Hotwire car which wires

We sit down and try to talk it out I’m livid now. I’m on the verge of just shutting it all down and going emotionless again. She says sorry.. about my mother and everything then starts blaming me! Holy fucking shit I’m providing almost all the finances I’m doing equal shares of laundry dishes and folding except for the last GODDAMN WEEK I’ve been putting atleast one kid to bed getting the puppy calmed down and still having the audacity to workout maintain the lawn and work 9-13 hour days. I called her out and it was cold. I’m not proud but it was needed.
She tried to defend her actions at this point I’m done and just walk out. I need a moment. She gets upset and everyone decides they need to go north to a college down to shop. I’m alone wiring electrical and putting together the toddlers bed and retapping parts of the wall… I haven’t felt this much self loathing in years. I was just sitting there working which was the only thing keeping me away from razors again. I wanted to cry but I can’t anymore. No release could be found that wasn’t self destructive.
They all come back like nothing ever happened. At this point I’ve over excreted what little energy I had. My skin was cold and clammy but my body was sweating profusely. My face was pale and I was struggling to breathe. Now she says I should be resting and she has no idea why I’m pushing so hard?! Am I being fucking gaslit?! This was all your idea this was your demand?!
Flash forward an hour my puppy was outside for about 30 minutes and it’s hot so I try to get her in. She refuses which isn’t uncommon but she’s hiding under the deck.
I get her out and in and make sure she’s drinking water we get down stairs and I’m about to feed her and she fucking pees on the carpet. It’s tinged with blood. Oh fuck no not now, well let the wife know and she knows it’s just like when she first arrived from Iraq. Got a UTI again, so I have to now rearrange all the shit from the projects in the garage get the car seats out and her crate in the truck pushing way past what my body wanted or needed. Yeeted an energy drink. Which was also a mistake.
Then wife goes “you look like your about to pass out I’ll do it for you, I’ll drive her the hour to the vets” cause no where is open on a Saturday except an hour away. No fuck that I just pushed myself as fucking hard for you and got the puppy I’m in it now. Fuck whatever happens.
Drive down to big city, talked to mom entire trip and forced her to tell me what wife said about me. Same shit like always, her and MIL shit on me for everything. barely make it cause I’m dying inside looks like a ghost staring at me in the mirror. Fuck who cares honesty. 5 hours there 1000$ later got meds for her and head home…

call me names.
I lock myself in a room, small dusty room - the dust is mostly dirt blows in through the open windows. pollen. it makes you sneeze, me sneeze, even after I close the windows, when it's getting too cold. call me 'sniffles', that's a name you could call me.
someone is afraid, long time they've been afraid and their fear makes them called 'fraidy cat'. they're shuddering. i look over at them in the corner and they shudder harder - i step closer, they shudder harder - like excited atoms, the friction, they start to glow. fire is burning in the corner of the room with them, in them, around them, and now the wallpaper (pale blue with little pink roses here and there) is charred black. hold out a hand (to offer them comfort), but the time is past (for comfort) and the soot blackens your fingertip. i wrote something in the soot like a dirty or a foggy car window (outside or inside, warm or cold). the wall was warm from their little inferno fire burning fire fire but it was years ago (the two steps across the room were years) and your finger doesn't burn, cold like a wall is cold. close the windows. the ashes make sniffles sneeze.
call yourself something big: you can be 'ace' or 'joe cool' or 'the fonz' or 'bullit' or 'brainy smurf' or 'indiana jones' or 'mr. creosote', point is that you've got a lot to give. I'm you. I know i'm you because in mirrors you look me right in the eye. I look over your shoulder. I push a boulder. The moon is like a boulder in space, weightless, and the earth and the sun are pushing it together. One does more work than the other. Rumor has it the moon's just an affectation the earth came up with to impress the sun. instead of reading this you should read that calvino story about the moon.
anyway, the moon's something big. all the dogs howl at it - of course they would. they're just a piece of the earth same as all of us, so it's a kind of arrogance then, the moonhowl, it's look-at-me look-how-great-I-am. I have some barbed wire too, the two dogs on opposite sides, one that's free and the other that isn't, the free one gets stuck below in the middle of the night and bleeds to death, the unfree one runs in circles pointlessly, digs a rut in the ground that matches the fence - the clever observation would be that the one with the name, 'fido' or 'rex' or 'killer', that despite being trapped in the boundary of the fence he's the one who's really free, and the one who has no name (he never had any use for one) is imprisoned in his own way, not by the fence but by his exclusion from the things that matter, the naming of things, etc. that's what you might write if you were trying to be clever.
instead of being clever, you could write the most obvious thing in the world. you could recite it, out loud, in public. you could read and write and recite to delight, the light that burns twice as bright, scribble with some graphite, at night. the persistent rumor (as advanced by the koyannisqatsi guy (that word, so mysterious and alien, of course actually just swiped like everything else from the people it once belonged to, belongs to him now)) that television rots children's brains has little basis in reality. i spent half my life watching television. if i remember correctly the gimmick in this film of his was that the kids were all zombies staring at the television, and the television was showing the disney adaptation of pinnochio or something. maybe it was dumbo. these are both films about being a prisoner. (sniffles might have been that disney dwarf, call him 'sneezy')
the thing i was getting at is that the cathode ray tube is where electrons go. your brain, your personality, it's all the same thing, electrons. they're stuck in your brain. some people believed that x-rays or gamma radiation or something were leeching out of the CRTs and this was why everyone was 'getting dumber', and they believed also that the programming itself was to blame, that if only we made the television more Moral and Upright and Proper things would finally fall into place. it never occurred to them that television was downstream of society itself, that is, them and their actions, the ones they do on purpose as well as the ones they do without thinking. in the cartoon, the wolf goes bananas because of how much of a hard-on he has for red riding hood, everyone is laughing when a train whistle comes out of his head or his eyes bulge out of their sockets, or his tongue is suddenly 50 feet long and unrolls like a red carpet, they laugh and the thought process which produces this hilarious moment is "sometimes desire is like your tongue unrolling like a carpet", "sometimes sex is like steam coming out of your ears", "sometimes your heart beats and every pump it's jutting ten feet out of your chest"
more and more quietly you walk up some stairs. they're creaky and you don't want to wake anyone. i say more and more because the first time you climb them, many years ago, it's too loud and you make the neighbors angry, and even though they don't tell you about it with words, you get the message. (one day you'll build a house with stairs that never creak or stairs that always creak, and this will solve the problem once and for all) the same goes for the heart-beats. heart beats too loud or too quietly. softly the heart beats. beats me.

