This is what happens when the former manager of northern California’s largest public (because the government is always going to be bigger) paper filing system hits a budget vs. need conundrum: a do-it-yourself old school filing sorter.
Part One
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Jake finished writing the citation and passed it over to the driver, one Daniel Huckster of Winslow, to sign the promise to appear in court or complete the tasks as outlined and turn in the signed off items to the courts.
The rain had started once again. Gullies were becoming streams, streams had the makings of rivers, and the rivers were in the beginning stages of supporting pontoon boats. Meaning that their evening would quickly become a nightmare. It never failed. Some jackhole would come zipping down Winslow Ave, hit the sharp turn, and slide off either into oncoming traffic or the ditch. And just as inevitably, they’d go into the opposing lane when there was a vehicle, the ditch when the road was clear.
Firefighter/medic Kim Peterson and the latest recruit—Jake didn’t bother to memorize the name (there was a reason Peterson was referred to as a man-eater and it wasn’t the way Hall and Oates sang about); were posting nearby the slippery slope, but that didn’t alleviate the need for police presence. Nonetheless, the downturn in staffing that particular rainy March night combined with the uptick in traffic (Winslow High was hosting a basketball tournament), meant that no one from the police side of the equation had the luxury of posting nearby.
“Please drive extra carefully, Mr. Huckster,” Jake tore off the pink copy of the citation. “On account of the rain and the number of teenagers we have roaming the streets this evening.”
“Will do, officer. Thank you,” the man said with the utmost sincerity.
Jake shook off the rain like a sheepdog before stepping into the warmth of the squad car. “Nothing finer than giving the recently retired auto shop teacher a fix-it ticket,” he remarked as he buckled in.
“That was Huckster?”
“Ayup. Bought the car off of the school last week.”
“Which explains why the plates came back as Lila Spencer,” Chuck remarked as he dropped the gears into drive. Both watched as Huckster eased away from the curb with his hand stuffed out the window in the appropriate hand signal in lieu of the turn signals—hence his citation. Huckster turned down Calaveras Street and headed towards home. Chuck drove on until Winslow Ave and headed towards the school.
The tournament apparently ended. The parking lot outside of the gym was lit up like the red light district.
“Ten minutes,” Jake said.
“Really? That long?” Chuck harumphed. “I won’t give it more than five.”
“You’re on.”
Both settled back as they waited a block away, tracking the movements out of the east and west driveways.
Eight minutes later, less than a few hundred feet from the nose of the cruiser, a Ford Taurus broadsided a Toyota Camry.
“Guess who’s buying dinner tomorrow night,” Jake grinned as he reached over and flicked on the wigwags. He then reached for the mic and radioed it in.
Except dispatch told him to wait. The radio traffic right after gave the reason. Fire was dispatched, medics were already on scene, and Jake and Chuck, Adam fourteen, were reassigned to the scene of a head-on collision.
By then Jake was already at the vehicles. Once assured that there were no life-threatening injuries and given the go-ahead from dispatch to relay the details and get a second unit sent out to cover the collision, he hustled back to the cruiser.
“What the hell?” Chuck murmured as they neared the scene.
Jake was in the process of opening his mouth to say the same thing, or a variation thereof.
The fire crew had already arrived. They’d pulled up alongside the scene and directed the apparatus spotlights onto the mangle of vehicles. But that they’d seen a dozen times at that very spot. What got their jaws dropping was the most peculiar sight. So peculiar that Jake had his weapon drawn.
“I knew there were cats in the area, I just never saw one before and definitely not that big,” Jake said.
Chuck’s phone rang. Jake grabbed it and answered. It was Peterson.
“You see this?”
“Yeah. Stay in your rig.”
“No shit.”
The wildcat stared at them from the roof of the truck. Jake dialed back out, this time to the fire captain. He told them to stay in the engine.
“I doubt that pistol’s gonna do you much good,” Chuck said.
Jake agreed. Holstered his weapon. Reached for the shotgun.
“What are you planning on doing?”
