Original Draft
The low rumble of three motorcycles broke the stillness of the Wisconsin countryside, cutting through the air like an old, familiar tune. Highway 2 stretched ahead of them, bordered by dense forests on one side and glimpses of Lake Michigan on the other, where the water shimmered beneath the fading light of early evening. The trio had been riding for hours, the miles slipping by in a shared silence that spoke of years of friendship rather than distance.
Trump led the pack, his broad frame leaning into the curves of the road with the ease of someone who had spent more time on two wheels than four. His bike was an old Harley, beaten but reliable, much like the man himself. Trump was the steady one, with a stubborn streak that matched his iron grip on the handlebars. His long, graying beard flapped in the wind, and his eyes were always scanning ahead, calculating the next move. He didn’t talk much, but when he did, people listened. In a lot of ways, he was the heart of the group—unshakable, grounded.
Behind him rode Bushe, smaller and quicker on his custom Triumph. His bike darted like he did—always ready to swerve, never quite still. He had a wiry energy that matched his frame, with shaggy hair that seemed perpetually windswept, even when his helmet was on. Bushe was the joker, the one who could turn a tense situation into something light with just a few well-placed words. But beneath that was someone who had been through the grinder a few times and came out rougher, but not broken. He was sharp, unpredictable, but you always knew he had your back.
Cue rode alongside them, their silent third companion. They didn’t need to say much—they never had to. The bond between the three went back farther than any of them liked to admit, forged in years of riding, late-night campfires, and shared memories both good and bad. No one could pinpoint exactly when this annual trip started, but it became a tradition, a ritual almost. A few days out on the road, no plans, just the open sky and whatever lay ahead.
This trip felt different, though. None of them had said it, but they all knew it. Maybe it was because life had started pulling them in different directions—careers, family, obligations that made trips like this harder to plan. Or maybe it was just the way the wind had shifted, a subtle reminder that nothing lasts forever. This year, they all knew, was likely their last time out together like this. But they kept that to themselves, riding on in comfortable silence, letting the hum of the engines do the talking.
As the sun dipped lower, they veered off Highway 2 just outside of Manistique, pulling over to set up camp. It was something they’d done dozens of times before—find a spot, set up the tents, crack open a few beers, and let the night settle in around them. The woods were thick here, and the highway quieted down as the last few cars passed, leaving just the distant sound of the waves crashing against the lake and the chirping of crickets.
Trump:Trump pulled off his helmet, shaking out his hair as he looked around. “Looks like as good a place as any,” he said, his voice low and gravelly. Bushe grinned, already hopping off his bike and starting to unpack.
Cue:He had pulled to the side, stepping off of his old cruiser, the lost momento he had from his dad. He slipped his helmet off and took a look around, enjoying the crisp, cool air and distant sounds. Being away from it all was just what he needed, and before he even walked over to the others, he just enjoyed the stillness, the nothingness even, of the moment
The three friends moved like clockwork, each knowing what to do without needing to ask. It was a routine they’d perfected over the years, but this time, there was an unspoken weight to it—a feeling that lingered in the air, as thick as the approaching dusk. They all felt it. This trip was different, but none of them could say why. Maybe it was just life. Maybe it was something more.
As they set up their tents, the wind shifted again, a cold breeze coming in off the lake. The woods stood still, dark and quiet, as if waiting for something.
Cue:After his tent was set up, he stopped and looked around the woods, a chill not only running through the air, but his bones. He hadn’t felt this way in some time, and he wished he never felt it again. A paranoiac sense washed over him, not sure about this spot for a moment… but he trusted Trump’s judgement well enough. He went to pull out his chair and, getting ready for the impending campfire
Bushe:As the camp slowly came together, Bushe was already darting around like a squirrel on too much coffee. He tossed his helmet onto the ground and started rummaging through his saddlebags, grumbling to himself as he searched for his lighter. “Always forget where I put the damn thing,” he muttered, glancing over at Trump. “Hey, you think if I throw my jacket on the fire, it’ll burn long enough to heat up dinner?”
Trump:Trump chuckled, shaking his head as he pulled out a small hatchet from his own gear. “That jacket’s seen worse, Bushe. Doubt even fire could put it out of its misery.” His gravelly voice carried a calm weight to it as he began chopping small pieces of wood for the fire. “But hey, give it a try. Might finally put you outta your misery while you’re at it.”
Bushe:Bushe snorted, shaking his head as he finally found the lighter and sparked up a cigarette instead. “I’ll pass, but thanks for the thought. You just focus on not chopping your foot off, old man.” He shot a glance over to Cue, a grin forming on his face. “So, what’s your plan, Cue? Gonna sit there like a monk or join in on the festivities?”
Cue:He looked over at Bushe, and stared at him for a moment… before saying, “Yea, hold on.” He set his chair down, and began looking for a spot to clear out for the camp fire… going ahead and clearing all floor debris and litter out of the water
way*
Bushe:Bushe paused mid-drag, watching Cue with a raised brow as he got up to start clearing a spot for the fire. “Well, look at that,” he smirked, flicking the ash from his cigarette. “Cue’s actually helping for once. I was starting to think you were just gonna meditate over there.”
Trump:Trump glanced over with a chuckle, still focused on chopping the last of the wood. “Yeah, careful, Cue. Keep this up, and we might start expectin’ you to pull your weight every trip.”
Cue:”I should have.” He said, getting the spot clear, “Got a lot on my mind.” He then looked over at Trump, and gave a smirk, “Well, could be worse I suppose.” He thought, {If there is a next trip…} Before he shook his head, “Job is done.”
Bushe:Bushe stretched, leaning back against his bike. “Alright, alright. I’ll give it to you. You make a mean fire pit, Cue.” He grinned again, throwing a wink Trump’s way. “Just don’t let it go to your head.”