"You gotta know that there's an art to it, Ezra," Hitch said, cutting another piece of duct tape.
The sleeves of his weather-beaten coat were shoved all the way up his arms, to stop the fabric from falling over his knuckles while he was working, and goosebumps lined his skin. He was strapping a rubber chicken to the back of his truck, over the lens of the shattered backup camera, with the legs pointing down so that they hung a couple inches above the ground. There were dents in the hood from the crash last week, and scratches along the door from scraping into a curb. The chicken, hopefully, would keep him from breaking anything else.
"You can't go cheap," Hitch said. "The cheap rubber chickens only make noise when pressure lets go. That's no good. As soon as I back up into something, I want this chicken to be screaming like it’s in the depths of hell."
“Sure thing,” I said in a monotone, leaning against the side of the truck.
There were scrambled electronic parts piled in the back of the truck, the innards of a radio, a broken computer, tangled wires, a couple loose pairs of earbuds. He found the parts in alleyways or bummed them off his friends for a couple bucks or stole them from the vacation homes that were left empty for most of the year. Then he sold them for a profit at the scrapyard. Hitch had bounced between minimum-wage jobs for a while after high school, spending a couple months as a bagger at the grocery store or as a seasonal worker at the farm two hours down the highway. He'd never stuck with it. At the very least, the scrapyard got him enough money to eat and occasionally spend a night in a motel when he got tired of sleeping in his car.
Hitch pressed the last piece of tape in place and grinned up at me. "I've got something for you, duck."
The nickname came from when I’d broken my leg as a child and waddled around in a cast until it was healed. I hated it with a burning passion, and I glared at Hitch with the ease of twenty-one years of practice. He had a duck tattoo at the base of his thumb that he’d gotten in a back-alley shop as a teenager. He said that he’d gotten it to remind him of me, and the fact that I hated the nickname was just a bonus. It was shaky-lined, with an uneven face, but he loved it anyway.
The handle stuck when Hitch tried to open the door, a consequence of the rust collecting in the crevices of the car and running down the sides like blood from a cut. The car groaned when the door finally popped open, a metal against metal screech that had me flinching away. Hitch dug through the cluttered fast food containers in the passenger-side footwell, eventually coming up with a crinkly paper bag. He waved away the flies buzzing around the opening of the bag and held it out to me.
The last time Hitch had brought me food, I’d gotten food poisoning because he’d left it out in the midday sun for two days. The donut was squished slightly, and the icing was stuck to the bag. I still ate it, grimacing at the harsh citrus flavor. Taking Hitch’s food was an instinct engraved from the days when Dad had given us a can of kidney beans for dinner and Hitch had drank the juice, leaving the beans for me.
I rarely went hungry anymore, three mostly square meals a day and granola in my pockets just in case, but habits didn’t die easy.
These days, Hitch only brought me food when he wanted my help, like when he saw a place he wanted to hit but was worried about doing it alone.
I got in the car, like I always did.
We drove past the cluster of seafood-themed restaurants with chipped paint decks, the beachfront park where there were always shifty-eyed men sitting under the slide, the single room library where all the books had been water damaged in the flood last year. The change was quick as we drove across Main Street, heading closer to the beach. The roads were freshly paved, the concrete a smooth black except where the sun had already started to pick away at it. The three-story homes lining the sides of the street were crouched on elegant stilts, with space underneath for a car or three. Most of the garages were empty, with the lights off and curtains drawn in the house. Come summer, the streets would be swarming with tourists and vacationers, but until then, most of the buildings nearest to the beach were unoccupied.
Hitch stopped as the sun started to go down at a house that was leaning precariously out towards the beach, tilted ever so slightly, the edge of its foundation buried in the shifting sand of the beach. It certainly looked deserted, with an overgrown yard and blue paint peeling off the door in sheets.
Hitch took his hammer out of the backseat, hoisting it over his shoulder. It was two feet of solid metal with rags wrapped around the head to muffle the sound of the hits. Hitch squared up, bending his knees and holding the hammer like a baseball bat. Before he could swing, though, the door creaked open on its own, the hinges squeaking. The house beyond was dark enough that I could only make out general shapes, glimpsing the curve of a sofa to the left, what was maybe the shimmer of a chandelier on the other side.
Hitch lowered his hammer, looking vaguely disappointed that he didn’t get to use it. “That’s…weird as hell.”
“Maybe the deadbolt broke, maybe they forgot to lock it, it doesn’t matter,” I hissed, checking our surroundings for other people again. “Just hurry up and get inside before someone calls the cops.”
Hitch flicked the lightswitch on the wall, and the lights flickered on. They were dim, buzzing audibly and blinking off occasionally. The walls were plastered with contrasting swatches of wallpaper and splattered with random colors. There was neon orange behind the dining table, a galaxy swirl in the kitchen, and on the ceiling there was a repeating floral pattern covered in nametag stickers. Each of the stickers was filled out with The Erlking. Chandeliers hung in every room, three or four for each, and rubber ducks sat on every table. A miniature carousel sat in the corner along with a towering model rocket.
Sand was heaped on every surface, at least a couple inches everywhere. It was piled in the corners and stuck to the walls, and it covered the floor in a thick blanket. Our hesitant steps into the house left footprints clearly outlined in the sand.
Hitch took a cursory look around and headed immediately for the TV mounted on the wall. “Look out the windows and tell me if anyone is coming.”
I shook the sand out of the blinds and pulled them open, then had to brush sand off of the window before I could see anything.
Hitch was quick, practiced at finding and appropriating the things that were worth taking. He came back to me with an armful of electronics and chandeliers, dumping it at my feet before turning to head deeper into the house again.
There was a thump, somewhere upstairs, and then footsteps, slow and deliberate. Hitch froze at the threshold of the room, then ran for the door with me just ahead of him, sand flying out from under our feet.
My hand was almost brushing the doorknob, close enough that I could see the light from the streetlamp outside streaming in through the cracks in the door. My fingers touched the wood and it gave under my touch, becoming malleable and warm. I yelped, stumbling backwards, and the door started to melt. The paint ran down in thick drops, pooling at the bottom of the door, and the wood warped like metal being welded. The soft edges of the door ran into the walls until there was no sign of an exit ever being there.
“Well, well, well,” said a cultured voice with just an edge of snooty elitism. “What do we have here?”
The man was well over eight feet tall, with long black hair covering his eyes. He was wearing a yellow raincoat with holes cut out of the hood to accommodate the deer antlers jutting upwards from his head. There was sand settled on his shoulders and hovering around his head like a halo.
“Who the fuck are you?” Hitch said, inching towards a window.
He smiled, just a little bit, and his teeth shone in the dim light. “I am the Erlking.”
Hitch nodded, and seemed about to respond. I grabbed him by the hand and pulled him towards the window. I could feel sand in the wind roaring against my back as the Erlking growled in anger, the grains scraping harshly against my cheeks.
We were almost to the window when Hitch was ripped away from me, and I came to a startled halt. The sand had formed long grasping arms that pressed Hitch against the floral wallpaper. His wrists were held tight, and as I watched, a sandy hand wrapped around his mouth and forced its way between his teeth. He gagged, and sand trickled out of the corners of his mouth.
The Erlking strolled towards him, not seeming to be in any sort of rush. “You know, I’m not very fond of your yapping.”
He made an idle gesture and the sand wrapped around my ankles, tethering me in place.
“I yap all the time,” Hitch said. “Three-time olympic yapper, that’s me. Best to just let me go now and save yourself some trouble.”
The Erlking tapped a manicured nail against Hitch’s mouth, hard enough to hurt, judging by the way he flinched away. “But why would I ever let you go when I’ve gone to this much trouble to catch you and your sister? It’s so hard, these days, to find people that no one will miss.”
Hitch struggled against the sand, trying to escape and failing. “What do you want with us, then? You just said it, we’re nobody.”
“I’m fae, dear one,” the Erlking said. “I get my power from my followers. And I think that you two will make lovely additions to my flock.”

