https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/ Tue, 20 Oct 2026 09:33:30 +0000 MyBB https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=883 Tue, 25 Jul 2023 02:30:46 +0000 Malachi Blake]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=883

The trip back to his preferred safe house was blessedly uneventful. The last thing he needed to do was run across people. There were many places where it was survival of the fittest, so they wouldn’t think twice. Others though…they might try to be heroes, and the last thing he felt like doing was dealing with a would-be hero.

Malachi didn’t think she was much of a damsel deserving of being saved. She certainly didn’t deserve someone else putting their life on the line for her.

He’d made it back just before dusk began to settle in and then set getting things prepared. The old county sheriff’s office was the perfect getaway. It was far enough from the main areas that there were lower risks of running into the infected and the living. It had a small set of cells. It was easily secured. He’d done so quite a while back. He’d taken the time to modify the basement. One of the cells he’d left alone, while the other he’d changed and made into his own. He’d cleared out the interrogation room. For unknown reasons, they’d clearly repurposed it from a laundry room before the world went to hell because he was surprised to find caps on the wall where the plumbing had been.

Malachi had eagerly uncapped those and scrounged up the necessary parts to set up the faucets. He’d also gone through the trouble of getting those pipes set up so that he could feed water into it from a raised tank on the other side of the wall. Much work had gone into setting up something he could put a fire under and heat without giving himself away, burning the place down, or killing himself with smoke and carbon monoxide. Fortunately, he had a lot of time on his hands. The rest of eternity, in fact, or so it seemed. Moving the tub that he’d settled in beneath that faucet was one of the times that he was glad for his unnatural state. He’d never have been able to move it in otherwise.

All in all, he’d made the place entirely defensible and, more than that, livable. The “secret” side of the interrogation room acted as his kitchen and fridge since he’d busted down through the concrete to dig a root cellar into the earth to help keep perishables cooler. Sure, he couldn’t eat them…but people traded top-end stuff for perishables they couldn’t get elsewhere.

It had several tripwires leading down to that first barred and reinforced door to help alert him. He had weapons stashed in the office space off the first door, and the whole setup funneled nicely in a kill corridor. As far as solo living went, you couldn’t get much safer or more comfortable.

It was here that he’d taken her. She’d been so out of it due to blood loss and exhaustion. He’d contemplated cleaning her up but ultimately decided to just lay her on the narrow bed of the cell he’d kept whole. Two of the walls were solid cinderblocks. The other two were bars, with one where the door was. To ensure she didn’t get any ideas if she happened to wake up, he took a pair of the handy cuffs left behind and cuffed her arms above her head to the frame of the bolted-in bed.

Now, he was in a chair, a bucket of warm water and a cloth in hand. Setting the bucket down, he dipped the rag and squeezed it out. Lifting it, he stroked it against the skin of her jaw and cheek, trying to rid her of the road dust and grime she’d accumulated.

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The trip back to his preferred safe house was blessedly uneventful. The last thing he needed to do was run across people. There were many places where it was survival of the fittest, so they wouldn’t think twice. Others though…they might try to be heroes, and the last thing he felt like doing was dealing with a would-be hero.

Malachi didn’t think she was much of a damsel deserving of being saved. She certainly didn’t deserve someone else putting their life on the line for her.

He’d made it back just before dusk began to settle in and then set getting things prepared. The old county sheriff’s office was the perfect getaway. It was far enough from the main areas that there were lower risks of running into the infected and the living. It had a small set of cells. It was easily secured. He’d done so quite a while back. He’d taken the time to modify the basement. One of the cells he’d left alone, while the other he’d changed and made into his own. He’d cleared out the interrogation room. For unknown reasons, they’d clearly repurposed it from a laundry room before the world went to hell because he was surprised to find caps on the wall where the plumbing had been.

Malachi had eagerly uncapped those and scrounged up the necessary parts to set up the faucets. He’d also gone through the trouble of getting those pipes set up so that he could feed water into it from a raised tank on the other side of the wall. Much work had gone into setting up something he could put a fire under and heat without giving himself away, burning the place down, or killing himself with smoke and carbon monoxide. Fortunately, he had a lot of time on his hands. The rest of eternity, in fact, or so it seemed. Moving the tub that he’d settled in beneath that faucet was one of the times that he was glad for his unnatural state. He’d never have been able to move it in otherwise.

All in all, he’d made the place entirely defensible and, more than that, livable. The “secret” side of the interrogation room acted as his kitchen and fridge since he’d busted down through the concrete to dig a root cellar into the earth to help keep perishables cooler. Sure, he couldn’t eat them…but people traded top-end stuff for perishables they couldn’t get elsewhere.

It had several tripwires leading down to that first barred and reinforced door to help alert him. He had weapons stashed in the office space off the first door, and the whole setup funneled nicely in a kill corridor. As far as solo living went, you couldn’t get much safer or more comfortable.

It was here that he’d taken her. She’d been so out of it due to blood loss and exhaustion. He’d contemplated cleaning her up but ultimately decided to just lay her on the narrow bed of the cell he’d kept whole. Two of the walls were solid cinderblocks. The other two were bars, with one where the door was. To ensure she didn’t get any ideas if she happened to wake up, he took a pair of the handy cuffs left behind and cuffed her arms above her head to the frame of the bolted-in bed.