Cue:”I will.” He said, grabbing hi chair and pulling it over, “Not the first pit I made. Hopefully not the last.”
his*
Trump:Trump grinned, his eyes fixed on Bushe as he set his hatchet aside. “With your luck, Bushe, you’ll end up burning the whole forest down before we get this fire going.”
Cue:{Good.} He thought, looking around the woods
Bushe:Bushe chuckled, leaning back comfortably. “Hey, if we’re gonna go out, might as well be with a blaze, right?” He shot a quick glance at Cue, still working on the fire pit. “So, what’s it gonna be, Cue? You gonna let me take all the credit for this one, or you wanna split the glory when the flames start kicking up?”
Taking note of Cue’s demeanor, as Trump plumps himself onto the dirt, snapping a root under his weight, he scratches his beard with a knife as sweat glistens his skin. “So, Cue, what’s been up with you? Bushe hasn’t stopped talking about his family leaving him for the last two days, but what’s been happening your end?”
Trump:Taking note of Cue’s demeanor, as Trump plumps himself onto the dirt, snapping a root under his weight, he scratches his beard with a knife as sweat glistens his skin. “So, Cue, what’s been up with you? Bushe hasn’t stopped talking about his family leaving him for the last two days, but what’s been happening your end?”
Cue:”We all do our part.” He said in response to Bushe, before looking to Trump. “Not much to it. Just been reflecting a lot on the past while, had a lot on my mind. These trips let me unwind, and was taking the time to do that.”
Bushe:He raises his hands in a defeated motion of Trump’s comment
“Fuck me, I guess.”
Bushe gives a nod as Cue speaks, questioning quickly before Trump can reply
“What got you wound up tight enough you need to un?”
Cue:”Reminiscing on a few things. Both my dad and my time in the can, and how I wasn’t able to see him one last time because of it.” He took a moment before shaking his head, “It’s nothing, just comes to mind sometimes.”
Trump:”Yeah, shit affects us, brother.”
Trump says with a huff.
Cue:He nods, “I know you two ain’t got it easy, either.”
Bushe:Bushe looks over to Trump “It’s a good thing you ain’t back in there, what with Donny T being pres. Would have gotten your ass stomped.”
Trump:”Hey, for your information, convicts love Trump.”
Cue:He was just about to say that, but Trump beat him to it
Bushe:”Oh, I’m sure they did.”
As the fire crackled and the conversation dwindled into the comfortable silence of old friends, the night slowly wrapped itself around them. The distant chirping of crickets and the soft rustle of leaves in the breeze filled the gaps where their words had once been. One by one, they settled into their tents, the warmth of the dying fire flickering against the shadows of the trees. The night stretched on, quiet and still, save for the occasional shuffle of someone turning in their sleep. The moon hung high in the sky, casting long, silvery shadows over their camp as time seemed to slow, the peaceful hum of the forest lulling them deeper into rest.
As morning broke, the sun rose Cue from his sleep, he realized quickly his tent had been left open, though he recalled having zipped it as he prepared to sleep.
Cue:He muttered to himself, on one hand thinking he just left it open when he went out to pee at some point in the night, but on the other hand… {Who the fuck got in my goddamnt tent?!} He lied there briefly, before sitting up and peering around outside
Bushe:As Cue peered out of his tent, he noticed Trump laying outside of his tent, having dragged his sleeping bag out to sleep below the stars, a usual thing for him, but Bushe’s tent seemed off, from the shadows of the inside, it appeared like two or four bubbles were floating around, striking Cue for peculiar, Bushe was never one for bubbles. Cue:”Fuckin’ bubbles?” He just stares at Bushe’s tent for a moment As Cue stands. watching what he assumes are bubbles, he hears a noise as from underneath Trump, a loud squeak appears as he rolls over before he suddenly starts to yell and spas out, cursing and calling. Trump:”What the fuck!?” “AHAUH!” As Cue watches Trump fight for his life on the ground, a bit taken aback by the scene of the occasional Mall Santa, finally Trump breaks his sleeping bag open and rolls over, with Cue hearing several crunching sounds Cue:”The hell?!” He goes to step out of his tent and begin towards him Trump:Just as Cue steps out of his tent fully, he sees a stranger standing behind his tent, watching the scene as Trump finally stops rolling, now covered in dirt, leaves, and twigs, falling from, his natted unkempt hair.
Huffing and puffing, Trump slams both fist into the ground a few more times with a roar as he has finally won. Raising from under him, a small ground hog that had somehow gotten trapped in his sleeping bag and bitten him, waking him up
“Litter fuckers!!”
