Fleming Unit #111 Collusion Confusion
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Posted by Odd Eight Ball on: 02:48 PM, 12/ 7/17
Fleming Unit #111: Collusion Confusion
   The air was cold and the sky cloudy as I shuffled into my truck. It had been getting colder lately, but I knew I had to get this done today. Took the long way to the storage facility in an attempt to put it off a little longer, but before I knew it I had arrived. I looked up at the sign that said "Fleming Plaza" and crusied into the storage units. It didn't take long to get to my own unit, #111. I unlocked the padlock and pulled up the door and took a look inside.
   Despite how much junk me and my wife had moved out yesterday, there were still a fair amount of items left. We had carried out most of the important stuff, but like the pack rats we were, we only made a dent in the pile. I was given explicit orders: toss whatever we don't need, and bring back anything that was actually expensive. When I called my daughter, she gave me similiar instuctions. I pushed past the gardening tools leaning on the wall and made my way in. I surveyed the room, eyeing most of the garbage on the floor.
   I'd brought plenty of trashbags and figured I'd leave the heavier items for the cops. They were planning on searching the whole facility, I figured they probably had a whole garbage truck lined up to get ride of whatever people left behind. Apparently there had been a corpse in one of the units, resulting in the company telling it's customers to retrieve their belongings. Me and my wife had been planning on cleaning this place up eventually, so this was a nice way to light a fire under out pants. I decided I'd do my civic duty and help the cops out by taking care of the trash in here. Well, some of it at least.
   I took a large broom from the wall and swept up the trash into a nice pile, stacked up old, dusty books and dumped them, and lifted a few smaller objects into the bed of the truck. There were a few of my daughter's old pieces of elementary art, all signed with a red signature "C" for Courtney. It killed me to toss them too, but I took a few pictures with my phone so we'd still have something. The more I moved out, the closer I got to the back of the unit, and eventually found myself at Courtney's own little corner. A lot of this had been things she left after she moved out to college, so she was probably okay with tossing most of it.
   I picked up a few framed movie posters, plenty of which that I didn't recognize aside from a Pulp Fiction one. Underneath I found an old blanket. It was a white floral one that had been special one to Courtney as a kid. I remember how she called it her "sick blanket" and used it whenever she had to stay home from school. It saw a lot of use during her junior year in high school. She had been running a high fever for more than a week and the doctor was convinced it was something serious. But to our relief, Courtney began to recover shortly after the visit. Despite her fatigue, she had still continued her favorite hobbies: movies, reading, and taking care of rabbits. I thought for a moment and looked around, maybe it was still here?...
   I walked towards a large, blue tarp and pulled it off. It was still here, the old rabbit hutch Courtney used to raise and breed rabbits. They were... Eastren Cottontails, I think? They had brown fur and she used to take a few of them out to a local forest and let them run around, (in a small perimeter cage that she could set up). Courtney would sell a few or give away some here and there. There were a few hunters that did eat rabbit around here and I've tried some myself. It does taste a bit like chicken, but think a lower tier, less tasty chicken.
   No way I'm moving that cage out of here, I'd leave that for the cops. I piled empty food bags and broken feed equipment into the trash bag before finding something else. Another blue tarp, this one folded up and heavier than it should be. I unfurled it a bit, looking at black splotches covering it. I shook it and out fell a knife and a piece of paper. My knees bent down and I grabbed it's handle, this was my old hunting knife. I had thought I lost it ages ago. The piece of paper was harder to examine, the hastily scrawled chicken scratch was illegible to me. I could only recognize a few words, one being "Rabbits".
   I took one last look at the tarp. Those weren't splotches, it was a painted design. The tarp was tossed in the trash along with the paper. Garbage was shoveled into bags, items lifted into the truck, and the storage unit looked better then it ever had in years. I shut the door with a loud slam and small click of a padlock. Walked back and got into the car and looked down. My knife was still in my grip. It was heavy in my hands.


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