sixthiterationlogs | 002 ♙ open

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002 ♙ open

WHO: Jess Brightwell.
WHERE: The inn.
WHEN: Sept. 7th.
OPEN TO: Anyone!
WARNINGS: Doomsday prepping because rude, mother nature.
STATUS: Open.

Jess wasn't normally one to spend time idling around when he had a canyon to comb through, but the growing ferocity of the earthquakes had shifted his priorities in an abrupt. Getting caught in the forest during yesterday's quake and nearly pitching forward into some brambles on account of the buckling earth had made it abundantly clear these things were getting worse--and the next one could do actual damage.

To think he'd brushed off last week's as an overactive imagination. Hindsight was 20/20.

He really didn't care to find out how bad their living situation would get if the buildings caved in on their already meager stores, and to that end Jess was determinedly preparing the inn in case of the worst case scenario. Being a pessimist had its advantages.

Jess spent the better part of the morning lugging around water and filling up whatever would hold it, then moved on to the unoccupied rooms in the inn, going through each one and making it less of a potential deathtrap taking down mirrors and moving heavy or breakable objects off shelves. His own room had already gotten a makeover: he'd pushed his bed far from the window, moving the rest of the furniture out of the way so he wouldn't be likely to get crushed by a shelf in the middle of the night.

Better. Not great, but better.

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In the time between hunting, tending to the chickens, and keeping his household safe, Cougar finds himself with hours to spare. If he lets his mind go idle, it turns to thoughts of burning helicopters and planes, or bullets in people who don't deserve them. It's why Cougar either tries to stay busy or tries to stay in the zone he knows he can slip into, when the world falls away.

Today, that zone is far from him, so it's better now to keep his hands busy. He finds a commotion at the inn and clears his throat to get the boy's attention before gesturing to all of his movements. "Need help?"

The commotion is in the form of one Jess Brightwell, moving from task to task like a wind-up toy set loose on the inn, jaw a taut line. He has his own reasons for avoiding idleness--idle hands are the Devil's workshop, as they say.

He needs to prepare now, not get lost thinking about what's coming.

Jess has his sights set on a bookshelf that, if knocked over, would fall directly in front of the hallway. The effort to draw his eye and the heavy Spanish accent that follows stop Jess on his way over to it, and he turns to give the man a nod. This Spaniard isn't much of a talker, unlike another Spaniard Jess knows well, and that suits him just fine. He doesn't miss Dario. That's what he tells himself each time he catches himself thinking Dario's bluster would be a welcome distraction.

"Nothing I can't handle," he assures, taking up position on one side of the bookshelf. Does he need help? No. But if Cougar feels like tag-teaming a bookshelf, it's a free country. Relatively speaking.

Cougar raises his brow at the stubborn determination that he can do it on its own, though the bookshelf definitely looks quite awkward. He still wanders inside and cracks his neck before taking up a position on the other side of the bookcase, eyeing the boy with amusement. He remembers being that young and stubborn and proud.

Who is he kidding? He's still young and stubborn and stupid and proud. It just shows less because he tends to keep his mouth shut. "Why this piece?" he asks, because in his mind, the bookcase is a strategic piece that can be a defense against an enemy attacker. It's not like they've had attackers, of course, but a soldier's mind doesn't tend to shut down so easily.

Although not nearly so broad and hugely muscled as some of the other men present, Jess doesn't for a minute see that as a weakness; he knows what he's capable of and he moves with confidence, pushing the shelf aside with a heavy grating sound of wood on wood.

Cougar probably understands what it's like, having a slimmer frame. When people assume that means a weaker target, they tend to pay for it.

"Because," Jess says, forcing the shelf a few feet over, then stopping to assess, then pushing it a little further until it's in a position of his liking. "This hall runs from the back of the inn to the front. Makes for an easy exit. If one of us breaks a leg, I don't want them having to climb over a heap of wood to get out."

There. Should the bookshelf topple over this way, it'll fall out of the way and not impede foot traffic. It would be better if he didn't have to worry about it falling at all--later he'll have to look at some way of anchoring it down.

