Easy As Falling Off A Bike pt 109

Printer-friendly version

If you go down to the woods tonight, you're in for a big surprise....!

Easy As Falling Off A Bike.
by wassername,
part lost count.

I drove back to my room remembering the camera I'd set up. Then the horrid letter that caused it. I wondered if I'd be any the wiser after I watched the record on the computer.

I got home, parked up and took my bags and equipment up to my room. Then I went back down to my mail box. The camera was still there and there were a few letters, some addressed to the old me and one or two for my current incarnation. The computer only showed the top of the postman's head, so someone or something had moved it. At one point a white something or other flashed across but other than that there was nothing.

I opened the post and there was another note from the tormentor.

'Think you're clever do you, bloody fairy. Do you know what happens to naughty fairies? They get their wings pulled off. See you around Tinkerbell.

An Illwisher.'

I watched the tape again, it had to be the white flash, they somehow saw the camera and avoided it with a piece of card or something. I put the first note with the second. Maybe I should tell the police? I had no immediate suspects, the two clowns I'd fought off with Simon perhaps? I doubted they had enough brain cells to notice a camera, let alone avoid it. No they'd have attacked me directly or put more crayon on my door. So who could it be?

My notoriety would be spreading, perhaps beyond the department, I hoped not as far as the press. I wasn't beseiged by them yet, so maybe they weren't interested or they hadn't heard yet. Not much I could do about it anyway, so I got on with sorting out what I'd wear.

Over the past few months, I'd been wearing the few womens' things I had to the woods. It was dark and it was the only chance I had to be me, until Stella hit me off the bike and changed everything. The jeans were womens', as were the shirt and sweater. The boots and waxed jacket were unisex. However, the knitted hat and gloves and my socks all new purchases, were very girly and I smiled when I saw them.

I walked down to the shop and chatted with my Asian shopkeeper, buying some fresh milk and some bread rolls. I looked for something to put in the rolls and opted for a tin of tuna. I hoped Simon liked it because it was what he'd be eating while we were out, and drinking my instant coffee. It can get quite cold at night, even in the woods and a snack and a drink are helpful in dealing with it. I grabbed some potato crisps as well, we'd dine like lords tonight, I joked to myself as I walked back.

My tea was a can of Oxtail soup and the spare bread roll, which I washed down with a cuppa. Then I prepared the picnic, four tuna rolls, crisps, chocolate and a flask of coffee. I packed them in the rucksack along with the hardback book I used to record all my data. It weighed a bit, being two hundred pages thick but the data was invaluable. I'd taken everything off the book and onto the computer but I kept up with the pen and paper records, because I could read them in the dark with my red headlight and not be blinded by it. Also the red light didn't seem to worry the wildlife.

I checked I had spare batteries for everything and collected the kit together. I washed and changed into my field clothes, pulling on the jeans and the blouse. It reminded me of times before Stella and I smiled. Things were so good now, and Mister Wonderful was coming to collect me in fifteen minutes, I smiled and thought how lucky I was.

I pulled on the ladies' trekking shirt, I'd got in a German supermarket which had opened in the town, for a few pounds. It fit perfectly, even better now my boobs were slightly bigger with the recent weight gain. Then the sweater, a wool-nylon blend in green with a crew neck. I tied a silky scarf around my neck and hoped that Simon would be adequately dressed.

Finally, I refreshed my lipstick, something I only used to do once I'd cycled to the woods. Goodness life was brilliant, this living the dream stuff, was great. Jacket on, I bent down to pick up the rucksack, gee whizz, it was heavy with a capital aitch. I opened it again but there was nothing I could remove, then I realised, once we were actually walking we'd have the image intensifiers in our hands not on my back, and once we drank the coffee, the bag would be a bit lighter. Maybe we could take turns to carry it?

I struggled down to the street after locking my door. Simon drew up as I plonked the bag down. He jumped out of the car and hugged me then kissed me, life just couldn't get any better! Then he picked up the bag like it was full of air and placed it in his car boot.