“Shoot it.”
“I think we should get fish and game out here.”
Jake opened his door. “We don’t have that kind of luxury of time,” he said just before he stepped out and sighted the rifle.
Jake & Chuck’s Adventures is an interactive (you get to chime in with your own thoughts and ideas by leaving a comment) never-ending story that appears in installments weekly here.
As always, comments, likes, and ratings are much appreciated and help feed the muse.
[Read first installment here]
[Read second installment here]
[Read third installment here]
[Read fourth installment here]
[Read fifth installment here]
[Read sixth installment here]
[Read seventh installment here]
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Bridget’s wails only concluded when she came to stand alongside the now deflated boat. Leaping onto the rubbery plastic which pooled at her feet like puddles and acted as if it were quicksand, she neared him enough to determine he still had breath. Once assured, she gave way to the incoming emergency personnel.
“Be careful,” she hollered at the female firefighter who’d begun trudging over the plastic. The woman didn’t seem to hear her. Seeing Jake, Bridget ran straight at him. “You all need to be very careful. You’ll kill him trying to rescue him!”
“What are you talking about?”
“The boat, Chuck, landed on that damned spiny palm!”
“Jesus,” Jake breathed as he raced away towards the scene. A few more personnel joined him in the race while the remainder of the crews were finally making progress with the fire. Just in time, too. Any further, any higher, and the deadened branches above would have surely caught fire.
Bridget shook her head and turned her attention back on her beloved.
“Abbey! Don’t!” Jake screamed.
As much as she wanted to close her eyes, Bridget couldn’t. So she offered her prayer up while watching the devil dance in the balance.
“You’d never guess what I had to take care of this morning,” Chuck yanked off his work gloves and kicked off his boots before entering the kitchen where Bridget had a tall glass of iced tea already waiting.
“Something to do with that cursed palm?” She knew that was one of several things he planned on doing that morning. He hated pruning that tree and came to detest the previous owners because they planted it. More times than she could count he’d come in from the task bleeding out of numerous puncture holes dotting his body. Enough so that this time she made him wear a cup and his Kevlar vest to protect his most vital areas. The last time came far too close to the family jewels. Of course Jake chuckled about that saying that it if it had actually happened, they could go into business performing vasectomies and call it the Natural Vasectomy. Until, of course, Chuck pointed out that given Jake’s playboy behavior, he ought to be their very first customer.
“Yep. Go on, love, guess.”
Her eyes searched his body looking for any signs of injury. Surprisingly she found none. Or rather, worrisomely. Before making any attempt to guess, she peered out the window towards the palm. Oh why couldn’t they just tear it out and be done with it? She nearly said that when it occurred to her that Chuck would take it to task and they’d lose the entire house. Knowing him, he’d plant a ton or so of TNT underneath the cursed thing and kaboom. No more house. Maybe even no more Chuck. She slammed her eyes shut and swallowed.
“I have no idea,” she turned back to face her husband who was in the process of grooming his mustache with the spread of his fingers.
“No, no. That’s not how this goes, love. Three guesses.”
“Fine. You found a nest of rats, a beehive, yellow-jackets.” She doubted it was any of the aforementioned simply because they’d had all of the above. Odds were that he wouldn’t be having her guess if that’s what was found.
That devilish twinkle in his eyes lit up his face as he shook his head. “Raccoons,” he then said. “But that’s not the half of it. They were all dead. Skewered like they were about to go on the barbecue. Two clean through. I think the others might have been attempting to help.”
“What? That’s impossible. How could that even have happened?”
“From the looks of it, a family of five were out and about for a midnight ransack and two of the adolescents lost their grip on the neighboring oak. I’m guessing that one was DOA and the other struggled for a bit, probably crying out which prompted the other three to jump to the rescue.” He certainly had the skills and making to be a wonderful homicide detective.
“That’s sad. Incredibly sad.”
“I agree, love,” he said as he pulled her into his arms.
She began crying when she imagined finding him in a similar pose, his body skewered at the ends of those needled branches.
