Allison2016

"The Last Plague" (closed)

OOC for any readers we might have. KingOfNowhere and I have been having a lot of fun with this roleplay, but I presented him with another story and he jumped at it, so we are going to switch over to it ... just as soon as I can again find the image around which the story is based. Sorry if this disappoints anyone.

"The Last Plague" (closed)

Priscilla Parker emerged from her home's bathroom with a towel wrapped around her, barely hiding her generous womanly features. She was dabbing a second, smaller towel at her wet hair when she flinched at the tapping on her bedroom window. A face practically pressed to the glass initially freaked her out, only to then panic her for reasons other than being spied upon while almost naked.

She hurried to the bedroom door, looking down the hallway, then -- seeing the coast clear -- rushed to the window and opened it, immediately asking in a soft growl, "What the fuck are you doing here, Frank. They're looking for you."

He told Priscilla what she needed to know at this very moment, leading to her standing tall and asking in a shocked tone, "Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me?"

Frank reassured her that he wasn't, offering her some more details. A man's voice from a distant room caused her yet another freak out, and lifting a finger to Frank in a wait gesture, she hurried to the open bedroom door and called, "I'll be right there. I'm just putting on something sexy for you."

Returning to the window, Priscilla told Frank the obvious, that she had a male guest -- he knew who it would be, of course -- and then demanded more details. He shared and she contemplated, and the decision was an easy one to make.

"Keep outta sight so that he doesn't see you," she said, before slamming the window down again. She hurried across the room, dropped her towel without caring whether or not Frank was still looking through the glass, and slipped into a sleeping tee shirt. Again, responding to the man's call from another room, she hollered, "Coming! Almost done."

Then, pausing to look back at the window one last time before returning to her dresser, Priscilla opened the bottom drawer, dug down under some heavy, warm clothes, and pulled out an unsheathed and ominous looking hunting knife. She glanced one more time toward the window before heading toward the bedroom door with the knife behind her back.

She returned less than a minute later. The tee, her hands, and her face were fouled with blood. She headed straight for the window, opened it wide, and growled, "Get the fuck in here and tell me what the fuck is going through that whacked out brain of yours."

As Frank entered and talked, Priscilla headed for the bathroom yet again. Without closing the door and, again, not caring whether or not her second male guest of the evening was getting an eyeful, she stripped out of the bloodied clothes, cleaned up, emerged naked, and this time dressed in warm clothes suitable for sneaking around Greenburg in the dark. Once dressed, she began filling a backpack with things she thought she might need: extra clothes, the still bloody knife (though she did wipe it off), and some girly things from her bathroom.

"This is crazy, you know," she responded when she was finally ready to go. Yet, she smiled and said, "I'm in ...however ... I have someone who has to go with us or I'm not going."

Priscilla didn't give Frank an option to discuss her additions to the list of escapees, instead heading for the bedroom door as she said, "We can use the back."

As they emerged from the hallway into the living room, Frank would get his first look at Priscilla's handywork. Her male guest, the man who'd been forcing her to suck and fuck him in exchange for a choice position in the Construction Brigade, lay back on the couch with his throat cut open down to the bone.

Priscilla killed lights as she went -- her house was one of only a couple of dozen that the Militia allowed to have electricity 24/7 -- and by the time they reached the backdoor, they were standing in near darkness. She cracked the door, looked and listened, then asked, "I probably don't have to tell you to be quiet, right?"

She headed out, down the steps and concrete path to the back gate, and out into the alley that ran the length of the block to the last house on it. Circling around to the back door, Priscilla knocked lightly a couple of times before a light came on inside. The face of a woman in her teens or early 20s appeared, and after she'd determined that the person at the door was a friend, she hurried to it and opened it, asking, "What's wrong, Pris?"

Priscilla pushed her way in, gesturing Frank to follow as she said, "Beverly, this is Frank. He's a friend. Frank, Bev." To the other woman she said, "Go get Connor. Pack a bag, a backpack, something easy to carry a long ways, and be quick about it. We're getting out of here."

Beverly looked absolutely lost, and it took a minute of conversation between the two women before Priscilla had convinced the other female of the safety and sanity of what they were doing. As they were talking, Connor entered the kitchen and asked what was going on. Priscilla repeated what was necessary to get things rolling, then ushered them both toward the hallway that led to their bedrooms.

