It was easy to forget, in this electrical mausoleum, a shrine to the day of technology that there had been anything or any other or any more company than she had now.

Until the one night she was woken by the white static of an untuned television in the room next to hers.

She'd been sleeping restlessly. No big surprise there. She'd been a light sleeper as a kid, and then when the--

Well. She just wasn't a deep sleeper, was all. She was halfway out of the huge bed, shoving papers out of her way, before it occurred to her that something was Wrong. That was dangerous, she thought. That was really dangerous. You didn't know who could be around. All sorts of trash used to come here.

She'd fixed that, using a handful of the stuff she and Ada had worked out Before, taking trips into the city to get the junk she needed with the horses pulling a load on a cart, because hell if any truck or even car was getting through some of those passes. And now she was going to have to start over, because the stupid water had decided to quit on her. Dammit, she didn't want to move all her stuff.

So now she got down more carefully, a lot more aware and kinda scared, but she'd blown away trash before, she could do it again. Lilo had rules. You didn't call her Amelia, you didn't mess with her stuff, and you didn't tell her she was stupid. Under her bed and she found, without fumbling around, the lovely intimidating gun that she'd designed herself. She fit it over her shoulder, then unlocked a drawer and pulled out a nasty smaller gun that was half military, half underworld. A toy that no kid her age should have, but Ada'd gotten it "no problem." His words. She'd probably use the little one if it came down to it. Her design wasn't meant to do much beside look scary as all hell and make a big bloody mess.

Lilo tapped the papers on her (it was hers now) bed and straightened it a bit, so They wouldn't think she didn't have anything better to do that hunt down Trashy sneaks. Then she slid out the door...carefully...and, back against the wall, slid over to the next door. She hit the light on her monster; it would work like a floodlight. The Trash would piss themselves, she'd have a good laugh before she beat them senseless.

She swung into the next room, slamming back the door as she went, making all sorts of racket. Only she stubbed her toe on the door. That hurt, and the Trash...in the sixth of an instant it took her to finish the turn, she swore to god she'd shoot anything in there that wasn't fast enough to run away.

She swung into the next room, slamming back the door as she went, making all sorts of racket. Only she stubbed her toe on the door. That hurt, and the Trash...in the sixth of an instant it took her to finish the turn, she swore to god she'd shoot anything in there that wasn't fast enough to run away.

There was no other disturbance, apart from the television as she cautiously walked through the house. It was unnaturally loud after the silence that had existed in the house over the last while.

As she stubbed her toe on the doorway, there a sudden disturbance outside: the horses cried out, their voices even shriller than normal in their sudden panic.

The television instantly grew louder, and in that second before she entered the room, she heard, faintly within the damned static... could it be? Yes it was. Human voices, apparently in anguish, their words horribly distorted in the transmission, yet it sounded like they were saying the same nonsense syllables over and over again, to judge from rise and fall of the tone. They fell silent for a time.

Now she could see the television, white snow on it's screen. Had she stared at the screen hard enough, she may have thought she could see shapes in the static, but it was a falsehood. There was nothing there.

Suddenly the words came again, louder this time, and more intelligable. It sounded like, "Trapped! We are trapped!"

Then the television switched itself off, the screen still glowing.

The high pitched wail of a horses scream of terror outside, sounded again, once only. And it was cut off short.

She wouldn't remember it a half minute later; it would be blocked out. But for a second, the jump her stomach gave at the voices, the television, the screams outside...it sent a black crack of horror through her, and suddenly the whole dam was nothing more than a window, with building blocked terror on the other side, overwhelming her, vision-blanking sort of terror...

Her mind snapped back in time, and wisely attributed the lingering bit of scream to the horses. Something was messing with her horses. She needed those, dammit. There was a Mercedes here, sure, but they weren't her style, and they couldn't make the trips back and forth to the city, let alone haul her stuff.

"Cheap TV," she muttered, pushing thick and silky hair out of her face, and ran lightly out of the room and up the grand stair, into the room that overlooked the yard. She sat in the middle of three bazooka-like modifications of hers, set up so they'd swivel in bay windows and dormers, and slammed on the floodlight, ready to take out whatever was messing with her horses.

As she slammed the screen door and bolted down the steps towards the horses, there was another sound.

Something had exploded in the house. She heard one window break, then saw the like of flame light the sky. It didn't sound to be very big, and it certainly wasn't house destroying. If she turned now, she would not see it: it was on the other side of the house.