“What is it, Bridge?”
“Promise me that from here on out we hire an arborist or a gardener to handle that damned thing. I couldn’t bear the thought of you becoming its next victim.”
Thankfully he agreed and come every February and September, Bert’s Trees comes by and trims it up nicely. It’s an all-day task and quite expensive seeing that they had to buy special tools to manage it properly. Worth every penny as far as Bridget’s concerned.
“It’s all right, Bridge.” The sound of Jake’s voice tore her from the memories. “He got very lucky. It looks like the thickness of the boat combined with the bag his parachute was in, the jacket he wore, and the carcass of a possum worked collectively to save him from serious injury.”
“An opossum?” Bridget’s head got stuck on the imagery.
“Never mind that. Let’s get you into the ambulance and off to the hospital. He broke a few bones, but nothing life-threatening.”
Bridget only heard about half of that. Because right then, another explosion tore through the night. A rapid succession of bangs, pops, and whistles. Up in the sky, the fireworks wrote out a message. Bridget was still wondering how he managed to get them to write in the sky when Jake grabbed her up and carried her to the waiting ambulance.
Chuck was conscious though maybe not very lucid by the time she reached his side. She leaned over him and kissed his cheek, whispering, “I love you, too, you big dummy.”
____________________________________________________________________________________
The Adventures of Jake and Chuck is an interactive (meaning that you can jump in and add your own take on the story by leaving a comment), never-ending story about the crazy hijinks partners on the Winslow police force seem to get themselves into on a fairly regular basis. Find their newest adventure posted here weekly (subscribe now so you don’t miss another exciting episode).
As always, ratings, likes, and comments are much appreciated and help fuel the muse!
[Read installment 1]
[Read installment 2]
[Read installment 3]
[Read installment 4]
[Read installment 5]
[Read installment 6]
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“Put on the damned belt,” Abbey screamed up the ladder towards the bucket, her hands swiftly moving over the controls at the base of the apparatus.
Much to her disbelief, Jake did put on the belt and grabbed ahold of the railing. Without a moment to lose, Abbey raised the ladder and bucket up high enough to clear the top of the engine and then pivoted the entire contraption towards the right in the direction of the sputtering helicopter.
“Back it off!” Jake screamed. She didn’t hesitate. She lowered the boom and reversed the direction while her brain questioned why. In a beat, she understood. Chuck had jumped.
He had a pack secured to his back. Presumably a parachute. The only trouble with that: he didn’t have the height or the wind speed to make his landing. She bit hard into her lower lip and swung the bucket back, jostling Jake like a Szechuan stir fry. Lucky for him he hadn’t just gone through the motions of securing himself. The belt kept him in place and earned him a few points in his favor.
One of the chiefs headed her way while shouting something unintelligible. Probably telling her to stand down and that as soon as this was over, she could head straight to the unemployment line. But Chuck wasn’t going to die. Not on her watch. So she ignored the chief and kept her focus on navigating the bucket to where she hoped Chuck would land.
Nothing prepared any of them for what would happen next. The thunderous clap shook the earth below them, sending out a strong fiery gust of wind that blew Chuck off course as a cannonball of fire chased after him. Her reaction was perfectly in sync. The bucket followed the redirection as smooth as she could ask of it. Once again, Jake wobbled but remained in place, his arms outstretched and ready to catch Chuck. Except the odds were his arms would be broken if not sheered off completely. Chuck’s weight combined with the natural pull of gravity coupled with the force of the explosion meant the chuck wagon barbecue would now become a shish-ka-bob, the two men skewered by limbs and apparatus.
“Back it off!” The chief screamed while motioning towards the firefighters who followed. “Get out the boat,” he commanded.
Boat? And then it clicked.