"I hope you'll be warm enough, it gets quite cold out in the woods."

"Don't worry about me, I've got my love to keep me warm," he joked.

"A good coat may be more reliable," I joked back.

"In the boot, young lady, just in case you fail to live up to expectations."

I blushed, was that simply innuendo or did he think we'd be having a naked romp under the stars. If he did he was going to be disappointed, I needed to get this done as quickly as possible tonight, so no gazing at the moon. I had an exam tomorrow which would be easier if I wasn't yawning.

We drove to the woodland and along a forestry track to which I had a key. This was magic compared to using a bike, especially with the jazz CD he was playing. Using an MP3 on a bike, isn't too brilliant, the wind noise spoils most of it. This was pure luxury and I could have gone off to sleep instead of doing field work. Simon pulled up where I indicated.

"We have a half a mile walk to my first nesting site, can we keep the conversation quiet, it makes all the little furry things run away."

He nodded and pretended to zip up his mouth. I opened the rucksack and pulled out the two image intensifiers and showed him how they worked. I also explained where the spare batteries were, although we should have been back before they ran out.

I explained what we were going to do, examine and count the residents of the various nesting boxes, then write up the data as we went along. I explained about the red light and so on. He understood everything, which wasn't hard even for an aristocrat with a degree.

We set off and he took the rucksack off me and pulled it on his shoulders. Wow, better still. I'd carry it back after we drank the coffee and ate the rolls, hee hee. The first site was the smallest and most easy to record, it only took an hour and Simon sat on a log and watched me working, climbing up trees and examining the boxes.

I had a small ladder which I stashed in a green camouflage bag and hid in a Cupressa leylandii tree. The forestry people knew all about it and had even spared the tree until I finished my study. Now it could run another three years, they might not be so happy. Maybe there'd be enough money to either fund a store of some sort, one of those steel thingies which could be set in concrete, or a 4x4 and then I could carry it all with me.

Simon was impressed with my agility in the dark, although with the image intensifier he could see me quite clearly. I used the red headlight mostly for the near stuff and the handling of the dormice, when I could catch them. I would come around one day time and look for remains of what they'd been eating.

We ate our rolls and drank some coffee, and moved on to the next site. Again he carried the rucksack and I toted the ladder, I knew when I was well off, usually I carried the lot. The second site was about a quarter of a mile away, or four hundred metres. Too far for the colonies to interbreed, or that was the perceived wisdom. I hoped DNA from faecal samples may prove otherwise.

I also had plans to introduce a new colony between two of the existing ones, using laboratory bred animals. We had permission to do it, but not until the spring. I'd identified the place I thought was most suitable with plenty of food for them and places to nest, I'd also put up nest boxes for them, which made keeping tabs on the little buggers, slightly easier.

We tend to think of them as dozy, hibernating away the winter or being stuck in tea pots a la Alice in Wonderland. When they are active, they can move quite quickly and through the top of the tree and bush canopy, scrambling and jumping from twig to twig, like minature squirrels. Well maybe not as fast as squirrels, who are slower than pine martens, but faster than field scientists can keep up with them! It's all relative, and once you've got caught up in brambles because you didn't look where you were going, and fallen over tree roots and down holes hidden by leaf mould, you exercise caution - sometimes.

We had just got to site two when my red light failed, I asked Simon for the new batteries as I knelt down to take it apart to fit them. I should have carried them in my pocket, but they were all in plastic boxes in the bag. It was very dark, there being little moon, and I sort of saw him lift up the bag in one arm and dig about in it with the other when he said, "Here, what's that over there?"

I heard a twig snap and presumed it was a deer. However, it soon proved it wasn't. There was a small flash and a bang and Simon flew backwards landing nearly on top of me. I screamed and I heard voices and footsteps running away.

