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Second Chance - The "Lost Chapters"

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  • Second Chance - The "Lost Chapters"

    While "Second Chance" is now complete (whew!) I still have some remains left over that didn't really "fit" into the story. Or would have prolonged it unnecessarily. So instead of just tossing them out, I spent a few hours connecting them and making a short story follow up of sorts.

    I'm calling them the "Lost Chapters" since they more or less were lost to the evolving story line. I could have shoehorned them in somewhere, but decided it was best to be left out as a standalone follow up.

    This will be the only follow up I do for this story. I don't have anything planned for follow up at this time.
    Experience is a cruel teacher, gives the exam first and then the lesson.

  • #2
    [B]SECOND CHANCE
    Experience is a cruel teacher, gives the exam first and then the lesson.

    Comment


    • #3
      You are the man, thanks

      Comment


      • #4
        In a book, ahem, insert this and edit some of the camping info. More man friendly for your excellent writings. Well done.

        Laus Deo
        overore

        Comment


        • #5
          GRAND just add it to the book.:)
          KNOW YOUR RULES OF ENGAGEMENTS AND LIVE BY THEM !

          Comment


          • #6
            Originally posted by Firestorm View Post
            GRAND just add it to the book.:)
            This isn't the only one...
            Experience is a cruel teacher, gives the exam first and then the lesson.

            Comment


            • #7
              SECOND CHANCE – THE LOST CHAPTERS #2



              Charlie was outside cutting fire wood when John Pickens pulled into the driveway. He saw Charlie wave at him to come over as he attacked another piece of the black locust for the woodstove. He knew he wasn’t going to have Cindy attempt to cut it up and would use the hydraulic wood splitter instead. The chainsaw bogged slightly going through the dense wood, but he managed to get through it in one go around.

              “Hey John, what brings you out here today?” asked Charlie after he shut the chainsaw off.

              “Hey Charlie. Mind if I use your range for a bit?” asked John. “Scioto’s full today.”

              “Sure, might even join you,” said Charlie as he set the chainsaw down. He headed into the house to wash his hands and grab a pistol and rifle himself. He remembered desperately needing to practice with his concealed Glock and grabbed several spare magazines for it along with his bug out rifle, a folding stock AKM. He also felt like shooting shotgun and grabbed at the small 20 gauge he had designated for Erica and Cindy as a home protection gun. Putting the ammo, hearing protection and eye protection, he dropped everything in a bag and headed out to the line where John was already setting targets up. Charlie noticed the magnum rifle he had made John was sitting out.

              “Oh come on John! Are you kidding me? You scratched the life out of this thing already!” remarked Charlie.

              “Charlie, it’s a hunting rifle, not a pretty one I hang over the mantle,” said John. “And Colorado has some pretty close brush out there.”

              “You coulda hung it over the mantle, but not now,” said Charlie.

              “There are very few guns in my collection I put up for show. And typically they are the ones that are too old to be shot anyway. My gun, I paid for it, leave it alone,” said John.

              “Reckon so,” said Charlie as he thought about the hard work he had put into the rifle. After John returned, they both loaded up magazines and started getting ready to shoot.

              “Never seen you with an AK before. What are you doing with that useless commie rifle?” asked John.

              “Because it works,” said Charlie as he snapped more ammo into the large magazine.

              “Ain’t accurate,” said John. “Especially past a hundred and fifty yards.”

              “We’ll see,” said Charlie.

              “Ergonomics are crap,” said John.

              “Suppose so,” said Charlie.

              “Sights aren’t worth a darn,” said John.

              “Guess not,” said Charlie.

              “Why not an AR like mine?” asked John.

              “I’ll show you,” said Charlie as he finished loading up the magazines. They shot at 100 yards, John and his big bore magnum and Charlie with the AK. Eventually John finished out a box of the large magnum shells and was rubbing his shoulder. Charlie was finishing up the third magazine out of the AKM. He was firing prone, but knew he needed transition drills as well later. He did notice John brought along an AR as well and might show him a trick or two.

              “Ready to eat your words?” asked Charlie as he cleared out the rifle and set it on the bench.

              “I’ll have a heart attack if you got every one of them on target,” said John.