At the start of their tour, Price–the head of the swift water rescue team–had shoved an enormous box onto the back of the rig in preparation for an upcoming drill. The team’s newest addition. An instant blow-up “boat”. She’d seen the prototype in action. All of them had. Sadly the sales rep, his second day on the job, had failed to put on his show in a space large enough. He proudly pulled the boat out of the box and then pulled the rip cord. Bah-bam! Every last inch of the bay was nothing but boat. The force, so strong, it broke Jerry’s leg as if it were a dried up twig. The city retired him out a week after the doctors determined he wasn’t fit for duty.
The engine’s motor groaned in protest along with Jake as she re-centered the bucket over the roof of the apparatus. Meanwhile, Chuck was blowing past at the speed of a comet.
What felt like minutes yet was mere seconds finally came to an end. Two sounds ripped through the night. First the whapabam and then the thud.
“Chuck!” Jake screamed from halfway down the ladder while continuing to race towards the bottom. “Chuck, man, talk to me! Are you okay? Are you alive?”
Abbey stepped back away from the engine to get a better look. Her heart shot down into the earth through her boots. Somewhere behind her she heard the wails of Bridget.
The Adventures of Jake & Chuck is a weekly installment of an interactive (you, the reader, get to participate by adding your thoughts and ideas in the comment section below) never-ending story. Be sure to sign up and receive notifications of the newest release or follow Kathie on Twitter (@kathieblog) where announcements are also published.
Ratings/likes and comments are always appreciated and fuel the muse.
[Read first installment here]
[Read second installment here]
[Read third installment here]
[Read fourth installment here]
[Read fifth installment here]
Chuck was going to die. There wasn’t another way around this. The engine had sputtered. An array of lights flickered across the control panel. An alarm rang. This was it. The only thing left for him to do–other than be graceful in his death–was to steer clear of the commotion below and preserve the lives of the valiant men and women.
“God save the queen!” he declared. Which, to anyone in the know, meant Bridget, his queen. His bride. His life.
He threw his weight to the left and sent the Mosquito Lite into a tailspin. Instinctively he maneuvered the controls down which meant that the machine itself was supposed to go up. Only it didn’t. Chuck was going to be sick. Could feel the acidic burn roaring up his windpipe. Clenching his teeth, his lips, he blew air out his nose. The burn seared his nose hairs. Caused his eyes to tear.
June of 2000. Three months after he married Bridget. Two years before they bought this estate. The couple lived in a single bedroom apartment in Red Bluff. He worked as a deputy. Bridget, at the time, worked as a sketch artist for the justice system, traveling up and down I-5 as needed. She worked a big case out of Lodi. He had doubles for the next two days. If it weren’t for the work, he’d have gone mad being away from his true love for so long.
The day before she returned, his only day off for the next five, he spent it preparing something special. Something exquisite. Something to herald his wife’s return. Make it that much more special. Show her how much he missed her. How much he appreciated her. How much he loved her. Money was no object. But then again, it was.
He stopped by to visit his pal, Oscar, who at the time owned his own shop. There, Oscar customized vehicles. His specialty, the hot dog mobile as he called them. The shop, therefore, was appropriately known as Oscar’s Wieners. Oscar was all ears when Chuck told his woebegone story. As he lamented, Oscar came up with an idea.
For the next eight hours the two worked arduously. And while Bridget started her trek home, they took their creation over to the apartment complex and hoisted it up on the rooftop of the four-story building. They didn’t have time for a test run. On Oscar’s way out he slapped Chuck on the back and said, “Well it’s do or die, buddy. Good luck.”
Chuck sat inside the thing for over an hour, his field glasses trained on the main road. When he saw Bridget’s dark blue Taurus rumbling his way, he readied himself. Threw his entire weight into pushing the wiener glider off the ledge. It swooped and soared. Caught the wind as it should. Pulls to the levers allowed him to guide it down over the roadway as the banner unfurled in his wake.
Except he got giddy. He’d seen Bridget look up. Saw the recognition on her face. Saw her beam. It’s what he didn’t see that got him into trouble.
He managed to avert the glider before crashing into the flagpole. However, the directional change he created in the wind current sent the banner whipping towards the pole. The eddies churned and once the banner’s tail slipped around the pole, it began winding itself. The glider yanked back against the pull of the banner.
