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Mar. 16th, 2023 at 6:41 PM
[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 taquerÃa 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.]
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 taquerÃa 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.]
Comments
[Her voice has that distant, airy quality to it. Visiting a taquerÃa sounds really nice. Like he's getting to share a part of himself with her, which she always loves. And really, she can't say no to tacos. ]
So maybe we can save the fries for a snack. Something we can share after we visit the mine.
[Because she imagines that they'll work up an appetite mining or stealing cosmic ash. And if they do find some, maybe he'll have to snort it or something to see if it helps fix things for him.]
What are you going to do if we actually manage to get our hands on cosmic ash?
I dunno. Try it, I guess. They were snorting it from a, what did they call it? Just looked like a bowl. That ain't hard. 'Course, I dunno what happens then but if it's supposed to undo what the vide noir did then I might need you right there with me in case it's some kinda real bad trip.
[He can only imagine it's unpleasant. Because the thing about overdosing on vide noir is, aside from the hell of a ride he went through out at the fucking edge of all of time and space, the stuff itself in normal doses feels good. Like flying, or dreaming, all peaceful. So he's just assuming that cosmic ash feels like the complete opposite, like waking up by being dragged behind a truck against hard ground and breathing sand and -
He reels in the pot brain and takes a breath, then shrugs. What he actually said out loud, he'll stand by that.]
I'll be right there beside you the entire time. There's no way I'd be anywhere but helping you.
[She's being serious, but that light quality to her voice is still there. It's probably a sign that she doesn't need another hit from the joint, but she still takes it from him to take a long drag. As she exhales smoke, she passes it back to him. And then takes to reaching up to play with his hair because it feels so soft against her fingers.]
I've got you. No matter what happens.
Love that about you. Love you. For... everything you do. My lucky little charm, mi milagra.
[Soft, warm, and all his. This kiss he manages to plant firmly on her lips, and sighs into it, taking his time with it until he has to pull back for air.]
But she comes crashing back down to reality in the best way when he says that he loves her, and she's grinning as his lips find hers and she melts into that kiss. She's the one that sighs when he pulls back, and her tongue grazes across her lips.]
Your milagrita.
[She pauses after she says it, laughing as her nose scrunches up. It's hard to believe that adults want to keep weed illegal. Getting high like this is the absolute best thing ever.]
I love you too. [It's practically hummed as she kisses him again, though this time she's quickly distracted by nibbling against his bottom lip. She's so comfortable and at ease, she feels like she's radiating happiness.]
We'll get through this just the same as we have everything else. Together.
[Man, he knows he's actually tired when that nibble doesn't go straight to his groin. It's probably for the best. They can sleep, get a nice recharge, let her rest up before they take on whatever madness the day is bound to bring.
He's not sure when he finally drifts off to sleep, but it does happen. He falls into that same space he'd been on toward the end of the drive, not dreaming, simply existing in darkness. That infinite black is less disturbing now than it once was. Not comforting, but less likely to leave him gasping for breath as if he's drowning in it.
There's a tremendous, earth-shaking rumble that snaps him out of it and he sits bolt upright, alert - wait, no. That's just someone pushing a heavy cleaning cart down the hall. Shit. He rubs at his eyes, sweeping hair out of them, then looks at the slick black digital alarm clock next to the bed. Noon, or just past it, anyway. Good enough, time to get up and get dressed. Quietly, in case Chrissy is still asleep, or wants to get back to it - because he's pretty sure that his sudden movement must have woken her up.]
She's trapped in the phase of healing where it doesn't feel like she can ever sleep enough, though once he gets out of bed she quickly becomes aware of the fact he's not there anymore. Oh, she stretches out at first to take up as much room as she can, a lazy smile etched across her face.
Eventually though, she reaches over for him. Not feeling him there has her waking up so she can sit up and look for him. Her heart feels like it's lodged itself in her throat until she sees that he's just getting dressed and ready for the day. Reassured by that, she lies back and dozes off for another fifteen minutes or so before she wakes up enough that she can roll over and watch him.]
Ready to get going?
[Her voice is soft and thick with sleep as she pushes herself to sit up.]
I'll get ready and we can head out to get something to eat.
[As if on cue, her stomach growls, and she laughs as she covers her belly with both hands. He gets kicked out of the bathroom so she can do her business in there, and emerges a handful of minutes later with her toothbrush stuck in her mouth.
