{"sf1_id":7818,"sf2_id":"k1V9VDWn","title":"The Goldrush, Ch.1","author":"MeshGearRal","words":1454,"posted_at":"2005-11-08T22:45:00.000Z","tags":["Bisexual","Bizarre","Horse","Human","Transformation","Wolf"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/7818-the-goldrush-ch-1","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/k1V9VDWn","image_url":"https://www.sofurryfiles.com/std/thumb?page=7818\u0026ext=.jpg","description":"#1 of The Goldrush","content":"(This isn't going to CONSTANTLY yiffy, but there are going to be several sex scenes. Which will be detailed, of course. So bear with me :P)  \n  \nIt was Tuesday.  \nEric pulled up in the van around two after noon. He opened the door, put one foot  \non the small ledge beneath it and contacted the ground with his right.  \n\"Your parents know you're doing thing?\"  \nI shook my head, \"Nah,\" then looked at him. \"Coyote?\"  \nHe shrugged and said, \"Fucked if I know.\" He didn't look like he was taking it  \ntoo well. \"So what's the rest of your family?\"  \n\"Dunno. I don't think they're any different. They acted pretty normal.\"  \n\"Oh. So how'd they treat you?\"  \n\"Said I was sick and locked myself in my bedroom.\"  \nHe coughed. \"Well...\"  \n\"Yeah, we better get going.\"  \nEric sat in the driver's seat. I took shotgun, and threw my luggage in the back.  \n\"It's low on gas,\" I said.  \n\"Yeah. I was gonna fill up, but it was kind of expensive at the Shell down the by  \nthe river-\"  \n\"I thought it was a BP.\"  \n\"Whatever. Gas in Lima's cheaper. We'll stop there. Not too far out of the way.\"  \n\"D'you pack anything?\" The car drove down Mechanic Street and turned right  \nonto the main drag, where they'd have the Indian Summer festivals in September, various  \nparades celebrating Neil Armstrong, and some nameless, tiny affairs in July, which  \nusually got rained out and attracted rednecks and the usually racist rabble.  \nEric wasn't talking. We passed the movie theatre and the post office.  \n\"What's up?\"  \n\"Nothing.\"  \n\"C'mon.\"  \n\"What the fuck's going on?\" Red light. He looked at me. \"I mean, why is this-\"  \nhe motioned to himself, \"-happening?\"  \n\"I don't know. It's not hurting anyone.\"  \n\"How is it that you're taking this so well?\"  \n\"I guess it hasn't sunk in yet?\" He looked like he was about to cry, and at that  \nmoment, I can't honestly there'd ever been a person I would've liked to hug more.  \nComforting, though, isn't always appropriate.  \n\"I'm just... scared.\"  \n\"Why?\"  \n\"Because if this is happening, then what else is possible? I mean, fuck. There is  \nno reality anymore!\"  \nDeep fear often comes out as melodrama, I guess. His words were banal, but the  \nthoughts behind them were sharp and black. I sat, watching him, and wished I knew how  \nhe felt; but as I'd told him, it just hadn't sunk in yet. Which scared me, I guess, because it  \nwas only a matter of time before I myself would be sitting in a chair and losing my grips  \non reality.  \nAlthough, all things considered, a strong grip on reality's worth was quickly  \ndropping.  \nEric clenched his teeth and shook his head.  \n\"We still on for D.C.?\"  \n\"Yeah. Yeah. I'd like to know where the hell the government's gone all through  \nthis.\"  \n\"Maybe it's a cover up. You know, if they just don't write some new legislature  \nabout it, then the general populace will just forget about, and it'll just go away. Sort of  \nlike Afghanistan!\"  \nSomehow I got him to laugh.  \n\"It's not that funny.\"  \n\"I love you, man.\"  \n\"Thanks. Er, watch the road.\"  \nWe drove past the familiar dome of the Neil Armstrong museum. A lot of kids  \nwant to be astronauts when they're little, but if you live in Wapak, space travel's magical  \nglister sort of wears off pretty quickly. Sort of like how the mural of Mr. Armstrong,  \nfestooned with all of its patriotic eagles and state seals and national seals, wore off the  \nside of some anonymous, abandoned shop downtown.  \n  \n\n\u0026nbsp; The priest stood off at the side of the road and was thumbing our way. Eric  \nslowed the car.  \n\"What're you doing?\"  \n\"Picking him up.\"  \n\"What if he's nuts?\"  \n\"If he is, then he's sane, and a helluva lot smarter than I am.\"  \nThe car stopped at the side of the road.  \nI rolled down the window. He looked nice enough. Still human. Platinum-blond  \nhair, black priestly robes, and a rather heavy-looking blue parka.  \nI felt Eric's arm against my chest as he leaned over me and towards the window.  \n\"Where ya' heading?\"  \n\"Cincinnati.