Project Fallout

Chapter 5: Braving The Weathers

California, 1989;

Jinks Weathers was only 6 then. 

He grew up in Downieville, Sierra, just a county up north of Nevada. He went to a reputable school and lived in a fairly safe neighbourhood. 

At 7, he was witness to the first of the many deaths that would come to encircle his life. 

It was his parents. 

They worked together in a security firm called Versacorp, a company that designed security software for the major firms that had formed a joint-venture with the US military. Details of the project was kept tight-lipped and even his parents were forced to work on individual segments of the programme, unsure of what they were developing. However, word did manage to leak out that something big was going on. And coincidentally, the USSR caught hold of it. Their field agents worked around the clock to make out just what exactly were their US counterparts up to. It was a shame that they dint find out, for if they had, Jinks’s parents wouldn’t have had to die. 

Maybe. 

On the night of August 27th 1989, Jinks was in the country-styled kitchen trying to steal a piece of Mama’s latest batch of cookies. The jar was located high up in one of the wooden built-in cabinets that were hackneyed to most American families. The kitchen was filled to the brim with all sorts of canned food, vegetables and preserved meat. Knifes and similar cutlery lined the racks adjacent to the kitchen sink, which was overlooked by a small round window. To top it all off, the warm light of the lamp that hung over the dining table gave the kitchen a nice homey feel. Of comfort, and of love.

He had tiptoed silently into the room; the smooth tiled floors reflecting his scrawny image of 7. Picking up footsteps from the living room, he lunged towards the dining table, seeking refuge behind a wooden chair as he peered out between the spokes. It was his mother, tall and sporting gorgeous dimples, she was the epitome of every mother. She never spoke a harsh word to anyone and would always give in to the demands of the family. Her wavy hair was black and lustrous, and she had the characteristic angular nose that ran deep in the Weather’s family line. 

She was preparing supper for the family; scoops of mashed potato, coleslaw and home-baked chicken filled each of the three plates to the brim. Carefully, she picked them up from the counter and placed them upon the tabletop. The aromas of the combined scents wafted throughout the house and Jinks was almost betrayed by his stomach, which let out a grumble of protest. Wiping her hands on a towel, his mother called out loudly, “Jinks, dinner in 10 minutes, hopefully your father would be back by then!” she proceeded to walk back into the living room, awaiting the arrival of her husband who was working overtime for that night. 

With cat-like grace, Jinks recovered from his hiding spot and in a semi-crouch, inched slow, by agonizingly slow steps towards the counter cabinets. Any slip up now would result in alerting his mother, who was sitting on the living room couch. Her line of sight extended past the kitchen doorway that linked both rooms together and onto the row of cabinets that, unfortunately, housed the jar of cookies. Reaching high up with both hands, he realised with a start that he was too short.

He needed more leverage.

He half-carried half-dragged a wooden chair towards the counters and was on the verge of mounting it, when the sound of a car driving up on the gravel outside could be heard. Headlights lit up the front of the living room for a split-instant before shutting off, the sound of the engine dying away with it. 

Crap. He thought. It was his father!

He hurriedly lowered his leg that was already on the chair and dragged it back to the table.