He flicked Hitch's nose and Hitch gasped. Feathers started to form on his arms, popping out from under his skin in a spray of blood.
Hitch pushed off the wall, using his bound hands as a fulcrum, and his knees crashed into the Erlking’s stomach. The Erlking fell backwards, wheezing, and the sand around my ankles loosened.
Hitch made desperate eye contact with me as feathers shot up his neck and jerked his head towards the window. The message was obvious. Run.
The last thing I saw before crashing out the window and into freedom was Hitch’s body twisting, his arms wrenching into wings and feathers covering every inch of his skin. By the time I landed on the concrete outside, he was a small black bird, held tightly in the Erlking’s hands. The whole building was sinking into the ground, burnished-gold sand piling up over top and streaming from the windows.
Thirty years later, I saw Sam’s Supernatural Consultation and Neutralization written in neat, looping handwriting on a piece of paper taped to the door. The tape was peeling at the corners and the paper was yellowed with age, but there was obviously care put into the sign, in its perfectly centered text and looping floral designs drawn over the edges in gold marker.
I knocked, hesitantly, drawing my woolen coat closer around my shoulders. I’d bought it as a fiftieth birthday gift for myself, and I took comfort in the heavy weight of it over my shoulders.
“Coming!” someone called from within the depths of the office.
There were a couple crashes, and the sound of paper shuffling. Eventually, the door was opened by a young woman with ketchup stains on her shirt and pencils stuck through her hair.
“Hi, I’m Sam, I specialize in supernatural consultation and hunting, how may I help you today?” Sam said, customer-service pep in her voice. She stood in the doorway, solidly blocking entry into the office.
“My name is Ezra, I’m for a consultation. I emailed you but you didn’t respond?” I shifted in place, suddenly feeling awkward.
“Oh! Yeah, I lost the password for the email ages ago. Sorry for the bad welcome, I get lots of people thinking I’m crazy or pulling a prank and harassing me.”
She ushered me into the office, clearing papers off one of the chairs to make room for me to sit down. There was a collection of swords along one wall, all of them polished to perfection, several with deep knicks in the metal which indicated that they’d been used heavily.
“So what can I help you with?” Sam asked again, more sincere this time.
“Thirty years ago, my brother was turned into a bird,” I started. I’d told this story so many times that it barely felt ridiculous to say anymore. I was used to the disbelieving looks, the careful pity. But Sam just nodded along, face open and welcoming.
“I’ve almost given up on finding him, at this point,” I said. “But I saw your ad in the newspaper, and…here I am, I suppose.”
“Here you are,” Sam echoed, smiling. She pulled one of the pencils out of her hair and took a bit of paperwork off of one of her stacks, turning it over so that the blank side sat neatly in front of her. “Tell me everything.”
I told Sam everything, and she wrote it all down, pencil scratching along the paper.
The last part of the story was always the hardest to tell. “I left him there. I ran and I didn’t look back.”
I had been to dozens of detectives and investigators over the years, once the police had dropped Hitch’s case. I’d been to professional offices with smartly-dressed secretaries and met scraggly men in coffee shops. All of them had given me the same look, pity and annoyance all mixed up into a humor-the-crazy-lady soup. Sam, though, just seemed thoughtful.
Sam leaned forward and put a hand over mine, carefully, like she thought that I would pull away. “Sometimes you have to leave people behind.”
I tightened her hold on Sam’s hand and drew it towards me, like I could make Sam listen if only I squeezed tight enough. “But that’s why I’m here. I don’t want to leave him behind.”
“Okay then. I’ll do my best to help you.” Sam agreed, finally. Then she paused, and said softly, “You know…I think I met your brother once. He might have saved my life. He’s certainly why I started in this business.”
“Really? What happened?” I asked.
This is the story that Sam told me, related to the best of my abilities:
It was a new moon, so the only illumination came from the stars gazing idly down and distant porch lights shining across the scraggly brush of the dunes. Sam’s neighbors were decent people who cared about baby turtles, so the lights were a low, unobtrusive red, and the ocean sloshed like blood. Sam walked on the beach almost every night, drawing back the gauzy pink curtains and clambering out her bedroom window. She didn’t often bother to be quiet; her mama worked the late shift and came home exhausted. As long as Sam got home before the sun, her mama would never find out that she paced the shoreline and dreamed of inhaling sand until her lungs became their own beach.
The sky was lightening. The sun would come up soon, and that meant Sam’s time on the beach was over. She needed to get back to her real life, go to her fifth grade class and stop that nonsense, as her mother would say. Her mother loved to say things like that, pushing Sam into her proper place by implication alone.
“She’s a good kid, of course, but she’s a bit…” Her mother would trail off there, usually getting a commiserating expression from whoever she was talking to. Sam always wondered how that sentence would have finished. She’s a bit strange, maybe. She’s a bit intense. She’s a bit abrasive. She’s quiet enough but when Jason tried to steal her pencil in math class, she stabbed him in the hand so hard that the lead tattooed him.
Her mother was better, for the most part. The days of her stocking up the fridge, and leaving a post-it note on the counter, and leaving for days at a time were gone. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen tile where her mother had collapsed and caved her head in, even though the bloodstains had been replaced with new tile.
“Your auntie got an abortion, you know,” her mother had said from her place on the couch, slurring her words. “Pill in the mail and then bam, no more baby.”
She had clapped her hands together to illustrate her point. Her mother jerked forward and grabbed Sam by the wrist, then, staring up at her until Sam met her eyes.
“I love you, you know? But sometimes I wonder…” She settled back onto the couch. “Yeah. I wonder.”
She’d gotten up, then, back to the kitchen. She’d been stumbling, a shambling zombie of a woman. The ground in the entryway of the kitchen was raised, ever so slightly, and her mother went down hard. Her head cracked against the tile, chin first, and she didn’t move.
Sam had been the one to call the ambulance. She had stared at the scattering of loose teeth on the ground while she waited, and considered what her life would be like with a dead mom. Not so bad, she thought, and immediately felt guilty for it.
Her mom was better, now, for the most part. But Sam still stepped around the place on the kitchen floor where she had collapsed. There was still a matchbox hidden under her bed with the gleaming shine of her mother’s lost teeth, two canines and a molar. It was nice, having a piece of her mom to keep. Even if she left again, Sam would still have part of her.
Sam sighed, and turned away from the ocean. As she faced towards the low dunes further up the beach, she saw a sandcastle sitting nestled among them. It was such a strange sight that her eyes skipped over it at first, almost automatically, disregarding it because it was so out of place.
Sam found sandcastles out on the beach sometimes, usually half-collapsed and on the verge of being washed away by the waves, but she had never seen anything like the sandcastle in front of her. It was life-sized, something that wouldn’t have looked out of place in the Scottish highlands, with spires shooting up above her head and carefully etched out bricks lining each side. The front wall was dominated by an arched set of double doors, twice her height, with a portcullis nestled at the top, ready to be dropped. All of it was lovingly detailed, down to the rust on the tips of the towers and the wood grain of the door. It was made out of wet, densely-packed sand, held together impossibly. It had not been there two hours ago, when she had come to the beach.
There was a bird sitting on the overhang of the door, small and black.
As soon as she took a step towards the sandcastle, the bird shook out its feathers and swooped down towards Sam, landing at her feet with a little stumble.
“Hey, kid, get out of here,” said the bird.
Sam closed her eyes, very deliberately. When she opened them, the bird was still there. Sam considered herself a very reasonable person, so she immediately drew the most logical conclusion. The bird was, she was almost certain, a demon.
“Trust me, you don’t want to run into Mr. Salty, the queen bitch himself,” the bird said.
“Mr. Salty?” Sam inquired, polite as she knew how to be. She edged to the side, trying to get a good angle to kick the bird like a soccer ball.
The bird did something similar to a wince, all its feathers fluffing up then settling back down. “Ah, don’t call him that. He’d turn you into a toad.”
The bird gestured with its head, towards the looming sand structure. “That’s his castle. He’s in there, probably scuttling along the ceiling or some shit because that’s the sort of weirdo he is.”
Sam nodded, encouraging. She pulled back her foot and lined up her shot, the way she’d seen athletes do on TV. She aimed right for its sharp beak and let loose. The bird saw it coming, its beady eyes widening, and it cawed in distress. It flapped away, avoiding her kick only to fall backward into the sand in a scramble of wings.
“What’s your fucking problem?” it squawked. “I was trying to help you!”
“I don’t need the help of a demon,” Sam yelled, trying to remember the exorcism that her mama had taught her once, because her mama believed in being prepared for anything.
“I’m not a demon,” the bird said indignantly.
It was at about that moment that Sam gave up and just decided to roll with it.
“What are you, then?” Sam asked.
The bird shuffled its clawed feet, looking about as awkward as it could, given that it didn’t really have recognizable facial expressions. “Technically I’m a familiar of the Erlking, prince of the fae, but I prefer to be called Hitch.”
“You can’t blame me for assuming, though,” Sam said. “Ravens do tend to be associated with murder.”
“Hey, excuse you,” Hitch said. “I’m a rook, not a raven. Ravens are way bigger.”
“Sure,” Sam said, not really paying attention. Her eyes had caught on the details of the sandcastle, and she was transfixed by the slow spirals of the sand, the strange beauty of it. She found herself stepping towards the great doors, lifting a hand to knock, and as she did, the sand warped in front of her eyes, heaving itself towards her with bulging slowness. The door creaked open before her, revealing a vast, empty room. Just before she stepped inside, she felt a piercing pain in her foot, and she yelped, leaping backwards.
Hitch pecked her again, really digging his beak in. “Don’t be an idiot.”
Sam glared at him, rubbing her foot. About to retort, she finally really took in the room inside the sandcastle, and her words died in her throat.
There was a body just past the threshold of the door, face down and limbs hanging limp at its sides. Long hair splayed out in a halo around its head.
“Don’t,” Hitch warned, suddenly serious. “Just leave, kid, I mean it. I’ve seen too many people go down this road and you don’t want to be one of them.”
Sam ignored him. She made her way across the beach, slipping with every step. The sand felt deeper, piling up around her feet in silent drifts. She picked up the nearest stick and poked the body with it through the door, ready to leap back if anything went wrong, staying firmly outside of the sandcastle.
This close, Sam could tell that it used to be a woman. Her head wasn’t attached to her body. It hadn’t been a clean amputation, either. Her upper body was bruised, with chunks taken out of it, and the bones in her neck hung mangled, not connected to anything.
“Well, I warned you,” Hitch said, defeated. “I did warn you.”
Sam nudged the head with the end of the stick, nudging it over so that she could see the face. Her mother stared back at her, torn to pieces, breath still wheezing from her lungs. She wasn’t blinking, just gazing forward with glazed eyes. Sweat dripped down from her hairline.
Sam screamed and dropped the stick, tripping over herself in her haste to get away.
Her mother’s eyes were wide and pleading, and she was mouthing desperate words at Sam. Her vocal cords were broken to bits, and the only sound that came out was a strained groan.
The head rolled, inching closer to Sam like a grotesque caterpillar.
Her mother gasped for air, torn lips fluttering. Finally, comprehensible words came out. “Help. Help me, daughter.”
“That’s not your mother,” Hitch said, quiet.
Sam knew that. Her mother was sleeping back at home, and anyways her mom had never asked for her help. She had an aversion to accepting charity, as she put it.
“Okay,” Sam said, shaking all over. “Okay.”
She backed away from the sandcastle, not looking away.
“Failure,” her mother hissed as she stepped away. “I never wanted a daughter like you.”
The sun came up over the horizon. The sandcastle, Hitch, and her mom all disintegrated into sand as the light hit them.
The beach, the next night, was almost exactly how I remembered it. The beams of our flashlights sent light bouncing across the dunes, illuminating the waves, and I imagined faces in the foam of the waves.
“I’ve been back here a hundred times. There’s nothing left,” I said.
Sam took the car key out of her purse and pointed it at the sand, adjusting the sword slung over her shoulder in order to do it. The key had belonged to Hitch; Sam had requested an item of his, and it was the only thing I had left. She rested the key on the sand and drew a circle around it, inscribing symbols around the borders.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
Sam shrugged. “Not much, really. I’m…I guess you could say that I’m knocking.”
The key laid inert on the sand for long enough that I was just about to give up and go home, admit to myself that Hitch was dead and that I was a fool to believe that Sam could actually help me. Then a building started to take shape, flickering in and out like it was struggling to get away. With a pop of displaced air, the sandcastle settled into existence.
Sam banged on the entryway. Nothing happened. She did it again, harder, and scowled when the door still didn’t open.
“We demand entrance, under your honor,” Sam yelled. There was a hard rush of wind, and I gripped Sam’s arm to keep my balance, but the doors cracked open reluctantly.
The inside of the sandcastle consisted of one enormous hall, the roof arching up out of sight. Rafters crisscrossed from wall to wall, and a cobbled path led further into the building, but other than that, it was completely empty, except for the birds. There were thousands of them, perched on the rafters or hopping along the ground. They parted in front of Sam and I, and reformed behind us, leaving us in a small pocket of open space. They were all black-feathered, with sharp beaks and beady eyes.
The Erlking sat on a throne at the end of the hall, lounging across it with his feet up on the armrest. He watched them as they came forward, the soft caw of the birds the only sound.
“I am here to bargain for the life of my brother,” I said, with as much dignity as I could muster, before the Erlking could say anything.
The Erlking ignored her, tilting his head to look at Sam. “I remember you. I almost got you, once.”