Five minutes later, the three of them were back in the kitchen again. Priscilla looked to Frank, demanding, "Explain precisely how to get to that storm drain cover you were telling me about." To Beverly and Connor, she said, "Listen close. Go where he tells you, go down the drain, and stay at the bottom. We'll be there in an hour or so, maybe more, maybe less. But you stay there. If we don't get back to you before sunrise, something went wrong. You sneak back here again and pretend this never happened, understand?"

Beverly began to ask, "But whaddaya mean if--"

"Do you understand?" Priscilla cut her off. "If we don't get back to you by sunrise, something went wrong, and I don't want the two of you being punished for something that wasn't your idea in the first place ... got it?"

Beverly nodded, and Connor verbally agreed. Priscilla looked to Frank again and repeated, "Explain to them how to get to the storm drain. They'll be fine on their own while we go get the others."

"The Last Plague" (closed)

"It's been a long time since a woman thanked me for sex," Frank told Allison. "I kinda like that."

"I find that hard to believe," she laughed, clarifying, "Not that you like that, but that a woman hasn't complimented on what you do between the sheets ... above the sheets ... atop the dresser."

She laughed again about how adventurous they'd been over the last hour or so. Frank laughed, too, telling her, "You're an amazing woman, Allison. I'm happy I met you. Very happy."

"Me, too," she said, taking and squeezing his hand. "Me, too."

There was a crack of thunder, and Frank flinched. Allison did, too, but not because of the thunder. She'd seen the lightning through the drapes and had been expecting the soft rumble; it was Frank's reaction that had startled Allison, causing her to giggle.

"I want to check that out," Frank said, standing and crossing to the window.

Just as he'd found joy in ogling Allison's body, she now looked his over with admiration. He was a solidly built man, created by a life of hard work and healthy care of himself. It was easy to understand how he'd had the energy for their love making session.

She heard him mumble, "That might help."

"What's that?" she asked. Frank didn't seem to hear her. She watched him with curiosity.

Then he turned and headed back to her, saying, "I need to go now."

"Now?" Allison asked with surprise. "It's not time. We talked about this."

Frank talked about the storm being over Greenburg and about how it would help him penetrate the militia's defenses. Allison didn't like this spur of the moment decision making. She and her family had been planners; nearly everything that took place on the estate had been scheduled on a series of wall calendar for years, decades even.

But she understood what Frank meant about the storm and reluctantly agreed that the time was right. They dressed, packed a bag with food, flashlights, and shells for the shotgun, and headed out to the shed where Grampa's bike had been gathering dust until Frank found it yesterday.

"I'm still not sure about this," she once again said about his choice of transportation. "No one's ridden this thing for more than ten or fifteen minutes in years."

But the dirt bike fired up on a single kick, and after one last embrace, Allison watched as Frank disappeared into the night. She listened to the sound of the motorcycle's unmuffled tailpipe until it vanished into the night. Allison was left with just the sound of the distant thunder and the more closely located cry of an owl that had been haunting the property for years.

Back inside, Allison went directly to Robert's crib, finding him still soundly asleep. She changed into a comfy pair of flannel pajamas and returned to her bed, only to lay there staring at the ceiling as the flame of a candle danced upon it.

Too wired to sleep, Allison eventually rose, donned a warm robe, and went out to the front porch to watch the storm. Frank's optimism had won out, she realized soon enough; the storm was indeed moving in a southerly direction, right toward Greenburg. By the time he got there, she surmised, he'd been right in the midst of lightly, thunder, and possibly rain showers. It would be miserable for him, but it might just keep him safe from detection and enable him to succeed in his mission.

Eventually, Allison felt her eyelids getting heavy. She returned to check Robert, then laid down. She was asleep in no time.

"The Last Plague" (closed)

"I want to be with you, Allison," Frank whispered, embracing and kissing her before inviting her to shower with him.

Smiling wide with delight, she answered, "Love to."

................

Rolling off Frank to stare at her bedroom's ceiling, Allison laughed with absolute joy. She hadn't had such great sex in years, if ever. Her bared breasts rose and fell with deep breaths, the light of nearby candles glistening off her sweat-drenched skin. She turned her head to look at Frank, growling, "Oh my god..."

