Solace & Taproots

2.12

They did both. The sphere had a proximity safety that would let it arm, but not do whatever it did, within about twenty feet of the PDA controlling it. It said as much on the screen, and the red light on the gun-mounted thumb stick blinked irritatedly until they sent it squirreling off downrange. Once that happened, a lightning bolt icon on the touchscreen turned live instead of grey, and the thumbstick light went solid. Clicking the stick left or right seemed to disarm or arm the device. Down recalled it, and up sent it off towards the laser's aim point. Sam gave Bex a look that managed both apprehension and enthusiasm, and then pushed "in" on the thumb stick like it was a simple button, or a video game controller.

Both of them jumped when a storm of electrical arcs fountained from the orb with a sustained, roaring, crackling furious buzzing. The ends formed a rough sphere, except where there was a conductive material nearby, which they tended to flail towards and reach for... like a metal railing and an abandoned sedan. The hapless car's alarm blared briefly and the lights flickered erratically before the alarm was choked off by static and the whole vehicle went dark.

The sharp tang of ozone reached them as Sam blinked twice and lowered her eyebrows. "Well. That was mildly terrifying." Profanity echoed in the distance, and she turned and waved cheerfully to the nearest watchtower on the bridge. "We're all fine here, how are you?"

The distant figures shook their heads and turned away, and she faced Bex again with a pout on her face. "It was a boring conversation anyway. Can haz fuzz therapy?"

Bex chuckled. "Speaking of fuzz. I think that thing just stole my nickname, and your comparison to a Van der Graaf thingy."

They packed up their gear and went in search of Rufus, who they found lounging on a crate near Patrick's team while they futzed with some irrigation pipes. He was posed like the Sphinx in Egypt, paws out straight while he held his nose (Dog: 1, Sphinx: 0) high, sampling the scents wafting by. Pat waved, and joked about how it was nice to have such a dedicated supervisor.

Bex laughed. "Yeah. He really hates to actually get his own paws wet. Trust us."

Sam tried to cover her small choking noise with clearing her throat and calling to the dog. "Ahem. Rufus! Hey boy!"

He looked over and wagged his tail, which rapidly beat out a drum tattoo on the wooden box when she produced a tennis ball from her messenger bag. A clean, unslobbered, bright yellow, pre-apocalypse condition tennis ball. Where the hell? "Look what Auntie Sam has for you! Wanna come play fetch?"

Bex gaped at her. "You minx! Are you trying to steal my dog?"

Sam laughed at her as she backed away and Rufus hopped down to follow. "What did I tell you like a week ago? There is no try!"

Bex had to admit that was a pretty good response to her initial allusion to their little... encounter bathing Rufus that first night home. That was no excuse for dognapping though! She huffed off to follow indignantly, waving to Pat and leaving him and his colleagues to provide the live studio audience laugh track for this episode of the Rebecca and Samantha show.

Playing with Rufus quickly became a community activity over his first few weeks in his new home, stimulating his growing comfort with other residents. Dog and human alike developed a system where at least two humans would toss a ball towards the general vicinity of each other, Rufus would gallop in pursuit, depositing it -- slightly damper -- in front of whoever he was nearest to. Many bystanders were pulled into games this way, as he did not distinguish between them and existing participants. Even Peter Lassart proved susceptible to the enthusiastic tail wagging and hopeful panting grin.

It was during one of those self-perpetuating play sessions that a volley of comms traffic and the grumble of truck engines announced the arrival of a larger than usual convoy of friendly military and municipal government vehicles. Everyone had been expecting them after David put the word out about Black Tusk — shot callers from various pockets of surviving efficacy all wanted to come see some of the hardware firsthand (a few subsequent well-escorted salvage trips had gone out to both firefight locations), and to review intel in person. Thus, Bex, Sam, Pat, and a couple of other residents kept playing with Rufus while Ronnie went to go talk shop.