A Shephard- Sarah Epilogue (this is the good one)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qLJZzuzEyNw [Embed]

Things after that were a bit of a blur. Somehow while you spaced out or knocked out, you assumed Sarah had taken care of the body. You were grateful for that, not sure that your brave front could stomach that after everything else you went through. Sarah, your shotgun, lay as a firearm when you came to. You tanked her, but didn’t get a response. You decided to stay at May’s place until she came back- someone needed to explain why some food was missing and the property was damaged. It was your fault anyways, and you didn’t want to mistreat her earlier kindness like that. And so she showed up a day after, wanting to check up on her property after the storm.

Not wanting to outright lie, but knowing enough that the truth wouldn’t make any sense, as you yourself were still struggling with it, you gave her half the story. Your uncle was doing his usual shitbag thing, and you ran away from home. Decided to stay at her place until the storm blew over. You explained the front, not very convincingly, that it was damaged by the storm, and you tried your best to fix it with a spare 2x4 and some nails. The shotgun, you said, you took with you because it was your fathers and you didn’t want your uncle to have it. You didn’t mention the gunfight, Sarah, or anything else.
She, you guess, already knowing how much of a piece of a waste your uncle was, allowed you to stay. She even delayed longer than she needed to to give him that call to know where you were. She really did care for you, a great comfort after everything that happened. She didn’t ask about what exactly he was doing, or how you got those bruises, she just kept the conversation light. But it was refreshing, after everything. But she eventually had to make that call, and wasn’t surprised when he didn’t pick up. It wasn’t until a few days after that she came back to her house you were staying at saying that she had been to your uncle’s place, and couldn’t find him. Soon after, cops were called, a missing person's report was filed, but no one seemed really inclined to go out of their way to look for him. His reputation preceded him, you guessed. You weren’t really pressing yourself. And after all that, you felt you really didn’t need an adult to look after you, despite your still young age. You’d found some confidence in yourself, and didn’t want to be that dependant on others anymore. Sarah stayed silent during all of this, not having seen her since the day you shot your uncle.

It didn’t take much convincing to talk to Aunt May into giving you a ride into the city, to catch a train up north. You told her you had family up there, and you’d stay with them until this was all sorted out. In retrospect it must have been obvious to her when you had a bunch of bags packed full of your stuff you were just running away up north, but she took you anyways. The money you took from your uncle, which should have been yours anyways, kept you fed as you looked for work. You had a lie for a few years about your age, but you figured out real quick you were handy with mechanical things, and bounced around a few auto shops. You kept Sarah close by, but she kept to herself as a shotgun. It saddened you a bit, but you thought you understood her intentions.
After turning 18, you had sorted things out enough that you could have sustained yourself with your work. But lack of a high school diploma was hampering your chances at applying at local community colleges. You reluctantly went back south for a bit during that summer to get the paperwork you needed to re-track your life. Seeing your uncle’s place strangely unperturbed, you found all the documentation you needed and got in contact with the lawyer in charge of your estate. Nobody came looking for you, you learned, when you ran away. You didn’t have much extended family in the first place, and with your uncle out of the picture, no one kept collecting the checks. There was a clause for this too, in the will. Your father’s foresightedness being really helpful. After a few weeks, you managed to collect some of that money owed- but there was a stipulation. Your father locked away most of the money hoping to give it as a graduation present- when you got out of college. You guess he wanted you to be just like him. There was a lot of work ahead of you. Sarah still there, in the corner of your rented apartment living room, reminding you to always think of where you were and where you were going.
That was six months ago. You’re taking night classes to finish your high school diploma while you wrench most days of the week. You come home tired most afternoons while grabbing a quick dinner, then out the door to class. Midnight is when you collapse back in your bed, exhausted.

Sometimes you prop up Sarah in one of the chairs as you eat. She looks a lot better these days- some of the first money you made wrenching went straight to new wood for her stock and grip. You’d become familiar with disassembly and maintenance- trying to make up for all the neglect your uncle had done. During your meals, you stay quiet for the most part, but it’s comforting that the shotgun is there. Occasionally you’ll talk to her, telling her a funny story from work- like that quiet ukrainian guy who inexplicably showed up in your shop with a half working soviet jeep, or how you’re feeling absolutely exhausted lately after bouncing back and forth between your two responsibilities. You float out loud the idea of taking a break from work, but you always shoot yourself down. You’re sure she’s listening. Hopefully. The further life goes on, the more it seems that stormy week was just a crazy fever dream.

But today, as you shovel another spoonful of oatmeal into your mouth, staring absentmindedly into the corner of the room, you spit out your oats as a very familiar smirk suddenly graces your presence.