This easygoing sort of morning routine they've naturally fallen into together feels so nice. These motels aren't their home, but it feels like a little sneak peak of what things will be like when they do settle somewhere in California. ]
Morning, babe.
[Afternoon, whatever, time is fake and he'd know.
They make their way between main room and bathroom until they're both set to go, dressed, teeth brushed, weapons gathered and his hair impeccably combed back for at least the next few minutes until inevitably some of it will escape back into his face.
He looks around at their things, which haven't had much time to scatter, thankfully, then over at her as she emerges.]
I dunno what we're gonna find up there, but after what happened with the fuckin' fish monsters, maybe we bring our stuff with us. You know, in case we don't come back this way.
[He doesn't intend this to be a long stop. If it is, they can come back. But he wants that shit they're holding at the mine, and then he wants to bail. The only thing holding him back is knowing that Chrissy is still on the mend.]
Sigh.
She can't be perfect every day. But along with those healing bruises and cuts that are all over her face, she knows she looks a mess. Not even layers of mascara will fix it, so she doesn't bother trying.]
Your Brylcreem is really greasy, babe.
[She teases him as she closes the tin and tosses it over to him so he can pack it up. She doesn't have anything out by that point, but still puts her hands on her hips and surveys the room.]
I think that's a good idea though. If something bad happens, we'll just be able to get the hell out of town.
[Smiling, she approaches him to put her hands on his hips. Her hold shifts so her arms are around him, and she can claim a proper good morning kiss. Who cares if it's afternoon, it's their morning.]
I'm feeling a little better today, so I should be able to run if we need to.
[He snorts with amusement and reaches for the tin of hair grease to stow it away. What the fuck did she think hair grease was if not greasy? Besides, it's not his fault his hair is thick enough it needs something as strong as fucking staples to hold it down. It's a good thing it seems like it's stopped growing, if his lack of needing to shave is any sign.
She comes over and he lets his arms slip around her for that kiss. He needs it; for all that today holds a lot of promise, he's tense with the possibilities of what might happen. Not worried, but definitely strung like a live wire. She gives him a moment to relax.]
Hopin' we won't have to run, but it's good to be ready. I'll get the bags again, all right? I know you're strong an' all, but you don't have to overdo anything to prove it.
[He grins as he gives her another kiss, then pulls away to throw on his jacket, light a cigarette, and pick those bags up again, one in each hand.]
Got it all?
She does a last run through the room, to make sure all of their things are with them. Now that she's sure they have everything, she hurries on ahead to open the door so he can head out.
As he passes her by, she steals his cigarette, and smokes it for him while they walk down the hall until they get outside and to his bike. It's there that she hands it back to him, and she laughs at the remnants of strawberry flavored pink lip gloss that are left on the cigarette.]
You know, I'm feeling a little nervous right now. We don't know how things will be for us at the end of the day. You could be alive again in just a few hours.
[It's a bittersweet thing to think about, but she knows that he deserves a second chance to live his life. His friends and family are all waiting for him back home.]
I know it's stupid to get our hopes up, but I'm really hoping we can find a way to save you.
That grin fades slowly as she speaks, though he's still in good spirits, if slightly anxious with anticipation. He pulls her to his chest, and curls one arm around her while he takes the cigarette in the other, and for a moment he just closes his eyes and breathes in the scent of her shampoo.]
I don't think of it as bein' saved. I've gotten used to this, an' if this is how I've gotta stay, I'll be all right with that. But I'm gonna try, an'... I wonder if maybe you should, too. I know what happened to you is different, but what if it helps you too?
[It's risky though, and if they get their hands on any cosmic ash at all, he'd prefer to volunteer to try it first in case it's actually just going to make things worse. What if he's too far gone, what if all it does is sling him right back out there? That can't happen to her, he won't let it. But if it sets him right, what if there's a chance she could be alive with him? Is that too optimistic?]
I want to try.
[The answer comes quick, and is barely a whisper. But she's firm in her decision to at least try. She has to.]
The only thing I want is to be with you. And if we can be alive together, then we have to try.
[She still longs for a future that she'll never get to have if she stays like this. While she's accepted the fact that she's dead, she still has hopes and dreams and wants to be able to see them through.]
And maybe it will help us be able to stay together no matter what happens.
[Because she hasn't forgotten about their desire to figure out a way to stay together. That's the one thing she'll be very hopeful about. That somewhere out there, there's a way they can tether themselves together throughout time and all the different versions of Earth that exist.