Cue:He glances over and rises an eyebrow, “Who the hell are you?” Ranger: “I’m the law.” Thge man says with an odd smirk. It’s finally now that Cue notices his outfit being one of a park ranger “And you sir, just killed an endangered Diamondback Dog.” Trump:”That’s…” With a few huffs, Trump looks at the dead animal in his hands for a seconds before snorting and saying with a glance back to the ranger “You made that up.” Cue:”Startled the hell out of me man…” He said, a bit annoyed… {Ain’t no damn ranger. Look at him.} Ranger: “We’re gonna need to see some identification.” Cue:”We’re?” He looks around Ranger: “What are you boy’s doing up in m-” He looks around with Cue before pausing “Yeah, we. Myself and the law of the nature of Wisconsin.” Trump:Trump peers to Cue, confused Cue:”…” {What in the fuck…} He looks to Trump too, looking annoyed Trump:Struggling to get to his feet, Trump finally does so, tossing the carcass behind himself. “Now, Officer, let’s just talk about this.” “Actually, nagh,. let’s think about this.” As he is saying this, he gets closer and closer to the Ranger, giving Cue to cue to move to the side, pincer-like “You were just here, just now.” “You watchjed what happened, sir.” Cue:He notices and does slowly begin moving towards the side himself Trump:”You saw the dog had attacked me.” “Out of nowhere, and I had to…” “Defend myself from this v-vi-viscious little prairy.” Ranger: The ranger raises a hand, not paying attention to Cue as he tells Trump to stop and looks back towards the poor doggo, questioning with a stern and serious face “Have you ever heard the bark of one of those little pups?” Trump:”O-…Of a… A ground hog?” Ranger: “Let me see some iD.” Trump:Trump looks back to Cue for a second, all the more confused “Alright, alright.” “It’s in my saddle, on my ride.” “Let me grab it.” Dick swinging free and his hairy chest covered by a long sleeve shirt, Trump walks past the Ranger, giving him a shoulder check to cause the Ranger to turn his back on Cue, and occupying him with an immediate and obviously fake apology Cue:He quickly swipes a rock off the ground and goes to step up behind the fake ass ranger Uses Sneak = (50) He then swings the rock at the back of his head Attacks = (42) Ranger: The Ranger gets knocked upside the head, causing him to lower his head and step to the side, grabbing at his revolver however being stunned for a moment, allowing Cue a second attack
Trump:”AUH Waht the hella!”
Cue:”TRUUUUUUUUUUUUUMP!”
Attacks = (82)
He goes to bring it down onto the side of his head
Ranger: As the rock slams against the side of the rangers head, he seizes up, the gun going off just as he gets it out but hitting nothing but the dirt between them as Trump tackles the ranger onto the ground, sounding like the Ranger’s back snapped as he slams against the ground.
Trump:”I gotcha, Clint!”
“I gotcha!”
Standing from the Ranger, completely unconscious, his eyes moving rapidly and his arms locked in handlebars
The Trumpster stands for a second huffing and puffing before looking back to Cue and saying with a squished face*
“I… I think we may have went to far, Clint.”
“Over a damned hog!?”
Trump:”This ain’t worth it.”
Cue:He goes to kneel on the ‘ranger’s’ neck and look back up at Trump, “Yea… but no. This bastard ain’t no ranger. No way.”
“Just standing outside my tent like a stalker… I had a weird feeling all night.”
“Must have been watching us.”
Bushe:It’s finally now that Bushe appears, running up, in complete opposite attire as Trump, with no shirt but pants on.
“Waht the fuck is happening out here fellas!?”
“I was schmoking my hooka and a gunshot and…”
“Is..”
Stopping he stares at Cue and the body under himd
“Is that a man?”
Bushe:”Did…”
“Did you mother fuckers kill someone?”
“Who the fuck?”
“How?”
“How did they even find us?”
Cue:”Before he killed us.”
Bushe:Bushe gives a face of complete confusion, going through fifty completely different emotions in the span of a second
Cue:He himself feels like he’s about to throw up
Trump:”Nah, he’s right, Bushe.”
“Him or us.”
“I klilled a diamondback.”
Bushe:”A fuckin’ rattlesnake?!”
Cue:”Other kind.”
Trump:”A sweet lil priariy, Bushe.”
Bushe:”Excuse me?”
Bushe shakes his head and takes a step back, his eyes dilating as he examines the situation
Cue:”Look, listen!”
Bushe:”Well… What’s the ID on the fool?”
Cue:”It all went down in a few seconds… but, fuck, something was wrong!”
Trump:”He was the law.”
Cue:”I woke up, my damn tent door was open. I know I didn’t open it!”
Bushe:”A cop!?”
Cue:”I step out of my tent, he’s just standing there.”
“He ain’t announce his presence, didn’t show no badge, started accusing Trump of killing an imaginary animal… actin’ weird!”
“I had this weird ass feeling since last night, and then this shit!”
“Hell no!”
Bushe:”…”
Bushe nods for a second listening
“So….”
“A man… Appearing out of no where…”
“You killed him because he… Because you didn’t feel right?”
Trump:”You wasn’t here, Bushe.”
Bushe:”Can it, Hagrid.”
Cue:”We’re in the middle of the woods, this guy has a revolver, and he’s trying to make us think he got authority over us and starts accusing us of breaking the law.”
Bushe:”Alright… Well, check his poickets.”
“Let’s make sure there ain’t no… Badge.”
“Let’s hope your intuition and gut fuckin’ feeling is right, Cue.”
Cue:He keeps him pinned down and nods, “Yea…” He slowly reaches for a pocket
Trump:”Cue ain’t never stirred us wrong, Bushe.”
Bushe:He nods as Cue pulls discovers nothing in the man’s breast pocket… And then nothing his his right pant’s pocket…” And then nothing in his left pants pocket “Well? What do we have?” Cue:”Nothin’… ain’t nothin’ in any of his pockets.” Bushe:”Fuck… Is… Yeah, that’s weird?” Cue:”Yea, I mean… ain’t nothin’?” As Cue continues to search the man’s pockets, a howl, unknown to any of the three comes from the inner woods, as Trump whispers just loud enough for them to hear Trump:”Howler?” Cue:”The fuck?!” He whisper-yells, the hairs on his neck standing up on end Bushe:”Ain’t no god damn North American monkeys but the negros, Trump.” Trump:Covering his dick with one hand and his ass with the other, Trump runs back to his tent, for which Cue and Bushe can assume to get dressed Bushe:”Alright, Cue…” “The copp-er not-cop.” “Is he dead?” “Dead dead or just…” “Not moving?” Cue:He presses his knee in harder, “I think he ain’t here anymore.” Bushe:”Okay, he had a gun, right?” Cue:”Oh yea.” Bushe:”I’ll get the camp shit, you take his shit! Take that fuckin’ shirt that says ranger and bury it.” “Throw it in a tree or something.” “Trump! Get your fat ass out to the bikes and get them started.” Cue:”Fuck! We should burn that fucking thing! But… FUCK!” Bushe:”I don’t know what that fuckin’ scream was but I ain’t fuckin’ with a moose.” Cue:He doubles over, his stomach in nuts… still clutching the bloody rock knots
The crew quickly gathers everything together, doing their parts and before they can think are back on the road, driving as fast as they can, not thinking of the fuel they’re burning, nor the speed they’re taking turns, simply trying to get as far away from the scene as they can, continuing further down the planned route with Bushe, typically in back, now taking lead*
Bushe:After an unknown amount of time, but at least half an hour, they find themselves pulling over to the side, with Bushe looking back to the other two
“Alright, what… Now tell me…”
“One more… We need to get the story straight?”