There, in sharply pressed khaki fatigues, staring at you with almost sparking blue eyes, that smug smirk going a mile wide, a warm comfort of familiarity settles over you as Sarah asks

“Now where are we and where are we going?”
You’re at Gilbert’s Guns, walking towards the entrance with Sarah at your side. After yesterday’s sudden appearance, you decided the best thing to do with her is finally taking her shooting. For fun, this time. Maybe a new experience for her as well; being pointed at something that wasn’t expected to shoot back. You’d avoided the range untill you could actually talk to her, so both you and her were very excited at the prospect. You’ve decided to buy some ammo at the gunshop that helped you source some of the parts to restore her, more as a courtesy for their help than it being the most convenient place.

As soon as you open the door, her eyes go wide. Seeing polymer guns, especially in this quantity, must be a shock to her. You haven’t really had the time to explain how the world’s changed since the last 70 years since she’s spent a significant time in it. She suddenly takes off to another corner of the store, possibly the shotgun wall. You just chuckle. It’s nice to see her excited about something other than telling old war stories. You slowly approach the opposite counter, to ask about the different types of shotgun ammo you could purchase. You were going to be doing a lot of shooting, and you wanted to make up for lost time with Sarah.

Someone at the other end of the store catches your eye, however. Or, you should say, a group of people. Immediately, you recognize the owner, Gilbert, on his side of the counter, explaining something to the other, somewhat familiar face. It’s that blank looking slavic guy who brought in that old russian service jeep. He’s speaking pretty fluent english, not much of an accent. Maybe he spent some time here before? But that’s not why your attention is set on that group.

To his right, there is a woman who is slightly taller than him. She’s wearing a really heavy jacket, and still has her hood up. It might be cold outside, but you find it all suspicious. Occasionally the hood would twitch, confusingly enough. And her long backpack and baggy pants aren’t helping that thought. Long brown hair peaks out of her hood as she looks over the man's shoulder curiously at the transaction.

The second person with him is a bit shorter than he is, almost by a head. Wearing a dark military style jacket, she reminds you of Sarah, at least in the fact that she’s looking around very excitedly at the shop. Her short brown hair swishing back and forth as her head turns from this firearm to that pile of ammo boxes. Her demeanor seems childlike, but her very adult figure quickly dashes that assertion. You have the impression she’d take off in an instant, just like your Sarah, if it wasn’t for the firm hand resting on her shoulder.

That hand belonging to the last person in that group. Huge, is your first impression of her. Not in an overweight sense, but in a physically intimidating body shape. Taller than even the hooded woman, amazon would be the closest descriptor, although it wasn’t to an absurd point. Her long blonde hair done in a large pony tail, her eyes were framed behind a sleek pair of glasses as she too looked around. But her looks were more clinical, like she was trying to figure out how something worked- taking apart weapons and other shoppers in equal measure in her mind. There was an intelligence there you didn’t quite want to figure out, or be figured out by.

You weren’t the only one staring at the odd group, but your attention shifted as Sarah practically slams back into you, excited.

“They have one over there! A bayonet!” she says. “Ooohhh, I haven’t had one since your grandfather lost one in a jap, can we please pick it up!?”

You swear there are sparkles in her eyes as she bends down a bit to look up at you pleadingly, completing the effect. You know she’s fucking with you, but she probably really does want that knife. You’re more than happy to concede, as you already came to the shop more than willing to spend money to indulge her in some ammo. What’s a few accessories?
You’re interrupted by what you feel is a gaze on your back. And then a series of gazes.
Slowly, you look over and find yourself being stared at by that odd group. The tallest one in glasses is looking right at you. No, not at you, at Sarah. She taps the shorter man and points him at you and Sarah. At this point, Sarah is staring right back, just as confused as you are.

That whole group is looking at you now. The hooded one is staring wide-eyed, and the shorter one seems even more excited than before. And that taller one is staring at Sarah with that cold, analytical gaze. You’re not comfortable with this whole thing, and instinctively grab Sarah’s hand as you make an executive decision to leave when the plain looking man of the group, hesitatingly breaks away from those girls and walks up to you.

“Hi,” he says a bit awkwardly. You stare back. His demeanor seems not threatening, but the way he carries himself seems more like he’s in control of the situation, whatever that is right now. 'He's been through some shit' would be a good descriptor of his demeanor. You just stare and squeeze Sarah’s hand a bit. “My friends and I are interested in that firearm. Would you know of any good ranges we could shoot at, get to know each other more?”

You seize up. What firearm. How does he know. Seeing your reaction, he laughs awkwardly trying to break the tension.You start to get the impression by the continued gaze of the analytical woman in the back this was more of her idea than his, but resigned to his fate the man in front of you continues.

“Oh, don’t worry. They’re just like yours.” This gets Sarah’s attention.

Chuckling to himself, he finishes: “I don’t think it will be much outside of your Zone of comfort.”

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KRRGYEFZF4A [Embed]
And with that, I am done- for real this time.

Sarah was really fun to continue and to finally finish. Part of it was out of an obligation to finally finish something I started on here, but another part was that I wanted to use Sarah's "short" story as a springboard to hint at where my other project might go. Maybe.

We are a while off that, however. That's a much longer journey for someone to take to get there.