair to wear and she would become sick if she were to wear wet clothing. “I—I am sorry, Janet. I had thought that you were a…”
Janet let out a loud laugh. “I thought the same, Jean. I get a little jumpy while Bernard is out hunting.” There was a moment of silence before Janet added,” Dear me, you must be freezing.” She handed out a towel. “It stinks, but you can use it while your clothes dry.”
After Jean laid her clothing out on a rock in the sunlight, the two women sat down together by the creek while Janet washed her laundry in the water. “Thank you, Janet,” Jean said to her monotonously while staring at the ground.
“Oh, Jean. I am sorry. I shouldn’t have brought up the hunt. You must be a nervous wreck, what with both Cam and Larson out in the woods. I tell you what, I don’t know how I am going to manage when the twins set off into the woods with Bernard.”
“I didn’t let Cameron go hunting. It is too dangerous for him, he is too young. Larson provides enough for us to get by. Right now, Cameron needs to teach Nathan how to survive. Until both of them can survive, only then can Cam go hunting.” Jean explained.
“Nathan? You have another son? Which little boy is he?”
Jean shook her head. Poor Nathan is always being forgotten. “He is blonde and small, Cameron’s half-brother and Larson’s true son. He was the one who tried to steal from the Heathons farther down the by the pond. Y’know, they threatened to kill the boy if they saw him again.”
“That’s your boy? I thought that Mark killed the boy even afterwards. I remember hearing from Denise that he was going to slit the boy’s throat as a message to any other thief. You better be on the lookout then, he may still come.”
Jean had also heard of these rumors. Mark Heathon had been planning on murdering her sweet, innocent child. Mark drowned in the pond though before he could follow through with his plan. They found his corpse floating lifelessly, his hands and feet tightly bound together. Jean was sure he couldn’t have shook them loose. Nobody threatens my child.
“Those rumors are nothin’ but lies, Janet. You have to remember that. How are the twins?” Jean asked, in hopes to change the topic. Jean knew it would; if there was one thing that Janet could talk days about, it was her two little boys.
“Ah, those boys are starting to look like their momma. You should come by and see ‘em. You would barely think they were younger than five, they’re so big. They got their father to thank for that. Just last week, some older boy came down by our tent and was tryin’ to take some of our wood. Me and Bernard were out—we were just out, that’s all—and Tommy stood up to the boy. He told that kid that the wood was for our cabin and to get lost. Well, you can imagine the boy tried to take it by force, but my boys sent that little thief into the woods with a few scrapes and bruises….Not like there is anything wrong with boys stealing!”
So that is where Nathan got those bruises. “You and Bernard are building a cabin?” Jean furrowed her brow. “Doesn’t that seem like a waste of time and wood?”
“Not at all! We haven’t had to flee in a while now. What has it been, ten months? Eleven? ‘Ain’t anyone seen anything, even some of those travelers heading farther north or to the shore are saying that they saw nothing for weeks now. You can travel real far in a couple weeks, Jean. It might even be a good idea to go south.”
“Head south? Janet, you cannot believe every word of every drunk. Perhaps they saw nothin’ because they are blind or are too stupid to think that those things are getting camouflage. They probably evolved to hide better. For all we know, they are a day away from here.”
“Jean, I am only saying…” Janet began.
“Janet, we all know what you are saying. In a week or two, you are going to be saying that we should all head south and then you will say that they all died out somehow. It is always something with you. You are too naïve! Good heavens, Janet, you are building a cabin!”
“Is that what this is about!?” Janet’s jaw dropped and the woman stood up furious. “Is it my fault that Bernard loves me enough to build a cabin? Or is it that Bernard loves me at all? That is what happens when you are together with someone you enjoy to be around, Jean. Perhaps you would know that if you didn’t birth a child with every man who will take you! Perhaps then those monsters wouldn’t be little rotten thieves!”
Jean was now standing as well. She grabbed Janet’s thick auburn hair and threw the woman to the ground. As the woman was attempting to stand again, Jean snatched up her gun and pointed it at Janet. “How dare you speak of my sweet children! Insult me all you want, but don’t speak ill of them again. Believe me I will kill you if I hear you breathe their names again!” Janet cowered beneath the eye of the gun.
“Please…Jean, I am sorry…” she muttered.
Jean threw the gun down into the Janet’s pile of wet, dirty clothes. She retrieved her own damp clothing and began to dress herself. Picking up the useless bucket, Jean stormed off into the woods, leaving a terrified Janet behind her.
The nerve of that woman, she thought. Nathan ain’t no thief. He has his own ways of obtaining supplies. The sun began to lower as she walked back and the air grew noticeably colder.
