It was an eight mile trip to the general store down this hot, dusty road
and he had made the ride once every week for the last five weeks during
his stay at the farmhouse, picking up supplies and necessities as needed.
A large basket under the front handlebars gave him most of the room he
needed, but just in case, he had twin canvas bike bags, one on each side
of the rear wheel, that could be used for stowing even more items if
necessary. As he neared the fork in the road he stayed to left, following it
around as it became one again. Glancing back to his right, he noticed a
bright chain extending across the adjoining road, seemingly preventing any
passage in either direction. He was positive it hadn't been there before,
during any of his trips to and from the store. How strange.

He continued riding on, wanting to be sure to get to the store, get his
business taken care of, and be headed back before the weather changed.
He had never seen any type of vehicle on this road, nothing so much as a
fresh tire track. So why suddenly would someone go out of their way to
chain off an adjoining road that seemingly went nowhere ?

He greeted Sal as he walked into the front door and grabbed a shopping
basket. "Thought I'd see you tomorrow instead of today", Sal remarked.
"You shopping on Tuesdays now ?"

"Heard the weather might get rainy tomorrow so I thought I'd better come
today. By the way Sal, have you seen anyone drive down TommyCreek
road lately ?"

Sal laughed and said, "I haven't seen anyone drive down TommyCreek in
maybe three or four years. Why ?"
"Oh just wondering that's all. I haven't seen anybody either."

John Barton packed up his supplies and rode back down Tommycreek road
in the diection he had come. A part-time author and wanabe painter, he
had rented the farmhouse for a year in hopes of finding himself again . . .
somehow. The old two-story house offered what he needed right now,
seclusion and isolation. He'd had it with the rat race for awhile. He'd had
enough of agents yanking his chain in search of the almighty dollar. He'd
had enough of failed relationships that always seemed to take another
piece of his heart with them when they left. And they always left didn't
they ? He'd had enough of compassion playing second fiddle to greed all
the time nowadays. Maybe he was burned out, he didn't know. Maybe he
was an ass. And a pompous one at that. Lord knows he'd been called one
enough times. To find thy true self, maybe that's what he was doing. Or,
. . .or what ?

Clouds were beginning to appear as he pedaled his way home. The heat
was dissipating, and a faint wind was picking up. He rounded the corner
and came face to face with the fork in the road, and that chain. As he
neared the intersection he realized that the chain was heavy-duty stainless
steel, about 1/2" diameter. Tough stuff ! He noticed now that it ran
approximately 30 yards down this adjoining road, on both sides, until it
disappeared from view. Whew ! Someone really didn't want any company !
He climbed back into his seat and turned to the right, heading home.

He put away the groceries and supplies, then went out to move the bike to
a safer place should it indeed rain. Walking back from the small garage, he
noticed the red flag was up on his mailbox, and went over to investigate.
He couldn't remember ever seeing it up before, and it wouldn't make any
difference anyway as no mail was delivered anywhere on TommyCreek
road anymore. There were no legal addresses out here anymore ! All mail
was now dropped off at the general store for anyone who might be a
part-time resident, such as himself.
He re-set the red flag, pulled open the mailbox, and saw the letter ! He was
dumbfounded, and suddenly angry. His solitude had been breached !

He carried the letter into the house and sat down in front of his easel,
annoyed at this blantant intrusion into his life again. The envelope was
addressed "To Whom It May Concern". How mundane can you get ?
He tore it open and found a short note.
"Whatever you're doing up there stop it. Do you hear me ? STOP IT !"
"STOP IT! STOP IT !

Maggie tossed and turned, sweating profusely and unable to get
comfortable in any position. She wanted to puke but knew it wouldn't
happen. She'd just wretch until her stomach muscles cramped with searing
pain, until the tears flowed down her cheeks like running water, until she
screamed for mercy, for it to end.
And sometimes it did end. For awhile it would stop. And those times
brought her blissful sleep, free of the torture. But it would begin again. It
always began again. Sometimes it was hours later, and sometimes it was
days later, but it always began again.
She had made it to the house earlier, and convinced that no one was
home, she had left the letter in the mailbox and run like crazy. Whoever
got the letter, she hoped they'd die a slow death, like she was. The trip,
though brief, had worn her out, and when she finally got back to her little
farm she had fallen in bed exhausted. And then it had started again, and
her headache was terribly painful, her eyes unable to see clearly, her ears
popping as if from a quick change in elevation. She HATED THIS . . . .
THIS MADNESS.