Without an engine, his simplistic controls were worthless. The glider lost its momentum and began plummeting to earth. He may have screamed while he tried to push-off the bubble cover–which didn’t budge. He definitely screamed when he used his fist to hammer at the plexiglass–which didn’t budge.
That stupid joke about the last thing that goes through a bugs head popped into his own head. The punchline: his ass. Chuck thought for certain that he’d know first hand how that bug felt. And just when the earth came into view by a microcosm instead of generalized shapes, the wiener glider yanked back. It was like a giant hand came down and plucked him out of the air. The glider shot back up.
Dear lord, he might have said out loud. He knew what would come next. As soon as the glider lost momentum, it would shoot straight back down. Any chance of Bridget recovering his body was lost. He hoped she had a big enough soup tureen.
An ear popping whistle accompanied the return descent. When retelling the story, he would leave out the part about him sobbing as he slammed his eyes shut. Usually he said he faced death like a real Jedi. Eyes wide open. Beating his chest. Come at me bro! being his war cry.
The silence and stillness begged of him to open his eyes. When he did, he found himself staring at Bridget’s face. She had tears running down it, her mascara like deadly rivers trailing down her cheeks. With her, a crowbar. She wedged it in and pried off the bubble of plexiglass. Two seconds later both heard a horrific tearing noise. The banner had given out. The same banner that now hangs in their living room. The one with the heart ripped in half. “No, we never split up,” Bridget would explain when guests asked. “But in the seconds before that happened, I thought for sure my heart was going to break into a thousand little pieces.”
He couldn’t do that again to Bridget. He couldn’t break her heart again like before. And he wouldn’t. Because this time he had a back-up plan.
_________________________
Jake & Chuck’s Adventures is a weekly interactive never-ending story. You, the reader, can chime in at any time and leave ideas on where you want to see the story headed in the next issue. Make sure you sign up to be notified of when the next installment comes.
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[Read first installment here]
[Read second installment here]
[Read third installment here]
[Read fourth installment here]
Abbey scouted the sky for the helicopter as she climbed up on the back of the rig. The engine idled under her feet, vibrating up through her boots into her spine. Hand on the railing, she moved up towards the bucket, eyes still on the sky. She’d located the whirlybird and wasn’t about to let it out of her sight a second time if it could be helped.
“Do you think he’ll be able to see us?” Jake screamed at her over the commotion below. She gritted her teeth and plunged forward. It was an idiotic idea. Why she ever agreed to do this was beyond her. She should have walked away. Should have gone straight to the chief. But no. There she was, moving towards the bucket and closer to the end of her career. If this worked, she might be promoted. If it didn’t, she’d be collecting unemployment by the day’s end.
Did she do it because she still felt something for Jake? No. Hell no. What he did to her was reprehensible. He could be the last man on earth, she could be the last woman on earth, and that wouldn’t matter. She’d rather let mankind die out than ever let him touch her again.
Not that he was bad as a lover. Far from it. Even now under the weight of her turnouts, the oxygen tank, the memory of his hands on her body threatened to undermine her resolve. Dear Lord. Why hadn’t anyone warned her about him? But she couldn’t put that on her brethren. She had to take the fall on her own for not paying attention to the signs, to the flags that he flew. Who were they to say, “you know he’s a player, right?”. How were they to know she was in it for the end game?
She’d arrived at the bucket. Wrapped the straps into place and hooked them properly. All the while, she kept her eye on the whirlybird. What the hell was he doing up there?
“Belts on,” she ordered Jake once he arrived in the bucket. She’d moved into place at the control panel.
“I’m good,” he said a moment later.
She risked it by glancing over at him. He stared back at her with a challenge in his eyes. He hadn’t secured himself.
“We’re not going up until you’re secured.”
“I’ve got perfect balance. I’ll be fine. Abbey, we don’t have time for this, just get us up in the air.”
She said nothing. Just stared at him. Screw the copter. Screw Jake. Screw this whole fiasco.
