Fun with Bolt and Penny 6: Sticky Situation #6 of Fun with Bolt and Penny No sex in this chapter. Poor Bolty needed a break. And you get to complain only if you've been having constant sex for the last five chapters of your life. ^_^ Have fun! Fun with Bolt & Penny 6: Sticky Situation By Tempo ~ ~ ~ Bolt breathed deeply in the cool Autumn air, eyes closed. Thinner scents than the richness of spring or summer, earthier too. Dry leaves, wet soil: interleaved with these ran a scent light and feminine, the scent of his person. He opened his eyes; she was smiling at him. Her red hair was longer than she'd let it be in years, falling on her shoulders, catching the lingering wind of a morning cloudburst. Penny rolled to her stomach and looked down the hill. Her eyes, serene but wakeful, surveyed the open spaces below. He couldn't remember a time when she'd seemed so... at peace. Fuzzy recollections of puppyhood surfaced in his mind, long submerged by duty and danger. There had been a time when she'd been this happy, when they both had, and slowly, very slowly that time was returning. He pondered that for a moment, head tilting slightly. Do all journeys take you in circles? Or just the big ones? He shook his head, smiling at himself. The canine padded through the damp grass and laid down parallel to his person, eyes flicking to hers for a moment. As if feeling the caress of his gaze, she gave him a silent simper of rapport. Warmth swelled in his chest and his ears flopped back in joy. I have a good person. Together, they appraised the raw adventure laid out before them. "We've been down in that shelter belt and this road curves back around to our house. That line of trees runs along the creek." She winked. The canine's tail dipped shyly. Sun and shadow traced shapes on the back of her light jacket, shifting as she propped an arm under her chin. "But past that, there are lots of places we haven't been." She slipped the small binoculars from her coat pocket. They were less advanced than he was used to, having no eavesdropping ability whatsoever, but they worked. They had discovered the view from this hill and it was steadily becoming a staging area. She peered through the binoculars. "Is he not coming out today-- Oh! There he is. Right on time." She held the binoculars up for him. Bolt wiggled forward to peek through. Sure enough, there was that same farmer. Every afternoon they'd been up here, he had come out at the same time, carrying something to the faded red barn. Often it was a large sack, but at least once he'd carted a barrel out there on his wobbly wheelbarrow. "That's really weird. I've never seen any animals down there. What does he *do* with all that stuff?" She put the binoculars back in her pocket, the mission smile materializing. Bolt's tail worked up to a slow wag; adventure always followed determined smiles. "I think we'd better check it out. What do ya say, Bolt?" He yapped, bounced to his feet, and then shook himself off. Penny smiled at him, then got up too, brushing stray grass and leaves from her jacket. Together the pair descended the slope, crossing through bands of leaves girding the hillside like clouds. From the base of the hillock, they reconnoitered the surest route to the farm in question. Hastening over ditches and through windbreaks, the dog trotted at his person's side. Running felt good; he'd never understand how Mittens, Mom, and Rhino could tolerate sitting around all day. A wooden fence was their last obstacle, but Penny vaulted over it in one slick motion. Bolt had to stoically wriggle under it, loose grass sticking to his tummy. On the other side of the fence grew a copse of trees. They took cover in this shelter belt, waiting, watching. The doors of the mystery barn hung open, the space inside cavernous. Dim shapes could be glimpsed within. Penny stepped out from around a tree for a better view. Bolt heeled to his person, ears tilted forward eagerly. All seemed still. She gave him a nod. Quietly, they stepped out from the shelter belt and onto the mud and grass between. No cover. We'll have to be fast. Just as they were about to make a dash for it, the farmer emerged! The pair ducked down into the brush and undergrowth, brittle branches and dying leaves trembling around them. Twigs prickled Bolt's pelt, but he remained still. The man looked out, glancing directly across their hiding spot. After a breathless moment, he turned, closed the barn doors, locked them, and slunk back to the house. They watched for a moment to make sure this wasn't a trap, then broke cover and crossed the distance to the large red barn. Bolt had seen one or two of these and they'd always had a distinct animal smell. This one smelled different, some sort of vapor wafted invisibly around it. Whatever chemicals they were using smelled almost sweet. Up close, they could see the red paint of the barn had been painted more than once, the chipping remains of older layers buried under new. Penny touched the heavy padlock chained across the doors. The crafty teen pressed her back flat against the front of the barn, ducking her head around the corner to