Allison rolled out of her bed and turned to stare down upon him before saying, "I need water. You need water? You need water."

She spun and padded across the cold hardwood floor, her shapely, bare, pear-shaped ass swaying with each step. Again, before leaving the room, she called out, "OH my God!"

When she returned with two tall glasses of cold water from the fridge, she handed one off and sat on the mattress on her knees over Frank. She was all smiles, reaching out to caress his chest and belly, both of them as sweaty as her own.

"That was magnificent, Frank," she purred. "Thank you."

"The Last Plague" (closed)

"Okay, first, let me tell you about Greenburg," Frank began.

Allison knew of Greenburg, of course. For years, the McGees had purchases feed and seed from the Mom-n-Pop location there, as well as selling cattle, pigs, and goats to a slaughterhouse there. She'd known of the grocery distribution center, too, though they'd never been patrons of the stores it served.

The McGees had kept up on community events during the first months of the pandemic via television, radio, and the internet. Greenburg had suffered like all communities, small and large, but after the television and internet news ceased and the radio service became little more than a repeated national broadcast, news of what was happening in Greenburg and other, larger cities near the Montana/Wyoming border ceased.

Allison hadn't heard any of what Frank was telling her now, but to be truthful, none of it surprised her. She'd watched her share of post-apocalyptic movies at the end of workdays or during the winter when her days were typically shorter.

Frank talked about the militia and about how it was anything but benevolent. She mused, "Getting out of there was probably the best."

He talked about the people he's most like to see join the team at the McGee ranch. Allison had to admit that it would be good to have a nutrition-knowledgeable doctor around, particularly with a baby present. She knew absolutely nothing about childhood illnesses. Another handyman would be welcome, too. She wasn't that keen on having a foreign fighter join them, but she trusted Frank's opinion about the man.

The women he spoke of piqued Allison's interest as well. Candice Keen had been a nurse before going into teaching. Frank said the woman had six degrees, making her what he called the smartest person he'd ever met.

Priscilla Parker had been an All-Star high school athlete before joining the US Navy with the goal of becoming one of the Service's first female graduates of the SEAL program. An injury -- unrelated to her Navy service -- ended that dream, though. She was in a San Diego Naval Medical Hospital undergoing rehabilitation when the pandemic got bad, and while she should have reported to her station for duty, she instead borrowed a car and drove home to Billings to be with her family. When I-55 took the last of them, she went out looking for resources and, unfortunately, found the Greenburg Militia.

The last suggestion was the most interesting to Allison. Hanna Breed had come from a farming and ranching family and, from Frank's description, sounded like a younger copy of Allison herself. She'd convinced the Militia to put in a huge garden and to begin collecting stock animals from all about the area. Her hope was that Greenburg could eventually feed itself without having to raid homes and communities in the adjacent area.

"I know how to get us back into Greenburg," Frank said.

"You just got out of there, and almost died trying," Allison reminding him with a laugh. She then recalled specifically what Frank said and asked, "We?"

"I'll go in alone," he clarified, "but once I'm inside, I can make contact with those people you like."

She hadn't had enough time to make a decision on any of them yet. How does one choose strangers to come live with them during a pandemic?

"I can get in and get out in just a few hours, maybe less," Frank reassured her. "If something were to go wrong ... if I wasn't able to get out again ... you'd take care of Little Bit ... right?"

Allison hadn't considered that yet, either. She followed Frank's glance toward the infant. If something were to happen to the man, if he wasn't to return, how the hell would she continue to care for the property and care for a baby?

"Tell me more about how you would get back in and get back out again," Allison requested, adding, "keeping in mind that last time you got chased across the countryside and ended up in a shootout and crashed in a ditch, where you only survived because I killed the men chasing you."

They spent more than an hour going over Frank's plan. He'd been thinking the strategy over for a while, and had weighed the dangers enough to present Allison with a plan that sounded feasible. When they were finished going over the operation, she reminded Frank, "I still haven't decided on whether we're doing this or not yet. And if I decide not to, I hope you'll honor my decision. It is, after all, my place and my decision."

