SALVATION
Chapter 1 ("Destination")
By Slayne
Disclaimer-- I don't own G.I. Joe nor do I profit from them. I think they profit from our fanfiction though. If they sue... I'll demand compensation!
Notes- This is kind of a 'what if' story. It doesn't necessarily fit into my whole universe timeline of Beach Head/Cover Girl stories... unless I eventually want it to. (hey... it's my universe!) It's just a story that wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. I promise... the next one is another humorous piece back in the regular timeline of things.
I don't like using real placenames, so I made up almost all of them. "Borislav" is just the name of a town in Central Europe that I used as a country in this fic. Sheldon, AL is also made up. Chicago, IL actually exists though. :-)
Thanks-- Thanks to Scarlett_Hauser as always for proofing the story for me and for being such a kick-ass friend! Thanks to Bard for occasionally getting on my ass about writing. I sometimes need it. AND... thanks to Firefly for the military consultation. He even suggested ways to use the info he gave and he was EXTREMELY helpful to me! (Godspeed, Amigo!)
This story takes place after the end of Joe in the Marvel comic universe, and slightly pre-Devil's Due 'Re-instatement' storyline. I might use this as the lead in to a series of stories set in the new continuity. It's a lot more serious than my usual BH/CG stories. Angst galore be here... take care!
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"Wish I knew what you were looking for, Might have known what you would find. And it's something quite peculiar, Something shimmering and white. It leads you here, despite your destination Under the Milky Way tonight...."
-- Under the Milky Way Tonight... The Church
Courtney Krieger swung her Dodge Dakota off the old, weathered highway and onto the rutted dirt road that ran away into the woods. The suspension of the truck lurched and bucked as the wheels ran in the furrowed mud, slipping then climbing over tree branches and rocks. She reached out and hit the button to lock the hubs together and shift the vehicle into four- wheel drive. Immediately the truck dug in and began clawing it's way down the road. Although the sun shone through the thick forest of trees onto the trail occasionally, it was a brief respite. It had poured on her all the way here, and the radio had just told her that it was expected to rain again soon.
Mud drops splattered up on the windshield, mixing with the water from the rain and numerous puddles she had driven through on the old Appalachian road. Her wipers scraped the mess clean, clearing her view, and she swore lightly as the truck hit a deep rut and threw her sideways against her seatbelt, snapping her neck sideways painfully.
"I swear to god... if I bottom out this truck, I'll have that moron's balls in a vise..." She muttered as she hit the throttle to gain some momentum before attempting to drive up a steep hill. The Dakota was top of the line though, with a powerful engine and a lift kit to keep it clear of the ground, even during off-road driving. The tires slipped in the wet mud, but the engine growled and the 50 pound sand bags in the bed, that lay over the rear axel, gave it the needed traction to make it to the top of the hill. There was more of an actual road here. It was still two muddy furrows, but they weren't as deep. She glanced around as she drove now, free of hanging to the steering wheel for dear life. She had to admit that it was beautiful here. The mountains were peppered with lakes and thick forest and the heat had receded yesterday and hadn't returned. It was bordering on downright chilly now. Truthfully... she hadn't even realized that Alabama HAD mountains until she had looked at a map while at a rest stop outside of St. Louis on her way South.
She sighed as the truck dipped across a shallow trickle that was either a stream or the flood runoff of a real stream. Since she'd left the Army, she'd never been without an off-road vehicle. She wasn't sure why. Something about the illusion of safety she guessed. Plus... she just missed the tanks and the Wolverine too damn much. She had sold her Hemi Cuda years ago, thinking she would buy another project car. Without G.I. Joe or the military to take up all her free time, she'd planned on restoring project after project. Maybe even open her own shop. But... it was funny... when she'd finally had the time to do everything she'd been planning, it had somehow all seemed too... settled down.
She slowed to a stop as the trail forked in different directions.
"Shit!" She bit her lip and looked at both forks. The man at the little store hadn't said anything about this. She studied the two trails and then slid the Dakota into gear again and turned left into the forest, following the fork with the deeper ruts. Tree branches and brush scraped along the sides and roof of the truck as she muscled her way through a new mud bog. She was beginning to wonder if she had been the victim of some cruel practical joke that would strand her in the middle of nowhere, her truck window deep in a pit of mud, when the trees suddenly opened and the Dakota climbed up onto a flat, gravel filled slab. She was so surprised that she hit the brakes too hard, activating the anti-lock brakes. The pedal groaned and pumped rapidly under her foot and the truck slowed quickly, stopping short of rear-ending an old Ford Bronco that was parked on the gravel.