              They headed downrange and observed John’s shooting first. He had hit center or nearly center with every shot. Charlie saw there was little to be done to assist John in his style.

              “I was thinking,” said John as they walked over to the other targets. “That big magnum was a lot for the brush country. I was thinking that .338 Federal might have worked just as well.”

              “Never really done anything with them,” said Charlie. “But I hear it’s a good round.”

              “Maybe a lightweight synthetic stock for bashing through the brush,” said John. “But plenty of potential for a longer shot.”

              “Get me the parts and I’ll build it,” said Charlie.

              “Actually, I was thinking of doing…it…my…self,” said John as his voice trailed off at seeing Charlie’s targets. Each magazine was in about a three inch shredded portion of the center with each. There were some flyers, but nothing more than a half inch away. “Okay, what’s the trick here?”

              “The trick is, this dumb commie rifle is just as good out to three hundred as an AR. Maybe not quite as accurate, but it’ll hit a man sized target just fine,” said Charlie.

              “Of course, this is only a hundred yards,” remarked John.

              “We can back it up to two hundred and do it again,” suggested Charlie.

              “Maybe I’ve been missing something in my life,” remarked John as he looked at the targets again. There was something to be said about eating your words.

              “Come on, let’s move over to pistol,” said Charlie as he pulled the targets down. The headed back and started at ten yards and moved out to fifty. Charlie practiced transition drills with the AK and drawing from his concealed holster. John watched him closely and decided Charlie knew a thing or two about shooting a gun. He put pride behind him when Charlie showed him a few things and some tips along the way, becoming more proficient as they went along. After a half an hour, they called it quits and grabbed the buckets to collect the brass.

              “That guy ever call?” asked John as they started.

              “Yeah, came over a few days ago,” grumped Charlie.

              “From the sounds of it, you aren’t real happy with his choice for a new rifle?” asked John.

              “Oh, he is certainly a man of expensive tastes. First choice was Russian Circassian walnut, exhibition grade. The real stuff from Russia and not the cheap Turkish crap some try to sell as Circassian. Anyway, that’s a little steep for an ordinary hunting rifle I tell him and show him the price. He spits out I agreed on a stock of his choice and I had some choice words that followed and declare I’m not spending fifteen hundred smackers for a rifle stock, no matter what I agreed to. But of course his next option is fancy grade English walnut. Again, I ain’t going for it and have more choice words.”

              “Then he suggests black cherry…again, not that easy to come by, might not stand up to the abuse of a rifle stock and a little expensive. Lucky for me, we couldn’t find a piece large enough for a single piece stock. Myrtle was next, but we never found a blank he liked and it’s not that common. And finally settles for a curly maple! I hate working with curly maple! Most hateful wood on the planet outside of ebony in my opinion. And guess what he specified as the tip and pistol grip? Ebony of course! And just about the most expensive stuff they had! I talked him out of the exhibition grade, but everything still set me back $600,” exclaimed Charlie.

              “You should make one out of that black locust over there and show him,” laughed John.

              “****** will be around a few hundred years. The barrel would rust away before that wood rots or breaks,” laughed Charlie.

              “And the same caliber as Mack’s?” asked John.

              “No, went with a 7mm-08 Remington instead. Can’t say I blame him, it works well enough around here,” said Charlie.

              “You think Mack’s worth it now?” laughed John.

              “I’d best get an entire cow for this,” grumped Charlie.

              “And the actions?” asked John.

              “Like I said, our man has some expensive tastes. Remember he agreed to buy the actions? He wanted a Surgeon action until I showed him the price. He started being a little more reasonable after that and settled for Remington actions and a Thompson-Center barrel,” said Charlie.

              “Trigger and scope?” asked John.

              “I’ve got an old Nikon he’s going to get. We didn’t make a deal on that. And I have yet to determine a trigger until I get it going,” said Charlie. “He seemed content with that.”

              “So he knows his guns?” asked John.

              “No, he knows what the most expensive is and furthermore, where to find it. However, I convinced him ‘most expensive’ doesn’t always mean best,” said Charlie. “But he does know a few things here and there and told me if I did a decent job on this one, he wants me to build him another one.”

              “What kind?” asked John.