Her head lifts and she looks up at him, desperation clear in her eyes. There's fear that they may not be able to fix anything, and they'll just be vulnerable ghosts for the rest of forever, at the mercy of the universe.]
[Because he sees that look in her eyes, he really really wants this to be the thing they both need. But his experience with vide noir has made him cautious, when he never was before. And while he'll still take risks with himself if it seems like it could be worth it, he's not willing to risk her.
But she's right. Maybe this is the way they can stay together, maybe at least it'll do that for them. Gotta be a better way to do that than to have her try that void shit that fucked his head up and left him dead in the desert back roads.
After one more kiss, he pulls away to finish off the cigarette and toss the butt to the pavement, then gives her an unsure little smile, hops onto the bike and offers her a hand.]
Time to find out.
[They pull out of the parking lot and he takes his time making his way through town once again, unable to help but marvel at how foreign things are starting to look at this point in the future. There's enough to be familiar, sure, but fuck, it's the weirdest one yet, maybe because he doesn't know anything about it. History shit, he'd heard about that. Kind of expected soldiers with muskets, and native folks with beaver traps. And sure, here it's still cars and street lights and radio, but the fashions are odd, the weird little devices that must be phones or radios or walkie-talkies are even weirder, and the sheer number of people and lights outside of a place like New York are really weird.
Food first, and he has his mind set on that taquerÃa if only out of pure curiosity. It's not named something shitty like "Pancho's Tacos" so he has decent hopes, at least. Maybe he shouldn't, but he's eager to find something familiar in all this strangeness.
They pull up and it's a shitty lime-green building that needs updating, and the sign is hand-painted on a sheet of plywood, so already things are going great. He can't help but grin as he parks the bike out front, and they sure must be just at the tail end of the lunch rush because the interior is busy, but there's no huge line.]
All right, you said you wanted a torta when you were fallin' asleep last night. This looks like the place.
Do you see their sign? It's so cute!
[In her mind, a family must own this place and have made their own sign. And she loves it. She rocks back on her heels and admires the building for a few seconds before hurrying to grab her camera so she can snap a picture of it.]
TaquerÃa Milagro. It's perfecto!
[The camera and her snapshot are tucked away safely, and then she takes his hand so he can lead her inside. She's really hoping that they're able to be seen, so they can have a nice meal before heading out to the mines.]
[Or whatever they want. Tortas do sound pretty good, but he'll have to have a look at the menu first. This is definitely a seat-yourself kind of place, so he picks one of the two empty tables and slides on in.
There's a waitress coming around to top off drinks, and when she sees them she slows, then stops and stares for a moment, looks away, and then looks at them again like she's trying to decide if they're really sitting there or not. Johnnie tilts his head as she does, then raises a hand and waves.]
Yeah, hey. When you get a second.
[That makes her jump, and she splashes ice water onto the floor and her shoes from her pitcher, then immediately looks embarrassed.]
Be right with you!
[Johnnie raises an eyebrow at her, then at Chrissy, then shrugs.]
Funny, it's like she's seen a ghost.
[He smirks, and then true to her word after the waitress takes a moment to wipe up the spill, she's at their table with menus and an apologetic, and very confused, look on her face. But she's asking for drink orders, and since apparently they don't serve coffee, Johnnie just opts for a Coke, then looks over the menu.
What the fuck the future is expensive.]
And both of her eyebrows arch at those prices.]
It's a good thing we recently came into money, huh?
[Her foot bumps against his as her hand rests against his leg. And it's right about then that the waitress comes back with their drinks and asks if they know what they want to eat.]
I'll have the...um...Tortas...Asada? The steak one.
[She gives the girl an apologetic smile, because she's pretty sure that's the most awkward anyone has ever placed an order ever.]
[He repeats, amused. And then is pleasantly surprised when Chrissy just picks something off the menu to order, when he'd half expected she'd ask him to describe things. Then again, most everything on this is translated. Good place to learn, since parts of east LA won't have that convenience. Those tend to be the spots with the best food and warmest people, though.
He pats her thigh, hoping to inspire a little confidence - she'd picked a good choice, after all - then addresses the server.]
An' for me, a torta de barbacoa con dos tacos de lengua.
[Starts off in English, lapses into Spanish once he gets started, but the words just go together better that way. The waitress collects their menus, still looking a little jumpy, then heads for the kitchen. Johnnie leans back in the booth and drapes an arm over Chrissy's shoulders so he can tease her hair with his fingers.]
