Archive for January 2008
Excerpt from Dark Ops SymbioTech Operations Manual: Introduction
Welcome to the Dark Ops SymbioTech Operations Manual. In this opening section we will take a high level look at the world’s most advanced operational armor platform, the SymbioTech. For you, the Dark Ops operator, this marks the beginning of a very intense training period in which you will learn every facet of this extraordinary system and how to utilize its power to augment your already superior skills as a warrior. Let’s begin by taking a brief look at the SymbioTech’s history.
In 2055, world terror had reached its climax. Terror organizations were staging regular, devastating attacks all throughout the world including the United States. The World economy was on the verge of bankruptcy, international relations were fractured, and several countries, along with their corresponding governments, had collapsed under the economic and psychological strain of these terrorist activities. On Monday, May 10th, 2055, President John Anderson announced his intention to re-form the league of nations formally known as NATO. The new world organization would be called the Alliance of World Peace, and its primary objective would be to root out and eliminate the world’s terror leaders, and eradicate their armies. This was a world wide invitation, and by the end of that same week, all of the remaining world superpowers (the US, Russia, and the European Collective), along with several smaller nations signed the AWP charter. By the end of May 2055, the remaining nations had joined bringing the total number to its current membership of fifteen nations. In their inaugural session, the AWP established the Counter Terror Operations Council, or CTOC. This council, consisting of fifteen members, was tasked with developing an agenda on how to address the world’s terror dilemma. In June, 2055, CTOC met for five days and established what we now know as the Counter Terror Bill of Action. By the end of June, this Bill of Action was ratified by all of the members of the AWP and the implementation of the Bill’s tenants began immediately. Two of these tenants, in particular, had an immediate impact on the world’s current crop of counter terrorism organizations. First, all of the world’s counter terrorism units would be rolled up into a new, single unit know as the Dark Operations Group. This group would be under the unified command of the United States Special Projects Group. Second, a new global research initiative was created. This research initiative would occur in three Phases. Phase 1 would be a five year period in which all of the world’s remaining scientific resources would be tasked with developing technology to help the Darks Ops Group fight terrorism. Phase 2 would begin by removing half of the scientists from the research initiative so they could return to their original work. Phase 2 would last three years. Phase 3 would begin the same as Phase 2, half of the remaining scientist would leave the program and those that were left would be permanently assigned to the Dark Ops Group. Out of this amazing effort came some of the most incredible technology ever developed. And arguably the crown jewel of their effort is the SymbioTech suit.
While the SymbioTech suit may have been the greatest triumph of this collective brain trust, it was actually the last to be developed. The first innovations brought about better small arms weaponry and training for the Dark Ops operators. The next wave of improvements and inventions dealt with the driven and delivery vehicles used by the Dark Ops teams. At the same time these previous technological advancements were taking place, another team of scientists were working in parallel to create and deploy a singular communication network consisting of every imaginable communication media/device available, as well as a few new additions which included stable and reliable nanotechnology. While all of these advancements brought about wide and sweeping changes to how the Dark Ops operator brought war upon the terrorist, these weapons and communications systems and operators still suffered from a disconnect once the operator actually entered the field of combat. With only six months remaining in Phase 1, the scientists focused on how to bring all of these systems together in one package that could be usable by the Dark Ops operator no matter where they were. After several failed attempts, and with time running out, the SymbioTech suit was born.
The SymbioTech (pronounced Sim-bi-ah-tic), also referred to as the “Sym” or “SBT”, was created to be the critical link between all of the newest counter terror innovations and the Dark Ops operator. The first generation SBT, while still needing some considerable improvement, met the original goal of keeping the Dark Ops operator connected to the newly created and deployed communications network known as the Stream. While the Dark Ops operator wore the SBT, they had constant access to real time VoSS (Voice over Secure Satellite) transmissions which allowed the Dark Ops operators to stay in contact with each other and mission control. This proved to be a tremendous success because it allowed the mission controllers, who had real time data concerning a target, to literally talk the Dark Ops operators to their targets, even if those targets were on the move.