He re-read the note, trying to wring as much out of it as he could, hoping
that it would somehow tell him who wrote it and why. It sounded angry.
Very angry. What did they mean "Whatever you're doing up there, stop ?"

The use of the words "up there" implied that whoever wrote the note was
"down" from the farmhouse. Down the road ? Down in the valley ? Down
wind ? He wasn't at all sure. In the five-plus weeks he had been here, he
had not seen another house anywhere close by, and he had done some
snooping just to make sure. He hadn't wanted company before and he
didn't want any now. He wanted to be left the hell alone.
Would he have to go out again and check ? Damn it all to hell !!

The next morning he was still irritated. As a matter of fact, John couldn't
remember the last time he was in a good mood. Seems he was always in
a bad mood lately. And lately he had been thinking that his futile attempts at painting might be causing his irritation. He was unable to paint anything
with passion without going into a rage and destroying it instantly. His anger
had grown in the last few weeks, enclosing him in a self-pitying haze of
suffering and turmoil. And now he wanted to find the person that wrote
that note and make them eat it !

At precisely 06:45 the hatchcover shot open as it did every Thursday at
this time, allowing the equipment below to charge in the morning sunshine.
In ten minutes it would be ready to initiate operational sequences, and the
procedure would begin.
At 06:56 the telescopic antenna rose from the pit, to a height of forty-two
inches, and the broadcasting began.

Already, the local wildlife were bolting from the area, intent on getting
away from the dis-orienting atmosphere. Terror quickened their flight.

Maggie had been up since 04:00. She had fed the chickens (the few that
were left), milked the cows, weeded her vegetable garden, and at 06:45
she was drying her hair after taking her first shower in four days. She put
down the towel and picked up the brush and slowly pulled it through her
shoulder-length hair, taking pleasure in such a routine chore. She looked
into the mirror, studying her own features, trying to see if fear would show
itself one more time. And just like that her fear turned to anger . . .again.

At 06:57 Maggie knew it had begun again. Immediately her head hurt. Her
sense of balance left her and she fell off of the chair, landing heavily on
the kitchen floor. Crawling to her bed, she pulled herself up until she
could roll over in it. It was the safest place to be during the blackouts, as
the bruises on her arms and legs would attest. She began to cry deeply,
and she couldn't help it.

[edit on 18-9-2008 by SIEGE]

He had a gun. He had never fired it but he did have one. It was one of
those "You never know" moments a year or so ago when he went to the
gun shop and purchased it for $300.00 dollars, JUST IN CASE. Now he
checked to see if it was loaded, and satisfied, he stuffed it into the top of
his backpack. He headed off downhill, a direction that would take him back
to the road and away from his normal stomping grounds. He'd been down
this way only once for maybe a half a mile, had found nothing, and so he
had turned around and gone back up the road. This time he meant to stay
with it until he found something.

As he walked he remembered the note. It was 06:30.
The rain that he had expected hadn't materialized. It was warm and sunny.

Fifteen minutes later he could swear he smelled breakfast . .somewhere.
He followed the road down around a wide curve, huge boulders appearing
on both sides of the road as he progressed. The road continued to drop
away on his left and the rocks and boulders were replaced with an open
field. As soon as he walked past the last boulder a blast of pain burst into
his head, scaring the living bejujus out of him, and making him sick to his
stomach. He fell to his knees, then onto his face, unconscious.
It was 06:57.

At 07:12 the broadcasting stopped, the antenna descended back down
into the pit, and the hatchcover quickly closed. It was as if nothing out of
the ordinary ever took place.

John woke with dirt on his face to find a shotgun pointed right at his head.

"Get your ass up mister, real slow-like!"

He tried to stand but his knees wouldn't cooperate and he began to throw
up. A foot kicked him in the ribs, tumbling him over.

"Now I said get up mister, and I meam it!"

He slowly climbed to his feet, holding onto his side, and looked into the
face . . .of a she-devil! His first impression of her was that she must be
insane. Saliva ran from the corners of her mouth, her eyes were ablaze
with fury, and she was panting hysterically.
She pointed with the shotgun, telling him to start moving towards the
house. Walking across the yard, he couldn't help but notice all of the dead
chickens and ducks laying about, stinking up the place something awful.