He was groaning as he lay on the ground and my eyes filled with tears as I reached in my pocket for my mini maglite, my emergency torch.

up
177 users have voted.
If you liked this post, you can leave a comment and/or a kudos! Click the "Thumbs Up!" button above to leave a Kudos

Comments

It's started again!

Poor Cathy, poor Simon! It seems her luck is contagious. But I thought there was no firearm crime in the U.K. since all the guns had been confiscated by the government? Oh, that's right, criminal types don't obey gun laws.

Now, was it a random accident, or does it have to do with the hate mail? After all, her illwisher wouldn't know she was going to have company. Was she the intended target?

KJT

"Being a girl is wonderful and to torture someone into that would be like the exact opposite of what it's like. I don’t know how anyone could act that way."

College Girl - poetheather


"Life is not measured by the breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away.”
George Carlin

Criminals do not Obey the law

And Criminals do not abide by Gun laws. You merely disarm the genersal populace to make them more susceptable to being attacked by both criminals and politicians.

For everything that is banned, the criminal will do it anyways with whatever is banned or worse.

Its always been that way, though I wish Humanity would change to love one another and not do those things.

Sephrena Lynn Miller
BigCloset TopShelf

In real life ...

... at least in the UK, firearms in the situation Angharad describes are more likely to be shot guns being used by poachers. Whether that is the case here, is up to her. Whatever she decides is fine by me.

Shot guns are widely available here (though I think licencing is a bit tighter than when I used to do a bit 50+ years ago) whereas handguns and rifles are even more strictly controlled than shot guns - in fact hand guns are illegal. Even as the son of a registered gunsmith (he died years ago) I strongly approve of the limited access to firearms. I know that sounds odd to gun obsessed US citizens, but that is almost certainly also the view of the overwhelming majority of the British public. To suggest that we need guns to protect ourselves from politicians is outrageous. Moreover, despite a lot of publicity, gun crime is still very rare in the UK and restricted to a relatively few inner city areas. Anyway that's a digression, nothing to do with this story and I'll comment no further.

Geoff

Not a crime?

Are not poachers classified as criminals? If they are shooting animals out of season and/or without a hunting license, that would certainly make them criminals here in the U.S. Or is this illegal hunting to put food on a poor person's table lest they starve? That might make it morally right, but I thought that couldn't happen in the U.K.?

However, I suspect this was more than a simple poacher. It seems to me that if a poacher were surprised, he (or she) would run rather than shoot, even here in the "gun obsessed" U.S. But Angharad has surprised me before, and certainly will again.

KJT

"Being a girl is wonderful and to torture someone into that would be like the exact opposite of what it's like. I don’t know how anyone could act that way."

College Girl - poetheather


"Life is not measured by the breaths you take, but by the moments that take your breath away.”
George Carlin

Poacher - gun?

It's more likely that it was a firework and it was being startled that caused Simon to fall.

We shall see.

Other possibilities

You know, it's also possible we're dealing with a "jealous girlfriend". Some girl who believed she had a good chance catching Simon and resents Cathy. Or it could even be someone who wants to catch Cathy and resents Simon for being in the way.

Or it could simply be a bankrobber who buried the money at that spot in the woods and fears it will be discovered. Am I being absurd ? I guess I better shut up before I mention the possible alien visit then :)

Hugs,

Kimby

Hugs,

Kimby

Anything's possible

You know you could be right.

Perhaps ET has landed in the wrong place and is still trying to find Steven Speilberg.

On the other hand, perhaps Will Smith didn't catch all the aliens when he and Jeff Golblum destroyed the mother ship and they're still wandering round trying to exact vengeance.

Maybe Agent Smith got resurrected and the Matrix got him?

No?

Oh well, I suppose it's back to wait and see then...

Help, murder, Polis!

Oh, golly-gosh, another finger-tip-hanging-on situation. I wish you wouldn't keep doing it, Angharad, it doesn't do my dicky-ticker any favours.

Only joking, we all love them really.

Hugs,
Gabi

Gabi.