She sat there, foot on the brake, truck still in gear, staring at that Bronco. Christ... how long had it been? Seven years? It was old when he drove it around base, and he still hadn't bought a new vehicle? It looked exactly the same, from the faded blue paint to the long scratch along the driver's side door panel. The butterflies started in her gut then. What would he say when he saw her? What was he like now? She tore her eyes away from the Bronco, and slid the Dakota into park, then shut it off. There was a big wooden shed in front of the Bronco and a small, solid- looking house sat further along in the clearing. She opened the truck door and hopped down. The gravel crunched under her boots and she inhaled sharply as the cool air hit her bare arms. She reached back into the extended cab of the Dakota and pulled her old brown flight jacket out, slipping it on, and using one hand to flip her auburn hair from the collar. The long strands blew into her eyes in the breeze and she tossed her head. The afternoon was stretching on, and the sky was a mix of blue patches and huge, white and grey clouds moving rapidly. A darker, more ominous front was in the distance.
She slammed the truck door shut and walked up past the Bronco, peering into the driver's window as she passed. There was an olive drab field jacket on the seat and an empty orange juice carton on the console. She hesitated briefly, memories flooding her mind. She'd ridden shotgun more than once in this vehicle. She remembered the way it rode, the way it sounded... the way it smelled. She sighed.
No one answered her knock on the door of the house, and she tried the doorknob. Locked. Well... once a soldier, always a soldier. He wouldn't leave anything to chance like that, especially security. He knew better. She stood on the porch and looked around the clearing. It wasn't really a yard, since there was no short grass. It was either gravel or dirt or prairie grass and weeds. The forest approached within 50 feet on all sides. She walked around the back. There was a lean-to against another, smaller shed that covered a huge pile of firewood. An old, chipped picnic table sat close against the house, a plastic pan sitting on top of it. The tree closest to the table had a cord with a noose in it hanging from one of it's lower branches. She gave it a puzzled glance and then leaned over to peer into one of the house windows. There was a loud 'clack', before a low voice made her freeze in place, her heart jumping into her throat.
"This is private property, lady..."
Courtney felt her mouth run dry, more from the deep southern accent of the voice rather than from the deadly intent evident in the tone. She turned slowly around and found herself staring down the barrel of a 12-gauge shotgun. The 'clack' she'd heard had been the pump action forcing a shell into the firing chamber. She raised her gaze to the brown eyes above the barrel and watched them widen as he stared at her.
"Hi Wayne." She said softly, raising her hands slowly.
To be continued....
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Chapter 1 ("Destination")
By Slayne
Disclaimer-- I don't own G.I. Joe nor do I profit from them. I think they profit from our fanfiction though. If they sue... I'll demand compensation!
Notes- This is kind of a 'what if' story. It doesn't necessarily fit into my whole universe timeline of Beach Head/Cover Girl stories... unless I eventually want it to. (hey... it's my universe!) It's just a story that wouldn't leave me alone until I wrote it. I promise... the next one is another humorous piece back in the regular timeline of things.
I don't like using real placenames, so I made up almost all of them. "Borislav" is just the name of a town in Central Europe that I used as a country in this fic. Sheldon, AL is also made up. Chicago, IL actually exists though. :-)
Thanks-- Thanks to Scarlett_Hauser as always for proofing the story for me and for being such a kick-ass friend! Thanks to Bard for occasionally getting on my ass about writing. I sometimes need it. AND... thanks to Firefly for the military consultation. He even suggested ways to use the info he gave and he was EXTREMELY helpful to me! (Godspeed, Amigo!)
This story takes place after the end of Joe in the Marvel comic universe, and slightly pre-Devil's Due 'Re-instatement' storyline. I might use this as the lead in to a series of stories set in the new continuity. It's a lot more serious than my usual BH/CG stories. Angst galore be here... take care!
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
"Wish I knew what you were looking for, Might have known what you would find. And it's something quite peculiar, Something shimmering and white. It leads you here, despite your destination Under the Milky Way tonight...."
-- Under the Milky Way Tonight... The Church
Courtney Krieger swung her Dodge Dakota off the old, weathered highway and onto the rutted dirt road that ran away into the woods. The suspension of the truck lurched and bucked as the wheels ran in the furrowed mud, slipping then climbing over tree branches and rocks. She reached out and hit the button to lock the hubs together and shift the vehicle into four- wheel drive. Immediately the truck dug in and began clawing it's way down the road. Although the sun shone through the thick forest of trees onto the trail occasionally, it was a brief respite. It had poured on her all the way here, and the radio had just told her that it was expected to rain again soon.
Mud drops splattered up on the windshield, mixing with the water from the rain and numerous puddles she had driven through on the old Appalachian road. Her wipers scraped the mess clean, clearing her view, and she swore lightly as the truck hit a deep rut and threw her sideways against her seatbelt, snapping her neck sideways painfully.