“Abbey, come on!”
She grabbed up the belts and thrust them at him. He didn’t take them. Abbey dropped them back into place. Unhooked her own from the railing. Pushed past him. Kept on going back towards the rear of the apparatus.
Yes, it was a good plan. Yes, it might have worked. Yes, they might be saving lives by doing this. But this was one too many risks.
She was fully determined to leave and head right straight over to the chief, but then the helicopter swooped low. The engine sputtered. The machine hovered as if frozen in place. And then it lifted straight up and kept climbing higher and higher. In that brief moment, she caught sight of Chuck’s face from inside the helicopter. A look that was more horrifying than anything else happening at that moment. If someone didn’t do something, that poor man was going to die.
——
Jake and Chuck’s Adventures is an interactive never-ending story. Chime in and take their capers to a whole new level with your own bizarre twist! Leave the idea in the comments below and then check back later to see where the adventure heads (note that these posts are written weeks ahead in advance, so it might take a while before your ideas are incorporated).
[Read first installment here]
[Read second installment here]
[Read third installment here]
The telltale thump-thump-thump churned the air, fanning the heat in Jake and Bridget’s direction. Bridget retreated inside before Jake could think to warn her leaving him to stare at the sky looking for the helicopter.
A firefighter dashed past him, too fast and too purposefully to bother. He stepped off the deck and down onto the steaming grass as the dew reacted to the extreme temperatures. A whirly firework with a loud whistle screamed overhead. Jake instinctively ducked and threw his hands over his head. He made his way to the second engine that had come on scene and over to the engineer who was still standing by waiting for his orders. Only it wasn’t a he. Jake realized that three seconds too late.
“Is this your doing?” Abbey snapped at him.
“What? Me? Not in your life. I’m the one that cleans up his messes, I don’t start them. You haven’t seen him, have you?”
“Who?”
Jake managed to escape letting out a sigh of exasperation. “Chuck.”
“Why should I care?”
It wasn’t worth explaining it to her. It was clear she still held a grudge. But by all rights, she should care. Everyone there should. “Who ordered up the helicopter?”
“You can read, right?”
“Of course.”
“Okay, so look really closely at my forehead.” She pulled off the leather helmet and swept aside tendrils of chestnut hair so he could get a clear view. “Now tell me, do you see information booth printed anywhere there?”
Message received. Loud and clear. He hustled off in search of someone wearing a white or red helmet. He was soon rewarded with a cluster of red and white. Steered towards them. Got lucky when one turned in time to see him and peeled away from the rest to talk to him. His pal, Captain Luke Hennessey.
“Looks like Chuck got himself into a real pickle here,” Luke said once he was in earshot.
“Have you seen him?”
“Negative. He’s not with you?”
“Negative. Haven’t seen him since I got here which was right after your crew arrived. Who ordered up the whirlybird?”
“That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”
Both looked skyward.
Luke said, “That doesn’t look like one of ours.”
Jake said, “That’s because it’s not.” He scooted off before Luke could say anything else. He’d have to find a way to get that damn thing down before it fanned the flames into the woods. And do it without killing the occupant. Because Bridget would never forgive him if he took the love of her life away from him.
Jake and Chuck’s Adventures is a new section of KathieLeung.com with weekly installments in this fun and free never-ending story that features two unforgettable spear carriers from Kathie’s works.
This is an interactive never-ending story which readers are invited to participate. Have an idea of where the story is headed? Do you want to chime in with your own story ideas? Hit that comment button and let ‘er rip! Note that these posts are written in advance so your suggestions might not make the next couple of excerpts.
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[Read first installment here]
[Read second installment here]
It wasn’t the structure that exploded, but rather what was inside it.
The sky lit up with colorful starbursts. Loud whistles. Big bangs. All while the firefighters dove for cover. It was as if both the ground and the sky had become alive with mirrored activity. For every firefighter that dove, a starburst appeared in the sky.
“What the fuck, Chuck?” Jake muttered with a shake of his head. Of course. Chuck was getting ready for the 4th of July. How many fireworks did he have shoved inside that shack?