verify the area was clear. They slipped around to the side of the building, taking care to creep close to the wall to make sure they weren't easily spotted. Near the back of the barn they found another door, smaller and unpainted, locked just as securely. Penny raised a hand, signaling a stop. "Whatever this guy has in here, he clearly wants it kept secret." Bolt nodded, eyes watchful. They assessed their options for infiltration. A large pile of wood ran along this side of the building, roughly four feet high and held in place by tall metal posts. Above that, the wall ran in featureless vertical planks until about ten feet up, where a horizontal beam marked the second story. Penny examined this, then stretched. She then climbed up the side of the woodpile, careful to grip only the logs pinned in place by those above them. Once at the top, his person reached up toward the horizontal beam, fingertips reaching *just* high enough to grab the small ledge atop it. "Jeez. Good thing I hit a growth spurt." The canine watched, unsure just what she was planning. Then he saw it: a window. Positioned about three feet above the beam, the small window had been blown out by some storm or more likely an explosion, the dog decided. From microwaved eggs to stray-capturing trucks to those pretty lights in the sky Penny had taken him to watch this summer; Bolt had learned that things occasionally detonating were not just an aspect of the TV world. His person climbed hand over hand along the ledge, her shoes danging in the air. There would be no woodpile to land on if she fell, only hard ground far below. Bolt watched, impressed. Jeez. People are amazing. Penny's fingers slipped. Suddenly she was dangling by just a single arm, her whole body side-on to the barn wall. Her remaining hand gripped the ledge tightly; Bolt yipped in concern. He frisked from side to side below, fretting, uncharacteristically helpless. Without so much as a flinch, Penny kicked out her opposite leg, rebounding off the wall and gaining the momentum to swing her free arm back around. After a moment of terrible limbo, her hand caught the ledge again and she was safe. Penny rested for a second, then continued. The canine started breathing again. Amazing and crazy. Having reached the vicinity of the window, Penny reached up, caught the very lip of the ledge and carefully checked the window sill for glass before taking a firmer hold. Her feet found the ledge she'd used and she disappeared into into the second story window. After some clattering noises within, she slid a very long, flat board out of the window where it tottered, pitched, and tipped down to the ground. One end dug into the earth about five feet from the base of the barn. This improvised ramp was steep, smooth, and narrow, only about six inches wide. He could make it. He had to; his person was up there without backup. She stood at the window, holding the board stable; the dog could delay no further. Circling back to position for a running start, he closed his eyes and visualized his approach with a steadying breath. Okay. So what I do here is get a running start, let the momentum carry me up the board, and then land inside the window. With a growl, he charged fearlessly. The sod tore under his paws, the feel of grass soon replaced by that of unforgiving timber. The board bounced under his weight, threatening to hurtle him off. My person is in danger. I have to reach her. He was no ordinary dog; he had training; he was a pro. He also had mud on his paws. Mere feet from the window, he slipped. Time slowed. His paws scrabbled for purchase and then, sluggish as a nightmare, his body skidded off the board. The wind swept through his fur. Then he hit the barn. Hard. For a moment, his paws hung in space and then something yanked tight around his neck. Penny's hand gripped his collar. It hauled him up with a stifled yelp. His person grunted at the effort and he was dragged over the window sill. His paws dropped against the dusty floor, skidding a few inches. They both collapsed on the floor. "Bolt!" She clutched him close, as if worried he'd still somehow fall. "Are you okay?!" The dog yapped, but it came out as a wheeze. His breath returned. He stood and bumped his nose against her shoulder. Lots easier on TV, huh? She placed hand carefully on the nape of his neck, smoothing his fur. Though his throat still tingled, he'd recovered enough to take in his surroundings. The same miasma that surrounded the building was redoubled within. It stung his eyes and overwhelmed his nose, like tear gas brewed from aftershave. After a few paced breaths, he adjusted, but still felt vulnerable. He'd be unable to smell anybody coming if this turned into an ambush. After watching him for a moment, Penny smiled and crept along the ancient floorboards; dust creaked out from between them. Sunlight knifed down between loose sections in the wall. The loft had stacks of unused timber in varying lengths, green and new against the gray wood of the floor. They advanced furtively, slipping back into their old formation: he watched left and rear, she right and forward. Under