Post 15 - Unpleasant Surprises

Posted on Tue Jan 19th, 2021 @ 11:56pm by Captain Jocelyn Blake

Mission: Episode 1: Acta Non Verba
Location: Lakeside, Pennsylvania
Timeline: Day 15 0730 Hours

[Lakeside, Pennsylvania]
[The Blake Family Home]
[0730 Hours]

Lakeside, Pennsylvania was, at best, a small town. More accurately, it was a group of homes and vacation rentals dotted about Page Lake. In summer the lake held boats and water skiers; swimmers and fishers alike. It wasn’t a fast paced location, but instead gave way to a slower lifestyle filled with warm summer days and cozy winter nights.

The Blake home was situated toward the end of the lake. An old concrete dam next to their home allowed a foot or two of water to cascade 4several yards down its side into a wide creek that flowed away from the lake. Even in winter, at the coldest of times when parts of the lake froze, you could hear the sound of moving water from the upstairs bedrooms.

Warren Blake was a man of books and maps and artifacts worn with time. His tall lanky frame and red hair that was perpetually sticking out at odd angles gave him an eccentric air--one that had only enhanced as white threads began to weave in amidst the red and laugh lines deepened into creases making his cheeks crinkle when he smiled. As the history teacher at the local high school he reveled in Old Earth history and could regularly be found on his porch in the morning with a cup of coffee, a stack of PADDs and the odd cloth bound book. He had made reading a few chapters on obscure Asian history with his coffee each morning his ritual lately and preferred the porch swing to all other places. And so it was that he enabled the porch’s force field and temperature controls and backed out of the door of the house, hands full of reading material and a hot mug, into several slightly frozen egg yolks.

“What the h…” he muttered as he adjusted his positioning to close the door without slipping.

As he did so he froze.

“Judy!” he called back into the house, his voice the carefully controlled tone of someone who had been spooked. When she didn’t answer right away he called again, “Judy, could you come out here?”

Muffled steps could be heard from inside the house as the figure of a short curvy woman wrapped in a bathrobe descended the stairs.

“What is it Warren?” she asked, her tone the sound of a woman who is used to being perpetually interrupted by her husband for various and sundry things of questionable importance.

Warren shook his head and gestured with the hand holding the coffee causing some to slop over the sides of the mug and onto his hand. He set it down with a short hiss and shook his hand. Judy moved toward the door and stopped just short of the threshold, a gasp slipping free of her lips as she surveyed the large trees about 50 yards out into their yard and just to the side of the dam.

Toilet paper fluttered from what seemed like nearly every limb. Some clumped in wet groups, solidified into unpleasant sodden lumps by the cold temperatures. In their yard deep rivets punctuated the grass where someone appeared to light controlled fires spelling out Jocelyn Blake is a Liar . Scorch marks were all that remained of the burn, but new seed would be needed to rectify what was, undoubtedly, dead plantlife.

“Warren?” Judy finally managed, stepping out onto the porch where her husband had stood, but not taking her eyes off of the carnage of their yard.

Warren stood, grim faced, and laced his arm around Judy’s waist. It was only as the chill started to creep in that he realized the exterior temperature control for the porch had not initialized. Setting PADDS in a haphazard pile on the floor he strode to the edge of the house where a small beige box should have been affixed to the wall. Looking down from the back railing of the porch the smashed remains of the device could be seen strewn along the creek below.

The man looked at his wife as her face crumpled, tears leaking slowly from the corners of her eyes. She worried her knuckles with one thumb, rubbing them firmly as if by doing so she might wake herself from a dream. Judy turned to meet her husband’s eyes.

“Who would do this?” she asked, her voice plaintive.

Unable to think of a single soul Warren shook his head. “I’m calling the police.”