Sam glared at him but didn’t respond.
“You want your brother,” The Erlking said to me, and he almost sounded amused. “Then go get him.”
As if by some sort of silent signal, every bird in the room took flight at once, and their cawing made me think of screams. I covered my head against the flapping of their wings, and my vision was quickly obscured by the chaotic movement of them. I found myself on my knees, just trying to escape them.
A hand met my shoulder. Sam urged me to my feet, and together we ran for the edge of the room, where the swarm was the thinnest. We pressed ourselves into the corner and the swarm spiraled tighter and tighter at the center of the room. It went on until there seemed to be no differentiation between the birds, all of them fused together into one creature.
When the chaos died down, the birds had become one mass, with wings and eyes and talons sticking out of its flesh, thrashing and chirping. Human body parts stuck out of it, bulging out from the feathers. It was hands, mostly, with a couple knees or staring eyes. The bird amalgamation had no recognizable facial features, but there was one long beak extending from the front of its head. Most of the body parts were concentrated around the beak, and they peeked out from where the beak connected with muscle, or grew from the tongue, nestled between the two crushing halves of the beak.
It turned its beak down and crawled forward, using the hands to balance. The fingers scrambled over the ground. I was afraid of centipedes as a child, and I felt that same crawling dread when it started moving.
“Holy shit,” Sam whispered, which was rather disappointing, because I had been hoping that at least one of us knew what to do.
The creature turned, a lurching movement that crushed some of the hands underneath it, and started heaving itself slowly towards our corner.
“Better hurry up!” the Erlking called from his throne.
It was blocking the exit, by then. The shifting body of it had moved to block us off. It ambled towards us and I tried to sink further into the corner.
As it approached, getting close enough that I could smell the stink of it, I saw a flash of a tattoo on one of the hands. I leaned in, trying to find it again, like looking for dolphins surfacing in the ocean. And again, I caught a glimpse of a duck tattoo, the tattoo that Hitch had gotten on his hand as a teenager.
I ripped away from Sam’s death grip and ran for the monster.
I fell to my knees in front of it, wincing as I impacted the ground, and reached into the nest of hands. I could feel them tearing at my forearms and ripping into me with their sharp nails, but I kept going. I pressed further in, up to my shoulder in a writhing mass of limbs, aiming for the spot where I had last seen that tattoo.
The hands were tugging at me, wrapping around my back and hair. They were pulling together, trying to draw me completely into the mass of them. I was aware of Sam at my side, anchoring me in place and bashing any hand that got too close with her sword or the sparks that leapt from her hands with muttered words. But I didn’t think it would be enough. They were too strong, and there were too many of them.
I was up to my waist in the hands when something grabbed my palm. I felt the way it clung to me, and the calluses on its palm, and I knew that I had found my brother.
I flung herself back. The hands didn’t want to let me go, and they fought the whole way, but slowly, I made progress. I kept hold of Hitch’s hand in mine the whole time, gripping it as hard as I could. I finally broke free, Hitch with me, and Sam was immediately charging the creature, able to use her sword with much greater strength without being worried about injuring Hitch. She swung it forward, and it sliced through the wrist of one of the hands. It fell without a sound, red sand flowing out of it. It deflated until it looked like dirty laundry, just a piece of limp flesh. The creature shrieked, scuttling away enough that the door was finally accessible. The three of us ran for it, Sam and I supporting Hitch between us.
I looked back as I left and found the Erlking staring right at me.
“Interesting,” he murmured, his voice carrying impossibly across the vast space between us.
The sandcastle collapsed behind us, the great walls falling in on themselves. We were out in the morning sun, the sandcastle disappearing as we watched. Hitch was on the ground in front of me, as young as he’d been thirty years ago, when he was captured. He started laughing, feathers puffing out of his mouth. He laughed until he cried and I hugged him in the way that he’d held me when I was young, in the times when my life had been defined by hunger and fear.
Hitch left, afterwards. He scratched at the pinhole scars covering his body, where feathers burst through his skin, and pulled his long sleeves down around his wrists. He didn’t know where he was going but he told me that he needed time
I had spent thirty years worth of time without him. I wanted to grab my brother by the shoulders and beg him to stay. But he flinched when I hugged him goodbye and he refused to go near sand and he stared distrustfully at the birds chirping in the trees. Hitch needed to go away and I loved him too much to stop him.
I sat out on the beach every morning. I felt the sun on my face and I waited for Hitch to come home.