When they reached the door she poked him harshly through it, indicating
a chair in the kitchen that she wanted him to sit in.
"Whatever you're doing up there mister you've got to stop, do you hear
me ?" "You've got to stop or I swear I'll kill you!" She aimed the shotgun
right at his forehead.

John was afraid she'd pull the trigger any second. "Wait a minute lady,
wait a minute. I'm not doing a thing up at my place. I came to find the
person that left a note in my mailbox, that's all. Would that be you ?"

"Yeah, that'd be me", she sneered.
"What's with that new satellite dish on your roof ? The damn thing must be
six feet across. Do you know what it's doing to all of us down here, me
and my animals ? It's killing us slowly that's what it's doing. The damn
thing must be malfunctioning. It's killing us, I'm telling you straight out!"

John suddenly understood why this crazy woman was so angry. She
thought he was responsible for her pain and suffering, and the deaths of
her farm animals ! He tried to tell her that the satellite dish had never
been hooked up, that he had never used it, but she was beyond
reasoning. And then suddenly the sharp pains in his skull were back and
he grabbed the sides of his head with both hands. The woman dropped
the shotgun and started screaming, pulling at her twisted hair. Thirty
seconds later they both had fainted from the pain.
It was 08:57.

John was the first to awaken. He crawled over to the woman, tied her
hands behind her back using a thin dish towel, then stood up to get
his bearings. He knew he had to get out of there fast. He knelt down and
swung the woman over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, grabbed the
shotgun, stood up and headed outside. He fast-walked as far as he could,
then rested. Repeating the process over and over again, he made his way
unsteadily up the road. When he could finally see his house he took longer
rests, feeling somewhat braver. The woman started to come around but
was still incoherent, ranting and throwing up at the same time. He let her
finish, then threw her back over his shoulder roughly, anxious to get home.

They fell together into his kitchen, laying exhausted on the floor. He lifted
himself up enough to lock the door, then fell back down for good.

He regained consciousness slowly, as if withdrawing from a drug overdose.
Not a foot away from his face was the face of the woman, evidently still
out. He rolled over and away from her quickly, afraid he might catch
something bad from her just by breathing the same air. He got to his feet
and dragged her through the house until he got to the back bedroom,
where he picked her up and put her in bed, tying her hands to the head-
board and her feet together and fastened to the bottom of the bed. He
covered her with a light blanket and left the room.

Maggie's first realization was that the headache was gone ! The terrible
pain no longer blurred her vision. And she could see perfectly ! She
could see so well that she just layed there for awhile, admiring the clarity
of everything . The room, the ceiling fan, the blanket, the ropes around
her feet, the . . .the ropes around her feet ? What the . . She tried to sit
up and found that her hands were tied to the headboard. Her initial gut
reaction was to scream for help, and she almost did, until she heard the
humming. Someone was coming! She'd pretend to still be asleep! The
humming was closer now, and she recognized the tune being hummed,
. . .it was Popeye The Sailor Man ! She closed her eyes.

The room filled with the smell of chicken noodle soup. It smelled so good
she opened her eyes to see where it was coming from . . .and saw him !
"You! " " It's you, you bastard!"
John set the tray down on the dresser. He looked at her quietly. Then he
threw his hands up in the air, pointed at her with both index fingers, and
hollered, "You !" "It's you!" "Oh no, it's you!" "You . . .uuuuuuuuuu"

Neither said a thing for ten seconds. Then they smiled at each other.

"Hi, my name is John. What's yours ?"
"Maggie."
"Nice to finally meet you Maggie. How's your head ?"
"Better thank you. Whatever you stopped doing is working. Please don't
start it up again, my brain can't handle it. '

"Maggie, I haven't been doing anything up here. I never turned anything
on and I never turned anything off. Whatever you were experiencing was
not caused by me. Down at your farm, I experienced the same thing you
did. It's worse down there at your place. Lots worse."

She thought about what he was saying. He sounded like he was telling the
truth. But if not him, then who ?

She looked at him again. "Can you un-tie me ?"

"That I can do", he answered. "That I can do."
And he freed her feet, and then her hands.

She followed him out to the dining room and they sat together at the
table and ate the delicious chicken noodle soup, sizing each other up but
saying nothing. When both were completely finished they sat looking at each other for a minute or two, and then Maggie asked "So what's going on ?"