“Should I get the hot dogs and marshmallows?” Bridget appeared at his elbow. Jake laughed in a good-natured way.
“If I were you, I’d be looking into real estate that offered top-notch fire protection.”
“Ah, where’s the fun in that? Chuck will be Chuck. You of all people ought to know that.”
“A boy in a grown man’s body.” Jake said what ordinarily Bridget would have said.
“He with the most toys when he dies, wins.” She laughed and then sobered when she asked, “How is it that when he’s on the job, these sorts of maladies don’t happen?”
Jake flashed her a grin.
“Ho, are you going to take credit for that?”
He shrugged.
“We’ll chalk my responsibility shirking up to being blinded by love,” she gazed out at the premature fireworks display.
Another engine roared onto scene. They kept a safe distance back while setting up.
“Good thing we installed that cistern last year,” Bridget confided.
Jake said nothing. The only reason that cistern came into existence was because Jake threatened to permanently disable Chuck after the whole Santa Claus experience. Both were lucky to come out of that episode in one piece. Chuck wasn’t as lucky, though. He ended up in the same room as Jake while recovering at the hospital. Jake took full advantage.
“Where is Chuck?” He had scanned the property in vain.
“I haven’t the foggiest.”
Jake’s heart fell into his sockless shoes.
This is an interactive story. What do you foresee happening next? Where would you like the story to go? Leave a comment below and check back to see if your ideas were incorporated into the story (note that these are written in advance and scheduled to post, so your idea might appear–but it might be a bit further down the line).
Jake and Chuck’s Adventures is a new section of KathieLeung.com with weekly installments in this fun and never-ending story that features two unforgettable spear carriers from Kathie’s works.
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[Click here to read installment 1]
There are two structures on Chuck’s property. The main house, a two-story home with vaulted ceilings and a rustic appeal to it with the bare beams stained dark. Far more than either of the childless couple needed at first blush, but to know Bridget and Chuck one would come to understand it barely met their needs. Bridget, an accomplished children’s book illustrator required at least two of the bedrooms. One for her hand drawings with an easel, drafting table, and plethora of supplies. The other which served as her computerized workspace. The loft family room was converted into a gallery while the traditional master suite was converted into a guest room for those interested in hiring Bridget. The couple took the larger of the downstairs bedrooms. While Chuck wouldn’t admit it had to do with his hip problems–or issues as he preferred to call them–Bridget had intimated that was the primary catalyst for moving into the downstairs bedroom.
The second was a barn. A workshop, really. Jake had helped Chuck gut the monstrosity and then transform it into a workshop. Probably the single most stupid thing Jake had ever done. He essentially aided and abetted Chuck’s catastrophes. It was only a matter of time before the good people of Winslow wizened up and put a kibosh on his dunderhead nefarious activities. They’d be best advised to start charging him given the tax he was putting on their resources.
Jake bet that the fire would be there in the workshop. Though he couldn’t quite figure out what would have started enough of a fire that the building was fully involved. He’d swiped the blow torch shortly after he discovered Chuck purchased it. And it was common for Jake to make sweeps of the building to ensure any possible calamities were averted.
He wholly expected to see the flames by now as he swung onto Cougar. He didn’t see how it was possible the department had doused the fire already. A few more curves and he slowed to pull into the driveway. No signs of the engine. No signs of smoke or fire.
The air, however, distinctly smelled like smoke. Upon exiting his truck and flicking on his Maglite, he discovered the imprints from the engine’s tires. They circled around the west side of the house. He followed them.
And there, in all of its glory, were the brilliant orange and blue flames licking upwards towards the sky. Indeed, it had been a structure. One Jake had never laid eyes on before. It sat at the back of the cleared property with roughly thirty feet behind it before the wooded area began.
Now the real question came in. What the hell was Chuck building this time?
Without warning, the structure exploded.
Jake and Chuck’s Adventures is a new section of KathieLeung.com with weekly installments in this fun and free neverending story that features two unforgettable spear carriers from Kathie’s works.
