beyondtheline | cosmic ash and blackened brain, I call you by

cosmic ash and blackened brain, I call you by - wait no don't do that

[The night carries the two of them south. While Johnnie's original plan based on his map had been to travel down the coastline, he's still cautious about what lurks there, and opts for a quieter, inland route that bypasses most of the major cities in South Carolina. Whatever this state might hold, they'll miss it, aside for a brief pit stop near Lake Marion to refuel the tank, fill up on snacks, and get Chrissy a little more knife fighting practice (though with sticks found at the lakeside, no sharp edges here) before either of them are too low on energy for that.

There are long stretches where towns mostly vanish, where they're lucky to have pavement at all judging by the lack of civilization around them. The road material shifts at one point into something strange and glassy, and Johnnie has a hard time finding traction for the bike - and the explanation comes in the form of some strange electric vehicle with neon lights that zips rapidly past them, floating over the road rather than touching it. It's cool, but it also makes the hair rise on the back of his neck.

The orange-pink disc of the sun is just barely visible emerging on the horizon as they ride into Tifton. That last leg of the road had been so dark and quiet Johnnie had fallen into something of a trance, hypnotized by the black road and its yellow stripes, but a road sign for the Tifton Mine ("an unbelievable journey through time you don't dare miss!") and the lights of a fire station and golf club at the edge of town snap him out of his thoughts.

The mine is to the north, and part of him wants to just take that road and go straight there. But Chrissy needs a real bed to sleep in while she recovers from her injuries, still - dozing on the road probably doesn't count enough. And, okay, maybe he could use a couple hours' rest, too.

They pass a fucking taquería and that blows his mind, and then as they get farther and farther into the city he continues to sit straight up and look a little bit startled by all the lights and signs and everything for what was marked as some tiny little dot on a map that he was expecting to have no more than maybe five hundred people. The music, too, keeping him awake this last part of the ride, is even more unfamiliar than it was in the 90s, and as he merges with traffic and looks around at dancing lights and animated billboards, he spots a bank with a time, date, and temperature reading for some absurd reason.

April 6, 2004.]

Hey, you seein' all this, Chrissy?

[Who knows if she's even awake right now, but maybe the slowing of his bike and the surprising amount of traffic at this hour have done the trick. Now they just need to find a motel, and the main drag up ahead looks like a good bet.]

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[She grabs a book on the history of the mines and a book on vide noir and tucks them into her backpack. Rather than being locked up like the cosmic ash, there's a little case of vide noir that she just stares at. It's crazy to her that they have it out where anyone can buy it.

What kind of world is a drug legal, and out near candy for kids?

It's really messed up.

By the time she makes her way back over to Johnnie, he's taking the little bottles and dumping them into a mug. Unsure if they should put all of their eggs in this basket, she swipes a handful of vials and puts them into the backpack.]

Are you going to try all of that at once?

[Worry creeps into her tone, and she reaches out to stop him from filling up the mug any further.]

Maybe you should start small and we can work our way up to trying to overdose.

Well - it said it wasn't as strong like this. I want it to work.

[But she's right. This is stupid, and he knows better. With every new drug, you start small until you figure out your dose. This is supposed to be an anti-drug, but who knows what the fuck it actually does.

So he stops before uncorking another tiny sample bottle and looks at the small pile accumulated in the mug, then over at her.]

You're right, though. I'm gonna, uh. Sit down.

[Just in case. He tugs her with him as he folds his legs, then shrugs and gives her a smile, and a kiss.]

Here goes.

[The mug is a little too deep for its shallow contents, so he tips it sideways and taps the bottom until most of it slides up the side, toward him. That brochure, and the TV ad, they'd both implied you need to breathe the stuff in, so that's exactly what he's going to do. He presses his face forward, and inhales sharply.]

Ah - oh, fuck.

[Shit, that stuff burns. He coughs and sneezes a couple times. Okay, that's probably why the diffuser. Fumes, rather than just inhaling powder. It's harsh as shit and he sneezes again, then sits still, squinting at the floor and waiting for anything to take hold.]