Cue:He had had the scene replaying in his mind over and over again… but as they pull over, he shakes his head and tries to collect himself for the conversation, “Right…”
Trump:”I sell unlicensed porn and make meth. I ain’t no cop killer, Cue.”
Cue:”That wasn’t no cop.”
“I’m telling you, listen. If he was, he would have had ID. He would have announced himself before he walked up. He wouldn’t have acted like that.”
“I’m serious, he was standing behind my tent, just standing there. He was right behind it. He was just standing there.”
Bushe:Bushe nods, kicking his bike’s stand out and getting off, looking over the creak that ran alongside the road they were on.
Cue:He did the same, walking over, “I had… I-I had a weird fuckin’ feeling that night.”
Bushe:”Alright, let me see the gun.”
Cue:He went to hand it over
Bushe:Taking the gun, he examines it, and removes the shot shell, tossing it into the running water before stuffing the gun into his saddle.
“Alright, let’s just…”
“I didn’t see any jeep or truck or whatever.”
“Didn’t even see lights.”
Cue:”Yea!”
“No vehicle.”
“No badge.”
“Not even a normal ID.”
“Nothin’ on him but that gun.”
Bushe:”Except the shirt which read ‘Ranger’.”
“But hell, that could have been a fuckin’ howl-o-ring shit.”
Cue:”Yea, you can fuckin’… buy FBI jackets online. Doesn’t make you a fed.”
Trump:”I’ve killed people, that ain’t no problem, but FBI? That’s a whole different level of manhunt, fellas.”
“I mean, I vote red but I believe in the blue line.”
Bushe:Bushe shakes his head.
“Alright… So let’s just…”
“Let’s put the cop thing on pause.”
“No lights… No announcement.. Just a man.. Standing at the camp.”
“Watching us?”
“Maybe the land owner?”
Cue:”I don’t know… you’d think he’d still say something before he just walking up.”
“And there’s still the issue of my tent door being open when I woke up.”
Bushe:”He put on the cop outfit to scare kids and vandits and shit.”
Cue:”Trust me, I don’t leave it open.”
“And maybe… but then… like…”
“Wouldn’t he just tell us to leave?”
Bushe:”This is fuckin’ weird.”
Trump:As Bushe swats at his own head, Trump nods, saying
“Wrong Turn mother fuckers.”
Cue:”Some weird shit… I think he was watching us for some time, if I had to guess.”
Bushe:”Watching us for what/”
“Why?”
Cue:”People do crazy shit sometimes. I knew motherfuckers in prison who carved people up… for the hell of it.”
Bushe:Bushe nods
Trump:”Mexicans>”
Cue:”Who knows what he wanted… but it wasn’t anything good- Those too.”
Bushe:”Alright, well.. Let’s just.. Get the fuck out of here.”
“Get back to a main road and get to a town.”
“Actually.”
“We ain’t far from a town.”
“I saw on the map, we’re pretty close to Brevert, saw a short cut.”
Cue:”Alright… yea, sounds like a plan. Better than being out here.”
Bushe:Getting back on his bike, the three start their engines and race off down the road, slowing down only to turn down a dirt road that enters into the forest, steering north
Trump:As they drive, having to go slower so as to not damage their bikes, Trump rides up beside Cue, and questions
“Why are we heading into the forest?”
Cue:”I guess this is the shortcut…” He says, looking around a bit… before, suddenly, another paranoiac bout sets in, {He kept the gun…}
Desc: nearly two hours pass as the three slowly make their way loudly further and further into the forest, hardly any animals or signs of life to be seen as the atmosphere builds tension onto Cue’s already apparent paranoia.
nearly two hours pass as the three slowly make their way loudly further and further into the forest, hardly any animals or signs of life to be seen as the atmosphere builds tension onto Cue’s already apparent paranoia.
Cue:He grips the handlebars hard, trying to keep his breathing steady… having trouble. He keeps glancing around, not sure what, but just feeling like something was coming… any moment now…
{Fuck… not thinking straight… how long has it even been?}
Trump:”Alright, now that’s enough!”
Trump called as he stopped his chopper
Bushe:Unable to hear, Bushe continued to push forward
Trump:”Bushe!”
Cue:He stops, looking between them… before calling out himself, “Bushe!”
Trump:Bushe continues still, his bike revving as Trump shakes his head and turns his engine off, setting up the stand
Cue:”Fuck… I’ll try to go get him, alright?” He says to Trump
Trump:Trump nods as he reaches into his satchel
Cue:He revs up again, and takes off, trying to catch up to Bashe
Bushe*
Bushe:Revving up, Cue is able to catch up to Bushe fairly quickly, however as he does he gets a strange feeling once again, as if they’re being watched. The sense that their surroundings aren’t as safe as they thought
Cue:His hairs stand up on the back of his neck, as he cursed to himself before saying, “Bushe! Bushe! Turn back!”
