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murielleLJ SURVIVOR 2020—Individual Immunity Challenge 1: When It Rains, It Pours
It wasn’t really snowing, not really, just ice crystals hanging like frozen glitter in the air. It was pretty and benign if it stayed this way, but she’d lived long enough to know it could get ugly, fast. Reaching over she fiddled with the radio until she found a station that advertised weather reports every half hour. A glance at the clock told her she had about twenty minutes to wait. She’d pulled off the main highway about an hour ago and was heading toward the lake at a nice little clip. If her calculations were correct she’d get to the house before dark. And if the weather behaved she’d be all settled in before the storm hit the area.
~~~
The call from her boss came early in the morning, before her first cup of coffee.
“So,” Dave said after a perfunctory exchange of banalities, “I’d like to see you. Can you be here around ten?”
There was no doubt about it, she was about to be “let go” and there was nothing she could do about it. They had been great when Ron was killed. Even after the autopsy results showed him to have been drunk as a skunk and they wouldn’t be paying her compensation, or his pension, or anything really. They paid for the funeral and therapy, put her on long-term disability, but when they wanted her back on the job, and the doctor they’d sent her to said she could do it, she just couldn’t. She was shattered and there weren’t any king’s horses or king’s men to put her together again.
The meeting took less than thirty minutes. Dave had been kind, but firm. They couldn’t afford to keep her on any longer, but they were willing to give her a generous severance package which she spent ten minutes going over carefully. She was, after all, one of their best accountants. It was generous, very generous and her pension was secure.
She went straight to the sofa, in her coat and boots, flopped down on it, and stayed there until her bladder demanded her attention, after-which, she tore her clothes off, dropped them on the floor, and got into a steaming shower. Now what? She thought. Now, what on earth do I do?
~~~
She opened the door wrapped in Ron’s old terry robe and a towel around her hair. The man in the FedEx uniform was holding a package in one hand and extending a clipboard toward her with the other.
“Sign, please, Ma’am.”
She did. And he handed her the slim package, bid her good afternoon, and left.
Probably more stuff from Ron’s lawyer, or his family, or the rest of the goons he owed. She tossed it unopened on the dining-room table with all the rest of the flotsam and jetsam and went to bed.
At three she was wide awake. Got up, made a sandwich, and grabbing a cola from the fridge sat down at the cluttered dining table to eat.
She picked up the package and opened it. She didn’t recognize the lawyer’s name, but she did recognize Beverly Anne Sommers’ name.
“Auntie Bev!”
Her eyes raced down the page … regret to inform you … as her only surviving … take possession before the holidays … please phone … as soon as possible … Etc., etc., etc.
She was dialing the number before she remembered the time.
~~~
Just in case the storm hit hard, she stopped at a little Mom and Pop shop and picked up a few essentials. Her aunt hadn’t lived in the house for a while, so she doubted there’d be much in the way of provisions.
Brandon L. Smith arranged to meet her at the house to give her the keys, have her sign a few more papers—it was amazing what could be done remotely, but wasn’t 2020 all about learning what could be accomplished remotely? And as she pulled up in front of her great aunt Bev’s old 1960’s ranch he was there as promised, looking a lot more casual than she’s imagined from his voice and formal manner. He was bundled up, but instead of the three-piece suit she’s envisioned, he was wearing an old sheepskin jacket and jeans.
“Mrs.…”
She was holding her mask to her face. “Mr. Smith! Why don’t we go inside and do this? I’m sure it will be warmer.” She reached to turn off the ignition.
“Actually, I don’t have the time, my plane leaves in forty minutes. Why don’t I just get in your car, as it’s still running? It won’t take long.”
I signed the papers and took the keys and an envelope of contact information, “but you probably won’t get anyone till after the holidays. The electricity’s on, but not the heating. Look, there is something else. Have you booked into a motel? No? Well, I think that would be wise. Your great aunt was a hoarder. Frankly, no one knew, until the end when it became necessary to get into her house. You’re not going to be able to live here. It wouldn’t be safe. In fact, the township wants to have the place condemned, but we can deal with that when I come back. In the meantime, make yourself comfortable at a motel or something and have a think about what you want to do with the place. We’ll talk again in the new year.”
And he was gone. And he wouldn’t be back for a month. She tucked her mask in her pocket and got out of the car.
She stood in front of the old ranch house that had been a refuge for her and her mother when her father had “taken off,” back in the seventies. That was until her mother and aunt stopped speaking. Why she never knew. But she remembered loving her aunt, and her aunt’s place. It couldn’t be that bad, could it? It probably just needs a little attention, some soap and elbow grease, a little time, and patience, and TLC.
It's really starting to come down now, she thought as she made her way to the front door. She tried the key in the lock, it turned, but push as hard as she could it wouldn’t open. She walked over to her left to the bedroom windows, maybe she could pry one open and get in that way, but by the way the curtains were pressed against the glass she knew there were things against the windows. Then she remembered the side door between the house and the garage.
There was the fence she used to climb over, too young and energetic to actually open the gate. She opened the gate. Walked the few steps to the side door and after a bit of a struggle to get the key to turn was finally able to push the door open.
The smell hit her like a wave of foul sewer water. Her stomach heaved. She turned and vomited up everything she’d eaten that day and maybe the day before.
She turned back. This was her home now. It was all she had. This house and her severance pay. She’d turned over everything else, except her personal items, to Ron’s family to fight over. After the debts were covered, there wasn’t much left, but she was sure it would keep them busy for the next year at least, and most importantly, out of her hair.
She fished her mask out of her pocket. Her fingers searched for and finally found, a light switch. She flicked it on, stepped into the porch, turned to her left, and shrieked. She backed up and opened the garage door. This time she sobbed. All around her, everywhere she looked, all she saw was garbage bags, floor to ceiling garbage bags.
“Oh! Auntie Bev! What happened? What happened to you?”
~~~
There was something on the TV, but she couldn’t have told you what it was if her life had depended on it. She sat on top of the ridiculously flowery motel bedspread with the pillows stacked up behind her on an island of strewn papers with a look of determination on her face. There were five tabs open on her laptop and she had a little dime-store writing pad in her hand with two lists running down the open page and she was furiously adding to them.
She had a plan.
To be continued….
It wasn’t really snowing, not really, just ice crystals hanging like frozen glitter in the air. It was pretty and benign if it stayed this way, but she’d lived long enough to know it could get ugly, fast. Reaching over she fiddled with the radio until she found a station that advertised weather reports every half hour. A glance at the clock told her she had about twenty minutes to wait. She’d pulled off the main highway about an hour ago and was heading toward the lake at a nice little clip. If her calculations were correct she’d get to the house before dark. And if the weather behaved she’d be all settled in before the storm hit the area.
~~~
The call from her boss came early in the morning, before her first cup of coffee.
“So,” Dave said after a perfunctory exchange of banalities, “I’d like to see you. Can you be here around ten?”
There was no doubt about it, she was about to be “let go” and there was nothing she could do about it. They had been great when Ron was killed. Even after the autopsy results showed him to have been drunk as a skunk and they wouldn’t be paying her compensation, or his pension, or anything really. They paid for the funeral and therapy, put her on long-term disability, but when they wanted her back on the job, and the doctor they’d sent her to said she could do it, she just couldn’t. She was shattered and there weren’t any king’s horses or king’s men to put her together again.
The meeting took less than thirty minutes. Dave had been kind, but firm. They couldn’t afford to keep her on any longer, but they were willing to give her a generous severance package which she spent ten minutes going over carefully. She was, after all, one of their best accountants. It was generous, very generous and her pension was secure.
She went straight to the sofa, in her coat and boots, flopped down on it, and stayed there until her bladder demanded her attention, after-which, she tore her clothes off, dropped them on the floor, and got into a steaming shower. Now what? She thought. Now, what on earth do I do?
~~~
She opened the door wrapped in Ron’s old terry robe and a towel around her hair. The man in the FedEx uniform was holding a package in one hand and extending a clipboard toward her with the other.
“Sign, please, Ma’am.”
She did. And he handed her the slim package, bid her good afternoon, and left.
Probably more stuff from Ron’s lawyer, or his family, or the rest of the goons he owed. She tossed it unopened on the dining-room table with all the rest of the flotsam and jetsam and went to bed.
At three she was wide awake. Got up, made a sandwich, and grabbing a cola from the fridge sat down at the cluttered dining table to eat.
She picked up the package and opened it. She didn’t recognize the lawyer’s name, but she did recognize Beverly Anne Sommers’ name.
“Auntie Bev!”
Her eyes raced down the page … regret to inform you … as her only surviving … take possession before the holidays … please phone … as soon as possible … Etc., etc., etc.
She was dialing the number before she remembered the time.
~~~
Just in case the storm hit hard, she stopped at a little Mom and Pop shop and picked up a few essentials. Her aunt hadn’t lived in the house for a while, so she doubted there’d be much in the way of provisions.