It was getting late, and Allison still had her evening patrol to finish. She went inside to prepare, then found herself deciding to blow the tour off this one night. Instead of going downhill toward the highway, Allison headed up the slight rise on which the estate sat until she reached one of her favorite places on the property. Some relative long ago had carved a bench seat out of a gigantic fallen tree.

Allison sat there and watched the red sky in the west slowly go black. The stars filled the sky, presenting a magical look most people didn't get to see because of urban light pollution. She sat there a couple of hours, thinking about Frank's proposal. Allison had never had to be brave about things, and taking this leap required major bravery.

Eventually, she headed back down to the house, and finding Frank in the living room playing with Robert, Allison told him with a firm tone, "Okay. Let's do this. I approve of all of your people ... except maybe the Ukranian. Tell me more about what he has to offer."

They talked about Victor some more, after which Allison said, "Fine. He can come, too." She considered the list a moment more, then added, "If there are others you think should come ... you have my permission. But keep in mind something important. Robert will be living here with you ... with me ... with the others. Anyone you bring here poses a threat to the health and life of that little boy. Use your common sense."

They chatted a bit more before they set about feeding the dogs, securing the property, and closing up the house again. Robert was dead to the world and was put down in the crib without complications. When Frank turned away from the boy, Allison was standing close to him ... intimately close.

"I don't want to imagine that you might not come back again," she said softly, moving closer to Frank. She reached out a hand to his chest, caressing it softly as she informed him, "I haven't been with a man in a long time. If you thought you'd want to be with me..."

"The Last Plague" (closed)

It was most definitely a nice surprise waking up to the smell of breakfast, particularly to the wondrous scent of coffee. Until Frank had arrived with his bag of grounds, Allison hadn't had a cup of jo in over half a year.

The greater surprise, though, was when Frank suggested that maybe they add more names to the list of hands working the McGee Estate. Allison hadn't expected that, and as he was speaking on the topic, she simply sat there in silence, sipping at her mug while churning the unexpected suggestion around in her brain.

"Just something to think about," he said in way of concluding the suggestion and leaving anymore to said about it to Allison.

She did in fact mull on it a moment before giving the non-committal reply, "I'll give it some thought."

Allison had already made an enormous leap by simply inviting Frank to stay a while, whether it be short, long, or indefinite. The thought of having even more strangers, potentially dangerous strangers, moving to the estate was almost frightening.

"I need to get started on my route," she finally said, not yet ready to speak about the idea any further at the moment. She looked to Robert, who was grasping at the playpen's net wall and trying to pull himself up. "He's a strong child. He'll need that if he's going to help you with the chores soon."

Allison laughed, began to help with cleaning up the table, got told by Frank that he'd handle it, and left the room to gather her things for the patrol. She thanked him for breakfast and interacted with Robert a moment before heading out with a pail of scraps and homemade dog food for the Scrooges.

As she headed down the draw toward the perimeter woods, Allison thought more on what Frank had suggested. It wouldn't have been a bad idea a year ago, before the world began to fall apart. But the collapse of society, the near distinguishing of law and order, the rise of militias and fall of respect had led to a world where it was hard for most people to trust strangers.

Stopping at the forest's edge and looking back on the estate, Allison considered the good that could come from having a half dozen more pairs of hands to get the work done. Of course, each pair of hands came with a mouth to feed, too. Maybe four pairs of hands, four mouths.

Still, Allison didn't know these people. Hell, she still didn't know Frank. For all she knew, he'd been the actual bad guy in the firefight into which she'd been drawn the day two days earlier. And there was always the possibility that in the process of recruiting these good people, some of the bad people Allison had been avoiding since I-55 destroyed her world would end up finding the estate as well.

No, for now she was determined to keep things as they were. Frank would simply have to accept that it was just the two of them for now -- two and a half, actually.

Her mind was churning with thoughts as she went about her patrol, finding nothing of concern as she almost always did these days. When she returned to the house, she found Frank out on the grounds still hard at work on his list, which Allison had added to during breakfast. She found just enough coffee still hot on the wood stove to fill two mugs halfway. She went out to find him and gave one over.

"I'm not ready for more people," she informed him. She sipped at her coffee, then added a simple, "Let's talk about it more later on ... maybe in a couple of days." She emptied her mug, set it aside, and asked, "Okay, what's left to do?"