Bushe:Finally Bushe hears and stops, turning back to Cue
“What!?” He calls, unable to hear the bald friend
Cue:He stops and says, “Trump stopped back there!” He points behind him with his thumb, “C’mon.”
Bushe:”Oh, god da- Fat fuckin’ lazy piece of shit, we’re on bikes and he still can’t keep up.”
Bushe begins to rant, almost catching Cue off guard, something he’d normally not do, though the situation is strange, and perhaps the tension is getting to him. After all, he was never that great in stressful scenes back home… Was he?
Cue:{This isn’t the fucking time… shit… fucking hell…} He quickly glances around, before saying, “Tell him that when we catch up to him… come on!”
Trump:”Clint!”
Cue hears from Trump’s direction before a quieter
“Help!”
Cue:”Fuck! COME ON!” He quickly revs up and goes to turn around and fly in Trump’s direction
Bushe:Bushe, not seeming to have heard it, slowly turns around, taking his time, not in the same rush as Cue, eventually follows soon after
Cue:”TRUUUUUUMMPP!”
Trump:As Cue speeds his bike, beating it as his pelvis, feeling every rock, stick, and bump, he quickly makes it back to his friend where he finds Trump look up suddenly to him as Cue screams. Trump seems simply fine, nothing wrong as he sat on his bike, a large printed out map of the states in his hand as he stares confused, a hatchet in hand*
“What!?” He questions, jumping and backing up, becoming startled
Cue:He pulls to an abrupt stop, nearly falling off the bike as he kicks the stand down and hops off, “What happened?!”
Trump:”I… I don’t know!? What do you mean you’re the one yelling!”
“Where is Bushe!?”
“Everything alright?”
Cue:”What?! No! No! I… I heard you yell for me, when I… yea, I… I got Bushe to stop, and was telling him to come back, when I heard you call for me…”
{No… this place is fucking haunted…}
Trump:”I didn’t say shit, brother, I swear.”
Cue:”…” He looks around
Bushe:Bushe rolls up, walking his bike up slowly, having turned it off as he questions
“Why the fuck have we stopped?”
“It’s about mid day, guys, we’re almost there.”
Trump:Trump ignores Bushe for the moment, annoyed by his attitude of the situation and instead focuses on Cue
“Listen, brother, you said you heard me?”
“Was it maybe a bird?”
“And you just thought it was me?”
Cue:”Bird… no, there’s… I heard it clearly. ‘Clint’…. ‘help’…”
“There’s something fucking wrong with this place. Deeply wrong. And…”
{I didn’t feel it until I got close to him…}
“How long have we been riding?”
Bushe:Bushe shrugs and says
“Well… Clint, I’ll be honest, I think you’re in shock, man.”
“Like.. Killing a cop is a bad thing.”
“And maybe you’re just… Not feeling okay, and that’s okay.”
Cue:”… That wasn’t a cop.”
“Why do you keep saying that?”
Bushe:”Alright, well, then… A not a cop. Still, you killed someone.”
Cue:”Rangers aren– Okay. Bushe.”
“I may not be well right now, but look…”
“We’ve been taking this shortcut for fuckin’… hours!”
“What kinda shortcut?!”
“And alright, I didn’t say nothing… but fuck…”
“What was the hell UP with those BUBBLES?!”
Bushe:Bushe looks tired through Cue’s whole rant until the bubbles were brought up and then was forcced to do a taken aback double take
“B-… Bubbles?”
Cue:”This morning, your tent.”
“Before I stepped out, I looked at your tent. There were the shadows of bubbles, through the outline of the tent.”
“And I heard what you said about the hookah… you ain’t ever smoked a hookah!”
“You’ve always been a drinker, not a smoker!”
Bushe:”A dr-.. Alright, yeah, that’s.. Just something I picked up over the past year, alright…”
“I..”
“Look.”
“Clint… Trump…”
“I had to put down the beer. I.. My kidney failed… And I was in the hospital for about a month.”
“Alright… So… I haven’t been drinking.”
Cue:Uses Perception = (41)
Bushe:”The hookah is something I’ve recently started.”
“And like… C’mon.. Who doesn’t love bubbles!?”
“You can check my pack, I have two kits of bubble blowers.”
Cue:”…” He’s still on edge, but loosens up a bit, “Bushe… bubbles?”
Bushe:”Yeah, man.. Look, I know I’ve always been a hard ass but… C’mon… bubbles.”
Sayin bubbles in a weird voice, Trump gives the two a weird eye as Bushe continues with a wide toothy grin
“Look, Cue.”
“Don’t you remember?”
“When we were kids, back before all the shit in Detroit?”
“We were on bikes, and the niggers found me with my bubbles, started calling me gay and shit.”
Bushe:”Who had my back?”
Cue:Uses Perception = (101)
Uses Perception = (40)
Bushe:As Bushe continues to talk, Cue seems to recall something about a bunch of black kids mocking and making fun of Bushe, but it wasn’t in Detroit, in fact, he’s never been to Michigan.
Cue:”… Detroit?”
Bushe:”Yeah, man!”
“They fuckin’ called me faggot and shit and was about to…”
Bushe leans in and motions as if Cue knows what he’s talking about
Cue:He rubs his head a bit, the memory lingering… but it was conflicted in his head, {Fuckin’… Detroit?}
Uses Perception = (81)
Uses Luck = (91)
Bushe:The more Bushe talks about this situation the more it becomes foggy, muddled in his mind, he remembers a kid being bullies… But was it by blacks over bubbles? Was.. Was it even Bushe? Did… Did you even know Bushe that long?
Cue:{… What in the fuck…}
Trump:”Alright, what the fuck ever about your god damn bubbles!!”
Trump yelled, reentering the conversation
“Listen!”
