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vdistinctiveThe radio had said a hurricane was headed Fandom's way. The fact that that was such a normal thing had thrown Eliot off -- he'd've expected to first hear about it from, say, the Baltimore news station, or possibly the Weather Channel, not off-hand at the end of a squirrel-reported morning radio gossip show. But the radar satellites had confirmed it: a hurricane had developed off the coast and was looking to make landfall around Fandom by the weekend.
Eliot had done the whole "hurricane" thing before -- there was this whole thing in Tortuga, with a kidnapped corgi, a restored tall ship, and a very large quantity of C4 -- but this was his first as a property owner, so he was taking it seriously. At present, he was outside the house on Godiva, checking out the windows and trying to decide how best to batten down the hatches in preparation, while Val danced around the yard in circles, chasing a butterfly.
His shopping list so far included bottled water, toilet paper, propane for his camp stove, plenty of candles and matches, extra batteries for the radio and flashlights, and possibly a small generator if he could find one, so Hardison didn't cry if the power went out and his laptops stopped working. Also milk, bread, and eggs. Because whatever happened, you could bet his partners would be fussing at him to make them breakfast anyway.
He wondered if plywood would be overdoing it. He always saw those pictures of people hammering plywood over their windows in hurricane prep news stories. . . .
[Open!]
Eliot had done the whole "hurricane" thing before -- there was this whole thing in Tortuga, with a kidnapped corgi, a restored tall ship, and a very large quantity of C4 -- but this was his first as a property owner, so he was taking it seriously. At present, he was outside the house on Godiva, checking out the windows and trying to decide how best to batten down the hatches in preparation, while Val danced around the yard in circles, chasing a butterfly.
His shopping list so far included bottled water, toilet paper, propane for his camp stove, plenty of candles and matches, extra batteries for the radio and flashlights, and possibly a small generator if he could find one, so Hardison didn't cry if the power went out and his laptops stopped working. Also milk, bread, and eggs. Because whatever happened, you could bet his partners would be fussing at him to make them breakfast anyway.
He wondered if plywood would be overdoing it. He always saw those pictures of people hammering plywood over their windows in hurricane prep news stories. . . .
[Open!]