"I swear to god... if I bottom out this truck, I'll have that moron's balls in a vise..." She muttered as she hit the throttle to gain some momentum before attempting to drive up a steep hill. The Dakota was top of the line though, with a powerful engine and a lift kit to keep it clear of the ground, even during off-road driving. The tires slipped in the wet mud, but the engine growled and the 50 pound sand bags in the bed, that lay over the rear axel, gave it the needed traction to make it to the top of the hill. There was more of an actual road here. It was still two muddy furrows, but they weren't as deep. She glanced around as she drove now, free of hanging to the steering wheel for dear life. She had to admit that it was beautiful here. The mountains were peppered with lakes and thick forest and the heat had receded yesterday and hadn't returned. It was bordering on downright chilly now. Truthfully... she hadn't even realized that Alabama HAD mountains until she had looked at a map while at a rest stop outside of St. Louis on her way South.
She sighed as the truck dipped across a shallow trickle that was either a stream or the flood runoff of a real stream. Since she'd left the Army, she'd never been without an off-road vehicle. She wasn't sure why. Something about the illusion of safety she guessed. Plus... she just missed the tanks and the Wolverine too damn much. She had sold her Hemi Cuda years ago, thinking she would buy another project car. Without G.I. Joe or the military to take up all her free time, she'd planned on restoring project after project. Maybe even open her own shop. But... it was funny... when she'd finally had the time to do everything she'd been planning, it had somehow all seemed too... settled down.
She slowed to a stop as the trail forked in different directions.
"Shit!" She bit her lip and looked at both forks. The man at the little store hadn't said anything about this. She studied the two trails and then slid the Dakota into gear again and turned left into the forest, following the fork with the deeper ruts. Tree branches and brush scraped along the sides and roof of the truck as she muscled her way through a new mud bog. She was beginning to wonder if she had been the victim of some cruel practical joke that would strand her in the middle of nowhere, her truck window deep in a pit of mud, when the trees suddenly opened and the Dakota climbed up onto a flat, gravel filled slab. She was so surprised that she hit the brakes too hard, activating the anti-lock brakes. The pedal groaned and pumped rapidly under her foot and the truck slowed quickly, stopping short of rear-ending an old Ford Bronco that was parked on the gravel.
She sat there, foot on the brake, truck still in gear, staring at that Bronco. Christ... how long had it been? Seven years? It was old when he drove it around base, and he still hadn't bought a new vehicle? It looked exactly the same, from the faded blue paint to the long scratch along the driver's side door panel. The butterflies started in her gut then. What would he say when he saw her? What was he like now? She tore her eyes away from the Bronco, and slid the Dakota into park, then shut it off. There was a big wooden shed in front of the Bronco and a small, solid- looking house sat further along in the clearing. She opened the truck door and hopped down. The gravel crunched under her boots and she inhaled sharply as the cool air hit her bare arms. She reached back into the extended cab of the Dakota and pulled her old brown flight jacket out, slipping it on, and using one hand to flip her auburn hair from the collar. The long strands blew into her eyes in the breeze and she tossed her head. The afternoon was stretching on, and the sky was a mix of blue patches and huge, white and grey clouds moving rapidly. A darker, more ominous front was in the distance.
She slammed the truck door shut and walked up past the Bronco, peering into the driver's window as she passed. There was an olive drab field jacket on the seat and an empty orange juice carton on the console. She hesitated briefly, memories flooding her mind. She'd ridden shotgun more than once in this vehicle. She remembered the way it rode, the way it sounded... the way it smelled. She sighed.
No one answered her knock on the door of the house, and she tried the doorknob. Locked. Well... once a soldier, always a soldier. He wouldn't leave anything to chance like that, especially security. He knew better. She stood on the porch and looked around the clearing. It wasn't really a yard, since there was no short grass. It was either gravel or dirt or prairie grass and weeds. The forest approached within 50 feet on all sides. She walked around the back. There was a lean-to against another, smaller shed that covered a huge pile of firewood. An old, chipped picnic table sat close against the house, a plastic pan sitting on top of it. The tree closest to the table had a cord with a noose in it hanging from one of it's lower branches. She gave it a puzzled glance and then leaned over to peer into one of the house windows. There was a loud 'clack', before a low voice made her freeze in place, her heart jumping into her throat.
"This is private property, lady..."
Courtney felt her mouth run dry, more from the deep southern accent of the voice rather than from the deadly intent evident in the tone. She turned slowly around and found herself staring down the barrel of a 12-gauge shotgun. The 'clack' she'd heard had been the pump action forcing a shell into the firing chamber. She raised her gaze to the brown eyes above the barrel and watched them widen as he stared at her.
"Hi Wayne." She said softly, raising her hands slowly.
To be continued....
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^