Cue:He steps back a bit, snapped out of it by Trump
Trump:”Where the fuck do you have us going, Bushe?”
“Brevort was not even fifteen minutes from where we turned?”
Bushe:”What? No, man, it’s just ahead, a little further!”
Trump:”Further my ass, I felt weird when we turned and finally, after following you through these fuckin’ marshes and woods for an hour, running down my fuckin’ gas.”
“Look at here, fucker!”
Cue:”FUCK! The gas!”
{Goddammit! I was so caught up with my fucking paranoia, I didn’t even think about the goddamn gas!}
Trump:Trump shifts the map so the two can look and sure enough, the town wasn’t but a few more minutes down the road from the turn Bushe had them go
“So what’s the play, here?”
Cue:His stomach sinks as he looks at that
Bushe:Bushe grabs the map tightly and stares intently at it
“What?!”
“How the fuck? No… No, dude, I had this whole fucking route memorized. I knew every turn and shit in case you fuckers were trying to kill me!”
“No, there is no fucking way that is right!”
Bushe seems to go into a mumbling loop to himself as he looking around the map, frantically, hoping Trump was just looking at the wrong town
Cue:He steps back a bit and puts his hand over his stomach, trying to hold it in… {This is fucked… goddammit, I can’t believe it…}
Trump:”We’re in the middle of the fuckin’ woods and ain’t no one around us now, when we were this fuckin’ close!”
“God damn retard, and I’m just as stupid for following you even though I knew something was off.”
“Gimme back my fuckin’ map, we’re getting out of here.”
Bushe:”Fuck you, Trump! I didn’t hear you say shit when I took the lead after you two fuckin went awol on a god damn deputy!”
“I was the one with a reasonable mind and… I don’t… I must have got it mixed up.”
Cue:”He wasn’t a fucking deputy, and that isn’t what awol means!”
Uses Perception = (87)
Bushe:Bushe looks over to Cue with eyes of hate, and for a brief moment, he a misty red glow within his friend’s irises
Cue:He stops, his heart skipping a fucking beat
Trump:Snatching the map from Bushe’s hands, Trump folds it back up and stuffs it in his pants
“Well, you’re back in the rear, brother.”
“No more leadin’.”
Cue:”… No.”
“No, I think he should lead us still.”
Trump:Trump stops and looks at Cue as if he’s gone bat shit insane
“Clint.” He says, somewhat disappointment*
Cue:”Look… I know he dragged us out here. But he means well.”
“Trust me, I ain’t stirred us wrong before.”
Uses Speechcraft = (96)
Trump:Trump stops and stares before looking back to Bushe and shaking his head
“God….Damn it..”
“This ain’t right, Clint..,. I’m telling you.”
“But fine.”
“But I’m keeping the map!”
Cue:”It is your map.”
Trump:”You two done gone full blown wacko on me.”
Bushe:”I know we’re close to the town, it’s just up ahead.”
“Fuck what that map says.”
Cue:He nods and goes to get back on his bike
Bushe:Bushe says with a nod towards Cue
Starting up his bike again, the three, with Trump taking rear, continues down the path
Cue:He begins cruising behind Bushe too with Trump… slowly dropping his speed over time, until he was next to Trump… Trump:With Bushe not recognizing this, Trump looks over to Cue and shakes his head, motioning as if asking ‘what is happening?’ Cue:He looks to Trump, and then points behind him… before slowly drawing to a stop Trump:Stump stops too, unsure what is happening, but trusting in Cue’s actions Cue:He doesn’t say much, just, “Trump, I’ve never been to Michigan.” Stump:He stops and stares at Cue. “Okay?” “It’s a shit hole, trust me.” Cue:”I’ve never been to Detroit.” “There was no black kids, there was no bubbles.” Stump:”….” Stump takes a moment before realizing what Cue is saying With his eyes widening, he nods and mouths “Ouhhhhh” Looking back fowards towards Bushe as he slowly fades behinds trees “So what? What’s that mean, Cue?” “You saying Bushe is… Hit his head? Lost memory?” Cue:”That ain’t Bushe.” “I can tell you more later, but we gotta get out of here.” Stump:Cue can see the colour vanish as he says this, with Stump entering a state of near-shock, almost like he has done seen a ghost “What happened to our boy, Cue?” Cue:”I don’t know. But that ain’t him.” Stump:”Ain’t him like… Like he’s possessed?” Cue:”I don’t know…” Stump:”Ooohhhh, fuck this, Clint, I don’t do demones and shit.” Cue:”Me neither.” “I already got enough shit with people.” “Alright, look, we gotta get out of here quick, but we’re low on gas.” “We siphon what’s left in my tank and share a ride.” Stump:Stump looks between the two, recognizing his is bigger, he grows a small selfish smirk, knowing he doesn’t have to leave his ride. “Alright.” Turning off his ride, he opens the gas tank and waits for Cue Cue:He sighs, and stands, “Fuck…” He begins running through, {Alright… now, how are we gonna siphon this shit?!} “Fuck…” He looks to the bike, turning it off for one last time… “It hurts to do this.” He goes to find a hose he can use Uses Driving = (-3.7) degree(s) of success! Uses Mechanics = (0.3) degree(s) of success! Stump:Cue gets the gas going and after a moment, while Stump held the hose and Cue moved most of what they could carry on the bike without overloading it, they finally set off, following the path they had been going down. Cue:Uses Geography = (2.2) degree(s) of success! As they set off, he gives one last look back to the old bike… a wistful expression set upon his face, as he once again had to say goodbye to his father… Stump:Very quickly Stump loses the trail and finds himself having to be guided by Cue most of the way through Cue:After his goodbye, he focuses on guiding Trump through these backwoods paths Uses Geography = (-5.8) degree(s) of success! Stump:As they travel through the path, Cue quickly finds himself questioning his own directions and before the two know it, they find themselves lost in the middle of the woods, without any idea of which direction was which. Their only compass in the satchel bags of Bushe “Where the fuck!? Where the fuck?! FUCK! Where?!” “Where are we at!? God damn it!” Cue:He wants to scream, but he can’t. He can’t even speak right now Stump:”Cue! We should have been back at the road… At least seen it!” Cue:He hangs his head for a moment… gives a nod… and then says, “Yea… we should have.” Bushe:”Clint.” Cue hears from behind him, almost feeling the breath on his neck Cue:”…” {This is it.