Y'know, maybe it's like coke. Takes a few minutes.

[It's hard to sit still. She fidgets as she worries over him, and starts to frown as she realizes nothing is happening. She licks her finger and dips it into the mug, taking just the tiniest amount of ash back toward her mouth to taste. It's bitter as shit, and she gags as she wipes at her tongue.

Not doing that again.

She's more worried about him continuing to snort until he makes his nose bleed or something. But she smiles over at him to try and not let him onto her worry. This is fine.]

I'm sure it will work soon, but...

[She looks over toward a door that's labeled as employees only.]

Are you okay to sit here alone for just a minute? I can go check and see if there's those diffusers in the back stockroom.

[Glancing back toward him, her smile is a little more warm as she leans in to kiss him. His poor broken nose must really be burning right about now. ]

[Man, if this is supposed to reverse an overdose, it sure takes its sweet fucking time. Or he did it wrong. Leaning toward the latter, more and more, as he feels absolutely nothing but irritated nasal passages.

He sniffs, then leans lightly into that kiss and nods, giving her arm a pat.]

Yeah, I'm not goin' anywhere. I'll yell at you if that changes.

[He has more in this mug, he could try more, but he'll wait and see if she finds anything, or if he starts to feel anything. He's pretty sure he feels something, actually, but he doesn't know what, and it isn't making any big, major changes to his current state of sitting on the floor being dead still. If anything, he kind of has a headache.]

[She ruffles his hair as she stands up, and before she runs off she leans over to kiss the top of his head. There's no way she's going to be gone for long, just in case something happens. The back door opens without any trouble, and she looks around the stock area. There's a spot marked for diffusers, but the shelves are empty.

Angry, Chrissy growls under her breath and knocks a row of mugs onto the floor. The sound of them clattering and breaking on the concrete floor soothes her somehow. She hurries through the rest of the back area but doesn't find anything useful.

She wants to cry, but holds it in for now. That reassuring smile is on her face as she sits down, but quickly melts away when he's still sitting there. Just as dead as he was before. Her hands start to fidget, grabbing hold of the fabric of her skirt and twisting.

This isn't how this was supposed to go. She thought he'd sniff a little, then be alive again in a few minutes.]

They're out of diffusers, so maybe you should try more. Are you feeling anything yet?

No.

[Well, he's feeling angry. It's a cold anger, the sort of thing that starts slow and builds on itself until it's all-consuming, white-hot.

But maybe he should try more. Because at least it doesn't seem to be causing any obvious harm, other than being goddamn irritating to his nose, which has already been through enough in the last several days. He raises the mug up for another stiff inhale, then coughs and sputters and grimaces as he sets the mug down beside him.]

Man, that shit sucks. I'm gonna be blowin' rainbow dust out my nose for weeks at this rate, fuck.

[He sneezes again, and looks generally miserable about the whole thing. A few more minutes, though. One last chance for this to do him any good at all.

But it just... isn't.]

Is it some kinda fucking scam? Why the fuck is it all locked up if it's bullshit? Just, fuck.

[He slams a fist at the floor, then takes a slow breath. His chest feels hot, and that's not the cosmic ash, he's pretty sure.]

[A desperation settles in as she dares to hold onto what little hope she has left. She isn't sure what else they can do, but it doesn't seem like it's working. When his fist hits the floor, she jumps in surprise, but is quick to reach out and cover his hand with both of hers.]

Here, just...

[She has no idea what to do, how to make this better. Her heart sinks down into her stomach, and there's a pit of despair settling in. This isn't how this was supposed to go.]

Just lay your head in my lap for a minute.

[It gives them a little more time to see if anything happens, and she can keep her hands on him. Maybe it will soothe them both. She urges him to recline back with his head in her lap, and starts to work her fingers through his hair. Little kisses are pressed to his forehead and peppered across his face, and she tries to distract him from waiting and getting angrier.