They finished the morning chores while Robert lay on a blanket and laughed and tugged at the nose and fur of one of the Scrooges who'd decided to babysit the tyke. Occasionally, curious chickens or ducks would wander over toward the blanket, only to flap away when the Australian Shepherd jerked his snout or paw at them in warning.

The three of them eventually headed inside for lunch, and after coming outside again to dig up a hundred pounds or more of carrots, onions, and potatoes, Allison got started on more food preservation. It would occupy her for the rest of the day, even with Frank help in cleaning and chopping.

Before they knew it, the sun was falling, and it was time for another evening perimeter patrol. Allison suited up and armed up and headed out. Sometimes in the past, she'd wondered if all this security was really necessary. At times, she thought she'd done it just to have something to do that didn't involve planting, picking, or preserving food ... something that took her mind off the fact that she'd been all alone in the world after her last relative's death to the virus.

Now, though, with another human being on the property, Allison didn't have to patrol to preserve her insanity. Yet, as she headed down the draw again, she reminded herself of what had happened two nights ago and how -- if she hadn't been there when Frank and Jennifer were chased into the ditch by 5 armed killers -- the mayhem might have spilled over onto the estate without her knowing or knowing in a timely manner.

No, for the time being she would continue to make her rounds. Maybe she could reduce it to just morning or night, not both. She would have liked to show Frank the route and let him do some of the walking through the woods. But who would stay with Little Bit while she was showing him the ropes? That only made her think about Frank's suggestion that they get some more people to share the burden.

Allison was wearing herself out. She knew that. She'd worked hard all her life, but she'd always had family and sometimes hired hands to share the load. For months now, it had been just her and before that just her and a cousin who, to be honest, hadn't been much use to her. Allison was getting up every morning around 5am, patrolling, working, napping for an hour or so if she could, working more, patrolling again, and finally laying her head down sometime after 7 or 8pm, sometimes much later.

She couldn't continue on this way for much longer, even with a second pair of hands. Frank was going to change everything, of course. But would it be enough? Allison knew she had to put some more thought into his suggestion.

She returned in the dark, dug out some more bones for the Stooges from a box of them she kept, and headed inside. There was no sign of Frank or Robert, but a short search found the former in his bed and the latter in the adjacent playpen, both of them sacked out. She returned to the kitchen, finding it immaculately cleaned and organized. She smiled, thinking Frank makes quite a housewife.

Allison hurried through her shower and skipped the masturbation, needing as much sleep as she could get...

..................

The next morning began as the previous one had, including yet another perimeter patrol, more daily chores, and the harvesting of apples to be preserved as sauce and juice both. The pair sat on the porch to partake of barbequed chicken; Allison had determined that one of the older hens was no longer laying eggs and had brought her career to an end with a hatchet.

"Tell me more about these good people of whom you speak," she said out of the blue as they were watching the sun disappear into the western woods. "I'm not saying I'm ready for something like this. I'm just saying ... I'll listen."

"The Last Plague" (closed)

Allison stood over the soundly sleeping Frank for a long moment, smiling down to the fidgeting Robert who smiled up happily. She still couldn't believe the change in direction her life had so suddenly taken. Months without anyone in her life, and now she had a male companion and an infant living under her roof.

Carefully, she lifted the child up into her arms, whispering sweet words while gently bouncing it as she'd so often done with her relatives' infants during their family visits. Allison had never had an interest in becoming a mother herself, despite the joy she'd felt when holding or playing with others' children. It wasn't that she didn't have a motherly instinct. It was simply that she'd already had so much work in her life that she couldn't imagine adding care for a baby to that.

Allison took Robert to the kitchen, fed him some more mashed vegetables she'd prepared earlier in the day, and visited with him for a while. She talked to Little Bit about the farm's crops and the ranch's stock. She talked about all that her father had done today to help with both.

From where she was sitting, Allison could see Frank on the couch. He hadn't moved and seemed soundly asleep still, though with him facing the couch, she couldn't honestly know. She continued socializing with the kid until he started showing signs of needing to sleep. "Time for you to go to bed, Little Bit."

