Chapter 7: Bolt's Grand Adventure

If Altin had learned one thing, it was that the world doesn't stop during a crisis, not even for the Grim Reaper. And while Altin might have gotten himself into a bit of a pickle, the rest of the household hadn't seemed to notice.

Bolt had never really gotten into the warm fuzzy family spirit the way Spot had. He just never paid much attention to the adventures of the twolegger. Consequently, he spent most days (and nights) on his own. Most of Appaloosa's inhabitants had gotten used to seeing him roaming free throughout the town and knew to leave him alone.

But not always.

Little Layla Melody lived on a farm -- in this town, everyone did -- but her father Jonah always told her they didn't have the time to take care of a horse. Layla knew that wasn't true, but her dad stood his ground, and had always refused to let her pick out one of the foals in the annual town horse adoptions. But she knew she could prove him wrong, and today was her chance. She had finally tracked down one of the Plains' wild horses, and once she caught him and brought him home, she knew her dad would realize she was grown up enough to take care of a horse.

Just a little bit closer, and...

Bolt was so not a fan of this idea.

Then again...she smelled like carrots. Carrots are good. Maybe she'd share.

True love blossoms.

Mr. Melody was less impressed when they showed up at the bookstore he managed. "Layla, we can't keep him, princess."

"But Daaad, I'm almost grown up. I can take care of him myself, you won't even notice he's there!"

"That's not it, honey. We can't keep this horse. I've seen him around, he belongs to the man who lives up on the hill past the Singletons. The one with the zebra."

"But Daaaaad--"

"No buts, Layla. Say goodbye to the pony so we can take him back to the house for the owner to pick up."

Layla unenthusiastically trailed along behind her father and the less than wild horse as her father spoke on the phone with the strange man who lived on the hill. He was already there waiting for them (with a real zebra, wow!) at home when they arrived, but as Layla reluctantly handed him the rope lead, he shook his head.

"Hold on a second, let me talk to your dad before you go anywhere," he said, stepping around her.

"So...your daughter really likes horses, huh?"

The elder Melody nodded. "Her mother was a farmer. Layla used to tag along on her visits to the horse farms to pick up fertilizer. The kid always used to beg to sneak over the fence to see the baby foals. Before my wife's mysterious disappearance, of course."

Altin wasn't going to touch that one. Too much drama of his own already, thank you very much.

"Do you have kids,....?"

"Altin," he filled in the unspoken blank. "And n-uh. Yeah. A two year old, Elsie." Damn psychic neighbors. He hadn't been planning on saying that. He watched the little cowgirl tease Bolt's mane, getting the beginnings of an idea he wasn't at all sure he'd enjoy. "Listen, I'm leaving town for a while, as of, well, right now. Do you...want to keep him? His name's Bolt, and he's probably overdue to leave his mother anyway. I'm pretty sure they're conspiring against me when my back is turned."

Jonah hesitated for a minute, then laughed. "I hadn't told her yet, but now that Layla's almost a teenager, her birthday present this year was going to be a foal at the town adoptions. But she does seem to have taken a shine to your boy here...alright, we'll do it."

As the father told the little girl the news, Altin's idea grew into a plan...and yes, he was definitely sure he wasn't going to like it very much at all. Leaving town wouldn't be so bad, and what waited was a bit of a mystery (a short, crying, diaper-wearing mystery). But first he had to tell Sage Oxendine he was quitting the Organization. She was definitely going to throw something at him.

---

(Z: Don't worry, Spot got to say goodbye.

The "townies" got up to some hijinks during the course of "filming" this chapter. Consider the following a teaser for the next update. That woman is a menace, a menace I tell you.)

Chapter 3, part 1: In Which Our Hero Traumatizes His Kidneys

(Z: I challenge you to claim with a straight face that this building doesn't make you kind of maybe like rabbitholes at least a little bit.)

It wasn't long before Altin got the call from Oxendine. She always did manage to get the job done like that. Oxy didn't bring the greatest news, though. "Look, you're in, but like I said, it's real low-level stuff. They'll let you try your hand at being the decoy on a couple of their smaller jobs, that's all. And they only agreed to that because there isn't much of a chance for you to blow it, so count yourself lucky and keep your head down."

At least it was paying, that was the important thing. Without any work for so long, Altin had become an accidental vegetarian, surviving off his little garden while--

That was it! This was where he drew the line! Spot would not turn Bolt into another demon beast in horse form that would follow him around every time he stepped foot outside, waiting to strike. He was going to march over to that zebra right now and remind her which of them was the horse and which was the sim! In fact, by the end of the day, she was going to let him ride her, and this time it wouldn't wind up with him getting thrown to the ground in some distant town!