Ordered too much, but I figure, you gotta try lengua if you haven't. Asada's fine, but lengua, man, you won't go back once you've had it.
[She softly laughs as she pokes at his stomach, before she leans down to sip at her Coke. It's nice to sit right beside him like this, pressed close and enjoying one another's company.
While she's drinking at her coke, a little girl and her older brother walk by. She stops and stares at them with wide eyes, and Chrissy turns to look at them with a smile and a wave. The little girl looks like she's seen a couple of ghosts, and Chrissy tries to make it better by making a silly face. It get the girl to laugh, which makes her laugh in turn.
The siblings walk off, the little girl glancing back at them with a smile and a wave. She really loves kids, they're just too cute. Hopefully that girl's first encounter with ghosts didn't scare her too badly.]
She's good with kids, though, that's clear. It's cute. In another life she probably would've had some. Hopefully it would be a good life, though, with kids she wanted and someone she loved, rather than the future she clearly dreaded that Hawkins more likely held for her.]
Lengua's tongue. Beef tongue. It's like... The most tender little bites of grilled pot roast you ever had. You'll like it.
[And he's willing to bet she'd never try it if he didn't order her one. But she's plenty adventurous, so maybe he's underestimating her. She's proven well she'll try all kinds of things if given half the chance. It's definitely a big reason why she's still here on this journey with him.]
Her tongue sticks out and she goes cross eyed looking at it, before she laughs and leans over to briefly rest her head against him. Tongue is a new one for her, but she's willing to give just about anything a taste.]
I can't wait to try it. I bet it's really good.
[Those siblings from before walk back toward their table together, and Chrissy gives Johnnie's foot a nudge.]
Hey, are there kids in your neighborhood? Like siblings or kids of World Enders or something?
Yeah, definitely. Siblings, kids, cousins, you name it. Got an elementary school down the street too, a lot of 'em go there. Why?
[As if it wasn't a lively place already. There's always kids out playing basketball or soccer in the streets, or just finding their own ways to get into trouble. Normal kid trouble though, mostly. The kind of trouble kids should get into when they're at that age. And so what if some of them run errands for the gang now and then? Doesn't hurt to learn early about who's gonna take care of them if the police come knocking for bullshit reasons, or how to be responsible enough to do odd jobs and earn a couple cents to go buy candy with.]
[She shrugs, soaking up that attention he's giving her. Her hand rubs at his leg, keeping it nice and innocent since they're out in public. That, and they're talking about neighborhood kids and it would be weird to be all up on him while doing that.]
Or maybe I guess I do. It's just that I kind of wanted to have kids someday and if I can't, then at least I'd be able to help take care of and watch after the ones in the neighborhood.
[But who knows what the future holds? Maybe if they both are able to come back to life, they'll wind up with kids on accident because they can't keep their hands off of one another. Or maybe they'll just stay ghosts forever, and he'll eventually let her take in a ghost kid to take care of. Or they'll stay somewhere in between and she'll get to play neighborhood mom to everyone and just leave it at that because she's pretty sure Johnnie isn't going to give up on the whole chaos bringing in the end of the world thing he's set out to do. And she'd never expect or ask him to.
In any case, it's forgotten easily enough. It's not a subject she's going to dwell on for long. Just in passing after those kids seemed to notice them.]
Maybe someday he would've been ready for that. At this point it doesn't seem like that's in the cards, though. Even if the cosmic ash brings him back, his life as he knows it now isn't one that needs kids added to it, that's for damn sure. Oh well, plenty of others for her to play with.]
So, what's the list now? You wanna help immigrants, help the homeless, an' take care of other people's kids?
[He doesn't mean for that to come out sounding condescending, and regrets saying it as soon as he does. They're all good things to do, if you're the kind of person who gives a shit. And she has a lot of shit to give, apparently. He sighs and gives her a squeeze around the shoulders, then reaches to pour his drink as the waitress brings them each a glass full of ice and a can.]
Sorry. There's a lotta opportunities for all of that. Whatever makes you happy, babe.
No, you're right. There isn't a lot of room for helping people when you can't even help yourself.
[Both of her hands idly fidget with her can of Coke, and she glances over at him with a half-smile.]
You make me happy.
[And that she genuinely means. She leans in to kiss his jaw before cracking her can open to pour in her glass.]
I'll find what my purpose is and what I'm supposed to do when we actually get to California. There isn't any point in thinking about it now. We've got bigger things to worry about.