The camp was quiet, Jean noted. It was not usually silent, so she was unsure whether to panic or be at peace for the moment. The woman dared a glance outside the tent and spied her two sons trying to build a fire. They look so much like their fathers, Jean thought. Cameron had Carl’s broad shoulders and a mop of dark hair. In a year or so, he might have the same thick beard. Jean was thankful he didn’t inherit that bulbous nose.
Nathan looked nothing like his older brother. Where Cam’s hair was dark, Nathan’s was a pale blonde. He would never grow to be as big as Cameron either. Nathan would age to become a slim, lanky figure, it could be told by a quick glance at him. The boy was eleven, yet people would often confuse him to be eight. The only similarity the half-brothers had was that eternal scowl.
Jean knew not to interrupt them. Cam had the experience and knowledge of how to build a fire. Nathan had not yet learned how to accomplish that task, so she told Cam to teach the boy. I should have taught him years ago, Jean thought. But whenever she had considered, she was reminded why it was important. If the worst happens… Cameron did not take the order lightly. Even now, he was doing the bare minimum and being irritable to every little mistake Nathan made.
“A fire!?” he had exclaimed loudly after Jean told him to teach Nathan. “I can’t do it now. A hunt is about to begin! If I am not there, we may miss out! I will teach that brat some other time, alright.” Cam had grabbed his father’s old rifle and started to stomp off. Jean had grabbed his shoulder tightly and pulled him back.
“And what if you don’t return from this little hunt of yours!? You and Larson can die and what then?! Your brother is inexperienced and there are things I can’t teach him. No more hunts until I tell you otherwise. Is that clear, young man?” Jean shouted back at him. “I said, is that clear!?” Cam violently shook himself free and threw the rifle down. He stormed out of the tent as Jean’s hands began to shake.
It was the right thing to do. She now only feared that the older boy would realize that Nathan could be taught by some other man; Larson had a few friends near the camp. But it was important that Nathan and Cameron bond together. Their relationship was strained by their different male parent, and Jean was unsure if Cam would abandon his half-brother.
I am being too negative, the woman realized. Jean turned back into the tent and shuffled through her knapsack. Underneath a stained cloth she pulled out a small gun. With the weapon concealed and a wooden bucket, Jean went outside and past her sons. “I will be back later. Make sure you have the fire going by then.” The two didn’t answer, not surprisingly. She strode down the hill quickly, keeping her hand by the gun. It would kill any man, but against the true enemy she would be lucky if it slows it down.
A gunshot far off made Jean jump. “Just be one. Oh god, just be one.” She whispered to herself. After a short period of time, Jean figured she was safe and the sound was just a part of the hunt. She heard the trickles of moving water and knew she was near the creek. Jean knelt down beside the water and splashed it into her face. She paused and looked at her reflection.
She was never a very pretty woman. Jean had sad eyes and her forehead was creased with years of worry and stress, making her look ten years older. Her long hair was thin and disheveled. Even as a girl, she hadn’t troubled herself with her appearance. I have such beautiful boys though, she reminded herself. Jean stopped judging herself and began to fill the bucket.
As she pulled it out of the water, she noticed the fluid inside lowering. Jean inspected the bottom where she located a small crack where water was leaking out. “Damnit, Larson,” she said aloud. I told that bastard to fix this. The woman placed the useless bucket on the ground and stripped off her clothing. She slowly lowered herself into creek and let the freezing water wipe away days of sweat and dirt.
It was miserable to bathe--rubbing off the filth made her skin raw, and the creeks were always cold—but she had grown accustomed to doing it. When Jean was a little girl, no older than Nathan, her grandmother would often tell her stories of when people always bathed and they didn’t have to hunt, where shelters were permanent and electricity surrounded the people; a life she could only dream of. Now, all people did was run or hide beneath rocks or pray to be saved from the clinking sounds. They never bathed anymore. That is why Jean loved it, not because she liked to feel clean. Because it is the only thing she can do like people used to. It helped her forget. Although she never really forgets.
A snapping branch awoke the bathing woman from her thoughts. She lowered deeper in the water to hide. They found us, I knew they would. My gun, where’s my gun? Jean slowly swam closer to her pile of clothing. She reached up behind the rock she laid them and tugged around at the pile. Jean’s hand knocked into a mound of dirt sending it splashing into the creek. The intruder heard, Jean could tell. Frantically, the woman snatched the entirety of her clothes and pulled them into the water. She pulled out the gun from her pants pocket and jumped out of the creek, pointing her gun at the other.
“Jean!?” A woman with dark auburn hair and a frail face stood before her, only a few years younger than Jean. The woman’s eyes were wide in panic and her breathing was slowly returning to a calm. She awkwardly looked away from Jean’s naked body and darted her attention to Jean’s forehead. “You startled me.”