Cougar helps to inch it along, but only when it seems like the boy is struggling. He grunts his agreement with the assessment, but there's something about the way he's thinking that reads as slightly suspicious. "You think there will be more of the quakes?" He's a smart man, yes, but he's not a scientist. He doesn't know whether they've built up to this and are done or whether the quakes so far are just a prelude to something worse.

"You should put emergency first aid kits near," he advises, roughly. "Never know where you will be when you need help." And that, he speaks from experience. Even now, he's got some of the first aid supplies tucked into a patch he's sewn into the pants. If he ends up with a broken leg, to the boy's example, then he can at least treat himself against the simple wounds and the worry of infection.

"Thanks." The assist isn't necessary, but Jess thanks him all the same, stepping back to observe his work. He turns the same level, calculating look on Cougar. "You don't?"

He'd be a little surprised if the man hadn't considered it. The odds haven't exactly been in their favor to date. But then, assuming the best isn't a part of Jess' internal wiring.

For that reason he nods, already thinking along the same lines. "I'm thinking upstairs, downstairs, the pub, and some supply points around town that we can get to should things get hairy. It's not much, considering we don't have that much anyway, but it'll keep us going a few days after. If something happens."

If.

He shrugs. "I know math," he says. Vectors, distances, wind speeds, and more physics than most people do. "Not geology." If they are leading up to more earthquakes, someone more attuned with the science is going to have to figure it out. Cougar, for his part, can only go along and react where he knows how to. He can help move furniture, offer field medicine, and make sure that any of their stores won't be destroyed. "Why shouldn't they be ending, as much chance as going on," he points out.

"I have very limited medical supplies," he says. "Not enough for all those places. Will have to improvise," he says, thinking of bandages that are clean, tourniquets, and other pieces of random items that might help them survive.

"I'm no expert on the science, either," he says. "But I know gambling, and right now the odds are telling me to hedge my bets."

It's not a scientific reason, just good sense. In Jess' experience, being ready for anything can't ever really steer you wrong.

"Medical supplies as in the kind you made, or the kind you were given?" Because there's a difference in this place. One could be vastly more valuable than the other, and Jess wouldn't ask someone to put quality supplies on the line. But pooling whatever else they have could definitely go a long way.

"Given," is Cougar's response. He knows that he's been very lucky with all the gifts that have arrived for him, which is something he'll want to address later. Maybe it's a faith that's coming to benefit him or maybe it's just good luck, but Cougar's been getting a stockpile of handy items. "Couldn't make anything. I'm a field medic, not scientist."

He could try, but the inherent danger of that would likely be worse than any of the benefits he might get. "What I really need is bandages," he admits, seeing as good, clean bandages are important to have on hand in any crisis.

Having worked through the morning getting supplies, Jess can feel a prickle of sweat forming under his arms. For the time being, he props his hands on his hips, letting his skin cool off a little. He hates sweating in what few clothes he has if he can avoid it.

"Too bad for Watney, I bet he'd appreciate having a few more scientific minds around." The remark is coupled with an amused look. Anyone can see Cougar's specialty isn't sitting in a lab, mixing together compounds. "It doesn't take a Medica degree to make your own field kit with what we have. If you have proper medicine, we should keep it safe as long as possible. Hold off on using it until we don't have any other choice."

What would their captors think if they were unable to safe their supplies and lost good, usable medical equipment in the next earthquake? They'd probably laugh. They seem like the type of bastards who would.

"Yeah, I've been thinking about that the longer we go on using up the cloth," Jess says with a thoughtful turn of his head. "I've found plantain leaves, but they're not exactly easy to fashion into a sling."

"No, and not very hygenic," he says, because at least with bandages, they can boil them. Even if it requires a lot more work than simply using matches in order to start the fire, it still means they can get hot water and then, bandages. Leaves might offer support, but he doesn't want to think about what might be living within them.

