Letting It All Hang Out (NSFW)

(Warning! Knife stuff and possible icky wardrobe malfunction)

When morning came, the family was stunned at the wreckage that surrounded the parking lot.

Dennis was particularly appalled at just how many cars were thrown around and smashed by fallen trees. His fears were unfounded, however, when he saw their car was just fine.

“I reckon it’s high time we get back on the road,” he said to his wife and son. “You ready to pack your things in the hotel room?”

Blaise and Shark nodded. Sagebear just trotted over and sniffed his shoes. Carefully, so as not to startle her, Dennis picked her up and held her in his arms.

“You be careful now, puppy,” he said to her. “There might be broken glass on the ground! We don’t want you stepping on it and getting it in your paws.”

…

As soon as enough light came streaming through the window, Annette took a better look at the child in the photograph.

He couldn’t have looked any older than twelve or thirteen. Whatever his age was, his clothes were tattered and filthy looking. Many bruises dotted his skin.

“Poor kid…” He couldn’t be that much older now. Turning the picture around, Annette saw the year written on the back:

2002.

“And still no name? Who knows where he is now…”

She then tucked the photo back into her pocket, and left the house. She figured that asking a few townspeople might shed more light on her search.

Thankfully, Annette quickly found someone to ask when she reached the main part of the city. Much to her surprise, it was the two elderly women from the other day.

“Excuse me.” She hoped neither of them realized who she was, or that she’d eavesdropped on their earlier conversation. “Do either of you recognize this boy?”

One of the old women took the picture. Her face twisted into a concerned grimace, before handing it back to Annette.

“I’ve not seen that boy in a very long time, I’m afraid. He’s likely a grown up by now.”

…

Sinbad really wished Marc would put pants on right now. Given the way he was staring into his cup of tea, Harwood felt the same way.

“I love the pastels on this one!” Marc gushed over the artwork he and his entourage worked on at the shack last night. “Funny how the one who did this was an esthetician.”

Continuing to shuffle through his acquisitions, he then abruptly flashed another picture in Sinbad’s face.

Seeing what else got flashed in the process, Sinbad averted his eyes.

“What? Is the charcoal that bad?” Marc sounded a little hurt by it. “If it’s not good enough, I don’t have to hang it up-”

“No, the picture’s fine, bro!” It was difficult to articulate the exact problem. “It’s just, uh, you kind of got a different problem going on there…”

Harwood was kind enough to be blunt about it. “Son, your junk’s hanging out.”

Looking down, Marc then quickly covered himself and laughed nervously.

“I’ll…be right back then, hopefully!” Still holding his hands to his crotch, Marc sprinted back to grab his clothes.

…

The Builder grinned as they watched their assistants lug around the boxes of valuable ammunition, twirling their hunting knife in their hand the whole time.

“Now you be careful with all that, boys! I don’t like seeing potential dakka go to waste.”

Sunny was effortlessly picking up two or three boxes at a time as they spoke. Moony and Ox-Head had a harder time even picking up one. Still, they kept working under threat of The Builder’s wrath.

Hearing a crate drop to the floor and break behind them, The Builder then suddenly cringed. Slowly tilting their head backwards to look behind them, they saw Horse-Face standing among the bullets and splintered wood.

“Now what did I just get done telling you clowns?” They shouted, before standing up and approaching Horse-Face.

Horse-Face was eerily silent; Even as he was thrown to the ground, he just grunted upon impact.

This didn’t stop The Builder from lifting his cloak up and driving their knife into him. As they were doing so, they looked over at the other three assistants.

“Hey, unless you got popcorn to snack on, keep working! Nothing to see here.” Then they looked back to Horse-Face as the other three ran back to resume working. “Come on, Horsey! I ain’t gonna quit until you give me what I want to hear!”

It felt like an eternity before Horse-Face finally shrieked in total anguish.

…

Standing on the other side of the backseat, Sagebear poked her head through the partially rolled-down car window. Shark kept an eye on her to make sure she didn’t stick out too far.

“So what’cha planning to do when we reach Bridgeport?” Blaise asked when she leaned back to look at them. “Probably go shopping for dog clothes?”

“Probably!” Shark watched as Sagebear pulled her head back in at the mention of ‘dog clothes’. “Yes, puppy! You just might make out like a bandit when this vacation is over!”

Dennis couldn’t help but smirk at his son’s choice of words. At the same time, he chose not to bring it up, for fear of having Shark remember what he discovered a year ago.

He then gave a genuine smile at watching Sagebear scoot over to receive a petting.

…

Annette growled to herself at the lack of any good news in regards to her search.

“I’m all for snipe hunts, but this is ridiculous!” Trying to blend in with the crowds now, she watched as several other people were staring. She didn’t know if it were because of her blue skin, or her clearly battered and bandaged appearance.

Even now, just looking at her bandages, Annette could still hear that zombie muttering, ‘Give him back’.

Trying to just pass the looks off as them seeing ‘the legendary blue woman’, Annette found herself at the doors of the Bridgeport diner.

“Maybe the people in here can tell me…” If nothing else, she could at least become more familiar with the type of place she once worked at many years ago.

Walking in and seating herself, Annette waited patiently for the waitress to come up with a menu.

“Hi, quick question before I order: You seen this kid at all? Like, about 02-03?” When the waitress said she hadn’t, Annette then told her what she wanted to eat.

After that, it was impromptu people watching for anyone who might know anything. It made her almost disregard the taste of her breakfast. Before she knew it, Annette finished her breakfast and was given the bill.

Now she wished she’d been given some money or a credit card, upon seeing exactly how much her plate cost.

“Um, yeah. Another question,” Annette asked that same waitress, “…do you guys do the ‘everybody gets one’ deal if a customer can’t pay?”