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Jake & Chuck: Catastropia 2
Posted: 7 in characters, discuss, freebies, Jake & Chuck, My books, Ongoing, short stories, shorts, writingTags: catastropia, comment, freebie, installment, interactive, Jake & Chuck, neverendingstory, short story
[Read first installment here]
Catastropia – Part Two
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“Don’t shoot!” Chuck barked as he pulled his girth free from behind the wheel. Jake leveled the weapon over the top of the door, using the frame to steady his aim.
“Why the hell not?”
“Aside from the victims in the car? There’s a BOLO for two cats that got out of the preserve a few hours ago.”
“Two?” Jake responded, his face sheet white.
Chuck continued to the trunk and opened the special kit each unit carried at all times. Inside was an unassembled rifle along with what appeared to be fancy playing darts. Jake joined him at the rear of the vehicle.
Furtively glancing about, his shoulder pressed up against Chuck’s, Jake said in a low voice, “Two?”.
“Glad to see you’re comprehending the English language buddy. Yes, two. As in dos.” Chuck formed a peace sign and held it in front of Jake’s face.
“Then where’s the other one?” Jake whispered.
Like a bad dream that didn’t stop upon waking, Peterson appeared alongside the car.
“Guys,” she said forcefully as she tapped her watch. “Tick-tock. We need to get these patients looked at and transported to the ER. What’s the hold up?”
Chuck cocked the rifle and headed towards the driver’s side door which remained winged open. Behind him, Jake shared the latest information with Peterson.
“So what? You’re going to shoot at that thing? Within inches of injured patients?” Peterson’s shrill voice knifed through the pelting rain.
Chuck heard the slosh of footsteps from behind him. Reflexively he removed his finger from the trigger. No sooner had he freed his hand, Peterson grabbed his arm.
“For fuck’s sake,” he took a step back. “You could have gotten yourself shot or worse, one of the patients shot.”
Peterson glared at him as Jake yanked her back and threw her against the sedan.
“Do I have to cuff your sorry ass? Those are tranquilizers. Even if Chuck misses, the harm to your patients is minimal.”
“The hell it is,” Peterson screamed back while Chuck once again sighted the animal.
“That tranq will bring down an animal at least twice the size of one of those patients. All kinds of bad things could happen. Life threatening—”
“Knock it off you two,” Chuck barked. “Jake, take a look at this.”
While Jake peered through the scope, Chuck turned a wary eye on Peterson whose face likened to that of a beet. Wondering why she wasn’t moving, he glanced down to see that Jake had cuffed her to the rear door handle. He couldn’t help but grin. For one, the department had all but phased out the old cars—theirs being one of the last; meaning that had they had a newer model, that little feature wouldn’t be available to them. Secondly, he had a mad distaste for the blond. It started back when she had just come on board with Winslow Fire. It was long overdue she finally got her comeuppance.
“Jesus,” Jake breathed, pulling Chuck’s attention back to the present. “What the hell is going on here? Did that son of a bitch tie that cat to the roof before or after?”
“No idea,” Chuck replied. “I’m guessing after because I don’t see the victim.”
Jake moved the weapon and thus, the scope downward to confirm Chuck’s observation. “What are the odds the other cat got to him? I don’t see him anywhere.”
Both were stunned into silence when a loud growl erupted just behind them.
The Adventures of Jake & Chuck is a never-ending interactive (you get to add your thoughts and ideas to the adventure by commenting) story with weekly installments published here (be sure to follow so you’re notified when new posts are released).
Beginning as spear carriers to a novel, these two hilarious characters were not about to be relegated to taking the main characters from point A to point B. Their nagging insistence brought about their own vignette published in 2008 titled Jake and Chuck Blow S[tuff] Up, which documented the Winslow Police Department partners as they attended mandatory Weapons of Mass Destruction training in the desert. Look for a release of that story here in the upcoming weeks.
Feed the muse! Comments and likes are much appreciated.
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