Altin could bribe her with carrots, right? Horses love carrots!

It was at that point that Altin discovered that while horses might love carrots, zebras preferred the taste of human flesh. If he was going to have to work this hard to get a bridle on Spot every time he wanted to ride her, he'd be in trouble. He only had so many fingers, after all.

(Z: Also, I've learned that caught-in-a-net thought bubble is EA's way of telling Altin "It's a trap!")

Tacking up completed, with more than its fair share of blood, sweat, and tears (mostly blood), now came the easy part. Altin just had to jump up onto her back like he did at the zoo, and everything would work out fine. 

He was beginning to expect that Spot only liked having him around when she needed zoo fences cut.

But Altin was determined, and he was fed up, and he was lucky, so he was pretty sure she wouldn't succeed at outright killing him. Minor limb damage, maybe, but the Grim Reaper could content himself with miscellaneous stray dogs today. He hoped.

Oh, that's not a good thought bubble...

...ouch.

Well, that was undignified. 

Altin pulled himself to his feet and brushed off the giant dirt-colored hoofprint on his shirt -- although the considerably more bruise-colored one underneath his shirt would be sticking around for a while -- and reassessed the situation. Maybe if he...

Oh, come on.

...no, that wouldn't work either.

They continued in this vein through most of the afternoon, with Altin spending more of the day laying on the ground than standing on it, and Spot showing him the handy trick she learned of twisting herself out of the tack and making Altin start all over again. He didn't dare take the chance to break for dinner (although Spot did), because he was afraid he wouldn't have the willpower to go back to getting kicked in the gut on a full stomach.

She was pretty keen on recycling.

(Z: Continued.)

Chapter 2: Christmas Came Early

Altin was getting that feeling again.

He'd have to stop swiping the onions and carrots Spot dug up for herself eventually, and if he wanted to pay for food he'd have to start bringing in some cash. It wasn't safe for him to apply for a legitimate job, not with the police after him, so that left Appaloosa's criminal underbelly. He'd call his contact; she'd be able to get him in with the local mafia. 

Maybe he'd go see her in person. He could ride Spot over to her home--

Telephone it is.

Altin makes the call and occupies his time with a small "garden" on the side of the warehouse. Well, really just a few raggedy plants someone had allowed to grow wild. He neatened  them up as best he could, and just as he was finishing up in the last of the day's light, his contact arrived.

Sage Oxendine, or as they had called her back when she trained Altin in the thiefly ways, "the Ox," was older than he remembered. It reminded Altin he was aging too, and one day he'd have to deal with that. But not today. 

"Listen, Ox, I need a little favor..."

"I know what you're going to ask, Snickerson. You want me to find you a way into the crew, don't you? We all heard how the Diamond job went. It was good work, no doubt, but the Veronaville cops are watching for you. If the Boss trusts you, you could bring us all down."

"Yeah, but you know me, Oxy. I'll come up with a brilliant plan to throw the police off my trail--"

"Which will be ridiculous and unsuccessful, but you'll just luck out and and have a solution drop into your lap. Like the prison, I assume. You'll have to tell me how you managed that one day.

Okay, I'll help you, but it'll be entry level, real smalltime stuff. Just don't mess up. This isn't your little Verona gang work, this is the Organization. You step an inch out of line and you'll drag me down with you. Now, here's what we'll do..."

The next morning, Altin realized there was a reason the zoo had been keeping Spot in a pen by herself. He knew nothing about horses (or zebras); he hadn't expected the present she left him during the night.

I think he's a heavy sleeper, Spot...

When Altin woke up that morning, a surprise was waiting. The foal looked to be part horse, a paint of some sort, and big, like his mother. Altin named him Bolt. Not because he was fast. Because every time Altin tried to get a closer look, Spot would come after him and he'd have to bolt for the house.

The new baby got him thinking, though. If he was going to need to climb the ranks of the Organization to make any real money, he'd have to stick around Appaloosa for a long time. And now that he had not one evil demon pet to take care of, but two, he'd better start making this old dump into more of a home. But first, he had to get Spot to trust him. Bolt was already acting like a little menace, just like his momma, and the last thing Altin wanted was two animals trying to kill him. That'd be his plan, then. Get back in the I'm-just-gonna-borrow-this-I'll-bring-it-right-back-I-swear business, stop sleeping on the floor of the warehouse...

...and appeal to Spot's friendly, compassionate side. Or something. He was still fuzzy on that part. He was sure it'd work out, right? I mean, how hard could it be?

(Z: Gratuitous baby picture!)