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Thunder Mountain Facility
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Below are the 11 most recent journal entries recorded in Thunder Mountain Facility's LiveJournal:

Thursday, May 14th, 2020
6:58 pm
Street Party in Clarefield
Open invitation for all Jeremiah pups & friends.

Street party going on in Clarefield. Free booze. Just about anything goes... don't burn down the town.

Current Mood: busy
Tuesday, May 3rd, 2005
12:53 pm
The Library: Open Mike Night
The small library that Thunder Mountain used to host to the ongoing supply of books that trickled inside with new recruits and refugees was packed tight with people, from the tiniest babe to the adults that were ineffectively trying to keep order. The room was tiny and designed to store military supplies, not a mass of teeming bodies that were currently covering every square inch. Sitting on a stool in front of the crowd, Markus tried to hide his grin, pleased that so many people had turned out for this evening’s open mike night.

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Monday, January 31st, 2005
11:21 am
In the heart of the forest, in a very small clearing, two figures sat on either side of a camp fire. They spoke to each other in low voices that carried no further than their circle -- when they spoke at all, so very comfortable were they in each other's presence.

A movement through the trees caught Byron's attention and he held up a hand, gently stilling Madison's words.

"They're here," he said simply.

She turned to look in the direction he indicated and waited patiently for their guests to arrive.

Current Mood: contemplative
Sunday, January 30th, 2005
8:17 pm
Things Left Unsaid
((A week after this))

The message arrived in an innocent enough way, carried tightly in the hands of a somber eyed child. The 98 refugees from tiny Haymarket were as bedraggled and weary as the thousands of others who had preceded them, pouring into Thunder Mountain in a steady stream that bore witness to the relentless approach of Daniel's forces. Once inside, they were met by one of the more seasoned recruits of the Mountain's burgeoning army and given assignments to rooms and food and clothing.

The messenger, a seven year old child without mother or father, walked up to one of the recruits in fatigues and reached up to pull on her sleeve. When she looked down at him with a question, he held out a folded piece of paper. Perplexed, the soldier opened the note and read the following,


We would speak to you of things left unsaid. There is one more Tale left for you to hear. You know our circle. The friends we have met are welcome.

The note was unsigned and made absolutely no sense. But then, it wasn't addressed to her.

Gina briskly passed the child on to another in her platoon, asking that he be given food, a bath, and clean clothing but that they should keep an eye on him at all times. Just in case there was something more sinister at foot.

"Where are you going?" her colleague asked as she marched briskly off.

"I have a message to deliver," Gina threw over her shoulder, the cryptic note tight in her hand.

Current Mood: mysterious
8:46 am
Returning to the Mountain
::After Mister Smith's funeral::

"Lady ... " Kurdy leaned forward in the car, ignoring the protests of his companions in the back seat, "You are gonna have to give me somethin' a lot stronger than beer to make me swallow that shit!"

He stabbed a finger in the general direction of Rak's shoulder. If she'd been male, or if he'd known her any better than a few hours association, the finger would have made contact and probably left a bruise. "You march in and drop on us that the guy is dead, you take us to his funeral so we can watch him go up in smoke, and now you're tryin' to tell us he may come back? That is one sick-ass joke, lady!"

Current Mood: annoyed
Friday, January 28th, 2005
11:55 am
Message in a Bottle
A small, nondescript brown box, tied closed with a single piece of twine, sat at the foot of the imposing metal doors to Thunder Mountain. As the sun rose over the forest, the morning patrol gave the package a wide berth, notifying Lee of their discovery and waiting anxiously for a specially trained bomb unit to investigate.

Several hours later, once it has been investigated thoroughly and deemed of no threat -- at least from a lethal device -- the box is delivered under armed guard to its intended recipient.

The only name on the exterior is Markus Alexander.

Inside are two items. A note written in a bold hand and a Book.

My condolensces on the loss of your resident prophet and madman, Markus. At times such as this, I find a bit of light reading always helps. ~Sims

The Book inside the box is worn and dog-earred, pinned open to a particular page with the blade of a bowie knife. In case this is not indication enough of the sender's intent, highlighted in yellow is Jeremiah 16:18-19.

Current Mood: cynical
Tuesday, January 25th, 2005
1:44 am
The windows in the lounge were full length. Floor to ceiling panes of reinforced glass, curved in such a way that standing close enough you could look down over the Thunder Mountain loading bay as if you stood on nothing at all.

Rak took in the view - people scurrying, working, playing, all the way to the huge steel doors to the outside. Her eyes were calm, her breathing soft and even - only the tightness in her shoulders and the arms folded across her chest gave away the edge she was trying to hide.

Sighing, she glanced across at the man on the couch nearby. "Are you ... ?" She stopped herself before she said 'OK'. That would have been a silly question.

"Dealing." Devon looked up at her, knowing what she meant even if the question went unfinished. "Not very well," he admitted ruefully, rising and moving to stand beside her, "but dealing."

"I'm sorry." She'd cheated a little, telling Devon first. It wasn't really fair to him - he was as shocked as anyone - but he was older, and steadier, and she'd wanted an ally, someone at her back when she had to tell the others. Her folded arms tightened a little more. Devon was staring morosely out of the window, his entire posture that of a man in dire need of another hug.

Well ... he'd get one. Just not yet. Markus, Jeremiah and Kurdy would be here any second, and any show of emotion would have her in tears and destroy the sense of calm she was trying to attain. Someone would need to stay calm.

Even if calm was the last thing she felt like being.

Current Mood: melancholy
Saturday, November 27th, 2004
1:03 pm
Many Meetings
Seated around a campfire in the heart of the forest, the Tellers spoke in soft voices that carried no further than the light of their circle. Two women and one man seated on logs with the ease of old acquaintance. There was a third log in their circle, currently unoccupied. Reserved seating, should the visitors they expected arrive at the appointed hour. They carried no watches. Time was not measured in minutes or hours, but by the stars in the sky and the arc of the sun and the moon.

The wind whispered through the trees and their quiet conversation stilled to silence in order that they may listen.

"They're coming," said Byron.

Current Mood: curious
Sunday, October 17th, 2004
3:28 pm
Unfolding Secrets
It was early morning when Mister Smith returned to Thunder Mountain from a long night out. Instead of finding a quiet corner or couch in which to curl up and catch some much needed rest, he went directly to Markus' office. He didn't want to wait. Now that he had permission, he didn't want to give them any time to change their minds.

It's time, thought Mister Smith as he approached the office. Markus needs to know. He needs to see. And they need to meet Markus. Devon, too.

The office door was open. A good sign. Hesitantly peeking inside, not knowing if Markus was alone or in session, he knocked gently on the door frame and waited.

Current Mood: contemplative
Thursday, September 30th, 2004
7:44 am
Markus sits alone at the large office table, casually reading a book or poetry, and drinking some coffee. The room lights are dim, and papers are spread haphazardly across the table. It's late, and most of Thunder Mountain is asleep. Except Markus, who seems to never have the need.
Monday, September 27th, 2004
1:14 pm
A small inn only a few miles from Thunder Mountain. It's not classy, but nor is it a rough or rowdy place. It's simply an inn where local people gather at the end of the day for a drink and a chat with friends.

Markus sits alone near the back of the room, nursing a small whisky in a somewhat clean glass. He's looking forward to a casual night of drinking, ideally with some friends.
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