But the longer they sit like that in the middle of the gift shop, the more obvious that it is the cosmic ash isn't going to work for him. Her little touches and kisses slow to a stop, and she doesn't realize that she's crying until her tears run hot against her cheeks. They fall from her and hit his face, and she's quick to wipe them away.]

It's not any fair. [Her voice sounds broken and lost.] I really wanted you to be alive again. Because you -

[More tears fall, and she winds up curling in over him, so her forehead can rest against his and she's wrapped up over him protectively.]

You wanted it so badly. The cosmic ash should've worked. They promised.

[Her voice cracks at that last part, as absolutely all hope of the stupid cosmic ash working is lost.]

[She's doing her best to delay it, but he's on the verge of an outburst. He doesn't cry, he doesn't beg the fucking universe to give him his due, because it won't. Nothing, nobody, none of it gives a fuck. So someone said this shit would work? Well yeah, that's how they make a quick buck on the hopes of the poor assholes they've gotten addicted to this stuff, who need help. It's the same goddamned story over and over again, repeated in kaleidoscope facets of the world with every drug you pick.

Shit, it isn't even like this is his fault, he was fucking murdered, not a junkie.

He takes a slow, ragged breath, his nose and throat feeling raw from uselessly inhaling that ash, and pushes Chrissy away so he can sit up, then stand.]

Not everyone who promises shit means it, babe. Sometimes they just wanna take advantage of a couple suckers.

[He takes the hammer in hand again, then nudges the tool belt toward Chrissy.]

Those come with us.

[He sees those bottles of vide noir over there, by the way. He knows exactly what they are, just from the look of the stuff. He'd smash every last one of them with this hammer but it would go splattering everywhere, and he'd rather not come into any kind of contact with it. Instead, he starts at the registers, delivering a solid blow to one once, then twice, then again and again until sparks fly.]

[While he's having his moment with the register, she uses her foot to pull the tool belt in toward herself. She can't take the heartbreak she's feeling in that moment and curls in on herself, not about to get up and go over to him when he's just pushed her away. He needs this moment to process, and she-

Well, she's used to comforting herself. It's not a big deal. Her legs pull in close to her chest, and her arms wrap around them, and she buries her face against her knees so she can just cry in peace for a minute.

She had really wanted this, more than she had ever wanted anything.

But the more she cries, the more her sadness and desperation lights a fire within her. As her tears dry, she's left with a burning hot anger that she's never felt before. She can't control it, doesn't know what to do with it. She's silent as she finally climbs to her feet, but is almost trembling with rage.

She doesn't say a word to Johnnie, but looks around the gift shop. There's a tray of lighters on display, and she grabs a handful of them. This stupid place is going to go down in flames for breaking their promise. The cosmic ash is just a scam.

The lighter is ignited and she goes over to light a pile of shirts on fire. Once the top one lights, the rest of the stack quickly follows, then spreads to the others. She goes over to the hanging hoodies and shirts and repeats the same thing. Then sets a shelf of stuffed animals on fire one by one.

That being done, she grabs the tray of vide noir and hurls it out of the gift shop and out into the hallway. There's a stand of golf umbrellas nearby, and she grabs one so she can start breaking whatever she can reach. She screams as she does it, sending shirts on fire flying onto the floor. She's just so angry and has no real way to get it out of her.]

This entire place has to burn, baby.

[It's her only concern when she finally speaks, her voice ice cold.]

And these lighters aren't enough.

[The store is on fire around them, and she stands in the middle of it, looking like she wants to scorch the entire Earth.]

[Here he is whacking away at registers, and then the next thing he knows there's a burst of light and shattering of glass. He looks over just as Chrissy howls her rage at everything, and then hooks the hammer through a belt loop so he can grab the tripod from that broken telescope, wrap it in a shirt and knot the arms together, and hold it to the flames. There, torch.]

How's this?