It would be nice to think they won't need anything and will be able to avoid injury, but this place seems hell-bent on putting them through whatever tortures it can think to find. "Lucky, I can do stitches, but same problem. Very little to do but disinfect with hot water and hope."

"It draws out infection, so it's actually not as bad as you might think. Peat moss and pine sap--try it next you have to bandage a cut if you haven't already. And calendula. Have you heard of that one? It kind of looks like a daisy. It heals wounds and stops infection."

Hearing him now, one might suppose he has some kind of background in the Medica field, but in truth Jess suspects his and Cougar's training might have more than a few things in common. What he knows about some of the plants in this area had come after long hours of wracking his brain, shaking loose random bits and pieces of medicine he'd learned over the years and hadn't ever thought he'd need to use.

And Kate, of course. Kate had been a big help in clarifying the differences between plant species, even if she tended to think modestly of her knowledge. She'd been a bigger help than she probably knew.

He's never had to do first aid with plants. No matter where they were in the world, Cougar always had his first aid kit on him, so as Jess talks about what plants can do, he can only reply with a blank look, not entirely sure what they can do disinfecting wise. "I only know how they ease pain when used as topical lotion, or eaten," he clarifies.

"Should probably learn better, now."

He shoots off another fleeting smile. "Well, using myself as a lab rat hasn't cost me any fingers or toes yet, for what it's worth. I knew a girl whose family used to mix animal fat and local plants to make salves--I've been trying to figure out what to do with plants I know of when I have the time, and so far it's been good for scrapes and gashes. No infection to speak of."

Experimenting isn't the safest plan, granted, but better him than someone else, and like Cougar, he's wondered what they can do for the day when they don't have conventional bandages or medicine on hand. Making salt water with Kate's supply is all well and good until they run out of salt.

"I've heard of the raw honey trick, but I haven't found any as yet. Larger wounds, though? I don't know. We'll have to get creative."

"Pressure," he says. "And hope for a real surgeon to come in the meantime," is his addition, as he searches around the room in order to see what else Jess might need to do if he's intending to prepare for the worst. "Do you want to have weapons of any kind?" This is where his expertise is better.

He's been in enough situations (and around Pooch long enough) to know that improvising is critical and to be able to use everything around them in order to do it.

It isn't a joke, but Jess' chest rumbles with a humorless laugh anyway, before the sound falls flat. "God forbid we need to do open heart surgery while we're here."

If he'd been injured here the way he'd been injured in Oxford, he'd probably be dead now, the blade having come so close to his kidney that he would've bled out without the camp surgeon. If that isn't a sobering thought, he doesn't know what is. Living at the mercy of abductors, or worse yet, the unpredictable damage of a natural disaster, makes him feel like he's laying under a guillotine, waiting for the blade to fall. Not a great feeling by any measure.

But blades in their hands isn't a bad thought, not at all.

Jess cocks his head at the question. "You have extras to spare? If you're offering, I wouldn't say no. The others might appreciate them." He hasn't missed the fact that Raven, like him, has a knife for every occasion. "I've had a mind to start combining supplies for a while, it's just a shame these earthquakes are making it necessary."

"Nothing professional or too sharp," he warns, because most of the weapons that he has are the things that he's made. Slingshots and spears and small sticks he's turned into makeshift shivs. He doesn't mind offering them out, because it's not like anyone can do much harm, but they'll be enough to help.

"Won't be disinfected or very strong," he admits, "but it will be something."

Jess nods because he understands the limitations of weapons-making too well from his own trial and error. "I get it. It's a lot harder to make your own than it looks. Thanks for pitching in, it's a big help. We can divvy up what we've got and add them to supply packs."

He's thinking ahead, always thinking ahead. Scenarios of what could happen and what they might need, and where, and when... It pays to be on the paranoid side with a mind for strategy sometimes, but other times it's just plain tiring. And yet he's still here, alive. He must be doing something right.

"I'll start that once I'm finished dealing with the inn," he says. "Hey, if you need a hand with your house, let me know." In the logic Jess operates by it's easier to offer to help than accept help.

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