their feet, glimpses of the mystery flashed through the gaps in the floor. Shining metal clashed with the dull wood. They found a small hatch with a swing door propped partly open. Breeze swept through in gasps, dragging tendrils of pale dust. A ladder was built into wall below it. Penny stuck her head down, giving him the "hold up" signal. Her shoulders shifted as she turned, assessing any threats. She looked up and nodded to him. The nimble human slipped her legs down onto the rungs then climbed silently down the ladder. It creaked under her. Bolt's gaze followed her down. No slip-ups this time, okay? *That's* my person. Once at the bottom, she gave the area one more appraisal, then looked back up at him. She held up one finger, then two... We're using all of our old tricks today. He wagged. She held up three fingers. He jumped down the hole. Penny caught him with an "oof!" but managed to keep hold. She laughed quietly. "You're heavy." He looked up at her, still wagging. What's next? Heat Vision? She set him down, whispering: "Good job, buddy." Bolt took in the scene. Squat metallic drums were spaced at intervals throughout the open area. Plastic tubing snaked among them, piping mysterious brown chemicals. The smells had knocked his nose into a coma. Even Penny probably smelled it. There were such huge trade-offs for being a person. Good thing only one of us is human or we'd never get anything done. "What *is* this place?" His person looked around in awe. They start walking among the drums and the paper sacks. Aside from white dust swirling off those huge paper sacks they passed, the floor was immaculate She touched some of the white powder. It crumbled thinly between her fingers. She raised her fingers as if to sniff at it, then froze, looking with suspicion. Huge bins of something sat sealed in the corner. Forcing one open, they revealed themselves to be full of dark lumpy stuff. The smaller steel drums wouldn't open at all and kept their mysteries hidden. Two massive brick structures dominated the middle of the structure, twin smokestacks running straight out the ceiling. The side parts were burnt black from regular use. The teenager looked a little scared. Bolt nuzzled her fingers. Her throat cleared. "I... I think this is some sort of drug lab. We'd better get outta--" A rattle of chains. The front door swung open. A dark silhouette blotted out the light. The man from before! The figure entered and froze as he saw the pair. Bolt's muscles went rigid. It may be too late to hide, but I won't let him lay a finger on Penny. "How did you get in here, little lady?" The old man's voice ground like gravel. He took a step toward them. Penny stammered, edging back. "I um..." Bolt growled, hackles prickling up. "Whoa there, buddy." Keeping an eye on Bolt, the farmer, or whatever he was, walked closer. His boots rang against the floor, swirling a trail of naked concrete under the film of white. Age ran in furrows across his face. A dirty checkered shirt hung off his rail-thin body. "I've gotta say I'm impressed. Most folks never make it this far. Isn't conducive to business, having kids and their dogs snooping around in here." He smiled. Bolt shuddered: it was a bad sign when people caught you and smiled. "Actually, we were just going." His person somehow managed to sound confident. Bolt glanced up at her for reassurance. "I can't let you go just yet." The man chuckled softly. His wrinkled hand closed around a rusty crow bar hanging from a nail. "After all the trouble of getting in here, there's no way I could let you just leave now, could I?" Penny backed up, slipping into a defensive stance. Bolt lowered his body, ready to leap. The man was now just a few feet away and walking still closer. His grip on the crowbar showed ease, as if he wielded it often. It swung from hand to calloused hand. The scrawny teen stood with shoulders back, looking the man right in the face. "My mom lives just up the road. She'll know if I'm gone." Bolt snarled. *Clang!* The old man thrust the crowbar into the rim of a drum lid. With one powerful motion, he pried it open. He smiled again, his teeth discolored by decades of tobacco. "Who said you were going anywhere, little lady?" * * * * * "Hey, sweetie. Did you have a nice walk?" "Yeah. I met one of our neighbors." Penny set a flower-patterned paperboard box on the kitchen table and took off her jacket. A scattering of paperwork lay before Mom, competing for table space with her aluminum laptop. The middle-aged woman eyed the box over her reading glasses. "What's this?" "The guy makes fruitcakes. It's actually kinda cool." "Well, that's nice. I think I heard something about him at the supermarket." Mom thought for a moment, tugging off her reading glasses and twirling them between her fingers. "Though I'd prefer you not talk to strangers." "Mom, I'm not a little kid." She leaned against the back of a chair. Her dog sat down beside her, looking up. "Besides, I had Bolt with me. What could happen?" ~ ~ ~ Editing by: Vendetta & Mittens There you go! Hope you enjoyed this little adventure. Please let me know what you think. :) ~Tempo