[Better than a little lighter. He passes that to her, then takes one of those golf umbrellas and holds that to the spreading flame to create another. He grabs one of the few remaining un-burned sweatshirts, but the umbrella is already well-lit. It sends bits of molten plastic dripping to the floor as it burns, and for a quiet moment it's soothing just to watch as they catch on spilled items and help the fire race up the walls.]

C'mon. We got work to do.

[Fuck this building, fuck this mine, fuck the whole goddamned town. They'll all know before morning exactly what it means to suffer.

Next stop is that portable office, through the gate. His flaming umbrella-torch is just about out of its burning plastic by the time they cross the parking lot, leaving a metal framework, but that's fine. He can fix that later. He goes to the truck closest to the building and pries the gas cap open easily, stuffs the sleeve of the shirt into the tank with the butt of the umbrella used to push it farther in, then gestures to it.]

Light that. Then we better fuckin' run, though.

[At least there's a fence to contain the shrapnel from what he hopes is a really big explosion. That better be a nice full tank.]

[As they walk back outside, she lights whatever she can on fire. He tells her to light the shirt in the tank on fire, and she does so without hesitation. Before they run like hell, she tosses him the key card to the gate. The torch she's holding is tossed over toward the little portable building, and then she takes hold of his hand.

With her new backpack on her back, and the tool belt held over her arm, she hurries toward the gate so he can get it open and they can get the hell out of here.

She's still so angry she doesn't know what to do with all the rage that's in her. But the fire is helping a little. Suddenly, she gets why Johnnie is so obsessed with it. It really is soothing.]

We'll need more to get the town.

[But she's not worried about that. With enough alcohol, rocks, and cloth, they can burn everything down. Maybe that will make her feel better.

For now though, she lets him lead her toward the bike at a run. They need to get out of here and watch their destruction from a safe distance.]

[Out the gate, onto the bike, and onto the road - he's singularly-minded right now, just trying to get them out of the way of the imminent explosion. They don't have to go far, and don't have time to, anyway - just up the road a few seconds so that the main building, with its exhibits and gift shop, is between them and that truck. There's just enough of a rise on the road here in these low hills where he can wheel around and face the blast right as it occurs.

A cloud made of fire ripples outward in all directions, sending the shockwave through the ground and the air itself, though the effect is dampened greatly by the time it reaches them. The truck is gone by the time the brilliance of that explosion dims, the portable office mostly rubble, and the fence flattened in a ring around it.

As the dust settles and ash from burned paper rains down, Johnnie takes the bike back to the parking lot between the burning buildings.]

Just one more thing I wanna do here before we go into town. Help me get those plastic strips outta the fence, or anything else long. Pieces of wood.

[He parks and hops off, ties his bandana around his face to keep dust and ash out, then heads right toward the downed fence and starts to rip slats out of the chain link weave.]

[A part of Chrissy wants to make herself as small and quiet as possible, so she doesn't get in his way. He doesn't need that though, at least not right now. He needs her by his side, helping him work through this. She stumbles her way off the bike and hurries along after him, her much smaller limbs working double time to keep up.

Her tiny hands come in useful for weaving out the slats from the chain link fence. There's plenty of pieces of wood strewn about now too, and she jogs over to collect some of the better looking ones.

When her arms are full, she stands there among the burning wreckage and hesitates saying anything. She wants to ask what he's planning, but it feels like she'd just be in the way if she did. So she returns back to his side, following along after him and trying to add even more to her already full load.

The sound of sirens off in the distance get her to look back toward the road. Apparently someone had either heard or seen that blast and called for help. They sound far enough away it's not a pressing concern, but she can see how it would become one in a few minutes.]

We need to go soon. How much more do we need?

This is enough.

[And this won't take long. He hears those sirens too, and while he does want to know what kind of fancy future tech the police have now so he can anticipate it, this is not the time to find out about it.