By this time, Phase 1 of the research initiative had completed. As Phase 2 began, the remaining researchers continued to focus on improving the SBT. During this three year phase, there were three ground breaking discoveries that would transform the SBT from a mere communications conduit to the most advanced armor platform ever known. The first two innovations occurred early on in Phase 2. First, was the development of the neural net. Simply put, this is a nanotech array that is attached to the cerebral cortex of the Dark Ops operator. Second, was the invention of Nanopreen. Unlike previous SBT’s that were made of conventional materials incorporating a limited amount of nanotechnology, Nanopreen was an incredible leap forward in that the material was almost exclusively made up of nano machines. This allowed the SBT to be self-repairable, form adaptable, as well as several other attributes which you will learn in detail in later sections. But one additional property that makes Nanopreen special is its ability to incorporate new technology which gives the researchers the perfect canvas to create new and exciting systems for the SBT. Through the neural net, or net for short, the SBT literally comes to life and becomes a very active part of the Dark Ops operator. Even if we were to stop here, the SBT would still be (and was) considered the peak of technological advancement, however one more discovery was made late in Phase 2 that would give Dark Ops operators a sense of near invulnerability: P.R.O.T.E.C.T. (Projectile Rejection On TErminal ContacT). In short, this technology senses an incoming projectile threat (such as a small arms round, shrapnel, or a knife), calculates its incoming trajectory and hardens the suit at the point of contact. Not only does it stop the projectile from penetrating the suit, it also dissipates the kinetic energy that also might have caused injury to the Dark Ops operator. NOTE: As incredible a technology as P.R.O.T.E.C.T. is, it still has it’s limitations, which you will learn about in a later section. This brings us to our current generation of the SBT.
Even though we’ve moved into Phase 3 of the research initiative, work continues to further improve the SBT. Some modifications that will be seen in the future include adaptive camouflage (with the ultimate goal of transparency), further advancements to the P.R.O.T.E.C.T. technology, better extreme temperature compensation, and many more.
Dates of interest:
- Monday, May 10th, 2055 - President John Anderson announced his intention to re-form the league of nations formally known as NATO
- May 2055 remaining nations join
- June 2055, CTOC met for five days and established what we now know as the Counter Terror Bill of Action
She sits on the edge of the hotel bed, her eyes glazed over as the data stream fuels her anger. Suspended in the air before her is cacophony of information and statistics, gaudy with colors and motion. Neural implants attenuated to her every thought show market prices, accurate to the second as they flow from every corner of the world. The prices are plunging at a rate that can only be engineered by human or AI interference, alarm algorithms come online. Protector AI at each of the market hubs begins to react, stemming the downward dive with controled buys and disallowing sells. The superNet reacts, closing the data stream to news agency bots, bloggers, spiders of every ilk and traders to reduce the mob mentality that is already forming.
Angered to the boiling point, she begins to piece it all together. She has been used.
Her right hand waves in front of her eyes, wiping the information from the air before her. She closes here eyes, breathes in a single deep breath and forcibly lowers her heart rate. Releasing the breath slowly she looks around the room.
Never touched the credenza, the infotainment system or the bathroom. The tile floor has been swept and sprayed. The bed needs to be sprayed as I leave the room. Might be safer just to burn it…
Completing her mental checklist she stands for the first time tonight. Walking to the door she tosses a metallic orb onto the bed. The ride down the lift is slow and there are too many stops as people get on and off at their floors. Even at 3AM the lobby is washed in daylight from the SecondSun that floats above the marbled floor.
Honestly, who thought those things would take off? she thinks as she walks out of the lobby.