} “I fuckin’… I knew it.” Stump:Suddenly, Cue hears the howl again, this time Stump hears it as well causing him to take off, screaming himself, shaking, though he isn’t sure if it’s from the vibrations of the bike or his own fear. Cue:Uses Strength = (80) Stump:Cue tightens his grip on Stump as the two begins speeding through the hills and trees and sticks and rocks, losing all control before finding themselves in the air as the front wheel dipped into an indent and the bike flipped, sending them rolling with their supplies down a small hill before Stump stops in a small mud patch Cue:He simply screams, unable to even form words in this moment Stump:After a moment of rolling back and forth, he lifts up and wipes the mud and dirt from his face and mouth and struggles back to his feet, Cue watches as Stump begins to freak out, frantically waving his arms around and turning and twisting, as if trying to find something that is constantly beside or behind him, however seeing nothing himself “AHUHA! Get the fuck out of here!” Cue:He stumbles around a bit, trying to gather his footage, as he calls out, “Trump! Wh-…w -whwat the FUCK is going on?!” Stump:”You don’t hear them!?” Stump calls before falling his knee and letting out a gasp and blood curdling scream Cue:”No!” He says, sloshing through the mud over to him Stump:After a bit of fighting, Cue gets to his friend, who he finds has fallen onto his own hatchet, with his impaling the back of his hamstring and thigh, leaving him to cry in pain Bushe:Whispers appear next to Clint, as he hears “Help me… Me.,.. Help… Help… You…. Dieeeeeeee.” Cue:He clamps his eyes shut tightly for a moment, shaking his head… before letting out a deep snort, “Fuck it.” He reaches over and grabs the hatchet, opening his eyes back up, “Sorry buddy… just hold on.” He then goes to try and yank the hatchet out Stump:”AUAHAUH!!!” Stump let’s out the worse cry Cue has ever heard, so sad that it twists his stomach Cue:Uses Strength = (117) Stump:Through the adrenaline, Cue suddenly yanks the blade from Stump’s leg, leading blood to begin to gush and squirt out, and Stump screams. Screams and more screams, mix as Stump’s is no longer the only voice that Cue can hear, others, women, men, even the cries of children seem to bleed from the surrounding forest as the blood rushes from his leg and is absorbed into the ground Cue:He shakes intensely, a slurry of fear, anger, and sorrow coursing through him, as he grips the blooded hatched tightly, looking all around… the emotions rushing through him apparent as he calls out, “Come on! COME ON!” Unknown: Suddenly, Cue sees a face he had only seen once before. Ranger: A man with a Ranger shirt appears from behind a tree and looks at him intently His head still bleeding from the side where Cue had knocked him earlier Cue:A bewildered look appears on his own face Ranger: “Clint…. You killed me.” Cue:”I’ll do it again!” Stump:”FUuUuUuuuUuUUUCK!!!” Ranger: “You could try.” Cue:He glances to Stump, his voice cracking a bit as he mutters, “Shit…” Before looking to the Ranger, gripping the hatchet tightly Ranger: “That measly man made tool won’t do anything to me, Clint.” The Ranger says with a small smirk, his voice low and calm, almost inviting Cue:”A rock did just fine before…” He said, taking a step forward, but circling off tot he side a bit Ranger: “If you think so.” As he says this, Cue watches as the blood from the ranger’s shoulder and arm trickle upward and return to his head as his head wound slowly seems to heal Stump:Stump appears to be in and out of consciousness, likely entering shock, or possibly even having a heart attack. Cue:He falters briefly, noticing that… glancing back to Stump again, and then thinking… {He was fighting shadows. Hold on…} He focuses on the environment, trying to sus out anything he can Uses Perception = (67) Ranger: As Cue looks around, he notices that the legs of the Ranger, just before his vision is cut off from the hill, are not only transparent but seem to hold a wave-like effect. Then he begins to notice a tree just to his left, now between him and Stump also has this save wave-like effect on it’s bark. “What are you thinking, Clint? Tell me, I want to know.” “Call me curious.” Cue:He shakes his head, “I don’t know… I can’t… I can’t think straight…” He leans over, going to press himself against that tree to his left a bit Ranger: “Yes?” The Ranger questions as he leans closer and Cue notices the same red mist-like glow from Bushe’s eyes appear behind the Ranger’s glasses as he smiles widely, and eerily similar to the one Bushe had given just before
“You don’t know what’s happening, do you? I can hear your heart, smell your blood… It’s so fast, Clint.”
Cue:”I can’t even see straight, I can’t stand… I got whiplash from that crash, probably a concussion, I…” He leaned up against the tree and slumped a bit
“So no, I got no fucking clue what’s happening! Is that what you want to hear?!”
Stump:As he gets closer to the tree, Cue presses against it only to find it disappear beneath his body as he seems to simply phase through it, with no feeling, almost like a hologram
Cue:He stops and stumbles, “Fuck! I can’t keep my goddamn balance even!”
Ranger: “That’s exactly what I want…”
The man raises his hand and removes his glasses, upon doing so his face seems to morph smoothly and immediately into that of Bushe’s*
Bushe:Raising the gun before, the wide smile still across his face, he questions
“What’s my name, Clint?”