This will function as a one-stop guide to sound deaden the 3rd generation Mazda3. I believe it will be useful for any previous or next-gen Mazda3 owner, or anyone with a CX-30, as these platforms share many components.
Like others undertaking this project, I did a ton of research on sound deadening, the process, and the products first before jumping in. I would encourage anyone pursuing the same project to read through the links I’ve included in this write-up as they should give you all the information you need to sound-deaden your car in a comprehensive, easy manner, without having to do the weeks of research I had to do.
Pre-reading:
If you haven’t already, read through this thread for background as this is a solid, comprehensive write-up.
https://www.mazda3revolution.com/threads/sound-deadening-my-17-mazda-3-bn.242072/
Materials Needed:
1. Butyl-based mat to apply first as your base layer
I used 72 square feet to do the entire car, including hood, wheel wells, full interior, rear hatch area, and all doors. I did not do the headliner.
Total cost: $200 CAD
I used 1 box of 2mm (80 mil) Kilmat, and 1 box of 2.5mm Amazon branded butyl sheets. I found the Kilmat had better adhesion and was easier to cut and work with, because of the smaller sheet sizes, so I used this for tight spaces and the doors. The Amazon stuff was great to apply to large areas such as the floor of the vehicle, because I would just stick one entire sheet down and be done with it. It’s also slightly cheaper than the Kilmat.
Other brands: Silless, which manufactures the closed cell foam, also makes this stuff for a reasonable price.

2. Closed cell foam as the second layer
I used 100 square feet.
Total cost: $200
I did a LOT of research and shopping around to find the best balance between price, value, and performance of closed cell foam. I ultimately landed on using Siless Liner 157mil (4mm) closed cell foam which I found on Amazon. Noico is also another brand that makes this stuff for slightly more cost. These come in boxes of 51 square feet for about $100. I thus bought two boxes of the stuff. I did end up with leftover product, which I have saved as it can be used to stick on anything else that causes noise such as a furnace, washing machine, etc along with the leftover butyl mat.

3. Rubber-based floor underlay as the final layer
I used a 100 square foot roll of Technoflex Underlayment Acoustic Membrane, 2mm thickness.
Total cost: $85
Product link: https://www.rona.ca/en/product/technofloor-technoflex-underlayment-acoustic-membrane-thermal-insulation-4-ft-x-25-ft-x-008-in-100-sqft-rubber-material-black-m2000-100-73015020
Alternate link: https://technoflexintl.com/en/product/technofloor-acoutstic
Other products I considered, but chose against as the Technoflex is thicker

• https://www.rona.ca/en/product/mono-serra-zito-200-ft2-15-mm-blue-high-density-foam-underlayment-for-vinyl-floors-fm-906-84666069
• https://www.rona.ca/en/product/selitbloc-griptec-subfloor-underlay-pressure-resistent-foam-48-in-w-x-25-ft-l-100-sqft-15-mm-thickness-blue-gold-a64305-05075003

In Canada, you cannot find mass loaded vinyl. My goal was to find something relatively cheap and functional. I went to underlay because it’s sold in bulk and there are many products out there to compare effectiveness. Flooring underlay also has specific requirements in order to carry a particular sound deadening rating. It’s also rubber-based, like vinyl, so I figured I would just double up on layering as I had enough product to do so. I did end up doubling up the layering in most places and had leftover product.
Please note, this product is not adhesive. You lay it down like a blanket and you need to cut it to fit in tight spaces. Thus, I did not use it in vertical areas like the doors. I only used it on the floor and trunk of the vehicle. I am not technically inclined enough to adhere or screw it on the doors, but there are other people in the links on this thread who have done so, so depending on your skill level it is certainly possible.

All Tools Required

1. Socket set with 10mm socket and a Phillips screwdriver. I purchased a full socket set because I did not have one and found one on sale.
2. E-torx socket size 12 to remove the front seats. I just purchased a set of 8 for $20
3. Trim removal tool and plastic clip replacements, approx. $20. Extremely useful!!
   • https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B01N9AL149?psc=1&ref=ppx_yo2ov_dt_b_product_details
   • The metal trim removal tool is worth its weight in gold. Trust me, there are a LOT of plastic trim pieces to remove, and this tool makes them very easy to remove properly without breaking anything. All cars nowadays use plastic trim, so it’s a worthwhile purchase if you’re ever going to do work on any future car as well.
   • I purchased the set above because it came with a whole array of trim removal tools as well as a huge variety of replacement plastic trim pieces. I ended up using a couple pieces that broke when I did the doors. The kit has everything you may need for most vehicles, including our Mazdas.
4. Rubber roller, $12. Useful for rolling down the butyl mat and closed cell foam.
   • https://www.amazon.ca/dp/B01N9AL149?psc=1&ref=ppx_yo2ov_dt_b_product_details
5. Do yourself a favor and get some gloves. I used my bare hands for about 50% of the time, and they were sore, and had little nicks and cuts all over them by the time I was done. Much easier with gloves.

Skill Level
I have a general interest in cars but the most technical work I’ve ever done are oil changes and tire swaps. This was the largest and most technical project I ever embarked on. I work an office job, so I don’t even work with my hands a lot. If I can do it, so can you (as long as you set aside the time and have the proper tools).

Results
I did not take before-after videos, as that has been captured by videos on Youtube as well as people who have measured the noise levels in the threads below. All I can tell you is that this does work. In my opinion, the project even for a newb like me is totally worth it. For less than $500, and a couple days of work, you can make your Mazda feel like an entirely different vehicle.

Now, sounds and vibrations are barely transmitted going over rough roads. The car feels so much more planted and stable when going over bumps. The audio system sounds better. The doors close with a rich-sounding ‘thunk’. By far the biggest improvement is getting a whole new level of isolation within the car, which makes long trips so much more tolerable and the daily commute so much more relaxing. I would 100% do this again.

The project
Okay, let’s get to the project itself! I’ve broken up each area of the car into separate sections. As the write-ups below are fairly comprehensive, there is no need for me to reinvent the wheel.

Doors
This link contains pictures and instructions, very clearly detailed, on how to do the doors. I did the rear doors first to get used to working with all the materials, then the trunk, then the interior of the car. I would suggest following these instructions.
https://imgur.com/a/2018-mazda-3-sound-deadener-install-vE1o9Hi
Before taking apart your doors, also read through this thread as it contains some more details and information that you will find useful.
https://www.mazda3revolution.com/threads/sound-deadening.126105/?post_id=1624345&nested_view=1&sortby=oldest#post-1624345
This thread is also good to read as it is very detailed. It is for the previous generation, but the door design has not changed that much compared to our generation.
https://www.mazda3revolution.com/threads/cheaply-and-effectively-sound-deadening-your-2010-2013-mazda3.111385/

Wheel arches
Use these links and instructions for the wheel arches
https://www.mazda3revolution.com/threads/sound-deadening.126105/page-2
As well as the Imgur gallery from the Doors section for some more pictures.

Trunk
This is the easiest part of the whole project. If you’ve read the threads above, you don’t need any help with this. I did not do the hatch door. I do not think that is worth it, because if your trunk area is well insulated and you have your rear seat up, there’s not a lot of noise that’s going to get through the hatch door.

Interior
This is the part of the project that I had to figure out on my own, so I want to give several tips that will make it easier if you’re doing this.

~1. Removing the interior carpet:~
First vacuum the carpet.
You don't need to remove the entire console to get access to the majority of the floor. To remove the interior carpet, first remove the rear seat, then the front seats, then the interior plastic trim, and finally there are some pieces of Styrofoam in the front wheel wells. You can pull up the carpet for the left side of the vehicle as you work on that side, then tack it all down, and repeat for the right side of the vehicle.