              “A scout rifle based on the 7.62x39mm CZ action. Never heard of one before, but I couldn’t imagine it couldn’t be done,” said Charlie. “Ruger makes that one scout, but in .308. Savage makes the same caliber, but he wants a control round feed though. So I was researching it a bit.”

              “Sounds like you’ve got your work cut out for you,” said John.

              “Just as soon as I build your synthetic .338 out of a second parts kit when you throw up your hands in frustration,” laughed Charlie.

              “I won’t throw up my hands in frustration. I’ve got to learn it eventually!” exclaimed John until he saw Charlie wasn’t going for it. “And why two parts kits?”

              “Because you’ll wrap the barrel around a tree, melt the stock and use a hammer on the actions of the first set after you get frustrated,” laughed Charlie. “Then bring the second set to me with a sheepish look on your face.”

              “Something to be said about being humble and asking for help,” chuckled John.

              “You have yet to learn that,” laughed Charlie.

              “Reckon not,” laughed John. “You know, I never asked, but how did you get two stocks out of that single piece of wood?”

              “You gave me a slab as opposed to a preset shape. Cost you a bit more and I had to be really careful with the sawing, but I barely got enough for both,” said Charlie.

              “You start on ol’ boy’s yet?” asked John.

              “Nope, I tossed Cindy to the wolves. It’s her first project,” laughed Charlie.

              “You think she’s up to it?” asked John.

              “She picked up quite a bit making the other two. She’s doing just fine for the moment, but I’m still there to look over her shoulder if she needs it,” said Charlie.

              “Where is she anyway?” asked John.

              “Out with Portia Foster,” said Charlie.

              “Best watch that. I hear that Foster girl is a little wild,” said John.

              “Cindy’s got a good head on her shoulders; she’ll be fine,” said Charlie.

              “I’m surprised you’re letting her tackle that one first,” said John.

              “Well, I would help, but I’m working on one for her as well,” said Charlie.

              “Oh, didn’t know,” said John.

              “Yeah, I’ve had a nice blank of black walnut set up for…laws, ten, eleven years now. Great marble pattern with a fan shape curl to it. Just never had a rifle to put it on until now. And I have an old pre-64 Winchester action in .257 Roberts. Stock’s cracked, so now seemed like the best time to get it redone,” said Charlie.

              “Milder, but efficient caliber,” said John.

              “Good enough for most of the game around here,” said Charlie. “And good enough for varmints as well.”

              “Including the two legged kind,” said John, fishing for information.

              “Which is why I’m moving her up in caliber,” said Charlie.

              “You have the reloading setup for it?” asked John.

              “Yeah, sat in a box ever since I bought the darn things, but I’ve got them,” said Charlie.

              “Pretty nice for an uncle,” said John with a tone that he knew more than he let on.

              “Yeah, reckon it is,” said Charlie, not giving up any more information that was necessary. But he felt better inside knowing he was getting Cindy better armed for whatever might come her way. John eventually headed towards home, a little wiser from watching Charlie shooting and had plans of looking into an AK rifle soon enough. Erica came home from work and met him out in the shop.

              “Hey babe,” he said as he eyeballed the piece of wood he was working on.

              “Hey sexy man,” she said and was rewarded with a kiss. “Ewww!”

              “Ewww what?” he asked.

              “You taste like sawdust,” she spit.

              “Some women find that attractive,” he chuckled.

              “Name one,” said Erica.

              “Okay, I can’t think of any off the top of my head,” he laughed. “How was work?”

              “The usual,” said Erica. “And your day?”

              “I was lazy today,” he informed her as he took more shavings off the stock he was working.

              “That Cindy’s rifle?” she asked.

              “Yeah, trying to get it finished,” said Charlie.

              “You going to build me my own rifle as well?” she asked with a twinkle.

              “You want one?” he asked seriously.

              “Maybe I do,” she said thinking about it. “Speaking of the rug rat, where is Cindy?”

              “I dropped her off at Portia’s a while ago,” said Charlie. “And I believe they are at the library.”

              “How’s she getting back here?” asked Erica.

              “She’s going to call when they’re done,” said Charlie.

              “So we have some free time to ourselves?” asked Erica.