He takes what they've collected and uses it to write out a very simple message in the parking lot, dragging and laying out the pieces until it forms the familiar shape of the W and E divided by the lightning bolt. He just has a point to make, that's all. The police in this time and place may not know what to make of it, but they're not the ones it's intended for. He saw that emblem repeated in the gift shop, the same as the one at the club in downtown Los Angeles. He knows that in this version of reality, his gang, his brothers might have failed to take their vengeance out on his killer, if all this is still going on. But Zazo, fucking Zazo needs to know he didn't win. Not entirely, not yet.

Back on the bike without a word, then, he just takes Chrissy's hand and tows her with him. They need to hurry. They'll have ten minutes to ride back into town and if Chrissy has questions she can ask them then, but otherwise he'll be driving like hell so they can light the whole goddamn town up. The people who work at this mine, who sell the drugs that killed him, who perpetuate fucking lies and drag more in to nightmarish eternal suffering all so some evil bastard can get rich off all of it, they can fucking burn.

They're pulling around a hundred miles per hour as they pass the cops, but the police have their eyes set on the disaster. Not a one peels off to follow them.]

That'll tie them up while we work our way through town. Kinda don't think we'll have a lot of time to get everything though, just the main targets. Fancy buildings, symbols, stuff downtown. I'll stop at the gas station ahead, get gas cans. You still have a lighter?

[Chrissy doesn't really have time to admire the letters he makes, but she gets the idea. She spares it a smile for a second before he's pulling her off after him, and she follows along without saying a single word. She's left hanging on as tight as she can as he gets up to full speed, and it's hard to hear what he says.

Thankfully, she's pressed in close enough she hears most of it over the wind and road noise.]

Yeah, I have two still.

[They drive a little further and she gives him a squeeze to indicate that she's talking.]

Let's leave the place we ate today alone though, okay?

[It's the one thing she'll insist on. Their waitress was so nice to them there, and she didn't have to be. She wants to at least leave that lime green building with their hand painted sign alone.

But the rest of the town can burn, as far as she's concerned.]

Yeah.

[There's going to be collateral damage, sure, not everyone caught in this fire will be guilty. But he definitely intends to spare the taquería. They make up his short list of people in town who've probably had it hard enough and don't need their lives ruined just because he's pissed off.

More sirens, as they pull up to the gas station. Police and a fire truck go flying by while he tops off his tank and bites his tongue at gas prices here, and at the apparent inability to get out without paying. Cash only means he has to go in and pay first? Fuck this decade. He slaps a bill down at the register and glowers at the attendant until his pump is activated, then gathers and fills a couple cans. Hard to carry more than that on the bike with just the two of them, so they really will have to pick and choose their targets carefully, and probably hit up the liquor store for the rest.

He hands Chrissy a can as he gets back on the bike, and holds the other between his knees.]

We'll start at the north end of town, work our way south. I want business headquarters, big factories, that kinda thing to go as a main priority. If there's any service like that in town he's been making use of, it's gotta burn.

[He?

Chrissy looks a little owl-eyed at first, until understanding settles in. There's a reason he put the World Enders sign back in the parking lot. It's that asshole that had him killed. He's the one behind this.]

Do you think he's actually here?

[As terrifying as that is, it also presents a good opportunity for some real therapy for him.]

We could try to find him and kill him. We wouldn't have to wait until California.

[Which may be the one shred of good news they have to cling hold to right now, other than the fact they're both still safe. Her fingers drum against the can as she adjusts to sit with it between her legs. On one hand, they don't need to waste time looking for the fucker. On the other, she really wants him to pay for what he's done to Johnnie.

But maybe the only way to make that happen here is burning the entire town. A man like that probably has his fingers dipped in everything.]

Doubt it. That kind of person puts money into businesses all over. He might own the mine, but I'd be real surprised if he was actually here. 'Course, if he burns to death tonight, all the better.