Cue:He looks up at him, a ragged look on his face as he said, “I don’t know… you didn’t have a badge.”
Bushe:Bushe pulls the trigger and Cue hears a loud bang with a flash blinding his vision
Cue:He just shuts his eyes closed in response
Suddenly, Cue shoots up, back in his tent from that morning, hearing as Stump wrangles the diamondback ground hog*
Cue:”… No.”
His tent is open like it was this morning and everything appears the exact same, bubbles and all… Just no Ranger this time.
Stump:”AUHHA!”
Stump brings his hands down onto the lil priary puppy, finishing it.
Cue:He stumbles around, shocked… gawking, before looking back… letting Stump have his battle as he rushed over to Bushe’s tent
Stump:”My gawd..”
Bushe:As Cue rushed to the tent, he opened it to find Bushe’s body split open and guts and blood everywhere, as if he was ravaged by a wild animal, with a whistling and wheezing sound escaping him. Despite the gory seem, his eyes shift towards Cue as he appears to be surprised by Cue’s sudden entrance
Cue:”FUCK!”
Bushe:A low gutteral growl escapes the tent as a smell worse than any sewer or dead animal hits Cue, forcing out vomit
Stump:Stump looks over
“Them lil fuckers get you too?”
Cue:He doubles over and just starts heaving and vomiting
Stump:”Bastard damn near bit my tip, brother.”
Stump says, huffing and puffing
He looks over at Cue as he vomits
“Wh- Waht the hell is the matter with you?”
“You look and see Bushe wacken his bush?”
As he says this he gives a light chuckle
Cue:He shakes his head… slowly getting back to his feet and stumbling, “Oh my fucking god… no…”
Stump:Straightening himself and stretching, Stump tosses the hog away, like he did before, and starts walking over to see what is the matter
“Calm down, what’s the matter with Bushe?”
Cue:”… I can’t… I…” His voice cracks again, as the memories of the dream wash over him, intermixed with what he saw in the tent
Stump: Stump gives a shake of his head as Cue hears something that nearly makes his knees buckle.
Bushe:”You okay, Clint? Jesus, I ain’t a looker but throwing up?”
Walking out of the tent, he looks over to Stump with absolute confusion
Cue:”…” He stops, slowly turning around and looking at him
Bushe:Both of his friends stare at him, worried by his state
“You need me to get the phone out, call an ambulance or something?”
Stump:”Maybe you were bitten by a diamondback, I heard there are snakes around here!”
Cue:He just leans over and throws up again
Stump:”Alright, look, Bushe, you’re already dressed, take Clint into town, there should be one just up the road!”
“I’ll pack up here and call the police!”
Bushe:Bushe nods and rushes to get the bike started
“Right!”
Cue:”Police?” He says as he leans back up, “Why?”
Stump:”Well, animal control, something, something is obviously wrong with you, brother.”
Stump rushes over to him, dick clapping his legs, and kneels down, grabbing onto Cue’s shoulder to try and hold onto him
Cue:He doesn’t even fight it. {Fuck it… alright. Let’s just see where this leads. No, let’s go. Really, no, let’s do this. Seriously. No, come on. Really. Yea, no. Let’s go. Come on. Come on.} He continues this train of thought in his head, electing to get onto Bushe’s bike and let him take him down the road
Stump:Stump appears genuinely worried as Cue is placed on the bike and strapped to Bushe, waving gently at his friend as he rides away while taking out a satellite phone
Bushe:As they ride down the road, Bushe calls back to Cue
“Hey, buddy, you doing okay back there!?”
“Don’t go throwing up on my back… Or my bike! You’ll regret it!”
Cue:He looks up at Bushe, with bags under the bags under his eyes, blinking… and he just stares at him for a moment, before hanging his head again
Bushe:”Hey, Clint, you with me buddy!?”
Bushe calls as he speeds down the highway
Cue:”Maybe.” Is all he’s able to get himself to say
Bushe:”Well, let’s keep you talking, alright! Let’s make sure you know where you’re at, what’s happening!”
“Alright?”
“Clint… What’s my name?”
Cue:He instantly perks up and looks at him, a scowl fixed upon his face, not saying anything, just staring him down
Bushe:”Clint, you still with me!? C’mon, buddy, when did we meet?”
“How old were we!?”
Cue:Uses Perception = (74)
Bushe:As Clint starts to think, his memories become more and more foggy, images of Clint, or who was supposedly Clint appear in various memories but never seem to stick, he goes in and out, but just doesn’t seem to stick.
Cue:”… It… no. No.”
Bushe:”Clint, remember when that cop had pulled us over!? Yeah, and I had all that fuckin’ coke on me!? You talked us out of the situation, right!?”
Cue:Uses Perception = (44)
Bushe:This wasn’t a cop at all, it was a park ranger, during one of their first ever cross country spring rides, before they started bringing Trump
Cue:”That was… that was a ranger…”
Bushe:”Yeah, yeah, or that tattoo, you remember, my first ever tattoo!? What was it, buddy? You were there!”
Cue:Uses Perception = (94)
Bushe:It wasn’t anything. You’ve never been anywhere with a man to get his first tattoo, that’s gay. As a matter of a fact this makes Clint realize… He actually never had a friend named Bushe. In all of his cross country trips, there was only him and Stump.
Cue:”I don’t know.” He said, a bitter inflection of anger in his voice, “Let’s get you a new one.” With that, he hugged his arms tightly around ‘Bushe’, and went to yank back
Grapples = (129)
Bushe:The last thing Cue sees as he uses strength he didn’t realize he had, is ‘Bushe’s head fly off as he decapitates him with nothing but his own arm before flying from the motorcycle as it was going nearly 100 down the highway.