              “We certainly do,” he said.

              “You should get cleaned up then,” said Erica.

              “And why is that?” he asked.

              “Because maybe I don’t like kissing sawdust,” she said with a mischievous grin.

              “And?” he asked.

              “And maybe, just maybe you might get a kiss out of me if you clean up,” she said with a twinkle.

              “Just a kiss?” he asked.

              “Go get cleaned up and we’ll see if there’s anything else I can think of,” she said with a naughty smile.


              ********************


              “So yeah, this Dante dude must have been on drugs or something when he wrote this,” said Cindy as Portia laughed along with her.

              “Why did you want to come to the town library? We could have done this from home?” asked Portia.

              “Just wanted to get out of the house for a bit,” said Cindy.

              “Okay, we could have done this at my house,” said Portia with half a smile.

              “Well, you’ve been holed up there pretty much all winter and don’t come out that often. I figured it would be best to get you out of your house as well,” laughed Cindy.

              “I just…didn’t feel like going out that much,” said Portia.

              “Okay, so we have Inferno covered,” said Cindy. “Weird story.”

              “I appreciate you helping me out,” said Portia.

              “Hey, no biggie,” said Cindy. “You still need help on your Algebra?”

              “How can you be such a nerd and totally hot at the same time?” asked Portia with a laugh.

              “Am I a nerd?” asked Cindy with a laugh.

              “No, more like the dorky new girl who turns into a beautiful swan at prom time,” said Portia with a grin and a roll of her eyes.

              “And you’re the dorky new girl’s weird sidekick?” laughed Cindy.

              “Guess so,” she half smiled again. But her eyes seemed distant as they had for several months.

              “Something wrong? You seem…different,” said Cindy.

              “Different how?” asked Portia.

              “Not like you were last fall, just different,” said Cindy. “I mean, not like a bad different, but like something is eating away at you.”

              “I’ve just…had some things on my mind,” said Portia.

              “Okay,” said Cindy accepting the explanation at face value. “Want to talk about it?”

              “No, it’s okay,” said Portia.

              “You sure?” asked Cindy.

              “No, thanks though,” said Portia and added. “Is it that noticeable?”

              “You used to laugh and be happy,” said Cindy. “Just not as much anymore.”

              “I guess I’ll have to be that raving lunatic that laughs when someone slips on a banana peel,” said Portia with a smirk.

              “Do people even do that these days?” laughed Cindy. But Portia’s demeanor had changed as quickly as a light bulb going off. Her expression changed from one of lighthearted humor to one of fear. “Something wrong?”

              Portia didn’t answer and looked past her at the front door. Cindy turned around and saw Nate Jones standing there leering at them both.

              “Just ignore him,” said Cindy as she turned back around. But Portia wasn’t able to ignore him. Her expression was still one of fear as Cindy looked back up from the book to her front. “Portia? What’s wrong?”

              “I want to leave,” she replied. “I need to leave.”

              “What? Nate Jones? Ignore him, he’s a freak,” said Cindy.

              “No, I need to get home. It’s past time for me to leave,” said Portia, fear in her voice.

              “Okay,” said Cindy, wondering why her friend had such a mood swing. “I’ll walk you out.”

              Portia didn’t answer and quickly crammed everything into a small backpack. Cindy collected her things into a decently sized pack and walked towards the exit with her. As they exited, Cindy could swear she could feel the stare of Nate Jones as they walked out. It was an eerie feeling as they exited and Portia headed towards her car.

              “You sure you’re going to be okay?” asked Cindy.

              “Yes…I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?” asked Portia as she got into the car.

              “Okay, bye girl,” said Cindy as Portia practically ripped the shifter off the column to pull out of the parking spot. Cindy watched her depart and started to get her cell phone out of her pack to call Charlie or Erica to be picked up.


              ********************


              “Mitch, she’s two hours late!” boomed Charlie over the phone. He had already scouted around the library, called Portia’s parents and was going slightly nuts trying to find her. “And she’s not answering her phone!”

              “I’ve got the on duty units out looking for her. Try to remain calm,” said Mitch in an even voice.

              “Calm? Calm?! She’s missing and you expect me to be calm?!” demanded Charlie.