\"  \n\"Cool. It's on our way. We're stopping in Lima for gas. That okay?\"  \nThe priest shrugged.  \n\"Alright. Hop in back.\"  \n\"Wait,\" I said. \"I'll get in back. He should be up front, 'case you need directions.\"  \n\"Hey, if you say so.\"  \nI opened the door and jump down onto the gravel, and noticed that, for late  \nSeptember, it was pretty warm outside.  \n  \n\"So, what's your name?\" Eric said.  \n\"Oh, just call me Browning.\"  \n\"Ah, alright. So, what're you doing in Cincinnati?\"  \n\"Just visiting friends.\"  \n\"Ah, okay. I was wondering if it was a church thing or something.\"  \nEric was never really one for sensitivity.  \n\"What?\"  \n\"The... priest clothes...\"  \nBrowning laughed. \"Oh, no. I'm no priest.\"  \n\"Why're you dressed like one?\" I said.  \n\"Well, this might sound strange, but... well, I lost my luggage. I picked this up at  \na thrift store. It was all I had. Things are strange enough already, so I figured nobody  \nwould care.\"  \nEric started laughing again, and then sighed.  \n\"Thank god, you noticed! I thought I was losing it for a second.\"  \n\"Well, yes. I just didn't want to bring it up, although it looks like it's getting to be  \nthe norm...\"  \nWe pulled onto the onramp.  \n\"Hey, anyone want donuts?\" Eric motioned at the Pat's opposite us. \"Crap. Do I  \nturn here or go through Cridersville..?\"  \n\"I've been to this one before. Not terribly good-\" Eric cocked his eyebrows \"-  \noh, and turn right.\"  \n\"You live here?\" I said.  \n\"Used to, few years ago. Nice town, although it's a bit dull. Where're you kids  \nfrom?\"  \n\"Wapak.\"  \n\"Oh! That's Neil Armstrong's home town! Must be pretty exciting to-left here.  \nYeah, that's right-to live there.\"  \nOh God, no. It's dreadful.  \n\"It's great. I like having such a rich... historical background. Cultural  \nbackground.\"  \n\"Right. Past the CVS. So, shouldn't you two be in school?\"  \n\"Probably,\" Eric said. \"Hey, d'you know what that large, yellow billboard thing  \nis?\"  \nOff to the right, on an extremely tall metal pole, there was a yellow square. It was  \ncompletely blank, and did resemble a billboard, slightly.  \n\"Always wondered that myself. Heard the local reserves use it for target practice,  \nthough I doubt that's the case.\"  \nSomething about Browning felt old, but he couldn't have been more than thirty.  \nMaybe he wasn't human. Something in his carriage was freaking me out, though.  \n\"Which one?\" Eric swung his hand about. There were three gas stations.  \n\"Whichever's cheapest,\" I said.  \n\"They're all the same.\"  \n\"I'll go for BP then. They've got a nice little store.\"  \nEric parked and got out. I sat, watching him pull the nozzle out of the pump and  \ninsert it slowly into the side of the van. I got out myself. The weather seemed colder. It  \nwas the wind.  \n\"I'm going in for a soda. You want anything?\"  \n\"Aye, yeah. See if they have Tab.\"  \n\"C'mon.\"  \n\"Alright, fine,\" with this odd, facetious little arm-wave. \"Dew?\"  \n\"I can get that.\"  \n\"Oh, and could you pay? Here. I've got forty.\"  \nI nodded and walked inside. There was a pretty large line. People were buying  \nbooze and water, mostly. I was sorta of surprised that gas prices weren't skyrocketing,  \ngiven that they usually do whenever something even remotely abnormal happens, even if  \nthat something doesn't affect gas prices at all. Somehow, watching everyone go about  \nbusiness as usual was comfortable.  \nI walked to the back and grabbed two Mountain Dews, and then stood in line. I  \nthink it was then that I noticed that the van was gone. You'd really expect to hear some  \nsort of loud screech as the van careened madly out of the parking lot and into traffic or  \nsomething. You'd really expect me to see this and run out screaming madly, and trying to  \nmake heads or tails of the situation; wondering what I was going to eat or where I was  \ngoing to stay.  \nNone of that happened. I pocketed the money, set the drinks down and left. Eric  \nwas dead, and Browning had hijacked the car. There really was no other explanation. He  \nprobably had a shotgun in that parka he was wearing.  \nOr maybe there never was an Eric or a Browning.  \nRegardless, I took it in stride. I was on my own, and all the potentials, who's, and  \nwhere's didn't matter very much.  \nThe gas station suddenly filled with cars. A man came out, holding a long pole  \nand some vinyl numbers.  \nI am a wolf. Eric was a coyote. Eric is dead. I am alone. I don't really care.  \nIt's Tuesday afternoon. It's about three o'clock.  \n  \n  \n\n"}