"I really don't know", John answered, "but it's mighty strange."
"Before you left the note in my mailbox, I'd been feeling iritable and dizzy
for a week or so. It was like I was angry all the time. After I got your note
I was even angrier. I went to find you because I was angry. To be honest,
I didn't even know there was anybody else out here in this country. I felt
like you had invaded my privacy."

It was Maggie's turn. "I've been living out here for about a year now. My
second cousin used to live on that farm by herself and she was always
self-sufficent. When she died she willed the place to me. I quit my job and
moved here to get away from the whole rat race scene. I figured if she
could make it on her own out here so could I. I was doing pretty good
until about two weeks ago. That's when it all started. I began to have bad
headaches all the time, and was constantly sick to my stomach. It got real
bad. I even got the shakes sometimes. I knew someone had moved into
this place up here and I saw the new satellite dish and I guess I thought
you were doing something up here that was affecting me down there, so
I wrote the note and left it in your mailbox."

John asked Maggie if she was aware of the chain across the road, the
sideroad that branched off to the left. "I don't know a thing about it", she
replied, "I never come up this way for anything."
He told her how he had noticed it just this last week on his trip to
the general store, and that he was sure it hadn't been there before.
"Maybe we should check it out", she ventured.
"Maybe we should", he agreed, "maybe we should."

It began to rain lightly in the late afternoon as they made plans to visit the
chain across the road. They both decided to postpone the excursion until
the following day.
This was the first significant rain the area had received in five months.
Even the light rain seemed a blessing. John and Maggie sat out on the
porch and smelled the fresh rain landing all around them, enjoying the
naturalness of it. If you've ever sat and listened to it rain, and smelled the
cleaning process, then you know how mesermizing it can be. Especially
when there's no outside interferences.

Suddenly Maggie jumped up and ran out into the rain. Positioning herself
in the middle of the yard she sank down to a sitting position, and then onto
her back, looking straight up into the wet sky. She began to laugh.

John thought she had lost her mind, and watched in disbelief as she began
to roll from one side to the other, giggling like a possessed teenager. He
ran out to help her up but she wouldn't listen to him. She just kept
laughing. And rolling.
"I feel so good", she hollered at up at him. "You look dumb", he answered.

She started to make angels like people do in the snow. He couldn't help
himself now, he began to laugh too. They were both getting soaked but it
was like becoming one with nature. It truly felt good. Rejuvenating !
Cleansing ! Wonderful ! He sat down in the rain and watched her roll
around like a big dog scratching its back. He thought they both might be
going a little crazy. He hadn't done something like this in years ! It was
fun !

Nighttime brought heavy showers. They prepared for the next day,
outfitting two small backpacks with whatever they might need for the trip
to the chain. After a hot meal and a warm shower, both Maggie and John
felt much better, and they sat and talked with each other while the much
needed rain continued outside.
It was soon apparent to both of them that they had something in common.
They were both on the rebound from failed relationships, and didn't really
want anything to do with the opposite sex. She had moved here to get
away from the rat race and stupid men. He had come out here to escape
the rat race and get away from stupid women.
Both were no-nonsense type people, stubborn and hard-headed. Neither
tried to impress the other as they conversed.
And maybe that's why they began to like each other.

Clouds were skimming across the sky as the sun came up the next
morning. As they walked down the road, both Maggie and John felt the
tension in the air. The closer they got to the fork in the road, the quieter
the surrounding area became. No birds, no bugs, no nothing. Just complete
and utter stillness. They rounded the corner and there was the chain,
blocking access to the side road. Walking right up to it, they stooped and
went under it quickly, moving away from it as soon as they were on the
other side. As they were about to follow the road down and around the
corner both suddenly fell to their knees. Blood dripped from John's nose,
and Maggie's ears were hurting terribly. She watched John faint away and
then she too went unconscious.

It was 06:57.

At precisely 07:12 the broadcasting stopped, and the antennae sank down
into the pit. As the hatchcover began its slide home, it collided with a fallen
branch, forcing it ahead and into the pit itself, jamming up the mechanism
and preventing the hatchcover from closing any further.

Seven miles away a red warning light began to blink on and off.

At 07:37, John and Maggie regained consciousness. Little rivers of blood
ran from their ears and noses. John could not stop himself from swearing.
He spewed out every dirty word he had ever known, holding the sides of
his head as he did so. The pain had been the most intense yet, coming
so fast that they had had no time for any defensive action whatsoever. He
was livid with anger. Maggie just sat and cried, the pain disabling her to
the point of exhaustion. She heard John swearing, and wanted to join in
with him, but she could not find her voice.