Jean felt her cheeks flush and she quickly regretted pulling her clothes into the creek. She had no other pair to wear and she would become sick if she were to wear wet clothing. “I—I am sorry, Janet. I had thought that you were a…”
Janet let out a loud laugh. “I thought the same, Jean. I get a little jumpy while Bernard is out hunting.” There was a moment of silence before Janet added,” Dear me, you must be freezing.” She handed out a towel. “It stinks, but you can use it while your clothes dry.”
After Jean laid her clothing out on a rock in the sunlight, the two women sat down together by the creek while Janet washed her laundry in the water. “Thank you, Janet,” Jean said to her monotonously while staring at the ground.
“Oh, Jean. I am sorry. I shouldn’t have brought up the hunt. You must be a nervous wreck, what with both Cam and Larson out in the woods. I tell you what, I don’t know how I am going to manage when the twins set off into the woods with Bernard.”
“I didn’t let Cameron go hunting. It is too dangerous for him, he is too young. Larson provides enough for us to get by. Right now, Cameron needs to teach Nathan how to survive. Until both of them can survive, only then can Cam go hunting.” Jean explained.
“Nathan? You have another son? Which little boy is he?”
Jean shook her head. Poor Nathan is always being forgotten. “He is blonde and small, Cameron’s half-brother and Larson’s true son. He was the one who tried to steal from the Heathons farther down the by the pond. Y’know, they threatened to kill the boy if they saw him again.”
“That’s your boy? I thought that Mark killed the boy even afterwards. I remember hearing from Denise that he was going to slit the boy’s throat as a message to any other thief. You better be on the lookout then, he may still come.”
Jean had also heard of these rumors. Mark Heathon had been planning on murdering her sweet, innocent child. Mark drowned in the pond though before he could follow through with his plan. They found his corpse floating lifelessly, his hands and feet tightly bound together. Jean was sure he couldn’t have shook them loose. Nobody threatens my child.
“Those rumors are nothin’ but lies, Janet. You have to remember that. How are the twins?” Jean asked, in hopes to change the topic. Jean knew it would; if there was one thing that Janet could talk days about, it was her two little boys.
“Ah, those boys are starting to look like their momma. You should come by and see ‘em. You would barely think they were younger than five, they’re so big. They got their father to thank for that. Just last week, some older boy came down by our tent and was tryin’ to take some of our wood. Me and Bernard were out—we were just out, that’s all—and Tommy stood up to the boy. He told that kid that the wood was for our cabin and to get lost. Well, you can imagine the boy tried to take it by force, but my boys sent that little thief into the woods with a few scrapes and bruises….Not like there is anything wrong with boys stealing!”
So that is where Nathan got those bruises. “You and Bernard are building a cabin?” Jean furrowed her brow. “Doesn’t that seem like a waste of time and wood?”
“Not at all! We haven’t had to flee in a while now. What has it been, ten months? Eleven? ‘Ain’t anyone seen anything, even some of those travelers heading farther north or to the shore are saying that they saw nothing for weeks now. You can travel real far in a couple weeks, Jean. It might even be a good idea to go south.”
“Head south? Janet, you cannot believe every word of every drunk. Perhaps they saw nothin’ because they are blind or are too stupid to think that those things are getting camouflage. They probably evolved to hide better. For all we know, they are a day away from here.”
“Jean, I am only saying…” Janet began.
“Janet, we all know what you are saying. In a week or two, you are going to be saying that we should all head south and then you will say that they all died out somehow. It is always something with you. You are too naïve! Good heavens, Janet, you are building a cabin!”
“Is that what this is about!?” Janet’s jaw dropped and the woman stood up furious. “Is it my fault that Bernard loves me enough to build a cabin? Or is it that Bernard loves me at all? That is what happens when you are together with someone you enjoy to be around, Jean. Perhaps you would know that if you didn’t birth a child with every man who will take you! Perhaps then those monsters wouldn’t be little rotten thieves!”
Jean was now standing as well. She grabbed Janet’s thick auburn hair and threw the woman to the ground. As the woman was attempting to stand again, Jean snatched up her gun and pointed it at Janet. “How dare you speak of my sweet children! Insult me all you want, but don’t speak ill of them again. Believe me I will kill you if I hear you breathe their names again!” Janet cowered beneath the eye of the gun.
“Please…Jean, I am sorry…” she muttered.
Jean threw the gun down into the Janet’s pile of wet, dirty clothes. She retrieved her own damp clothing and began to dress herself. Picking up the useless bucket, Jean stormed off into the woods, leaving a terrified Janet behind her.
The nerve of that woman, she thought. Nathan ain’t no thief. He has his own ways of obtaining supplies. The sun began to lower as she walked back and the air grew noticeably colder.
Thanks for reading! Any constructive criticism will be extremely welcome!
Last edited: