Stay Away from Daniel Creech

(set: $honk to 0)\ ####DAY 2 His back hurts. It's the first thought in his mind as Jamie blinks against a shaft of light through the window. (link-reveal:"Others")[(dialog:"What time is it? Did he forget to set his alarm? Why isn't his cat yelling at him right now? Did she get stuck under the sink again? He needs to babyproof those cabinets, or something.","shit. maybe")] sluggishly follow. Then he fumbles for his glasses on the nightstand and accidentally knocks over a little porcelain statue of a kitten. This... is |1>[not his apartment], is it. (click:?1)+(t8n:"fade")[####MRS. TURNER'S HOUSE(set: $honk to 1)] (event: when $honk is 1)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:2s)[Jamie groans. That would explain a lot, wouldn't it. Like why his bed creaks threateningly under his weight, just a hair too short for him to get comfortable on, and why (link-reveal:"the room")[(dialog:"On the second floor of Mrs. Turner's house lies a guest bedroom, once her daughter's but long-since empty. It still hosts all the trappings of a young woman's room: white wicker furniture, watercolor paintings of rabbits, pink stickers plastered in inconspicuous locations, and a vanity with the occasional bare patch on its dusty surface.","got it")] smells faintly of dust instead of the warm musk of regular habitation. At least the view isn't half-bad from up here: the window opens up into the back yard and the montane forest beyond, an impenetrable wall of trees and brush all aflush with leaves. As he passes by the vanity in the corner, he takes a moment to (link-reveal:"look at himself")[(dialog:"Jamie Strauss, marginally-less sweaty 28 year old. He's tall, enough so that he has to duck to get a decent view of the mirror. And broad, too. He's acquired a nice tan from all the field work he's been doing, and he's cultivated a goatee that he's unreasonably proud of, but he could really stand to get a haircut.","i guess")(set: $honk to 2)] in the mirror.] (event: when $honk is 2)[<img src="https://stayaway.neocities.org/images/jamie.png"> God, he's gonna be stuck wearing these nasty, sweaty clothes until he gets back to the garage, huh? They're nothing special - blue jeans, black t-shirt, and a flannel that it is undoubtedly way too hot for - but it's the principle of the thing. He pulls his hair back into its requisite ponytail before |2>[heading downstairs]. It'll have to do.(set: $honk to 0)]] (click:?2)+(t8n:"fade")[In the kitchen, Mrs. Turner's already up and at 'em, busying herself at the coffee maker. "Made it out of bed, didja?" Jamie laughs on reflex, embarrassed. "Sorry. Uh, good morning." She offers him a mug, which he gladly takes. Cream, no sugar, his usual. "Lance called me this morning," she starts. Her voice warbles so much that it's beginning to worry him. "Told him you was welcome to stay as long as you needed." "Oh, uh, that's really not--" "I insist," Mrs. Turner cuts him off. "It's the most he done talked to me in |4>[years], honey. You mighta been just what the Lord called for." He takes a big, long sip to give himself time to think. And to hide the fact that his whole body's tensing up, marvelously, fantastically uncomfortable.] (click:?4)+(t8n:"fade")["Can I ask you something, Mrs. Turner?" "By all means," she says. "Why has it been so long since Lance came down here? Did... something happen?" She closes her eyes and curls her fingers around her mug, soaking up the warmth. Then she says, "He got that job up in //Loo-vuhl//. Soon as he did, he said he was never comin' back... He never fit in too good, I think. Lance was very..." Mrs. Turner pauses and |5>[smacks her lips.]] (click:?5)+(t8n:"fade")["He was different," she continues. "A very smart boy, but he was sensitive. Never liked none of the same things the other boys did... never liked goin' to church... I think it, it, it stifled him, bein' here. But I never thought he would just up and leave for good." "Huh. I (link-reveal:"wouldn't have guessed")[(dialog:"'Sensitive' is not the word he would use. Not even close.","got it")]," Jamie muses. "You know, him 'n' Daniel were thick as thieves when they was younger. Daniel's a lot like him... he's //sensitive.//" Jamie can't stifle the laugh that follows. "I'm hopin' he'll come back down to Bingham Creek once he gets hisself sorted out, gets right with the Lord. Make an ol' woman's day, havin' all her youngin's around again." She takes another sip. "Now, I was meanin' to ask you... if'n I could get a |3>[touch of help] around the house..."] (click:?3)+(t8n:"fade")[It's not a bad deal, he reasons with himself. Cheaper than a motel. Less worrying about how he's going to get this stupid study done when he can just, you know, walk to the tracks. It just would have been //nicer//, perhaps, if he'd had a choice in the matter. Mrs. Turner's requests aren't all that unreasonable, either. She needs some groceries from (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[the corner store]], she's got some fresh-baked bread for (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[Beth-Ann down the way]], and she wants some help getting all the garbage off (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[the front lawn]]. No problem. It's early enough in the day that he should have time to swing past (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[the mechanic's]], too, and get his bags out of the car. A change of clothes would do him wonders.]

The problem with not having a car, Jamie quickly realizes, is that he has to walk. Everywhere. It's not that he has a problem with more, uh, fuel-efficient means of getting around. His old bike's a well-loved beast, having seen him through high school, college, and (link-reveal:"several break-ups")[(dialog:"A broken heart might sting, but it can still pump just fine, and it's a lot harder to agonize over why his girl left him when all his blood is coursing through his legs instead of his brain, propelling himself away from all those miserable thoughts as fast as he can pedal.","got it")]. The bigger thing weighing on him is that it's so //slow//. He plods down the road as the sun rises higher, humidity settling into the bowl of the valley with nowhere to escape to. So instead it clings to him like a film. If nothing else, at least it gives him the chance to take in the scenery. <img src="https://stayaway.neocities.org/images/mtns2.png"> There's something humbling about the mountains rising up and around him in every possible direction, swaddling this little town with their arms older than bones. Unlike some of the hills he drove past on the way in, not a single square inch of their forest has been touched. No (link-reveal:"awkward bald patches")[(dialog:"Sure, a lot of these mining companies promise they'll replant the forest they shave away to strip mine those subcutaneous layers beneath, but it takes a long, long time for those saplings to cover the gnarled and ugly scars left behind.","got it")] sit on their faces. Frankly, it's difficult to believe that //anywhere// looks like this. That, at one point, most places //did//. Deep in thought, Jamie crosses over the bridge and turns down Main Street.(click-append:"Main Street.")[ The name promises an experience that it can't quite deliver. On one side, old brick rises from the earth in a row of dusty, abandoned storefronts - a boutique here, an electronic repair shop there. Few show any signs of life. And somehow, the most bustling of them is a CBD store, its signage and interior unsettlingly modern in comparison. On the other side sits a small field of concrete, once the foundation of historic buildings just like these, judging from the remains. And now they're just an eyesore. He has to wonder what the purpose was. And |1>[just past them...]] (click:?1)+(t8n:"fade")[####THE FOOD BARN(set:$honk to 1)] (event: when $honk is 1)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:3s)[Jamie's gotta admit, when he heard about 'the corner store', he wasn't expecting something like this. The Food Barn, as it's so charmingly named, has more in common with the big chain stores back home than it does with, like, one of those old-timey general stores you'd see in (link-reveal:"a western")[(dialog:"He can't even fully explain why that was the image in his mind. He might just be a little stupid.","i can see that")]. It's so mundane and urban that it takes him by surprise. In fact, when he steps inside its automatic doors and feels the rush of air-conditioning, he's struck by a sudden sense of familiarity. Relief. Jamie grabs a cart and (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[[gets to shopping.->corner store 2]]](set:$honk to 0)]]

Beth-Ann. The one with the tomatoes, he remembers that much. She isn't but a few doors down, and Jamie can't help but feel a little silly, toting a loaf of dense bread down the road like he's about to (link-reveal:"ask her for a cup of sugar")[(dialog:"Up until this point, he assumed that this was the kind of thing that only happened in sitcoms. The only thing he's ever asked his neighbor for is //to shut the hell up, it's 3 in the morning and the bass is rattling his teeth out of his skull//. (At least, that's what he envisioned saying. In reality, it was a lot more passive-aggressive.)","got it")]. (if: $lawn is 0)[ He tiptoes past the explosion of garbage on Mrs. Turner's lawn. She'd made it sound like a raccoon had gotten into her trash, but that must have been... one very aggressive raccoon. ] The road itself is tight and narrow, laid into an alley between one row of houses and the next, with barely enough room for a single car to squeeze down it. And the chain-link fence pinning him in on both sides makes him hope that nobody even tries it. "Look for the big ol' bird-feeder out front," she'd told him. She wasn't kidding - it's shaped like a house in miniature, half as tall as him, and it sits square in the middle of the front lawn. A flock of (link-reveal:"pigeons")[(dialog:"Wildlife itself isn't exactly his forte, being more of a plant expert, although he knows enough about the local ecology to be able to identify a fucking pigeon. These ones have glossy, dark blue heads and necks, which, when they catch the sun just right, erupt into a green-and-purple sheen. Like a bruise.","got it")] flutters and coos around it, their vocalizations getting louder and more curious as he approaches. They still dust up and fly away as one when Jamie |1>[gets too close], though. (click:?1)+(t8n:"fade")[He knocks on the door. And waits. (t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:3s)[The screen door remains shut, but the wooden door behind it cracks open just wide enough to admit a woman's face. "Can I help you?" "Hi," Jamie says. The beat goes on a second too long. "Uh. I've got something for you from Mrs. Turner? I'm staying with her for awhile, and she wanted me to--" "Well, my word, why didn't you say somethin'? C'mon in!(if:$clothes is 0)[ Goodness, you must be sweatin' half to death!]" Both of the doors suddenly swing open, and he has to jerk back to avoid being clocked in the face. "(link-reveal:"Karen")[(dialog:"//Who the hell is Karen?//","dunno man")] was tellin' me |2>[all about you...]"]] (click:?2)+(t8n:"fade")[He follows her in, left with little choice after she just up and walked away before he could even make his delivery. "It's bread, by the way," he calls after her, like it's helpful. Then he stops short when he sees a living room full of women, their conversation abruptly halting the moment he walks in. "Sit down a spell, won't you," the woman - (link-reveal:"Beth-Ann")[(dialog:"Short, squat, and sporting a stern white bob. The speed from which her closed-off expression has flipped to a toothy, lipsticked grin is unnerving.","yeah...")], presumably - tells him. "We's just talkin' about Ruth... this is that boy she's hostin', Lance's friend. (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[What's your name, again?->Beth-Ann 2]]"]

Jamie gingerly steps onto the front lawn, and his heart sinks. There, he's greeted by a maelstrom of garbage: plastic wrappers, milk cartons torn in half, crumpled paper towels blowing away in the breeze. He rushes out to grab them before they can tumble into the neighbor's (link-reveal:"bushes")[(dialog:"//Kalmia latifolia//, the mountain laurel. A common decorative shrub, with glossy green leaves year-round and starbursts of white flowers in the spring. They're the bane of woods-trekkers, however, frequently found in hellish gnarled thickets just waiting to sprain your ankle.","got it")]. What the hell kind of (link-reveal:"raccoon")[(dialog:"Oh, come on. We all know what a raccoon is. This seems like the work of not just one, but a whole pack. A very angry pack with a lot of issues to work out.","got it")] could have done this? He sighs and |1>[gets to work]. (click:?1)+(t8n:"fade")[Cans of baked beans and cream of mushroom soup, washed clean. |2>[Into the trash bag.]] (click:?2)[Empty pill bottles with chew marks. |3>[In the bag.]] (click:?3)[Wet cardboard. |4>[Bag.]] (click:?4)[He stands up straight, cracks his back, and groans. It doesn't feel like he's making any progress, even though the trash bag is getting heavier and heavier in his hands.(set: $honk to 1)] (event: when $honk is 1)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:3s)["Got yer work cut out for ya, don'tcha?" Startled, Jamie jerks around to spot (link-reveal:"a shirtless man")[(dialog:"Tanned and wrinkled, like a raisin left in the sun. He's got close-cropped hair, bright blue eyes, and a distinct lack of several front teeth.","got it")] walking down the road. Or at least, he was. Now, though, he just seems to be enjoying the spectacle. "Tell me about it," he mutters. "It's yer trash cans." "What?" "Yer trash cans," he repeats, louder. "(link-reveal:"Them chains")[(dialog:"Upon closer investigation, Jamie realizes that they've been chained to a nearby tree. And several bricks lay nearby, presumably kept on top of the lids. To keep out the fucking //bears//.","uh-oh")] ain't gonna do nothin' to |5>[keep them bears out!"]](set:$honk to 0)] (click:?5)+(t8n:"fade")[Jamie glances down at the mess before him. At the suspicious absence of any and every scrap of food. "Oh, God. The bears //are// real, aren't they," he says weakly. The man bursts out laughing. "You think they was made up? Man, you ain't from these parts, is you?" "Is it that obvious?" "I tell you what," he starts, tucking his thumbs in the pockets of his ragged, holey jeans. "I can fix 'em up for ya, real easy. Jus' takes a couple'a straps. Them bears 're too stupid to open 'em up... on'y cost ya ten dollars." Something tells him he's about to get ripped off. "Thanks, but this isn't even my house," Jamie tells him. "I'm only staying here until my (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[[car gets fixed->front lawn 2]]]."]

Retracing his steps back to the Creech Garage is easier said than done. Jamie makes a wrong turn at the stop sign and has to double back, cursing himself for managing to get lost in a town that can't be bigger than a square fucking mile. (t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:3s)[####THE CREECH GARAGE] (t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:6s)[At least the van really //was// towed up here, in (link-reveal:"all its glory")[(dialog:"Old Faithful, i.e. the decades-old company van. She's dented in places and rusted in others, but generally regarded as a trustworthy vehicle for long-distance travel. Moreso than Jamie's Honda Civic, anyway.","got it")]. There's an array of tools lined up beside it from smallest to largest. Just like the others. Now that he's got a calmer head on his shoulders, a remarkable order unfolds in the chaos before him. Some of these weathered old frames have become more fixtures of the environment than cars in their own right, but the rest appear to have been moved - rectangular patches of pale, yellowed grass dot the land, indicating a once-haphazard jumble of half-finished restoration projects. Now, though, they've been arranged into neat rows and sporadic clusters, working around the immovable objects in their path like a slime mold. There's clearly a method to the madness, even if Jamie doesn't know nearly enough about cars to discern it. That said, despite his reassurances that he wants Jamie to go home almost as badly as Jamie himself does, Daniel is |1>[nowhere to be found.]] (click:?1)+(t8n:"fade")[Jamie weaves through the mess and knocks on the front door. (t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:4s)[It swings open to reveal Tracy Creech, dressed in yet another Garfield shirt. "Mornin', Jamie," she says, like they're old friends. "Lookin' for Daniel?" "Sort of?" He rubs the back of his neck. "I was mostly wanting to get my stuff out of the van. I could use a new shirt," he laughs. "Oh, you go on ahead. I could use a spot of company, anyway." Well, he didn't expect this to be a group activity, but if it means that Daniel's not gonna come up on him rummaging around the van with (link-reveal:"a shotgun")[(dialog:"Maybe it's not the kindest assumption in the world, but he's seen what people back home do to suspected thieves. Out here? He's not gonna risk it.","fair")] in hand, |2>[more power to her].]] (click:?2)+(t8n:"fade")["Daniel was tellin' me your tranny's shot," Tracy says. "I ain't sure where he got to... ain't seen him since this mornin'." Jamie unlocks the van and clambers into the back, where his bags are. "Yeah, well," he starts, raising his voice for her benefit, "it's no big deal. I'm kind of glad, actually." One of his duffel bags has fallen over on the trip up the mountain, spilling its contents: some shirts, some underwear, a bottle of aspirin and a stick of deodorant. He stuffs it all back in, realizing, with a little pang of worry, that his shit's been sitting in the heat all day. Including (link-reveal:"his medicine")[(dialog:"He was warned not to bring it on long trips - and especially not across state lines - but he's almost due for his shots, and if he doesn't take them on time, he turns into a huge fucking mess. Crying, sulking, threatening to rear end people who don't signal to merge, the works.","yikes")]. Jamie shakes a vial as if he'll be able to tell it's gone bad just by sight. "Why come?" He chooses his next words carefully, suddenly aware he's talking to //Daniel's mom//. "I, uh, I get the feeling he (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[doesn't like me very much->the mechanic's 2]]," Jamie says.]

Canned beans. Check. Skim milk. Check. (link-reveal:"Cat food")[(dialog:"Jamie's pretty sure he didn't see a cat anywhere around Mrs. Turner's place, but he's not about to ask.","got it")]. Check. Jamie doesn't ordinarily think twice about his shopping experience - he gets in, he gets out, he spends a few minutes bitching about how crowded the stores are these days, the usual - but try as he might, he can't shake one thing. Everybody's fucking |2>[//staring//] at him. (click:?2)+(t8n:"fade")[It's so consistent that he stops for a moment to check his face in his phone's camera, just to make sure he doesn't have something stuck there. And... nope. He looks as plain as ever. Tension laces itself (link-reveal:"tighter")[(dialog:"Is it the mask? He doesn't see anybody else wearing a mask...","maybe")] and (link-reveal:"tighter")[(dialog:"Oh God. Maybe it's his hips. They're all staring at his hips.","i don't know...")] in him with every (link-reveal:"curious gaze")[(dialog:"//his hair is too long his hands are too small he looks like a little fucking FREAK//","whoa, calm down")] shot his way. Determined not to have a panic attack in the middle of a goddamn Food Barn, he forces himself to grab a few creature comforts of his own, too. Like (link-reveal:"Gatorade")[(dialog:"Blue flavor, of course; scientifically, it's the most hydrating flavor.","sure it is")]. Covering Mrs. Turner's groceries is the least he can do, he thinks. His credit card might not cover a total transmission replacement, but it can handle corned beef hash and Wonder bread. Once all's said and done, he gets in line and |1>[waits].] (click:?1)+(t8n:"fade")["...I'll meet up with your momma after she gets home, then." Swipe. Beep. "Yeah, whatever." "They don't give you //nothin'// on these things," mutters the woman ahead of him as she swipes a card. "You know, I don't recall the last time you 'n' Shannon spent time together! You two should get outta the house! Go run around in the woods, blow the stink off ya..." Beep. "Uh-huh." "Gettin' some sun would do you a world of good, honey. You're so pale! I liketa think you was sick!"(set:$honk to 1)] (event: when $honk is 1)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:6s)[Tap, tap. "Here's your receipt. Have a Food Barn day," the cashier says, voice flat.(set:$honk to 2)] (event: when $honk is 2)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:9s)[Jamie patiently waits while the woman ahead of him takes her sweet time getting her shit together, and, you know, actually ending the conversation. (link-reveal:"The cashier")[(dialog:"A teenage girl best described as 'Hot Topic Goth'. She's got dyed black hair that doesn't quite reach to the roots, black paint flaking off her nails, and a look on her face that screams 'wanting to be anywhere else right now'.","got it")] looks just as bored with it as he is. They exchange the same awkward pleasantries as at any other store before falling into silence. It's kind of nice, actually. For once, somebody //doesn't// want to talk to him. Hell, she's barely even paying attention to him. "Have a Food Barn day," she says to him at last. Jamie quietly snorts. That can't be the line they're actually supposed to say. It's too funny. "Thanks. You too..." He trails off, distracted by the (link-reveal:"ring on her finger")[(dialog:"Not a wedding ring, thank God. It's a simple band on her index finger, a familiar dark gradient of blue-to-pink.","ohhh okay")] as she |3>[hands him his receipt].]]] (click:?3)+(t8n:"fade")["I like your ring, by the way," he says with a smile. Hopefully it's not coming across as weird. Judging by the way her eyes widen, though, he may have hit the mark. "Uh... thanks," she says, caught off guard. A brief moment of solidarity flickers into being.(set:$honk to 3)] (event: when $honk is 3)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:4s)[...And then it's over as quickly as it came, and Jamie's (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[[shuffling out of the store->take his leave]]] with an armful of grocery bags.(set:$honk to 0)]]\ (set:$groceries to 2)

He's marshaled to an armchair, which, while comfortable, immediately threatens to engulf him; he sinks what feels like a foot deep into it. Despite this, his spine remains stiff as a board. It's the same introduction as all the others: Jamie Strauss, Kentucky Forestry Division, et cetera. The gaggle of women surrounding him waits eagerly for more, leaning forward on their knees, but he doesn't have (link-reveal:"much more to say")[(dialog:"What would they even care? He's gonna be out of here in a week or so. They'll never see him again. And the intimate details of his personal life aren't worth discussing, anyway - no massive family tree to discuss, no girlfriend to write home about. Just a cat and a roommate.","makes sense")]. "It's just so nice to see her havin' company again," Beth-Ann says, trying to disguise her disappointment. "All her kids done left Bingham Creek, 'cept for Tracy 'n' Judy. And their kids... and //their// kids... She ain't seen Lance in an age. Is he comin' down here, too?" She's so enthused about the idea that Jamie legitimately feels bad when he has to tell her, "No, I'm just here for work. Once my |1>[car gets fixed], I'm supposed to get a hotel out of town." (click:?1)+(t8n:"fade")[A woman with a bright red perm hums in assent. "I heard (link-reveal:"Daniel was takin' care of ya")[(dialog:"Jesus, news travels fast around here.","no kidding")]." "Now, I don't care what they say about him," another woman butts in. She's a bit younger, about his mom's age, if he had to guess. "I don't care what kinda drugs that boy's on, if he's on meth or pills or whatever... He fixed my car for half a' what Dallas was gon' charge me!"(set: $honk to 1)] (event: when $honk is 1)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:4s)[She drops that little tidbit so casually that Jamie's brain takes a moment to process it. His gaze darts between each of them in turn, then blurts out, "Did you say |2>[//meth?//]"]] (click:?2)+(t8n:"fade")["I don't care //what// people say," Karen insists. "Whatever queer thing he wants to get up to out in them woods, that ain't my business. He's a good man!" "Mmhm. Now, Dallas, that boy just ain't right," says the redhead. "I'm tellin' you, Brenda, Dallas is runnin' a racket on us. Takin' advantage of a poor woman! For shame!" They all click their tongues. |3>[Jamie stays quiet, curiosity getting the better of him.]] (click:?3)+(t8n:"fade")[Beth-Ann shakes her head. "He's always screamin' up 'n' down the road in that gaudy, gaudy vehicle... He'd liketa run over (link-reveal:"Charlie")[(dialog:"A dog. Hopefully.","hopefully...")] one of these days. Used to, I'd let him out in the neighborhood... I keep him in the yard now." "I think he's a //drunk//," whispers Karen conspiratorially. "Didja see where he hit that stop sign?" The others make low sounds of agreement. "I reckon you could let Charlie out for a spell, Beth-Ann. I heard Dallas and his buddies was goin' out huntin' for the weekend," Brenda tells her. "Oh, no," she laughs. "I ain't gonna have him shoot my damn dog, too!" The three of them titter, and Jamie can't help but snort, too. It seems to remind them that he's even there.(set: $honk to 2)] (event: when $honk is 2)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:6s)["You said Ruth sent some of her bread?" Beth-Ann asks, as the focus of the conversation suddenly turns upon him. He holds it up, then hands it to her. "Yep. I'm not sure what kind of bread it is... it's kind of heavy." "Oh, that'll be her cornbread, I can smell it from here. Thank you for stoppin' on by." She smiles at him. He recognizes it as the polite kind of smile that signifies now would be a good time to (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[take his leave]]. Before he gets sucked into another round of gossip, that is.(set: $honk to 0)(set: $bethann to 2)]]

"Oh, shit." It comes out more of a //shee-yit// as the man snaps his fingers. "I seen J.D.'s kid towin' somethin' up the mountain... that was you?" Jamie resumes plucking trash off the ground. "That was me." "God damn. I got a buddy who coulda fixed you up... that kid is |1>[baaad news, man]," he drawls. He's leaning on the trash cans now, having made himself good and comfortable. (click:?1)+(t8n:"fade")[That gets Jamie's attention.(set:$honk to 1)] (event: when $honk is 1)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:3s)[\ (if:$bethann is 1)["I've heard some things," Jamie says slowly. "Is he, like... (link-reveal:"Is he on drugs?")[(dialog:"Not that it matters, exactly. At least not from a strictly moral standpoint. But if there's anything he's learned about having methhead cousins, it's that you don't leave them unattended with things you care about. Like your car.","i guess")] He seemed kind of... //off//." That gets a snort out of him. "I mean, I hear he's growin' some pret-ty damn good weed up there, but... Somethin' just ain't right about him. Always up to some kinda freak shit." He spits. "You best |2>[stay away from Daniel Creech], I'm tellin' ya.." "I'll take your word for it," says Jamie, a chill running down his spine.(set:$honk to 0)]\ (else:)["I mean, I guess he //did// seem kind of weird... but I'm not sure what you mean," Jamie says slowly. "Always up to some kinda freak shit," the man tells him, spitting on the ground. "I caught him tryna peek inside my momma's house before. And I beat him fuckin' bloody! Ain't nobody fuckin' with my momma!" "Jesus. Are you serious?" "As a fuckin' heart attack." He thumps his chest with a fist. "You best |2>[stay away from Daniel Creech], I'm tellin' ya."(set:$honk to 0)]]] (click:?2)+(t8n:"fade")[The trash on the lawn slowly dwindles to nothing. Jamie ties up the bag and tosses it back in the can, stacking all the bricks he can find on top of the lid. "Now, my buddy Dallas, he'll getcha fixed up right," the man goes on. "You want his number? Tell him Ray-ray sent ya!" "Thanks, but I'm good," says Jamie, looking for a way out of the conversation. "I've got a lot of stuff to take care of, so..." Ray-ray doesn't take the hint. "Hey, you need - you need some shit taken care of? Ray-ray's gotcha! Won't cost ya but a couple bucks... or a pack of cigs. You got any cigs on you, man?" "Nope! No cigarettes!" He edges toward the other end of the street. "You see Dallas, you tell him I sent ya!" Ray-ray calls after him, voice fading as Jamie (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[[disappears around the corner.->take his leave]]](set: $lawn to 2)]