Making her way past the all night Pho restaurants and blaring karaoke bars with the rest of humanity on the sidewalks of Singapore, a shadow explodes past her as the bomblet incinerates the hotel room. For the briefest moment the night sky is ablaze and then just a quickly the glow of neon returns.
As the crowds turn and stare at the falling glass and metal she pushes on, moving deeper into the night.
Note: I wrote this in 1994 for my college newspaper. I found it again this morning and thought I would post it here.
He sits at a small wooden table, eating ribs off a plastic plate with his hands. In between mouthfuls he takes a swallow of his water, looks up at Jeff (seeing how far along he is) and then goes back to the plate.
Four long ribs remain, along with a helping of potato salad and a slice of bread. Thick sauce pours off the ribs, big, heavy drops fall to cover the white plate, and more runs down his fingers as he rips another bit of meat from the bone.
“It is the best,” he says, smiling at Jeff.
Jeff looks up from his hamburger, and nods back to Galyn. He agrees, but can not say so. His mouth is full.
Galyn and Jeff have many things in common: dusty boots, well-worn baseball caps, and smooth shaven faces. They share the same knowledge of the feed store, and both squint their eyes when they smile. That is where the similarities take on a different feel.
Galyn has seen quite a few years on the Kansas/Oklahoma plains, but he still moves quickly. His hair is full and silver and his arms are thick powerful. His mornings are spent at the same table,
drinking coffee with whoever stops by. His days are spent in the oil fields of central Oklahoma, but by late afternoon he makes it back to the store.
Jeff is young, but his eyes do not tell that. Under his ball cap is closely cropped, wavy, dishwater brown hair. He stands tall and slim, but surprises the customers when he grabs a fifty pound bag of feed and throws it around, making it seem weightless.
The table they sit at is not in your run-of-the-mill barbecue joint. It and they sit in something much different from most restaurants in the world. At least the world of the 1990s.
Surrounding the table are items most people would not associate with lunch or dinner, or food at all for that matter. Pegboard lines the walls of the 74 Ranch Supply, all four walls have tack and supplies hanging from them. Along the west wall a leather rifle sheath hangs above other various items used by horsemen. Bits, reins, bridles, and cribbing collars dangle from short metallic pegs.
“The cribbing collars move well,” says Jeff Heskett, a 20 year-old employee at the feed and tack store. “They are made to keep horses from cribbing. That’s when the horse puts his teeth around a tree limb or fence post and suck wind in and out. It can kill ‘em. Somehow the collar keeps the horse’s head down, it goes around his neck and hurts it when he raises his head.”
A double sided row of counters sits only feet away from the two men. A gallon bottle of fish oil, rubbs for hooves, flea and tick sprays and bone meal all sit within reach. Hanging from the ceiling is a fluorescent orange “Fly Stik”. Hundreds of dead flies hang caught in the goo, making the stick look speckled.
“That thing fell on me one time, right across my forearms,” said Galyn. “Back then it was hangin” pretty much above the table. I stood up and the darn thing fell down. They thought it was pretty funny.”
Hanging beside the “Stik,” is something that catches most people’s attention. A black plastic, life size head of a horse hang by it’s neck, forever looking out the front door. The plastic has been brushed to give it the appearance of hair, and it’s mouth is cut open to show a grin.
“You know once a year that thing goes down to Remington Park (a horse racing venue). Don’t really know what they use it for, but the lady comes and gets it every year. Then a week later she comes back with it. Maybe I ask her this time,” said Galyn.
Perched above is something all together different too. On the roof of the 74 Ranch Supply are eight saddles, all eight are nailed down tight to the roof, rotting in the Oklahoma weather. The Downings did not begin the tradition of nailing down old saddles to the roof, but they do continue it.
“I’m not sure who started it, but about 12 years ago the first was nailed down. We haven’t put another up there for some time,” said Galyn Downing, owner of the 74.