[South back into town, they pass the restaurant, some university agricultural sign, and wind up on the tourist strip full of hotels and burger places. This isn't what he's looking for, but it's not a big town, it won't take much searching. He turns off onto a street that looks promising, following a sign that points the way toward the town hall. It cuts through a wealthy part of town first, old well-maintained homes with nice gardens. A lot of these people are the kind who profit from having the mine in town, probably, but he doesn't know enough to be able to pick and choose and their supplies are limited. And town hall itself, tempting as that is, is a brick building. They'd have to get inside to find much worth burning.

Further on still, though, is a set of train tracks, and that's when things start looking up.]

Here we go. Bet they ship a lotta shit in an' out on this train. We'll hit the depot, an' everything from there. Let the wind carry the fire wherever else it wants to go. You remember like we did in Virginia? I'll go real slow here, you paint a nice long line with that gasoline right up against buildings until you run out, then I'll stop so you can light the very end of it.

[He hops the bike up over a curb and onto a paved walkway that encircles the depot. There are a lot of lights here in the industrial zone, probably a fair number of security guards, but they can't outrun a fire once it gets going.]

[It's a good plan, and she's left cautiously smiling as she nods in understanding.]

I've got it. Don't worry.

[He goes slow, and she focuses on keeping the gas can steady so it doesn't just dump everywhere. They need to make this spread as far as they possibly can. She has to lean over pretty far to do it, but she ignores the throbbing in her chest telling her to take it easy. She's come this far, she can't just go slow now. He's counting on her.

Eventually though, she does run out. She shakes what's left out of the can before tossing it aside.]

Okay. I'm ready. It's time to burn.

[The lighter is pulled out, and she waits until he comes to a stop. It takes her a couple of tries to get it lit, but once it is, she hops down off the bike and crouches so she can light the gasoline. Not about to just stand around, she hurries to hop back on the bike and gives the back of his jacket a tug. It's time to get going.

As he starts heading out and the fire quickly spreads and grows, she can't help herself. She lets out a whoop and a holler, laughing as she feels accomplished.]

You know, I bet there's lots of chemicals and explosives in some of these industrial buildings. Maybe it will really go boom!

[She makes a couple of big explosion gestures with her hands.]

[As he picks her back up, as she celebrates and the fire starts to grow, a smile slowly starts to make its way back onto his face. Oh, he's still fucking enraged, but this is catharsis. He pats her knee, then hands back the gas can he's been carrying.]

You got it, babe, that's what I'm hopin'. Blow the fuckin' walls off this town. There's, what, gotta be tons of fertilizer in some warehouse here, right? I really wanna see that shit go up. I really wanna know where they kept the dynamite for the mine.

[Probably well-hidden in some underground bunker. That's where he'd put TNT. Shame.

Large tanks next to a building ahead look really promising.]

Oh, shit. Maybe that's airplane fuel? Or natural gas? Fuck, we gotta get that. Okay, start another can there, an'...

[He looks at the road ahead. There's a park back here, which seems fucking absurd, but a huge octopus of a tree, branches spread wide, dominates the space. Whatever that is, it's important. Tucked away back here, it's some town symbol anyway. If he can't burn every building in the entire town, he can sure stab at its heart another way.]

End there. That tree, it's gonna burn real bright tonight.

[Typically, Chrissy would beg him to leave the tree alone. But she's angry and upset, and this town deserves it. It will be so pretty burning really bright, too.]

Drive slow, baby. I've got this.

[And she does, carefully pouring the gasoline and dousing what she can, until they wind up at the tree. There's not a lot left, so as he brings the bike to a stop she hops off the back and sets the gas can down.]

Here's the other lighter. You go light things, and I'm going to get the tree started.

[She reaches into her pocket to pull out the second lighter, and tosses it over to him. Chrissy has plans of making a torch, and finds a broken branch. She digs through the saddlebag to find one of her new shirts, and wraps it around the branch. She carries it with her as she lightly douses the lower trunk with gasoline. After dousing her makeshift torch, she quickly climbs up the tree to a good vantage point. The torch is lit on fire, and she uses it to light the leaves on fire.