~2. Removing the front seats~
First, disconnect the battery using the 10mm socket. This is recommended by the manufacturer to prevent accidental discharge of the air bags.
If you have the E-torx size 12 socket, removing the seat bolts is a breeze. I zipped them right off. Undo the back bolts, then slide the seat to its rearmost position, then remove the front bolts. Roll the seat onto it’s back to access the harness, undo the harness, then remove the front seat either from the front or rear door. It doesn’t matter.
Go to this site and download the PDF that Anchorman posted. That is all you need to know to remove the front harness. It took me HOURS of searching the web to find a resource this good – there aren’t even any good videos demonstrating what the PDF shows. https://www.cx3forum.com/threads/drivers-seat-removal.17234/
This was both the easiest and hardest thing about the project. Where I got stuck was removing the wiring harness from underneath the seat. Don’t be like me and stick a screwdriver in there, because that can damage the plastic. Instead, simply lift the white tab, press the tab underneath, and the harness comes off nice and easy. The link above with the PDF by Anchorman is what I WISHED I had at the start. I hope this will make it much easier for you.
Don’t be worried about the airbag going off etc. Using the diagram in the PDF, it’s just 1 harness and it comes off super easy and clips back in super easy too. It’s idiot-proof. You won’t have any trouble.

~3. Remove the interior plastic trim~
Again, watch this video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Aat4kUanm9w to see how to remove the trim and in what order. It’s actually quite easy and easy to reinstall as well. Just remember that the front and rear passenger scuff plates go on last. The other interior trim, does not matter what order you reinstall it.
Another tip, when removing the furthermost front inside trim (i.e the fusebox cover) and its equivalent on the front passenger side, there is a plastic nut securing that trim in place at the very front of it. It’s hard to see in there. Simply reach your hand in there, find the nut, and lefty-loosen it all the way until it comes off. Easy peasy!

~4. Remove the carpet~
You can pull up the carpet one side at a time. I recommend starting with the left side. In one area only, I cut through my carpet in order to remove it on the rear passenger areas, where it is affixed underneath the front seatbelt holder. This is not a problem. It was just easier this way, and because that area gets covered up by plastic trim, it doesn’t matter if you cut through it to make your life easier.
Once the carpet is lifted up, vacuum underneath it to ensure you have a clean surface that your butyl will adhere to.

~5. Do the driver’s side first!~
The front left side of the vehicle floor is the hardest to do because you have to contend with the footrest, reaching underneath the steering wheel, and the gas pedal. I removed the accelerator pedal – it is just held in place by two 10mm nuts, and then an electrical harness that easily clips off. Remove it and set it aside. Then, lift the carpet and remove the Styrofoam. Use a needlenose plyer to help unclip the plastic portion holding the Styrofoam in place. I did not end up reinstalling that plastic piece, as I installed sound deadener where it would have plugged into the floor. No harm.
I suggest doing the driver’s side first because once you’re done that front left area, the rest of the car is super easy. So do this while you’re fresh. Try to cover as much as you can in the front wheel wells, because that is a significant area of incoming road noise. Be systematic about cutting the butyl and closed cell foam in the correct sizes here, as you will have to reinstall the gas pedal, the Styrofoam, and the carpet properly. The good news is that it’s all easy to reinstall. I didn’t have any trouble.
Once you’re done with the driver’s compartment, systemically work your way with large butyl sheets and closed cell foam through the rest of the car floor. There is no need to apply this stuff up where the plastic trim will be reinstalled, on the inside lateral frame of the car – if you do so, it might be more difficult to reinstall the carpet and the plastic trim. Just do the flat bottom floor only, and you can hold the carpet up to access up along the centre console as well. (Keep in mind this is written for someone with my skill level – i.e newb. If you are more advanced and know what you’re doing, then go ahead and put some butyl or CCM in the inside lateral area, the area otherwise covered up with plastic trim).
I did not go for 100% coverage. To do that would take a lot longer. I went for about 90% coverage with the butyl and closed cell foam, and the rubber Technoflex layers covered up pretty well 95% of the area.
When you are laying the material down, ensure not to cover the holes for the seat bolts. If you do by accident, no worries – just use a screwdriver to poke through them, and you can easily still thread the bolt through when you go to reinstall your front seats.
Repeat the same steps on the right side of the vehicle.

~6. Reinstall the plastic trim.~
First reinstall the carpet and ensure all the holes line up. Reinsert the plastic clips into the holes to hold the carpet in place. Then, reinstall the frontmost trim piece, ensuring it clicks into place, and finally screw the plastic nut on. You may need to lift the rubber insert around the door to replace the plastic trim properly – the rubber insert comes off and goes on very easily, it is very forgiving to work with.
Then, install the B pillar trim piece. Then, the inside rear trim piece. Finally, the scuff plates, front and rear.

~7. Reinstall the front seats.~
~8. Reinstall the rear cushion.~
~9. Plug in the battery again.~
You’re done! Go for a rest drive and let the results speak for themselves!

Final thoughts
I did not take pictures because I was too busy installing the stuff and there are plenty of pictures available on the various threads.
I did reach out to many people on the forum and on Reddit who have done this project and from everything that I’ve learned, I believe this should be all you need to know to do this project successfully.
It will take several days so set some time aside. Here are some rough estimates:

• Trunk: 2 hours
• Each door: 2-3 hours (first door will take longer, then each door after gets shorter and shorter)
• Wheel wells: 2 hours
• Inside Hood: 1 hour
• Interior: 9 hours. Set aside a full day for this. You will want to take breaks in between steps. It took me from 10am to 8pm.

This is a public service announcement: if you’re fighting a horde, losing, and making it back into your car is gonna be anything approaching a close call, DONT DO IT, just leave and come back later for it.
I have lost too many good and well set up characters to getting bitten/scratched/lacerated as I was trying to make a daring, but utterly pointless escape in my car. Your loot isn’t going to grow legs and walk away, and aside from being short on gasoline if you left it running your car won’t be any worse for wear either. So just leave it.
If you have the skills to hotwire cars (which you probably should if you’re going on long drives for looting runs), and keep a bottle of gasoline in your backpack (also a good idea), then you can disappear, rest up, and use any shitbox you like to come back and claim your main ride. Even without either of those things, it’s always far easier to leave and come back to claim your car when it isn’t already surrounded by every zombie within a city block.
That is all, stay safe out there folks.

I have a JVC KW-M780BT which is hooked up to four 6.5 Kicker CS door speaker. The head unit produces 22 watts RMS x channel and the door speakers are rated for 100 watts RMS @ 4ohms. Are the speakers overpowering the built in amplifier and that's why the head unit is shutting down and would adding an amp fix this? Or could there be an issue with the head unit? I feel confident that it's not a wiring issue since the head unit and the door speakers have been professionally installed. Any and all help is welcome, I'm knew to this car audio stuff and have no idea what I am doing.

I bought a parts car (frame damage) for the suspension to use in another build. Previous owner said it ran before but lost all the keys except what I believe is the "emergency key" which looks like a "dumb" key with no chip in it. This key lets you turn the ignition but nothing happens. Stereo turns on, headlights turn on, I can hear relays switching under the hood and maybe the water pump running? But nothing else, not even the gauges turn on. Would be fun to use this engine in another vehicle at some point, so is it possible to get it running without needing the dealer to make me a new key? I can't exactly drive this anywhere, and I only have a bill of sale. Not opposed to completely replacing the wiring harness as I will be pulling the engine anyway.

Just wondering if anyone has experience with a broken screen? FYI I have an A7 2011 Tdi
So my screen has been broken (black screen but functions still work) for about 6 months and I went to get it fixed and they said no worries no parts needed just wiring to fix.
I get a call saying the reverse camera is an aftermarket one and is causing the problem so I say okay take it out I don’t need.
What I didn’t realise until later on is that they also took out my car play unit. Is the camera connected to this? Did they need to take it out also? I’m unsure as I didn’t put either in (were both installed by the previous owner) but I didn’t realise they would also be taking out the car play which I’m a bit pissed about.
Is the CarPlay unit something that would cause the black screen? If so I will leave it but just want to know before going back to them as I was only told they were removing the camera.
Thanks

Royal Road here: https://www.royalroad.com/fiction/80877/nop-atalors-fate
Discord Tag: notafurrylad
It's been a while, huh?