Allison took Robert to the crib, which Frank had moved to the living room but not used, instead keeping the child with him on the couch. She put the baby down, watching him almost immediately close his eyes. Before heading to her own bedroom upstairs, Allison spread a blanket out over Frank, then -- fearing the night might be colder than the previous one -- added a second one to it.

Again, she stood over the top of him a long moment. She'd made a leap inviting him to live here. She knew that. Studying his peaceful and handsome face, then recalling how nice he'd looked as he labored through the day, she tried to imagine what he would have looked like had he shed her grandfather's robe after that first shower. A tingle ran up her spine, and Allison chastised herself silently for wanting to make another leap so quickly in their relationship.

She secured the house as she always did, headed upstairs, and took a quick shower. Running the bar of soap over her bare flesh filled her mind with thoughts of Frank. Drying and slipping into her bed, her hands once again caressed over her form, eventually finding that most erogenous of locations. Minutes later, Allison held a pillow over her face to muffle the joyous sounds as the euphoria of orgasm exploded through her.

"The Last Plague" (closed)

(OOC: That's okay. You can use that post later, if we stick with that part of the storyline.)

Allison's lips spread wide in a delighted smile when Frank took her offer with a firm, "Deal."

He first credited his acceptance to wanting a safe home for little Robert, but Allison sensed that he likely would have taken the offer even without being responsible for Little Bit. He spoke of offering more than labor, telling her he might have labor-saving ideas at times, but then immediately gave Allision permission to dismiss his offerings. She doubted that Frank could tell her much more about farming and ranching than she already knew, but at the same time, Allison knew that she wasn't the most knowledgeable person in the world either. Her experience was limited to what she'd learned working here on the estate; she'd never gone away to school or worked off the property, so there was likely a lot Frank knew that she didn't.

"So ... what else can I do?" he asked. "There's got to be more that you want me to participate in. I could do the dishes, since you cooked, I mean."

"Finally," she said with overexaggerated joy. "Someone else to do the frickin' dishes."

They laughed together, and when Allison looked off to the west and realized how late it was getting, she said, "Yes, Frank, there is definitely something more you need to learn." She stood, saying, "I'll be right back."

She disappeared into the house for a few minutes, and when she emerged she was dressed in camouflage to perform her perimeter patrol, carrying .30-06, her 12 gauge, her hip-mounted pistol, and her backpack.

"Every night, I walk the perimeter of the property," she explained. "That's what I was doing when I came across you and Little Bit last night. We used to get intruders all the time just after the pandemic began. People looking for food, shelter ... trouble. We'd ask them politely to get off the property, and if that didn't work we'd run them off with a couple of pot shots.

"Over time, as the population began to peter out," she continued, slinging the rifle over her shoulder, there were fewer of them, but the ones we did encounter were almost always armed and rarely willing to leave without trouble. We, um ... we dealt with them, too, not unlike the way I dealt with your pursuers yesterday.

"I'd never actually shot anyone personally," she said, her tone a bit more solemn. "Other family members had. It's not an easy thing to do."

Allison hesitated, looking at Frank for signs that he may have killed in the past or that he might want to speak about that now. If he did want to talk, she would listen; if he didn't, she'd understand that, too.

"But, after a while, they stopped coming. Still, I circle the property looking for them. I would invite you to walk the trail with me, but--" She glanced at the playpen again, then continued, "Someone has to be here for Robert."

She looked back to Frank a moment, then reached to the small of her back to pull out the 9mm he'd been carrying the day before. "I collected all of the weapons when I went back last night. I think this belongs to you."

Allison waited for Frank to take it, then said, "It's loaded. And there are two loaded clips on the kitchen table that I took from one of the men last night. Same model as what you have there. I checked."

After a moment of studying him, Allison said, "I'm trusting you with the care of my family farm, Frank ... and ... with my life. You could shoot me in the back as I leave the porch--" She looked out to the farm again before continuing, "--and all of this would be yours. I don't believe you'll do that. So..."

She gave him a smile, headed down the steps, and called back over her shoulder, "I'll be back in two hours."

"The Last Plague" (closed)

(OOC: Oh, yeah ... oops!)