“It is hard for a woman to define her feelings in language which is chiefly made by men to express theirs.” Thomas Hardy—Far from the Madding Crowd.

Noble Tragedy?

Gasp! Prince Charming has just taken a bullet intended for his lady love?? What a nasty plot-twist. I'm desperately hoping you're not snuffing out your protagonist's love interest at this stage in the game, that we'll just see him bravely bearing up and recovering in hospital in the next scene, but the fact that the shot dropped him like that is extremely worrying. Unless... He wouldn't be wearing body armor by any chance, would he? True, Cathy hugged him and didn't notice anything, but that was before he put his coat on. Hmmmm...

Another great chapter

leaving us hanging on the edge of our seats!
By the way, it will be gone later from the front page, but did anyone wlse notice the ironic spoiler in the title of the previous story on the front page?

Diana

It was nice while it lasted

The drama has returned and the comments seem to be growing.I'm guessing a poacher but maybe it's the nasty person who's been leaving Cathy hate mail.As always another chapter well done.Amy M

Why are we jumping to conclusions?

Why is a bang always a gunshot? Can Cathy recognize the sound of a shot, anyway? Her background suggests she can't.

There's also the issue of seing your target at night. Do the stalkers have NODs, too?

What if the bang is the work of the stalkers, who have set a blackpowder booby trap? Guns may be highly regulated in the UK, but big fireworks are not as not as hard to get as they are in the US. (Blackpowder is more highly regulated in the UK, though.)

Our stalkers would have to buy something for Bonfire Night, which for you Yanks, always falls on 5 November. I did some searching, and came across a barrage called "GUNPOWDER TREASON & PLOT" for a mere 40 quid that promised "57 shots with an approximate duration of 2 minutes. A beautiful display of coloured stars and crackle with falling leaves, glittering palms, red & orange flitter crossettes leading to a fanned finale of cascading stars and crackle comets." A barrage of this sort could be broken down to make several dreadful surprises for Cathy, night after night, and probably totally trash her research into the bargain. (I think the dormice that didn't die of fright might move somewhere out of Cathy's study area if there were more than two or three incidents.) If the stalkers wanted to do something smaller-scale, they could open a smaller firework, extract the powder, and make a noisemaker just big enough to totally scare the shit out of Cathy when she trips the detonator wire.

Whatever they planned, Simon came along and either stepped on the tripwire, or crushed the device underfoot before it could be fully initiated.

The stalkers made a run for it, but Cathy and Simon have NODs. Will the stalkers get away?

Will Cathy become cunning enough to put a new decoy camera over the mailboxes, but get a drill and install more cameras invisibly, behind the stairs, in the overhead, and inside her own apartment, that look out through pinholes and can't be seen anywhere nearly as easily as the decoy cameras? Or bettter yet, will Simon use connections to get professional antiterrorist help?

I'm eager to see the next installment.

rg

I am not to sure about "gun

I am not to sure about "gun obsession" by all Americans. I would safely bet that the majority would tell you they do believe in the 2nd admendment of the US Constitution that it is their Right to own and bear arms, however that doesn't necessarily mean they will. It is there in case you need it.
The ones that you find that are "gun obsessive" are generally "die hard" hunters, some, but not all, police officers; or those who run with the criminal or gang elements. Oh, and poachers ARE criminals, and shotguns will kill you also, even bird shot if fired close enough to you.
Janice

Depends

Wendy Jean's picture

In Texas there are more guns than people, and they are not all used for hunting. A lot of them are handed down with estates.

Bang

Americans aren't obsessed with guns, as I sit here under my arm is a Rock Island Tac II CS in 9mm with a Galco Miami shoulder swing, It's not obsessive, it's needed.
Here I was ready to complement Angharad on her research, and she shoots Simon after he's OK with Cathy's extra equipment.
I can assure you no American crossed the pond to bag a Royal no matter how rare they are over here. How come the switch to meters
Cefin