74 Ranch Supply sits in a three room building at Portland and Edmond Road, west of Edmond. The original building, built in 1928, consists of wood walls and floors. The site has been used for a variety of business’ since it was built as a filling station. In it has been a shoe cobbler, restaurants (at least two different times), the feed store, and more than once as a filling station.
“Well when I first came by here in the early 60s, it was a cafe. Veal’s Cafe I think,” said Galyn.
A little feed is kept inside an old garage attached to the east wall. Most of the feed bags are stored in seven different semi trailers parked along side the building and road. Part of an old sign can still be read in the garage, painted on what years ago was an outside wall of the 74 Ranch Supply building. It used to read SINCLAIR, now it only reads INCLAIR. If there was ever a big green dinosaur, it has been carted off a long time ago.
A third room was added later, also wood, but the date seems lost in history. That third room now serves as the kitchen and prep room for the barbecue.
The prep room is short, maybe 20 feet long, with a sloping ceiling, making it seem much smaller than it is. A cream colored Sears Coldspot Frostless freezer stands, quietly humming behind the door. A small stove sits beside a door that leads out to the smoker. To use the door Galyn steps down into a depression and opens the door out into the side yard. Along the remaining wall space, counters are filled with crock pots, chips, pickles, dressings, colas and buns. In the middle of the tiny room is a tallish island, by lunch time the island is covered with burnt foil and smoked meats.
The smoker weighs in at 1,900 pounds of black iron.
“Would’ve cost us around $3,000 for the whole thing if we had gone commercial. But we had it made special for about, oh, I don’t know. Around fourteen hundred and fifty,” said Galyn.
Standing beneath a small shed, the smoker spews wood smoke out over the grassy side yard. Despite the heat, watermelon vines grow up along the back of the shed. There is just enough room for one person to fit comfortably inside the shed with the smoker. Two could squeeze in, but in the heat it would be unbearable.
As Galyn opens the smoker he flips the switch to start a ceiling mounted fan. A smell of burning wood quickly fills the shed and spreads out through the surrounding countryside.
“We only burn 100 percent pecan in here,” said Galyn. He places a rod in the door to keep it open and puts on a pair of singed gloves to protect his hands from the extreme heat. The grills continue to turn above the bright orange fire deep within the black dragon. Foil, once shiny silver, now burnt golden, wraps the brisket, ribs, and other meats in a protective blanket. The foil lets the heat and smoke get to the meat without burning them dry, said Galyn.
He puts the bundles of golden wrapped meats into a big blue tub and carries them back to the side door. Balancing the tub between his right hip, right hand and the wall, he opens the door with his left hand.
“No problem,” he said walking up the little steps back into the prep room.
Galyn and Leta Downing bought the 74 Ranch Supply four years ago, in 1990, from Carl Parris. “We owned the 74 ‘bout 10 years or so. Maybe we bought it in ‘79. Don’t really remember,” said Parris.
The store came with many advantages: a group of regular customers, good feed suppliers and a market that needed a feed and tack here in this store’s location.
“We (he and his wife Leta) bought this place and it was in the black. It’s been a good business, and they’re good people (the customers). But, two years ago something happened. Something drastic. It almost brought us down,” said Galyn.
When the Downings bought the 74 Ranch Supply they got the store, it’s customers and the manager. Two years ago the manager Galyn talks about, Bobby Young, left the 74 and began his own feed store.
“I think the primary reason he left here was jealousy. He went down the road two miles and opened. He took some of my feed suppliers, actually told them I was going to stop selling their brand and about half of my customers. I had to call the guy at one of the feed suppliers and threaten a lawsuit. That got ‘em back real quick,” said Galyn.
Galyn believes that the area can only keep one store open. There are not enough people to have two sites. One store does nicely, two stores struggle, said Galyn.
“Besides, the way he thinks, he’ll make a fatal mistake. And I’ll be there when he does,” said Galyn.
The split also caused a rift in the Downing family as well. Young is married to their niece, and since he left the 74, they have not seen her.