Allison was still working in the kitchen when she heard the creaking of the old wooden porch. She went to the window and found Frank laying on it. He looked beat. She went to the fridge with a tall glass and filled it with juice made fresh from her own apple trees.

"I haven't worked this hard in a long time," Frank told her when he opened his eyes and found her standing over him.

"It's a life that takes a lot of getting used to," Allison said, offering him the juice. She looked out over the place. "It's funny. Most people who come here, even some of my relatives ... when they look out and take it in, they see beauty ... peace and tranquility. Me, I see chores that need to be done day after day ... tasks and repairs that all should have been yesterday and probably still won't be done until tomorrow."

She looked to Frank again and smiled. With a sincere tone, she told him, "But I wouldn't give it up for anything. I spent my entire life here. My parents spent most of their adult years after college and medical school overseas with Doctors Without Borders or domestically with the Red Cross. They never owned a house somewhere else ... never had an apartment unless it was in a foreign country. It made sense for them and, obviously, me to just stay here. It's home."

Looking out again, catching sight of the dogs as they ambled her way unhurriedly. Her gaze shifted toward the cemetery, barely visible around the back from where she and Frank were. She finished, "My life had been here, and if all goes as it should be, I'll end up out there with my family ... and with your Jennifer."

She went inside to get some meaty bones left over from some butchering she'd been doing and tossed them to the Stooges. The dogs ran plopped down in the yellowed lawn to grind as Allison suggested to Frank, "Why don't you call it a day. Get a shower, change into something clean. We're barbequing tonight. Hope you like goat."

She headed inside to gather the ingredients, then back out to the brick-and-mortar BBQ pit her uncles had built years ago as a Father's Day gift to their grandfather, Allison's great-grandfather. She burned seasoned oak in the pit to roast the Shish Kebabs of cubes of goat meat alongside potato, carrots, onions, and more, all of them fresh from the garden.

"Try this," she said as she offered Frank a glass of dark liquid. "I make it from a recipe handed down through my family for more than 80 years. My great-great-grandfather picked up the recipe in Germany after the war ... the first one. My ancestors have been making it since."

Allison lifted her own glass of ale, holding a mouthful for a moment to enjoy the taste before swallowing it down. She waited for Frank to enjoy a taste, then nodded her head in the direction of the properties largest structure, telling him, "Out beyond the barn we have a half-acre of hops. Harvest was at the end of August. Now, you talk about a lot of work. I almost let the crop go this year. Might not even put it in next."

She sipped at her beer again, asking Frank what he thought of it. She tossed a roasted cube of goat to one of the dogs; the other two were passed out in the shade of a tree, as was Robert in the playpen which they'd brought out into the shade of the porch. She considered her life here for a moment as she took in the buildings and crops and animals wandering its pastures and pens.

"This place is far too much for one person," she mused. She chuckled again, saying, "It was too much for me and Gramma and Grampa when they were both still alive. The relatives helped sometimes, and we hired hands for some of the planting and harvest work. We limited the garden this year to about a quarter of the size and culled the herds and flocks. That helped. Still, I can't keep up with it on my own."

She looked to her new farmhand with a serious expression, and after a moment she offered, "If you wanted to stay here long term, Frank..." She hesitated, then finished, "I know we only just met, and I know that this world is ... fucked ... and no one knows whether they'll be alive tomorrow, let alone be planning to harvest or plant or whatever. But ... if you thought you'd be interested ... you and Little Bit could make a home here."

"The Last Plague" (closed)

"I feel like a new man."

Allison turned at the return of Frank, finding him standing in the doorway to the kitchen in her father's robe. Looking him up and down, she felt a chill run up and down her spine. It had been a long time since she'd seen a man in this situation who wasn't a blood relative of hers, and to have one who was handsome and fit only doubled up earlier thoughts she'd had about Frank.

"How long for the water to heat up so I can go again," he asked playfully. "Do I need a special ticket, like they have a Disneyland?"

She laughed. Turning down the heat under a large canner and shedding her apron, she waved him to follow, saying, "Let's find you and the kid something to wear."

As Frank poked through the closet that still held all of Allison's father's clothes, she rummaged through a box she'd found earlier that was full of clothing left behind or forgotten by family members over the years. Gramma used to drag it out when she had visitors, first asking if anyone knew who this or that belonged to, then telling them they could take anything that would fit their kids at that time. Eventually, the box would overflow and she'd take it to the local Goodwill.