First Last Next
Memory transcription subject: Yivreen, Cyonian Survivor
Date [standardized human time]: February 22nd, 2134
The flash daymares hadn’t stopped. Four nights since they’d set in, and now those two fire and brimstone eyes were lingering, waiting to come out when I was asleep. I’d thought that first daymare had been a fluke. It’d felt real, getting chomped up like that, crushed. But... ah.
I’d had more. Once I was in the mouth of that Arxur who’d kicked down the tree. Then I was in the cages with Hens Jr and Sr, and Alma... And each time if there was time for it that swampheaded, red eyed, smokey Arxur would come on in. Try and guilt me like I’d done something wrong.
It was working.
“Yiv. Yiv! I think I got it!” I blinked, my stupor broken by Junior. The kid had been a good help with the computer system since we’d let him fiddle with it instead of me. Much to my... begrudging admission: he was better at it. So, I stood from the chair and headed over to him. The monitor and console were lit up good as new, but they’d been like that for a couple nights now. We’d finally got access to a local map when that’d happened. Or rather a map of the surrounding area, outdated as it was it still had the location of the city on it. It wasn’t like anything had significantly changed in the past hundreds of years since this place had been abandoned. It had been the whole ‘trying to page it into the rest of the old systems at the outpost’ part that’d eluded Juniors little pet project.
“What did you get?” I replied, leaning over his shoulder with a paw on the console while he typed at it.
He cleared his throat. “W-well. I was able to find the wire that’d been causing the problem with the connection to the outpost’s server.” A server? What?
“What do you mean a server? I thought the only computer systems in here were in this room?” He turned his head, a brown eye winking at me. “Nuh-uh! Were you even listening when I explained it earlier? It’s more than just a weather monitoring station. It had a server, otherwise why would it need so many type-v connectors. See?” He pointed a claw to the bundle of wiring running up the wall and into a concrete hole that looked to lead to the next floor above us. Probably. I hadn’t really cared about how many wires there were.
“So... there’s more than just the databanks here in this room?” I asked. My eyes were tasked with looking over the monitor with pursed lips. I’d dug through some ye olde outpost files in the past nights for my journalist program but evidently I’d been missing things if all it took was one kid who had a knack for tech to ascertain there was more to these places.
Before my question could be answered though the command lines and startup protocols on the operating system for the thing had popped by and opened up onto a familiar desktop of our more modern tech. Junior went about clicking immediately to some command line and writing in some jibberish... And- my eyes widened. “What’s that?” I asked, pointing my claw to all the commands on his little black background’d screen.

