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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 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.]
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.]
Comments
[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 taquería 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.]
Taquería 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.
[Just seems fucking pointless. But they've had that conversation, and he genuinely does want her to find something she enjoys doing, something that makes her feel like her life has the meaning she wants to give it.
He has a long drink, then lets the glass thunk down on the table and shrugs, gesturing at nothing in particular. At everything.]
Sometimes I'm just an asshole. You're allowed to give me shit for it, it's what all my friends do, you know.
[An attempt at an explanation, but a genuine one, that even comes with his own little half-smile. Half the fights he gets in aren't with people out to hurt him or whatever, they're with his friends, his brothers, people who do dumb shit or who he's done dumb shit to and they throw a few punches and fall over laughing.]
I get it, you're not used to that. But if I say somethin' stupid, you don't have to agree with me.
If she's free to start fires and do what she wants with the rest of the world, she's free to disagree with him too. He's not going to love her any less because of it. At least she hopes he won't, anyway.]
I guess you just hurt my feelings, is all. Because that was a really mean thing to say.
[Her hands grab hold of her skirt tighter, until her knuckles are white.]
You grew up with your brothers showing you what to do. You had a place doing something you loved, with people you loved. All I want to do is figure out what I want to do that makes me even half as happy as you are. And maybe that's taking me in ten different directions right now. But all that really matters to me is that this is the first time I've ever disagreed with someone even a little, and I'm really proud of myself.
So while he listens, he also smiles, and it grows into a grin by the time she's said her piece. He laughs, just happy for her that she said all that and meant it, then kisses her.]
I'm real proud of you too, babe. See, if you can stand up for yourself with a knife, you can do it with words, too.
[He chuckles, then his eyes light up as the waitress returns, still watching them with real skepticism as she places the food down in front of them - tortas, and a smaller plate with his tacos, which Johnnie slides between the two of them. He nods his thanks to the waitress as she takes her leave, then grabs this massive pile of a sandwich in front of him, so full of toppings they're falling out here and there on the sides.]
Goddamn. See, why get a burger when you can get all that?
[Time to see if he can fit his mouth around enough of it to take a satisfying bite. Sure can, but it leaves mayo on his nose.]
She's still looking everything over as Johnnie digs right in, and winds up glancing over right in time to see that glob of mayo on his nose. It makes her laugh and she grabs a napkin to wipe it away for him. She'd kiss it off, but it's mayo and that would be weird.
Once he's clean, she works on picking up her own sandwich and can barely wrap her hands around it. Her tiny mouth doesn't stand a chance of fitting a lot in. And she winds up with mayo on her nose and around her mouth.]
Oh my gosh, this is so good! I could definitely go without ever eating a burger again, if we get to eat like this.
Once he gulps that down, he returns the favor by swiping mayo off her nose with his napkin, then grins.]
All over your face, babe.
[He grins as he taps his foot against hers, then pauses for a drink of his soda.]
I bet once we get to Texas an' then all the way back, we'll find good Mexican everywhere we look. Surprised we found this all the way out here. Must be some family makin' a go at it.
[And good for them, because these tacos look incredible. Perfect little things, glistening with juice running off the meat and piled high with onion and cilantro. He grabs a lime wedge from the plate and squeezes that over the top of them, then reaches for one of the squeeze bottles of salsa on the table - green, just in case the red one is ketchup out here, and because green is good shit anyway - and loads both tacos up before picking up the one closest to him.]
See, they're little, ain't too much. Worth it, right?
[He downs his in a couple bites, and nods, satisfied. Yeah, look, he'll eat anything, he has nothing against Taco Bell or gringo tacos full of ground beef, cheese and lettuce, but this is the shit he'd pick over those every single time.]
Yeah, it's really worth it. And you know what? It's even better because if I hadn't met you, I never would've tried anything like this.
[Needless to say, she won't be going back to Taco Bell ever again. She isn't much for conversation after that point, alternating between stuffing her face with tapas and drinking her Coke. She even flags down the waitress to bring her another can, because indulging isn't something she feels guilty about anymore.
They spend the rest of their meal idly chatting and laughing, Chrissy eating so much that she has to slouch down in the booth and press her hands over her stomach once she finishes. There's a couple of bites left on her plate though, and she eyes them because she wants them. Except there's one thing she's interested in trying.]
Do you think they have hot sauce here?
[At this stage, with only a little left, it's funny to just now think to ask for it. He would anyway, though, except as people are moving on from their lunch breaks, it's not hard to spot a bottle on another table that's now empty and ready for cleanup. Now, this is still the south after all, and while this place might do homemade hot salsa of some kind, the go-to table hot sauce here is Tabasco. He shrugs and sits back down and passes her the bottle.]
I've had that kind. Vinegary, not too hot. I dunno, try it.
[He'd go for it, but the vinegar on a torta doesn't sound right to him. Now, on fries, it's good shit. Even works in a burrito, because what doesn't. Maybe it's good on southern food, which he doesn't actually know much about.
He manages to finish off his sandwich with no trouble, but that's enough food to hold him for a good while, now. Plenty of fuel to take on whatever the mines will bring.]
It's not too hot, and you can definitely taste the vinegar. Which only makes her look a little put out as she chews and swallows the bite. The bottle is pushed away so she can finish what's on her plate.
Again, she slouches down in the booth and rests her hands against her stomach. This time, she winds up leaning over against him, sighing contently. She's so full, she isn't sure she'll be able to move properly.]
How far away are the mines, anyway? I need at least half an hour before I can walk.
Think that sign said ten miles? Not far. We can wait, we got time.
[He wants to go now, wants to dive right into whatever good or bad the experience will bring, but he can hold off for a few minutes. He does have that ability. Sometimes. He can be good, and besides maybe it's a good idea to digest first anyway, keep from all the excitement turning his stomach nauseous.
The waitress eventually comes back and looks satisfied to see they're actually still there, and is pleased to hear they enjoyed their meal as Johnnie covers the bill.
He's full enough to wait in silence, and enjoy some people watching, before eventually he really does start to get restless and finds himself looking more and more out the windows.]
You just let me know when you're ready.