Allison found a onesie that was about two sizes too large and a small stocking cap that, honestly, she thought she remembered having been on the head of one of her niece's American Girl dolls a couple of years back. Without asking, she stripped the towel from Robert and redressed him, slipping the smallest pair of sox she could find over his little feet as well.

"It would be easier if we just used the clothes you brought with you for Little Bit," she said, using a nickname one of her cousins had had for her own son back when he was a toddler. "But all the warnings about how the virus can be retained by natural fibers..."

She let the thought go as she turned to find her grandfather standing before her. Oh, it wasn't Grampa, of course, but the resemblance Frank had to the ol' man while wearing these clothes was incredible.

"Do I look like a farmer?" he asked as he looked down at himself in the old, worn work clothes. "Cuz honestly, I don't know what I'm supposed to look like to work outside."

"You look perfect, Frank," Allison said, using his name to keep straight in her mind who she was actually seeing before her. A bit of emotion came over her and she recalled the missing members of her family, and for a moment, Allison almost wanted to move forward and wrap her arms around the man who, until yesterday evening, had been a stranger to her. "It'll do."

He talked about earning his keep, saying, "Just point me in the right direction."

"Okay, then ... let's do this," Allison said, smiling. She grabbed up the wet towel on the bed and headed out, leaving Frank to deal with the youngling. On the way back toward the kitchen, she told him, "Usually, I'm already three hours into my day by now, but after last night..."

She didn't finish her sentence, feeling that Frank understood well enough. She continued, "I'll get you outside and explain some of the chores, but then I have to get back inside and deal with the green beans I'm canning."

Allison was aware that she'd blown off her morning tour around the perimeter, and considering that men with guns had been just beyond the property line the day before, she felt as though she was taking chances with her security. But this day was an unusual one, and she was playing it by ear at this point.

Out at the barns, she quickly ran through a dozen chores that she would herself would normally have performed after her morning patrol. Frank asked questions, but for the most part he seemed to understand what was expected of him. Allison, when satisfied, said, "Okay, you start on these, and I'll get back to what I was doing."

She looked to Frank and smiled, then came forward to take Robert from his arms. The man had brought the baby backpack out with him, but Allison knew he wouldn't be able to work hard and care for the little guy at the same time.

"There's a playpen in the basement for when the relatives visited with their little one's," she explained. To Robert but for Frank's benefit as well, she said with a playful tone, "We'll be fine inside while daddy works, won't we Little Bit ... yeah, we will."

She stepped back, checked Frank for an expression that told her it was okay to take the toddler, then headed back toward the house. On the way, she whistled to the three Australian Shepherds, which had been playing nearby. When they rushed to her, Allison gestured a hand toward the distant pastures and ordered, "Guard."

Without hesitation, the three shot away at full speed, heading down the driveway and across the yard. If Frank kept an eye on them for a while, he would see that they used little gaps in the fences to move from one pasture to the other, sometimes startling the animals in them, sometimes not; it was obvious that this was a normal daily activity for one and all.

In the house, Allison laid Robert on a rug on the floor and wrapped a blanket around the baby to keep him in place. Downstairs, she easily found the old playpen, still folded up and hanging from an overhead hook. Back upstairs, she assembled it again, wiped it down with a wet rag, put the pad in place, and covered that layer with a couple of blankets.

"Ready, Freddy?" she asked Robert as she retrieved him and lifted him into the enclosure.

She'd put the playpen in the dining room just past the kitchen doorway so that the two of them could see each other. Then, giving Robert some rubber toys which she'd wiped off as well and seeing that the kid seemed happy enough, she returned to the kitchen to finish canning the beans. She looked to Robert often, waving and speaking to him if he was looking her way, which often he was.

After a while, Allison realized that she was absolutely bubbling with joy. The feeling had crept up on her unseen, and when she thought about it consciously, she couldn't help but laugh. Catching sight of Frank through the kitchen window as he continued with his chores, she considered the very serious turn her life was taking. She'd never imagined that something like this could happen, and as tickled as she was finding herself, Allison feared she could be setting herself up for disappointment -- or worse.