July Writing Challenge: Danger, Will Robinson!

[Sean *]

It's writing challenge time! To enter, just post a ficlet (300-4000 words suggested) in this thread. When the voting for this month's OTM winners comes around, a voting poll will go up for this as well.

The Challenge: Due to the popularity of the apocalyptic AUs (and the popularity of this challenge the last time we issued it) this month's challenge will focus on those elements. Apocalypse, war, destruction, disaster, whatever you want, just write a story about the Hammel cast in a situation that would be a summer blockbuster.

The rules:

• Characters must be in Hammel canon, but the ficlets are not canon unless explicitly stated.
  
• Entries must be more than 300 words.
  
• You can enter no more than three ficlets. Any ficlets posted after the original 3 will not be considered for voting. If you want to post more, however, have fun.
  
• Story entries must be titled.

[Dr. Sean Neville]

The Sun in Burning

Now the sun has disappeared
All is darkness, anger, pain and fear
Twisted, sightless wrecks of men
Go groping on their knees and cry in pain
And the sun has disappeared.

Their passports were in order before they left. Sean had made sure of that.

Between the two of them, they had listed every piece of personal identification and legal document they might need, and then they had divided up the list. Anything that required Josh’s special professional knowledge became his responsibility, and the telepath took care of everything else.

In the end, they created a heavy binder with everything organized neatly and nicely laminated. Each man’s birth certificate (in triplicate – when Sean had seen the writing on the wall, he had asked Josh to order additional copies for their records). Their wills and medical directives that Janice had written up for them with every “I” dotted and every “T” crossed. Their professional licenses and proof of every continuing education class each man needed to complete to remain current. Two copies of Sean’s driving record. Two copies each of their respective background records, gifted to them as a favor by Charlie Davis who had some similar concerns (one official and one photo copy for each of them) – some of that took Sean back, as he hadn’t thought about a few of those protest in years, but he didn’t have the energy to reminisce. Every medical document that each man could procure from all of his doctors including vaccination records. Mopsy’s medical records from the veterinarian. Sean’s file from Hammel that he had liberated from the records room which dated back to when he had first come to the school’s attention. Each man’s credit history. All of their bank account information. The deed to the house. The deed to the car. The deed to the boat. All three now held in joint tenancy with Josh so that each man had an equal stake in the equity. All of their diplomas and every certificate or honor that either man had been awarded. And their marriage license.

Although their relationship brought never-ending joy to the telepath, their wedding had been nothing to celebrate. They had gone down to the courthouse one day and the County Clerk had issued them a marriage license. Sean had made a dozen photocopies for their records, because they might need more than one, and their situation was precarious. They were two middle-aged MSM – one Jewish and one meta-human – now married to one another; not everyone would look kindly on that. Still, the existence of their marriage granted them more rights than remaining unmarried, and that had tilted Sean’s hand. He remained ambivalent towards marriage as a symbol, but his top priority was protecting Josh and himself, and this license aided him in that goal.

A bit before it was time to go, Sean had withdrawn as much money from their bank accounts - his own, Josh’s personal account, and the one they kept jointly for day-to-day life – as he could, laundered it to the best of his ability through his nephew and a few friends in different places (including one technopath who helped with the electronic signatures) and then converted it into an international traveler’s checking account for their use. He bought a safe lockbox, cleaned out his safe deposit box at the bank, and put all of their valuables and backup copies of their documents into the box, which he tucked into the rest of their belongings.

Then they had packed: Clothes, shoes, medications, jewelry, toiletries and grooming supplies, clean linens and blankets, books, appliances, kitchen utensils, all of Josh’s Judaica, china and glasses, music, Sean’s movie collection, the laptop and phones and Josh’s e-reader and all of the chargers, Mopsy’s hutch and all of her supplies, some furniture, some other personal items, some decorations, all of the photo albums, and the lockbox and the binder of all of their documents. As much food as they could fit in the freezer, the pantry, and the refrigerator. Some of the choice liquor from the collection.

Sean felt so grateful for his interest in sailing as they packed up the boat. He felt such gratitude for his partner – husband, they were husbands now – that Josh had agreed to his plan to retire with a houseboat so that they had been able to upgrade in anticipation of everything going to Hell. He didn’t know how they would cope if they were limited to what they could ship (when they didn’t have a permanent address on the other side) and travel with on an airplane, or what they could fit into their car and a U-Haul trailer.

He felt gratitude for the fact that they were upper middle class and middle-aged, so that their lives were together enough to put everything in order and that they had the resources to buy a houseboat in the first place. Not everyone was so fortunate.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t much they could do about that. They had to hedge their bets.

Once they weighed anchor, Sean focused on hitting international waters while Josh called his siblings, their friends, and Sean’s nephew, to let everyone know that they were safe and going underground from that point forward. At least for the time being.

Whenever they hit the next port to reload their supplies, recharge the engine and motor, and check in about news, then they could reach out to their friends and loved ones again.

Sean was still navigating and steering when Josh had finished. The younger man descended the stairs into the cabin of the boat to check on Mopsy. Though she was a bit seasick, she was otherwise fine. He cuddled her for a few minutes and then disappeared into the kitchen to pour himself and Sean each a glass of wine. Bringing those back up to the deck, he settled in a chair beside his husband.

The telepath turned to look at the attorney and leaned forward to brush their heads together. “Four years,” he murmured, before he took the wine glass gratefully. “We can survive four years.”

They could live four years at sea and traveling. He simply didn’t know what they would do if Trump was elected to a second term.