Lilo could see the horses from here. One was down and the other two milling around the corner furtherest away from it, breathing heavily. The roan mare was rearing in terror, but they were little more than small bucks now. Though if there was a moon, Lilo, beneath the cushion of the foulsmelling grey clouds that passed for sky these days, couldn't see it, the horses adopted a sheen from somewhere (the explosion, her own terror....perhaps) and dimly Lilo could see that they were covered in sweat.

The pungent smell of smoke and ozone betrayed the fact that one side of the house was on fire and burning leisurely.

Lilo cursed eloquently. She had no water...not enough in the short time period before the fire started taking over. She left her seat, and raced down to her room, stripped off the satin nightshirt, and threw on black silk stockings, tailored charcoal pants, a knit black tanktop, and a thick black angora sweater. Elegant leather boots slipped over her stockinged feet, a black silk scarf held back her hair, then she got down to the business of clearing things out. She piled clothes into a rucksack as fast as she could, then moved to her beloved weapons room, grabbing as many of her precious creations she could handle and still aim, including a small case which held five fully loaded, ridiculously unattainable handguns. "Thank you, Ada," she whispered, and saw him giving her his easy grin. No problem, Lilo. Now get the hell out before you fry your pretty derriere, sweet.

She ran out the back door, flipping on the light of her shoulder weapon. Her intended path formed in her head, neat as physics. To the cart, drop the stuff except the two weapons she'd started with, then over to the horses. Take out anything bothering them, put out the roan if needed, hook up the remaining to the cart, head back to the house, grab as much stuff as she could, try to see what'd blown up if she was feeling lucky, head back out, then get the horses going as fast as they could manage to the Patterson's, then to the city.

The roan had finally quietened down: there was no need for Lilo to put her out. The other, however, was dead. There was no sign of what may have killed it, just the lingering warmth of departed life.

Her sure fingers managed to attach the cart to the remaining two horses with minimal fumbling in the dark, and she was off.

The patterson's barn loomed up in the rosy darkness. It was a barn right out of a picture of the perfect farm. Big enough to house livestock and hay, and painted in Tudor style, the black crosses dimly visible against the white.

It appeared to be deserted, as did the whole of their property. There weren't even any livestock wandering the farm. There was a large truck, and a motorbike parked in the driveway. Windchimes from the front verandah of the house sounded like distant discordant fairy bells.

The double doors to the barn were locked, but there was a single door access just to the side of them. This appeared to be ajar.

From within the barn, there came a rhythmic creaking noise.

The floodlight startled a half starved horse that was in the barn. The poor animal reared feebly. It's ribs were stark in the brilliant floodlight. But it was not the source of the creaking.

Lilo could see the cause for the animals hunger before she could locate the sound: the hay was locked in a cage like contraption, that human hands would have had no problem opening, but it was way beyond a horse.

The wind blew suddenly, and the creaking resumed. As Lilo's gaze searched the barn, she located the source. The entire Patterson family were hanging from the rafters, swaying gently in the wind. Small wounds appeared to have been inflicted to their entire bodies, etched in their arms, their legs, their faces at first seemingly random, but the more Lilo stared at them, she could pick the pattern. They followed the paths of all of the major ateries in the body.

Yuck. Lilo made a face.

She didn't like this, even a little bit. A heavy, put-upon sigh, and she started walking towards the cage. This was gross; she wanted out as soon as she could. Hell with the lip balm.

Having no more desire to go out in that gruesome fashion than she had to have the Plague eat her from the inside out, she kept herself alert as she neared the cage. Still, precious little adrenaline coursed through her, despite the circumstances. This horrific situation didn't frighten her, it annoyed her, and her senses annoyed her accordingly.

Though if anything got between her and feeding her horses, she was *so* going to blow its head off. Assuming it had a head.

Lilo was able to access the hay without any further interference. It was a little old, but would have to do. The Patterson family remained swinging benignly above her head, gruesome angels paying homage to the living person below them.

As Lilo was bundling the hay, a noise came from the house, loud only because the night was prenaturally silent. It was vaguely reminiscent of the television at the other house, but less dangerous. It sounded like a child's walkie talkie and coming from it was the sound of a human voice.

"Is anybody out there? Is anybody out there? Does anyone read me?"