"Oh, he don't mean no harm," Tracy says with the utmost confidence. "He's just awful particular. He don't like surprises too much... and we don't get strangers comin' up to the garage every day." Satisfied that he's gotten all his stuff together at last, Jamie hops back out of the van and locks its doors behind him. "I'll (link-reveal:"take your word for it")[(dialog:"The way Daniel glared at him while pointedly stabbing his green beans tells him that that's not the whole story. But Jamie doesn't think he's going to get very far by arguing with the guy's mom.","yeah...")]," he says. "I'm just glad to hear that Lance is holdin' up okay. He ain't called back home in so long, I'd of thought he was dead!" She chuckles. "This what the two of you do for a livin'? |1>[Go out lookin' at trees?]" (click:?1)+(t8n:"fade")[Jamie laughs, too, but out of nerves more than anything. "Not exactly. I mean, yes, that's a big part of it, but really what I'm looking for are endangered species," he explains. "(link-reveal:"Among other things.")[(dialog:"It's not just the rare ones that are important. Jamie's goal is to map the species diversity and distribution of the surrounding area, so even the boring, commonplace species matter... but man, if it's not exciting to witness something that so few people ever get to see.","got it")] We're trying to figure out how the environment's gonna be affected by the added traffic. And my job is to go out and survey the trail sites, you know, take stock of what all's out there. Lance's job is nicer, I think - he gets to sit in an office and send emails." This time, his laugh is more genuine. "Some (link-reveal:"protected species")[(dialog:"Case in point: //Minuartia cumberlandensis//, or the Cumberland sandwort. A humble little plant in the carnation family, found only on the Cumberland Plateau, which extends into Southern Kentucky. To the outside observer, it's nothing special, with blooms no bigger than a pinky nail, but rare things like these are worth protecting. No matter how showy.","got it")] are so rare that finding one... might throw a wrench in the railway conversion plans, to be honest. Kind of a double-edged sword." "You got your work cut out for ya, don'tcha," Tracy says, amused. "It's a nice idea... I know Beth-Ann down the way's got her mind set on them trails. Been agitatin' for 'em for //years//." "That so?" She nods. "Mmhm. But there's a lotta folks 'round these parts what might |2>[give you trouble]."] (click:?2)+(t8n:"fade")["What? Why?" Jamie blurts out. Tracy leans her weight on her hip and folds her arms. "You're in coal country, honey. Coal made this town. And I know plenty a'folks that're hopin' (link-reveal:"Kerotec's")[(dialog:"One of the coal companies active in the area. Many of the local mines have been shuttered, but some continue to operate.","got it")] gonna start minin' on (link-reveal:"Black Mountain")[(dialog:"The highest peak in all of Kentucky, and one of the many Appalachian mountains encircling Bingham Creek.","got it")] again," she tells him. "But those railways don't even have tracks on them anymore," he says slowly. "If they wanted to use them, they would have." An uncomfortable darkness settles over her face. Jamie realizes in that moment where Daniel gets it from. "Oh, I know," she mutters. "They ain't had tracks in decades. But they ain't let go of those trails in all that time, and it keeps everybody hopin'. Hopin' and prayin'..." (t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:10s)[It doesn't make sense. Why hang onto those (link-reveal:"easements")[(dialog:"A right to enter or use property belonging to another party. In Bingham Creek, the coal companies effectively borrow the land from local landowners to build their railways, but these permissions can extend many, many years into the future, and can only be revoked by the companies themselves. Navigating stuff like this is more Lance's job than his. Thank God.","got it")] for so long? It's not like an empty track can bring money into Bingham Creek. And from the looks of things, money's the one thing this town desperately needs. Hell, that's the whole reason he's here: do the study, get the permits, turn this place into a trail town, and give it a bit of economic CPR. He mulls it over as he thanks Mrs. Creech and (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[heads out again->take his leave]], fruitlessly turning it this way and that in his mind.(set:$clothes to 2)]]

By now, noon's crept around the corner, and the sun hangs lazily overhead as Jamie hastily heads back to gets changed. His usual field outfit looks a little something like this: orange polo shirt, khaki shorts, crew socks tugged up to his shins, and chunky brown hiking boots, perfect for a trek through hilly terrain. Clipboard in hand and rucksack on his shoulder, Jamie sets out for the |1>[old train tracks]. (click:?1)+(t8n:"fade")[<img src="https://stayaway.neocities.org/images/tracks1.png"> The ballast has spilled free of its confines, gravel having been kicked every which way, leaving the trail boundaries fuzzy. It's been left unused for so long that grasses have taken root underneath, plentiful (link-reveal:"shoots of green")[(dialog:"Difficult to identify for certain, but likely in the genus //Andropogon//. More commonly known as bluestem grass, this hardy plant can grow in a wide variety of soil conditions, thriving where other species have difficulty. So named for the way its stem turns blue as it matures.","got it")] bursting through the loose stones with joyful abandon. Jamie breathes in deep. Here, the air