“Nope, haven’t seen neither one of ‘em,” said Galyn. “Don’t plan on it either.”
For now Galyn keeps his job as an oil field supervisor, a “glorified pumper” as one regular calls him.
“I went into the field in ‘54. I was drafted into the army in ‘55 as a battalion welder. When I got out in ‘57, I came back to the oil fields–in ‘56 I was stationed in Fairbanks, Alaska. I’ll go back. Someday¼but my first love is the oil field, people may think I’m crazy, but it is,” said Galyn.
In February, Galyn and his wife started the barbecue business, Smoklahoma, with their youngest son, Brian and his wife Terry, he said they had the right barbecue and the right place.
“We enjoy good barbecue. We felt there was a need, and we think we have the best,” said Galyn.
Brian Downing sits across from his father. Sitting across from each other is like looking into a mirror at different times in someone’s life. Brian could be Galyn twenty-five years ago.
“The smell of the barbecue brings in new faces, but the regulars would come anyway,” said Galyn.
“The regulars have been coming for a long time now. Long before the barbecue started,” said Jeff.
The “regulars” they speak of are a varied crew. Raymond sits in the wooden chair, leaning back on two legs. He wears a purple tank-top, and cut off jeans. A pager holds on to his waistline, fighting to stay attached as he moves in the chair. Dark sunglasses hang at the neckline of his shirt, bowing the shirt down, revealing a thick layer of chest hair. His shoulders are broad, freckled and darkly tanned. Long, graying hair lays across his shoulders and mixes into his beard. The beard is also long and graying, laying on his chest.
“Have you seen Bill’s barn?” Galyn asked Raymond. “Umm, it’s full.”
“We need to run up and look at that blue stem. I’m gonna head back to the house, but as soon as you get a chance, come and get me,” Raymond said to Galyn as he rocked back and forth.
“You know you put that hay up green it smells pretty bad,” said Galyn.
“When you put it up green, it’s stout,” said Raymond.
“You get that green in there to tight and you can get spontaneous combustion. It’ll burn,” said Galyn in-between sips of his drink.
Raymond nods and sets the chair back on all fours. “We put some in the barn, before it was 80 degrees, next day the thermostat showed 140,” Raymond said shaking his head.
“We are going to have a shortage on grass hay,” Galyn said, waiving his left hand in the air to emphasize the point. “We’re running a 25-35 percent shortage. It is gonna be a hard winter.”
A few minutes go by and the men sit in silence. An oscillating fan hums as it pushes around the air conditioned coolness. Quietly Raymond stands and walks to the door.
He turns back to the group. “You know it’s quiet in here. But when it gets cold, they’ll be here everyday when the door opens. Waiting on coffee. Playing cards and talking trade secrets.”
“That’s the thing with ranchers and horsemen. If we have a new idea, or something that works for something, we share it. Tell everyone and let them try. It’s not that way in the oil business. If you have a secret worth keeping, you do,” said Galyn.
Jeff nods, getting up to help a customer with her selection.
“What’da know kid?” Galyn asked Rick as he walked up and sat down in the chair Raymond just left.
“Need a new air conditioner in the truck!” Rick said wiping sweat from his brow.
“Yeah, when my AC started gettin’ weak, I knew it was time to trade,” said Galyn.
“You should see the size of my compressor in the Lincoln,” Rick said holding his hands apart to demonstrate.
Rick looks very different from Galyn and Jeff. He wears blue sweatpants, T-shirt, baseball cap, white socks and sandals. He would look very much like a “kid,” but the five o’clock shadow at ten in the morning gives him away.
“Anyone back there I can sweet talk into gettin’ me a Dr. Pepper?” Rick asked walking to the prep room.
“Well I don’t know ‘bout the sweet talking, but we can get you the Dr. Pepper,” Galyn said as he followed Rick into the prep room.