08:00 After a long drink of cold water John helped Maggie to her feet. She
swigged on her water bottle as they continued to walk slowly down this
chained off road, scared of what they might find but determined to get
some answers. She poured some water into a towel and wiped the blood
from her face and neck as she followed along. She handed the towel to
John and he cleaned up as well, never missing a step.

The three pound sledge-hammer came down with all the force John
could put behind it, hitting the steel hatchcover solidly and knocking it
completely off track, finishing what the fallen and jammed branch had
started. At once John and Maggie were on it, pulling the manhole cover off
and to the side, and exposing the pit below. The antennae had
telescoped down to a depth of approximately five feet, resting until the
next timing command sent it back to the surface to broadcast again. It
would never get the chance ! Down into the pit went John with his
hammer, swinging even before he caught his balance, swearing at the top
of his lungs. "Die you son-of-a-bitch, die !"
Maggie echoed his words from above, caught up in the frenzy.

Two minutes later the antennae was a piece of scrap steel, and everything
else in the pit was damaged or broken. Maggie handed down some old
newspapers and the lighter, then went to get any wood in the area she
could find. John took evrything Maggie threw down into the pit and started
to make a big fire pile in the middle of the small space. Finally, lighting
the paper, he climbed up and out, watching the fire take hold. They threw
more wood down on top of the fire, making it blaze up.
It was over ! They had destroyed whatever the hell it was ! Grabbing their
packs, arms around each other, they headed back up to John's house.

Five miles away a white Ford Explorer turned off the paved highway and
onto Tommycreek road, headed for the chain.

"Rock, this is Watchdog over ? " "Watchdog to Rock, do you copy ?"
.....................................
"Go ahead Watchdog!"
.....................................
"Rock, Strewer 3 is destroyed. Repeat, Strewer 3 is destroyed, over ?"
.....................................
"Watchdog, confirm restoration code, over ?"
.....................................
"Rock, restoration code is zero. Repeat, zero, over ?"
.....................................
"Affirmitive Watchdog. Copy that. Restoration code zero. Stand by for
SOAD team arrival."

John and Maggie sat across the table from each other, taking turns
looking around the room and then coming back to rest their eyes on each
other, as if confirming their individual states of mind. Cold orange juice
mixed with red wine filled large ice tea glasses that sat in front of each of
them. They sipped hungrily, giddy from the morning's field trip. Outside
the sun was now directly overhead, heating up the day's doings.

SOAD made its way to the house, following the careless footprints left by
the perpetrators. Surounding the property, they silently set up visual and
audio surveillance of the eentire farm. They then called base.
"Rock, SOAD is in place, over ?"
.............................................
"Affirmitive SOAD. Stand by for termination procedure."
.............................................
And that's when John happened to see one of the SOAD team members
make his way quickly to the barn, then dart behind it. He immediately
grabbed Maggie, putting his finger to his lips to indicate silence, and told
her quietly to put the backpack back on and follow him. She picked up the
shotgun as they headed down into the basement, carrying it without a
thought of why or where. It just made her feel safer. John led them to an
old door that opened up into a narrow tunnel, lit by old stringer lights that
seemed about to flicker out of existence at any minute. Securing the door
from the tunnel side, John took Maggie's hand and together they walked
away.

"Termination ordered SOAD. Repeat, termination is a go."
................................................
"Affirmitive Rock. SOAD out."
................................................
Twenty seconds later the house literally blew up in a fiery ball.

The blast knocked them both off their feet, and sent the tunnel into pitch
blackness. John struggled to his feet, peeled off his backpack and felt
around inside until he located his flashlight. The beam of light cut into the
dark like a knife, exposing smoke and debris now filling up the tunnel.
Another beam of light cris-crossed his and he saw Maggie brushing
herself off, seemingly okay after the fall. As they once again headed down
the tunnel away from the explosion their hands found each other, and both
gave a squeeze to the other. The tunnel began to widen and they began
to jog. The smoke followed them, making them cough, and making
visibility difficult through tearing eyes. The jog turned into a full-out
sprint to stay ahead of the smoke. Suddenly the tunnel began to get
lighter and they ran out of the end, stumbling in the fresh air and sunlight.
Moving a safer distance away, they sat down and watched the smoke
roll out and dissipate in the air.