smells grassy and fresh, delightfully ripe with all the burgeoning scents of the spring. He's never felt more glad that he's not prone to allergies. Conceptually, his job is simple. So simple, in fact, that it's almost a little insulting that they wanted a master's degree to perform it. He's sectioned off the land he's surveying into plots about the size of a tennis court, and further still into nested sub-plots within them, and he's to go through each with a fine-toothed comb and... count. Log. Press samples he (link-reveal:"can't identify")[(dialog:"Admittedly, he's gotten pretty good at it, but even the experts don't know it all. Life's a fuzzier subject than people like to admit.","got it")] by sight alone. Rinse and repeat all the way down the tracks, or lack thereof. |2>[He gets to work.]] (click:?2)+(t8n:"fade")[Plot 1. Just off the start of the tracks. The immediate area is pretty sparse, plant-wise - he's near a developed part of town. Primarily grasses. |3>[Next.]] (click:?3)+(t8n:"fade")[Plot (random:2,8). (random:20,50) species. Not bad, all things considered. The land nearest the tracks has been kept pretty barren, but saplings have been coming in for a good while, it looks like. |4>[Next.]] (click:?4)+(t8n:"fade")[Plot (random:15,25). He's skipping a few laterally, heading out in a longitudinal direction instead. He can't help himself - the trees call out to him, with promises of lifeforms more interesting than the hundredth patch of bluestem grass. Might as well have fun with it. After all, he's got nothing but time to kill. |5>[Next.]] (click:?5)+(t8n:"fade")[Plot (random:26,35). The sun drops well below the line of the trees, tinting the sky a balmy yellow. Jamie's deep in the heart of the woods, far enough removed from town that the only sounds are those of buzzing wings and wistful birdsong. Shadows stretch out before him. He'll have to head home soon. |6>[Next.]] (click:?6)+(t8n:"fade")[A curious smell seeps into the air. Earthy, almost. Like iron. Jamie pauses, stakes in hand. Then decides to |7>[follow his nose.]] (click:?7)+(t8n:"fade")[The smell swells into something heavy and fetid.(set:$honk to 1)] (event:when $honk is 1)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:3s)[There. (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[Behind that tree.->the tracks 2]](set:$honk to 0)]]

An outline takes shape. (t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:3s)+(link-style:(text-colour:orange))[(link:"//Turn around.//")[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:3s)[He can't.(set:$honk to 1)]]] (event:when $honk is 1)[(t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:6s)[It (link-style:(text-colour:red))[|2>[beckons.]](set:$honk to 0)]] (click:?2)+(t8n:"fade")[In the long shadow of the wood, he sees (link-reveal:"it.")[(dialog:"//Thump. Thump. Thump.//","Thump.")] (t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:3s)[(link-style:(text-colour:red))[[[The hole.->the tracks 3]]]]]

<img src="https://stayaway.neocities.org/images/body.png"> (align:"=><=")+(box:"X")[(t8n:"shudder")+(t8n-delay:6s)[Jamie tries to scream. (text-colour:red)[<a href="https://stayaway.neocities.org/build/SAFDC_day3.html">But nothing comes out.</a>]]]

(if:$bethann is 2)["You take care, now," Beth-Ann tells him as he steps outside. "And tell Ruth thank you for me, won't you?" Yeah, he'll be sure to once he gets back.(set:$bethann to 1)]\ (elseif:$lawn is 2)[Jamie hastily makes his escape, walking in a random direction like he has every intention of going that way.(set: $lawn to 1)]\ (elseif:$clothes is 2)[One of the downsides of all the untouched natural beauty in Bingham Creek is the lack of, uh, certain amenities. Like sidewalks. The walk back down the hill is made all the more nervewracking by the ATVs blasting past him, just inches away.(set:$clothes to 1)]\ (elseif:$groceries is 2)[The heat of the outdoors strikes him like he's just walked into a wall. Back to the grind...(set:$groceries to 1)] Now, what all did he have to take care of, again? (if:$bethann is 0)[Dropping off food for (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[[Beth-Ann->Beth-Ann down the way]]]...] (if: $groceries is 0)[Picking up (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[[groceries->the corner store]]]...] (if: $lawn is 0)[Cleaning up (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[[the lawn->the front lawn]]...]] (if: $clothes is 0)[Swinging by (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[[the Creech Garage->the mechanic's]]] to get his stuff...] (if: $groceries is 0 or $lawn is 0 or $clothes is 0 or $bethann is 0)[and that's about it.]\ (if: $groceries is 1 and $lawn is 1 and $clothes is 1 and $bethann is 1)[(t8n:"rumble")+(t8n-delay:3s)[Wait. That's everything! Finally!] (t8n:"fade")+(t8n-delay:5s)[Now Jamie can actually start doing his (link-style:(text-colour:orange))[[goddamn job->the tracks]]. That study's not gonna perform itself, after all...]]