Tammy, Galyn’s daughter, comes in the back door and carries something to the prep room. She wears a black tour T-shirt from a recent concert and jean shorts. A long trail of smoke follows her in, hanging close to the cigarette that dangles from her hand.
She smiles to Jeff and tells him to help her carry things in from her car.
“I just went to Sam’s to get some supplies. That Jeff, I depend on him whole-heartedly. He really works for the feed store, but he does so much for Smoklahoma. He paid for his lunch the first couple of days, but he does so much for me…I feed him,” she said wiping her hands on her apron.
“Yeah that Jeff, he’s a good kid. Rides the fence on both sides for us. The tack and barbecue,” said Galyn.
The front door opens and a tall man in torn blue jeans, a Winston cigarettes T-shirt, and lace up boots walks in already talking.
“We were out on the trail when we heard a rattler sing off,” said Howard as he paced back and forth in front of the table, to the back of the store and then the table again. “I got off my horse and got the long iron out. Told this kid to get down and hold my horse, and his. I walked real slow towards the snake, didn’t see ‘im, so I just stood there.
“Then he moved and I caught the shine off his skin. He went straight for one of the horses. Rared- up and he was mad. I drew in real close to get a good aim, and he changed directions on me. So I tried it again, put the rifle to his head and shot him dead.”
Howard pulled out the closest chair, the same one Rick had been in, and Raymond before him, and sat down.
Howard works during the week at a local lumber yard, but during the weekends his life looks drastically different.
“I bent down and cut off the head, and I was trying to put it in my medicine pouch. I couldn’t get my medicine pouch open with one hand, so I just stuck the rattlers in my mouth. Opened the pouch up and then took them rattlers and put ‘em in there,” said Howard.
“Oh, that impressed the girls,” said Galyn as he smiled and squinted his eyes.
“Oh, I looked at this one kid, he was settin’ there (squirming), so I took the opportunity. I said ‘you know what I really ought to do? I oughta cut him open and pull his heart out.’ The kid started saying ‘no, no, no,’” said Howard.
“Did you do the cookin’?” said Galyn.
“No. No, Kendrick, the black cowboy did the cooking,” said Howard as he leaned back on two legs.
“I do authentic historical trail rides up at Roman Nose State Park. My pants you can’t by in a store, they’re hand made. My shirts are hand made. All of our vests, my four pocket vest, and then the bandanna. The saddle, my bridle, everything is authentic. I mean some of it’s new, we know that. My saddle and bridle, everything down to my boots is hand made. And everything else,” said Howard.
“I’d like to come out and take that trail ride someday,” said Galyn.
“It’s only ten dollars an hour,” said Howard. “We have three different lengths; one hour at ten dollars, two at twenty, and three for thirty. We also have a dinner trail for forty. It’s about a three hour ride and then we serve dinner over an open fire. We serve a ten ounce rib-eye steak dinner, ranch style beans, fried potatoes and onions, corn on the cob, and peaches for dessert. And a whole bunch more stories.
“We’re trying to add something to this trail ride that nobody else does. Us being dressed up right, we have a captain with the calvary, a cowboy, a native American, and a black cowboy. We go out on these rides and we tell them history about the park and about the outlaws and things that hung around in that area. Some Indian myths and legends.
“We are setting up some camps, will be offering rides where you camp overnight in an authentic cowboy camp, or calvary camp, or Indian camp. We pack them across lakes, and the only way to get across is walking or on horse back. It’s a lot easier on horse back and you’re a lot higher up off the ground to. Just in case you run across a rattle snake.
“We take you up onto top of the mountain, you get a different aspect of life. And if you have any stress, you lose it up there real quick. It puts everything in perspective, sitting up there on a good horse and looking over the countryside.”
“Yep. Raymond just left, the ‘Bearded Wonder,’” said Galyn.
Jeff’s girlfriend, Amy, walks in the back door. The chime goes off telling everyone someone else has come in.