Now, he was in a chair, a bucket of warm water and a cloth in hand. Setting the bucket down, he dipped the rag and squeezed it out. Lifting it, he stroked it against the skin of her jaw and cheek, trying to rid her of the road dust and grime she’d accumulated.

]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=859 Sun, 01 Jan 2023 04:31:09 +0000 Malachi Blake]]> https://blood-and-bone.silhouette-forums.com/showthread.php?tid=859

Malachi checked the weather outside through the boarded window of the building he was in. It was temperate…firmly settled in towards the colder weather, but it wouldn’t be winter weather for another month. That was strange to him for one fundamental reason:

He was damn sure hell had frozen over.

That was the only logical explanation he had for the fact that he’d been given a note left for him with a sherpa contact in the Junkyard. It wasn’t that someone leaving a message for him was out of the ordinary, far from it. Malachi’s livelihood, such as it were, revolved mainly around that sort of thing. People did it regularly when they wanted to contact him for scavenging runs in the ruins of the outskirts and the abandoned town. So, it wasn’t the message itself that was unexpected.

It was the fact that it was from Scout Gadsby.

The girl had made her opinion of things pretty damn clear when they’d parted ways that she wanted nothing to do with him. He didn’t blame her. He didn’t even fault her for it. She’d put a bullet in her partner’s brainpan because Malachi had fucked up and nearly died, outing the truth of what he was in the process. He hadn’t let her know that she would be okay, and she made a very logical conclusion based on that lack of knowledge. That led to her feeling backed into a corner and desperate.

All he’d managed to do was tell her just how wrong that conclusion had been…after, it was too late for her to undo the damage that she’d wrought based on that conclusion. He agreed that he’d probably fucked up her life because of that omission, so when she said she wanted him to leave her alone, he’d planned on making good on her wish wholeheartedly. Because of this, her sudden desire to get back in contact with him had him confused.

It also made him paranoid.

She was the only living person that knew his secret, and for the past few weeks, he was pretty sure she’d been roughing it somewhere, trying to make a go at it now that she was cut off from Stronghold and the life she knew. ” What if she wasn’t the only one that knew that now? He’d wondered to himself. He hadn’t lived as long as before the world went to hell by being naïve. Something about this didn’t pass the sniff test…but another part of him didn’t want to think that she’d be stupid enough to try and peddle him off to save her own ass.

So he found himself in the dilapidated remnants of this two-story highway hotel on the primary thoroughfare that led from the Junkyard to the abandoned town. The town was only a few blocks away, but the road here was open. He’d left a reply, giving her an address just inside the town, and then he’d set up camp here, watching that approach for the last two days since then, staking out the only way that made sense to come.

Malachi wanted to ensure she wasn’t bringing any company with her. Then and only then would he make himself apparent and meet Scout to find out what was going on and why she suddenly had this change of heart. So there he sat at the small Formica table that was this old hotel’s “office” appointments, a worn set of binoculars settled upon it so that he could inspect the comings and goings of everyone traveling along that road.

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Malachi checked the weather outside through the boarded window of the building he was in. It was temperate…firmly settled in towards the colder weather, but it wouldn’t be winter weather for another month. That was strange to him for one fundamental reason:

He was damn sure hell had frozen over.

That was the only logical explanation he had for the fact that he’d been given a note left for him with a sherpa contact in the Junkyard. It wasn’t that someone leaving a message for him was out of the ordinary, far from it. Malachi’s livelihood, such as it were, revolved mainly around that sort of thing. People did it regularly when they wanted to contact him for scavenging runs in the ruins of the outskirts and the abandoned town. So, it wasn’t the message itself that was unexpected.

It was the fact that it was from Scout Gadsby.

The girl had made her opinion of things pretty damn clear when they’d parted ways that she wanted nothing to do with him. He didn’t blame her. He didn’t even fault her for it. She’d put a bullet in her partner’s brainpan because Malachi had fucked up and nearly died, outing the truth of what he was in the process. He hadn’t let her know that she would be okay, and she made a very logical conclusion based on that lack of knowledge. That led to her feeling backed into a corner and desperate.

All he’d managed to do was tell her just how wrong that conclusion had been…after, it was too late for her to undo the damage that she’d wrought based on that conclusion. He agreed that he’d probably fucked up her life because of that omission, so when she said she wanted him to leave her alone, he’d planned on making good on her wish wholeheartedly. Because of this, her sudden desire to get back in contact with him had him confused.

It also made him paranoid.

She was the only living person that knew his secret, and for the past few weeks, he was pretty sure she’d been roughing it somewhere, trying to make a go at it now that she was cut off from Stronghold and the life she knew. ” What if she wasn’t the only one that knew that now? He’d wondered to himself. He hadn’t lived as long as before the world went to hell by being naïve. Something about this didn’t pass the sniff test…but another part of him didn’t want to think that she’d be stupid enough to try and peddle him off to save her own ass.

So he found himself in the dilapidated remnants of this two-story highway hotel on the primary thoroughfare that led from the Junkyard to the abandoned town. The town was only a few blocks away, but the road here was open. He’d left a reply, giving her an address just inside the town, and then he’d set up camp here, watching that approach for the last two days since then, staking out the only way that made sense to come.

Malachi wanted to ensure she wasn’t bringing any company with her. Then and only then would he make himself apparent and meet Scout to find out what was going on and why she suddenly had this change of heart. So there he sat at the small Formica table that was this old hotel’s “office” appointments, a worn set of binoculars settled upon it so that he could inspect the comings and goings of everyone traveling along that road.

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