Brandon L. Smith arranged to meet her at the house to give her the keys, have her sign a few more papers—it was amazing what could be done remotely, but wasn’t 2020 all about learning what could be accomplished remotely? And as she pulled up in front of her great aunt Bev’s old 1960’s ranch he was there as promised, looking a lot more casual than she’s imagined from his voice and formal manner. He was bundled up, but instead of the three-piece suit she’s envisioned, he was wearing an old sheepskin jacket and jeans.
“Mrs.…”
She was holding her mask to her face. “Mr. Smith! Why don’t we go inside and do this? I’m sure it will be warmer.” She reached to turn off the ignition.
“Actually, I don’t have the time, my plane leaves in forty minutes. Why don’t I just get in your car, as it’s still running? It won’t take long.”
I signed the papers and took the keys and an envelope of contact information, “but you probably won’t get anyone till after the holidays. The electricity’s on, but not the heating. Look, there is something else. Have you booked into a motel? No? Well, I think that would be wise. Your great aunt was a hoarder. Frankly, no one knew, until the end when it became necessary to get into her house. You’re not going to be able to live here. It wouldn’t be safe. In fact, the township wants to have the place condemned, but we can deal with that when I come back. In the meantime, make yourself comfortable at a motel or something and have a think about what you want to do with the place. We’ll talk again in the new year.”
And he was gone. And he wouldn’t be back for a month. She tucked her mask in her pocket and got out of the car.
She stood in front of the old ranch house that had been a refuge for her and her mother when her father had “taken off,” back in the seventies. That was until her mother and aunt stopped speaking. Why she never knew. But she remembered loving her aunt, and her aunt’s place. It couldn’t be that bad, could it? It probably just needs a little attention, some soap and elbow grease, a little time, and patience, and TLC.
It's really starting to come down now, she thought as she made her way to the front door. She tried the key in the lock, it turned, but push as hard as she could it wouldn’t open. She walked over to her left to the bedroom windows, maybe she could pry one open and get in that way, but by the way the curtains were pressed against the glass she knew there were things against the windows. Then she remembered the side door between the house and the garage.
There was the fence she used to climb over, too young and energetic to actually open the gate. She opened the gate. Walked the few steps to the side door and after a bit of a struggle to get the key to turn was finally able to push the door open.
The smell hit her like a wave of foul sewer water. Her stomach heaved. She turned and vomited up everything she’d eaten that day and maybe the day before.
She turned back. This was her home now. It was all she had. This house and her severance pay. She’d turned over everything else, except her personal items, to Ron’s family to fight over. After the debts were covered, there wasn’t much left, but she was sure it would keep them busy for the next year at least, and most importantly, out of her hair.
She fished her mask out of her pocket. Her fingers searched for and finally found, a light switch. She flicked it on, stepped into the porch, turned to her left, and shrieked. She backed up and opened the garage door. This time she sobbed. All around her, everywhere she looked, all she saw was garbage bags, floor to ceiling garbage bags.
“Oh! Auntie Bev! What happened? What happened to you?”
~~~
There was something on the TV, but she couldn’t have told you what it was if her life had depended on it. She sat on top of the ridiculously flowery motel bedspread with the pillows stacked up behind her on an island of strewn papers with a look of determination on her face. There were five tabs open on her laptop and she had a little dime-store writing pad in her hand with two lists running down the open page and she was furiously adding to them.
She had a plan.
To be continued….
no subject
Yeah I remember cleaning out my aunts house in 2013. She wasn’t a hoarder but it still took 2 weeks with help.
no subject
Thank you so much for reading this and commenting so kindly. I remember you sharing that with us when you were doing it. No matter who it is, the process is difficult.
:-) You made my day!
no subject
So this absolutely hits home - that smell is SO real. And knowing it was all she had, and had no idea what to expect is such an emotional punch. This is very well-written, and I am obviously curious what the plan is (I have guesses, but I don't know)!
*big hugs*
no subject
*Big Hugs*
This is a story I've been wanting to write for a while. The trick was to make it work with the prompt. LOL!
Thank you so much for your kind words. I'm so glad you liked it.
*Hugs*
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I'm really looking forward to reading yours. <3
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I sure like the tenacity of this character!
no subject
I do see her getting through, whatever that ends up meaning. I think I'm going to have a lot of fun with this story.
I do too! I sure wish I had some of that. ;-)
*Hugs*
no subject
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It's such a heartbreaking condition, and there's no "one" cause, either.
I hope my entry didn't bring back bad memories for you. Thank you so much for reading and commenting, Alyce. <3
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I think something just goes wrong with the wiring. They stop seeing it or something. It's heartbreaking, really.
Thank you so much for reading and commenting, K. Thank you.
no subject
Good job! :)
no subject
I'm hoping I get the chance to continue it. :-)
no subject
no subject
Thank you so much for reading and commenting! <3