              “We’re doing everything we can Charlie,” said Mitch.

              “And I’m just supposed to wait?!” demanded Charlie once again.

              “Not going to do any good to go off yelling at people about it,” snapped Mitch.

              “I’m sorry Mitch, I’ve just got a thousand things running through my head about what could have happened to her,” said Charlie.

              “We’ll find her,” said Mitch calmly as he got ready to go into the office to organize a search.

              “I just remember all those stories about the young teenage girls disappearing and all, never found or found dead,” said Charlie.

              “Listen, we’ll get her back in one piece and alive. I promise you,” said Mitch. But it did little to allay the fears rising up in Charlie. Cindy was gone, nobody had seen her and her cell phone wasn’t working. And the normal fears were quickly turning into a nightmare.


              Two hours earlier


              “Cindy? Need a ride?” asked Nate Jones from behind Cindy. She hadn’t heard him exit the library or walk up behind her.

              “No, I’ve got a ride coming,” said Cindy.

              “Come on, I’ll give you a ride. No big deal,” said Nate.

              “I can call Uncle Charlie,” said Cindy coldly. She didn’t know why, but his entire demeanor gave her cold chills running down her spine. Plus the fact Portia seemed scared to death of him and he more or less ran her off in the library.

              “Listen, it’s just a ride, no big deal,” said Nate. “Come on.”

              Cindy mulled it over for a moment before getting into the car with Nate. She wasn’t entirely comfortable with it, but knew she could call Charlie if she needed to. However, they were not heading in the direction of Limestone Cove.

              “Where are you taking me?” asked Cindy.

              “Just want to show you something then I’ll run you home,” said Nate.

              “Turn the car around and take me home,” she ordered him.

              “This won’t take but a second. Come on, no big deal,” said Nate.

              “Turn this car around at once,” she said again and pulled for her cell phone.

              “Nope, not going to happen,” he said and snatched it out of her hand. Tossing it out the window, she saw it break in the mirror as they continued deeper into the south end of Unicoi County. She attempted to strike at him, but a quick backhand to the face stopped and momentarily dazed her. They were on the old two lane road until turning off onto Spivey Mountain Road with a squeal of the tires. Nate never slowed the car enough for her to jump out as she planned and she was along for the ride until he pulled up to one of the forest service roads and continued deep into the woods. She attempted to hit at him again, but he slammed the brakes slightly throwing her forward into the seat belt before revving the engine back up. They finally came to a stop at a slight turnoff far into the National Forest. Cindy immediately tried to open the door, but he reached over her and slammed it shut.

              “This is where the old saying of put out or get out comes into play,” he said and attempted to roll on top of her. Cindy screamed and attempted to resist, but he was starting to overpower her.
              Experience is a cruel teacher, gives the exam first and then the lesson.

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              • #8
                Great stuff, Love it all!
                KNOW YOUR RULES OF ENGAGEMENTS AND LIVE BY THEM !

                Comment


                • #9
                  Oh wow! This is good stuff! Thanks!

                  Comment


                  • #10
                    so much for a good head on her shoulders....girl must be as dense hedge wood to not pick up the signs from portia and especially after her run in with him when she punched him in the face...
                    "It's a trap!!!!" -- Admiral Ackbar

                    Comment


                    • #11
                      Originally posted by elittle View Post
                      so much for a good head on her shoulders....girl must be as dense hedge wood to not pick up the signs from portia and especially after her run in with him when she punched him in the face...
                      Remember, she is na
                      Experience is a cruel teacher, gives the exam first and then the lesson.

                      Comment


                      • #12
                        its a good thing its just a story!!
                        "It's a trap!!!!" -- Admiral Ackbar

                        Comment


                        • #13
                          Originally posted by elittle View Post
                          its a good thing its just a story!!
                          I'll go put my guns up then.
                          Pray for Obama, Psalms 109:8. Before you judge me, look it up.

                          I think my tin foil is too tight.

                          Comment


                          • #14
                            [B]SECOND CHANCE
                            Experience is a cruel teacher, gives the exam first and then the lesson.

                            Comment


                            • #15
                              Sounds like Nate is going to be visiting Brushy Mountain prison in Wartburg for a while.

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