Alaskan Cold

[MacKenzie Taylor]

MacKenzie nodded. People had their strong points, and their weaker points. However, it made sense. Almost all parents cared about grades more than athletics. It was common, but a bit unfair. Her mother couldn't have cared less about what grades she got, but her grandparents' did. They were very strict on her schoolwork, even complaining when she got a B, always asking why it wasn't an A. It had often gotten on MacKenzie's nerves, but she didn't let them know that. She was in their best interests, after all, no matter how conflicting that statement could be sometimes.

"Those seem like good reasons to join the Marine Corps," she said with a smile. "It's a good job, even though it is dangerous." MacKenzie was never big on war or fighting. She hated it. But she held a certain respect for those who fought in the wars. They couldn't help if they are ordered to go to war, after all. And it was keeping the country safe. She just wished the wars wouldn't happen at all, and by miracle there would be no need for military. But that was just wishing for an Utopia world, and there was no way that would ever happen. "But a necessary one, I guess," she added.

[USMC GySgt Preston Davis]

"Yeah, I guess," Preston agreed. "Much better than being forced into it by parents or to get the money for college. Although, I will admit that that part was nice. In another world, I would be one of those people who has a giant study and a gun cabinet behind their huge oak desk, in a really big house with maids and servants. Probably a few kids, too, married or not. Adopted, I mean. I just come from that kind of money. But after the war... man, I hate war. It ruins everything. Lives, countries, beautiful man-made structures like the Statue of Liberty or the Eiffel Tower, and even more beautiful natural things like Niagara Falls. I don't even know who was stupid enough to drop a bomb there. I mean, really, how many people did they expect to kill, especially military? It makes no sense to me."

Preston realized that he had been rambling on and on about himself this whole time. She had, after all, kept asking him questions. Maybe she didn't like to answer questions. Some people didn't. Others loved to talk about themselves, or, like Preston, just ramble on without even thinking about it. "So where are you from, MacKenzie?"

[MacKenzie Taylor]

MacKenzie smiled. She definitely preferred listening, not talking. Sometimes, she hated talking. It was a good thing that wasn't required nowadays. The only one who MacKenzie spoke too was Emma. And vice versa.

"That would have been a nice future. But you never know. Things could change, and you may have all that," she said with a shrug. Normally, she was a bit pessimistic, but you could always hope. And things change everyday. It wasn't impossible. Maybe things wouldn't go back to what they were before, and most likely not get any better than years ago, but it would be a change. They could only get better from here, right?

She nodded in agreement about his view on the war. So many lives lost, possibly including that of her fiance. It was a lot more probable than possible, no matter how bad she wished it otherwise. It was time to start facing facts, and get out that denial stage.

"I'm from England. Bath, England, to be exact. I moved to Wyoming when I was 15, because of my grandparents. Stayed there till a couple months ago, then I moved here," she explained.

[USMC GySgt Preston Davis]

Preston snorted. "Unlikely I'll ever live that comfortably. The best I could do would be to have a store in my basement and make some cash, then have a few guns or something, with my medals on the wall behind a small, rotted wooden desk." Actually, Preston had been thinking about having a store in the downstairs of his new house. He would sell food and whatever he could find as he wandered around the city and the state. With any luck, he might actually find things other than meat. Of course, meat was important too. That got Preston thinking, and he was silent for a few moments.

A lot of people bartered these days. If someone didn't have any money, they gave up clothes, food, or pieces of old, twisted metal that could be used to make small luxuries that make people feel better emotionally, even if physically they still feel like shit. Preston had seen many necklaces made of old twine and a random, twisted piece of metal. Some people thought of them as good luck charms, too, and some people thought that they actually worked. But anyway, Preston could sell that kind of stuff if he didn't want it for himself. It was an idea he'd had for a while.

[MacKenzie Taylor]

MacKenzie nodded, listening. “A store would be a good idea. Since there aren’t many around here.” There were a couple, and a few that charged an arm and a leg for some items that normally didn’t cost more than 2 bucks. But the owners were smart- people needed food, and would pay a lot for it. Good business for them, depressing for the people who bought the stuff. But she could hardly blame them. The owners needed money just as much as anyone else.

Emma more or less sat on MacKenzie’s feet, leaning her head back against her legs. “Well, even if you do have an old, rotting desk, it’s better than nothing,” she said, being the optimist. Anything like that would be considered a small treasure now, which would have been thrown in the dump before. How easily things can change. There was a silence, and she didn’t say anything, not wanting to interrupt the train of thoughts his mind must have took upon whatever he had said. Another gust of wind blew, but it wasn’t the bitter cold that left your teeth clattering. It just blew her hair around her, so she quickly put it back in a ponytail.

[USMC GySgt Preston Davis]

Tyson jumped up on Preston, tail wagging wildly, begging to play. Preston scratched his dog behind the ears. "We can play when we get back to the house," he promised, shifting his weight carefully. He hated standing for long periods of time, because he ended up with all his weight on his good leg, which then starts to hurt. But Preston couldn't really shift his weight to his bad leg, because, well, he couldn't stand like that. It was his bad leg for a reason, after all. Being a cripple sucked. Just plain sucked.

For some reason, watching MacKenzie and Emma made Preston think of his friend Parker Quist, his wife Jennifer, and his son, Timothy. Tim was a cool kid, though thirteen years or so younger than Preston himself. He was interested in sports and didn't like fighting, but liked hunting. His father had asked Preston to train Tim to shoot a rifle, which he did happily and successfully, but it was a very long time since they had seen each other. Maybe, after a while in Alaska, he could visit Switzerland, where he knew the Quist family now lived. Probably wouldn't move there, though.