“Raymond is from the Viet Nam era, they all wear their hair long and he’s fur-bearing. Good guy though,” said Galyn.
Galyn explained to Jeff that he started calling people with a beard “fur bearing” when he was young.
“I grew up in south-western Kansas, west of Dodge City about 90 miles. Near where we lived was a bunch of Minonites. I started calling them ‘fur bearing Christians.’ It just stuck with me. You know, I was neighbors to the, at one time the world’s renowned rodeo clown for several years. Buddy Heaton, I rodeoed with him for several years,” said Galyn.
“Did you here that?” asked Amy
“What happened?” asked Galyn, feigning surprise.
Amy smiled and pointed to the prep room. “Garth Brooks is going to be on Vicki today.”
“Yeah? What time is Vicki on?” asked Galyn.
“It’s on right now,” said Amy.
“Well, reckon we ought to move the TV out here?” asked Galyn.
Amy stands and grabs her purse of the back of the chair she was sitting in. “Are you leaving us?” asked Galyn.
“Yeah, I got to go to the bank,” she said.
“Are you bring us some money?” asked another customer.
“No, I’m bringing them some money, before they start calling for it,” she said as she walked to the door.
“You know, you haven’t had no one bring you a saddle in a long time,” said Howard.
“Hadn’t had one,” agreed Galyn.
“The other day I went home, and daddy gave me this magazine from ‘77. You know I’m always having to tell stories on the trail, well, you know how man has always had to deal with the problem of rabid animal. Well…” Howard went on to tell a story of native Americans hanging a infected person above a fire, wrapped in buffalo skin for protection. The fire would cause such a fever that the person would be healed of the rabies.
“Yeah, rabies can be a terrible, slow death. Your talking agony, agony, agony,” said Galyn.
“Oh, yeah. Even the sight of water can make a person with rabies wretch. You can’t eat, you can’t drink. It’s a, it’s a horrifying death,” said Howard.
“I heard, up in that area, when Ft. Supply was a fort,” said Galyn. “They sent a detachment to Santa Fe, New Mexico. To bring eighty thousand dollars worth of silver and gold bars, that had been stolen in the first place. On the way back, where they crossed the river, up there south of the fort, some Indians trapped them in the ravine. Now this is in Oklahoma history books, they had some dynamite with them and a artillery piece. The soldiers put the piece and the gold and silver up against the ravine wall, and they dynamited it. Covered it up.
“Now only one person got out of that party, a civilian scout. He made it back there to the fort, and told them what had happened, he said ‘man they got us,’ told them about the Indians and all, and then he died a few weeks after that. Well the sent people down to the crossing to find the gold and silver, they searched and searched and searched. But they never did. Nobody has ever found it.
“I know a guy who said he walked all over that area and found him a bunch a arrowheads. He says he knows with in three miles, I would love to go up there and find that. Do you realize what eighty thousand dollars worth of gold would be today?”
“See they tell me that there is actually more currency buried than there is being taken care of right now. Cause back in those days people buried stuff. You know they didn’t trust the bank and they buried stuff,” said Howard.
Jerry, another ‘regular,’ comes in the front door. “I heard you had a time with that horse,” he said to Howard as he walked around the table, getting the last available chair.
“Yeah, just a little bit,” Howard started to laugh.
The back door opens up, giving off another chime, Jeff stands to see who came in.
“Morning Gabby,” said Jeff.
Gabby walks in carrying two cucumbers and a pint of picante sauce.
“Well, I’m not getting any work done here,” said Howard, standing slowly and stretching to the ceiling. His right hand scratched his shallow beard before returning to his side. “See yall later.”
“Later,” said Jeff.
“All right, you take care of yourself,” said Galyn.
The front door slams shut after Howard leaves. Again the fan can be heard humming atop the massive “Wonder Warm” heater. Beside the fan sits the coffee pots, both full of freshly brewed black.