Johnnie's speeding back to her and the tree, so she jumps down with her torch in hand. By some miracle she sticks the landing and doesn't catch herself on fire, and moves around the perimeter of the tree trunk so she can set it ablaze. She figures Johnnie might want the torch while it's still burning, and as he approaches she passes it off to him as she gets back on the bike.]

It's really beautiful, isn't it? Like art.

[He takes that lighter and zips back down the block while she works on the tree, first catching the trail of gasoline she'd laid, then grabs a loose pile of baling twine left by a warehouse and turns the rest of the whiskey bottle into a molotov to fling into a stack of hay piled up in the bed of a parked truck near what must be some kind of farm supply warehouse. The hay goes up fast, and sparks leap from the truck and scatter in the wind. If there's farm supplies, there will be fertilizer like he's hoping, and it's only a matter of time before they're caught in the rush of fire.

The flames ripple down toward those fuel tanks, and by the time he comes back to pick her up, just as he's about to reply, they go off. The explosion is almost deafening even from the opposite end of the block, but he laughs and cheers as he waves his torch in the air, and admires the flaming tree like it's a celebratory candelabra.]

Hell yeah it is! Fuck, babe, you did so good. Look at it go!

[He's still mad, but it's buried under a cry of victory as he guns the engine and speeds on down the road. Alarms are buzzing and ringing left and right, disturbed by the explosive force of those tanks and all the fire. Time to get a move on. But he carries the torch high, howling as they go. Anyone who sees them before they slip out of this time will know exactly what they just accomplished.]

I wish I could've gotten a picture.

[She sighs as they head out, though her disappointment is short lived as he seems to at least get into the celebratory aspect of setting the town on fire. She hollers and cheers along with him, and they ride like that until the torch burns out and they have to toss it to the side of the road because it's no longer useful to them.

She's sure they've made it to another decade after about half an hour, and she has no idea where they're headed. They've still got to get back to California, so they're heading in that direction. But they've got stops to make along the way.]

How far do you want to drive tonight?

[They'll need to talk about what happened with the cosmic ash, but thinks she'll wait for him to bring it up. It's a sensitive subject, and she definitely doesn't want to make him angrier.]

[The time change is noted in a loss of lights and difference in cars, but he isn't paying much attention to when they are. He doesn't want the radio competing with road noise when his head is busy enough. Not tonight.

How far does he want to go tonight? He'll have to stop and look at a map eventually. Right now he's in the mood to drive forever, to see how far he can go on a mad dash toward home. But he reminds himself that Chrissy probably isn't up for that still, and it'll be better to find somewhere to stop, take a break, and at least look at a map.]

I wanna go as far as we can, but we'll check the map. Next town we get to, we'll pull over, have a look. How's that?

[Mostly because it would be helpful to have a light to look at said map by. A gas station, a street light, whatever they come across. All he knows is right now he's on the main highway out of town going southwest.

Which, about twenty minutes later, dumps them in some miserable tiny town called Thomasville, at a gas station advertising the finest catfish and grits in the state. Somehow, he really doubts that. But he parks the bike under the lights by a shut-down pump and hops off to pull out the map.]

If we drive all night straight through...

[He traces a finger along roads, looking at options.]

Well, we could get to New Orleans if I don't stop. Might be sunrise by then.

[She smiles at the idea of getting to see New Orleans, her finger trailing along the road like it will magically transport them there right away.]

My mom always has said New Orleans is evil.

[Which makes her laugh, as she taps Louisiana on the map.

Since they're stopped, she figures it's a good time to stretch her legs. Her arms stretch out above her head as she paces around the pump they're parked at. She winds up coming up from behind him, arms wrapping around his waist as she hugs him tight. Her cheek presses against his back for a second, and she ignores how they both reek of gasoline and fire in favor of kissing at the back of his neck.

It's nice to take a moment just to hold him, even if he winds up pulling away.]

I'm not sure if I can stay on the bike that long. Is it okay if we have to pull over somewhere so I can rest?

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