1: Status
2: Logs
3: Garage Door
4: Barrack Override
5: Communications

Were among the top five, with a half dozen more I didn’t quite have time to think on. “Quick- quick! The uh- There’s a garage?” Don’t get distracted Yivreen. Ahhh moss-heaps.. “The Barrack Override. See what that does.”
The boy swatted away my paw trying to push at it. “Calm down! Calm down jeez, fine!” He jammed his digit into the corresponding number and pressed enter. A few moments passed as it simply displayed three dots. I waited... I waited.. Cmoooo-
Clank. VV-vv-vvv-veeeeeee....
It sounded like something behind the wall to our left was trying to unrust itself and move. A couple hundred years of not moving or being maintained had probably ensured it’d never get moving smooth again. Then of course the universe proved me wrong, and the wall actually shifted. The rounded metal slab I’d taken for a part of the tower’s superstructure began to lower, and behind it... “Holy shit.”
I don’t know where the extreme language had come from but... Wow. My eyes lit. Bunks. Bedding. Lockers.. It looked like the room beyond had been some sort of lodging area for soldiery when this place was built. But there’d been a grow-in on the back wall from a massive root. Snaring part of the room in its gripping-vinelike vice grip. The root was long dead, and the hole it’d bored through the concrete had left the inside exposed to the elements a touch more than if it’d just been left... At least there wasn’t much evidence of water damage.
“Yiv? Are you-” But I was already headed through the way, a paw on my pistol as I glanced around the abandoned room. My mind went right to checking out the lockers, which turned out to be a good idea. My little training sessions into understanding the named bits for guns with Alma were about to start paying off.
“We’ve got guns. Or... Something like guns.” I announced, pulling out the carrying case and flipping it open. Inside I found what looked to be a.. Hrm- no magazine, no bullets... I lifted it up, the rifle-like hardened carbon material was in remarkably good shape. Probably due to the case and materials, but something was different about it. I glanced my eyes over it, noting the electronic aiming system on top which... when I clicked at it offered a red circle for looking through the little scope with. Huh. Not a common thing to find on a Cyonian designed weapon, at least not these nights. This place was old, but this weapon looked like it’d been built by something more ambitious than Federation paws. Federation handhelds were all modified from the same combustion based lead belchers. A fact that rarely ever went unspoken on our own networks when we needed a reason to criticize Aafa.
It took a while longer, but eventually I did find a snap-button on the back of the trigger grip that made something inside it hum to life. My eyes widened. “It’s... An energy weapon.” I murmured. My tail flicking in apprehension. Would it even still fire? The red blinking just below the button told me it must have no power perhaps but... “Hey. Junior. You think you could figure out how to charge one of these guys-?”
I turned my head to see the kid standing at the threshold with his tail in his paws, gripping them anxiously. “Yiv. The uh. The communications aren’t working, but I think the garage door might open if we try it. It could be that cropping of wall and sealed door we figured the old power system must have been housed in right?” He glanced to the rifle in my paws. “I mean, if it uses the same standards as the computer out here it should still be compatible with our stuff. But- we don’t have anything to charge power packs of that size.” He pointed to the fixture sticking out the bottom of the stock. Hrm, he was right.
“See if you can’t get the garage open. I’ll keep looking in here and see if there’s something to help with that.” Came my own voice, I felt... Giddy. Alive. The potential to fight back was intoxicating. Before all I’d had was this dinky pistol I’d used to... kill a couple of the greys. But if we could bring the fight to their patrols, save more people-
I shook my head. Why was I thinking like this? I couldn’t stand up to an invasion fleet. I’d been a frightened Sivkit on the first night of the attack. I- I’d stampeded. I couldn’t remember any of it, but the chance I’d trampled someone in my panic was not zero. I might have contributed to someone being crushed... I’d failed Els, that soldier I’d dragged into the house. Obelisk I couldn’t even keep my mind straight in a fight with those howling, laughing Arxur in my head. The campfire fight had been a fluke!
I didn’t quite know how long I just sat there, staring at the rifle beating myself up, but eventually I was shaken from it by Keick when she sat beside me, an arm on my shoulder. “Hey. I heard you and Junior had a bit breakthrough eh?” She said non-chalantly. I could tell though, even with the chipper tone she’d read me. The accountant knew I’d been in one of my little moods. She’d known me the longest of anyone here, everyone else was like... a pack of convenience? Maybe not Junior. Keick and I had survived the woods together. I’d pulled her from her own hells next to that burning car.
“Hey.” I returned back. “Yeah. Junior got the servers working. Or something like that.” I pointed a claw over at the computer, only to notice he was gone now. I blinked. Had I been out of it that long?
Keick filled in the hole in my head. “He went with his old man to go check out the garage.” Oh. Yeah.
I looked around, “Ah. The guns. We have guns now. Real guns.” I explained, holding the one I had in my paws up for her to inspect.
“Doesn’t look like any gun I’ve seen.” She mused back, taking it from my grip. My body was moving on its own now, rummaging deeper into the lockers. Some of these cases had been broken by the snaring, smaller branches of the grow-in. The firearms within cracked open and busted. Probably no good at all, exposed to the ambient humidity as they had been for so long. Still, couple of the other rifle cases were good. We had weapons, plural. Binoculars? Got em. Spare power packs that needed charging? Got em. There was a lot of survival gear here. Like a militarized ranger outpost had been stationed here. The synthetic material of the camouflaged cloak I found proudly proclaimed it’d reflect thermal scanning on its faded label even! “Either the old rangers from before the treaties were really into operator stuff or the Obelisk put all this here just for us.” I murmured.
Keick, for her part seemed to be looking it all over with a little inventory in her head. Already tapping in the number of each item into her dataslate. “Well. I’d go with the former. The Obelisk hasn’t been around for us lately.” Came the reply as she poked a claw at one of the now entirely spoiled ration packs. “Still, there’s enough stuff here you could arm a squad of soldiers probably. If you know where we can find some spare soldiers that is.”
I flicked my ear at the poor humoured joke. “Ahuh.” Came my reply. “Maybe you should go try the radio again, they’d love to get their paws on stuff like this I think. Pre-war tech actually made to fight predators like this is rare.” Which begged the question... Why did the cloak boast about defeating thermals? These outposts were dated after our discovery and incorporation into the Federation as an early member, and WELL before the Arxur war. So why had we built cloaks like these? Was this equipment used during the years when we’d resisted the burning of our forests and jungles? If so, it meant it might have been auhh... much more violent then the archives made it out to be. Maybe there was a story here? My inner journalist was theorizing.
___________________________
I’d had to pick my jaw up off the ground after headed over to the garage. Hens Senior and Alma were leaned over the the opened hood of what looked like a remarkably still intact forest rover. The design was actually recognizable, having not changed much from what we had tonight. Six thick grooved tires, a buggy-like cockpit four seater set in the middle, and a back and top rack for storing anything you could want. “Is it working?” I asked the obvious as I stepped inside, noting Junior sat off to the side, fiddling with some wall mounted box or other. He didn’t look to actually know what he was doing beyond dusting it off and giving it a deep stare.
“I wouldn’t think so.” Came the chime of Keick, who’d followed me inside. It was around now my monocular visioned eyes were noting the various tools and spare parts laying around in the garage. Whoever had last been here had left in a hurry seemingly, because it was mostly stocked. No mess on all the immensely dusty parts. I could see a couple smaller fauna in the corners. A lizard here, a rodent there. Obviously there had been some way they’d chewed their way in at some point... Or they’d come in when the door was opened to the bustle and noise of the forest to my back.
It was Senior who looked back at my question, standing to his full height before leaning his back against the old vehicle. “No. It isn’t working. Or at least it won’t be until I figure a way to give the battery juice.” I tilted my head.
“Is it one of those older ones that zap out after a hundred years or so?” Came my obvious question.
He flicked his tail no. “It’s got one of the standard ones, it’s just that it stopped auto-cycling a couple hundred years ago. The electric motor looks like it should work if we pop it on. But we’ll have to see.” He glanced around the workshop. “I want to say we could probably get it working with the tools we have, but if the battery can’t be jumped, or it’s spent, or the motor needs a complete replacement we’re up a creek on getting it working.” It sounded like he knew a bit about it.
The feeling of my face scrunching ever so much came. “You didn’t tell me you were a handyman.” I said, crossing my arms.
“Well it never came up.” He said back with an affable smile. “Listen, it’s been a long couple weeks. Don’t get all spotty with me. We didn’t have anything a hobbying mechanic could fix anyhow.” Just a roll of the eyes from myself is all that met him as Keick spoke up, stepping over to the other three.
“So what’re you gonna jump it with?” She asked incredulously, leaning over the open cabin. From there I sort of... zoned out. All the older Cyonians present were bickering and blathering about the buggy which was quickly losing interest for me. I didn’t understand anything about mechanics like that beyond the bare minimum, so it was out of my purview. If they got it working that’d be another thing but I wouldn’t have been any help right now, so instead I placed a couple careful paws down until I was beside Junior, sitting next to him as he seemed to be eyeballing some far too faded label.
He had a paw lightly rubbing out the dust that’d caked an outlet, still one brown eye fixed on the label. All I could make out myself was the little yellow square symbol warning of an electric charge hazard. Weird to think even now those hadn’t changed. Had Federation technology really not changed all that much? Was it just us? A sigh. “So. What’s got your your nose twitching little dude?”
The past couple nights he’d gotten better with his anger, and... hadn’t destroyed any important tech in a fit of rage. All he’d needed was something to set himself to in a difficult situation like this. Keich had been right to set him on that computer. And.. I’d felt myself trying to encourage him along the way. Partly because I had an investment in getting those maps, and then partly because he’d ended up filling in a spot in my head like a younger cousin. Him and his old man had only been around for a little bit, but I guess maybe I didn’t want to think too hard about what had probably happened to my real family. For now, maybe I felt the most ‘at home’ around Keich and this little tinkerer. Was that weird? It felt like it should be weird.
He answered, looking up with a small upturn in his lips. “I think I found your energy cell charger for those guns you had.” He said simply. “One of the manuals over there wasn’t totally ruined, I saw something about a ‘optical projector weapon’ and ‘charger’ so I was trying to figure out if this was it. I... Think it might be, but I’d need one of those batteries to make sure.”
Now I felt like smirking. “Oh yeah? Well go get one swamp brain. Let’s see if these things still work huh?” Dutifully, he was up and off, tail shaking behind him in what I recognized as excitement. We weren’t totally defenceless anymore, and if the buggy could be salvaged there would be a means at least to relocate if we had to. Or... Maybe I could take a trip down to the city and paint a couple more of those scumbags red-
I shook my head. Where had that thought come from? If I was going back to Ataln it was to try and save more people... Yeah. I still needed to see if Gael was alive, maybe check that old house I’d left Els in. I don’t even know if I could find it now, knowing how scatterbrained I’d been at the time but- making a return to at least try seemed worth it.
Regardless, the box on the wall did turn out to be the correct port to charge energy cells for the guns. We’d just need to rig it up to the solar power system and juice them up to test them. Things were looking up! Our mobility had the potential to go from nights in every direction for shelter to mere hours, I’d just have to hope Senior knew what he was doing.
“Hey. Buddy.” I’d wrapped my arm around Junior’s shoulder. “Why don’t you go take a break for now huh? You were working on the computer all night. Maybe it’d be a good idea to just go relax. Enjoy how much you got done eh?” Besides. Gave me a good way to check out the logs page on the computer system myself before he stumbled on anything. It wasn’t like I didn’t trust him with it but- well there was no way to know what was in those logs.
He nodded, and with that I stood up, streeeetched out, and headed toward the tower. “Good, it’s your shift on the guard tower anyway.” I intoned politely. It was going to be a long day, assuming there was anything of substance in those logs... Scrounging through those would be preferable to sleeping right now anyway.

Hello everyone!! My '05 LR3 has an issue with water getting on the passenger floor when it rains. I have replaced the cowl and placed metal sheeting over the air intake to limit the ability for water to get in that way. I'm not sure where else I could be going wrong.
I park it in my driveway, which has a considerable slope. When it's not parked in the driveway, it does get wet, but not as much.
My area has had a TON of rain recently, and I'm concerned I might end up with a mold problem (summer heat is coming too). I am also worried about the fuses and wiring in that area since it's been getting wet for long periods of time despite having towels and fans to dry it off. I've been keeping it out of the driveway, but I am afraid that it's going to get hit while parked on the side street (like my last car did) so I would like to be able to use my driveway again.
Should I look at replacing the sun roof? Could it be a duct that leads from the sunroof? Should I replace the cowl again? I'm not really sure where to start, any advice is appreciated.

My srt4 has a rough Idle while stationary, it will almost stall and then rev up to ~1300rpm to save itself. While driving it will randomly pick a RPM it likes and stay there (or at least try to) no matter what gear I'm in, or how fast I'm going, until I come to a complete stop; at which point it drops to a normal (but rough) idle RPM.
Things I've done: -Rewire kit for the TPS : no change -New TPS (tried OEM & aftermarket) : made it worse??? The RPMs seem more sporadic/random since I did this. -cherked the TPS wiring pretty deep into the harness: all looks fine.
I'm Absolutely losing my mind with this, I'm honestly not much of a car guy, so any help is appreciated!