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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
[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.
Hm? Oh, We can go now.
[It's practically insisted, as she slips out of the booth and offers him a hand so she can tug him out along with her. She feels bad for making him wait, especially since he has to be even more anxious about everything than she is. So as soon as they get outside, she gets him to stop walking long enough she can sweetly give him a kiss. Her hands rub up and down his arms, a gesture meant to soothe and keep him calm. He's not worked up, but she knows how he can get inside his own head sometimes.]
Now I'm ready. We couldn't go without a kiss for luck.
[Since she's his milagra and all, she has to fulfill her duty. Which means he gets one more kiss, this one a little deeper, before she pulls away and leads the way back to the bike.]
You're too good to me, babe. I'll take all the luck I can get.
[Not that he really believes in it, of course, but hell, he believes in her, in the two of them, and that's what matters. He helps get her settled on the bike once more, then gets them onto the road, following the signs for the mine. Which are pretty regular, actually. It's weird.]
Must be one hell of an attraction they have set up. I've never seen so many signs for a mine before, it's like it's fuckin' Disney.
[They're mining something that saves lives, but they must really love showing it off, too. Nobody goes on an afternoon outing to a vaccine factory. Gotta be a ton of money behind this to promote it, and that thought finds him growing even more skeptical about the reasons. Who benefits most from a treatment to a potentially lethal but apparently legal drug? The guy who sells the goddamn drugs. Keeps him in business, makes it seem less dangerous. Fuck.]
We're lucky we wound up in a reality where this place exists, though. Since it seems like not every place even has vide noir, let alone knows somethin' to treat an overdose.
As she feels more and more anxious about their stop, she starts to hold Johnnie tighter and tighter. She wants this for him so badly. For the both of them. She wants them to be able to be alive again, so they can have a second chance at life. So they can make a life together.
It's not like they can't do that when they're like this. They've already established a routine and a really nice life together on the road. But there's a voice in the back of her head that tells her she's holding him back, that he needs to be alive for his family and friends. The World Enders mean everything to him.
As they drive, she spots yet another sign saying the mine is only a mile away. It seems bigger and flashier than most of the others, promising that it's something no one will want to miss. That feeling of uncertainty grows to the point it starts to really gnaw at her.]
I guess the good news is that whatever we find there, at least now there's two gift shops and a snack bar.
[Oh gosh, they're about to walk into a huge disappointment. She can just feel it. But she's holding onto a little bit of hope, which grows a little stronger as they pull into the parking lot and it doesn't feel entirely like some kind of roadside tourist trap. At least not on the outside.
It's empty though, which means it must already be closed for the day. That's a good thing. It means they can take things at their own pace.]
Here goes nothing. Are you ready for this?
[She gives him a half-smile, hand extending so he can take it if he wants.]
[No "I guess so", no "as I'm going to be", no hesitation. His jaw is set in determination as he swings his leg over the bike, eyes the place from their spot in the parking lot, scans the surroundings, then takes her hand.
The terrain doesn't suggest a mine like he'd pictured in his head, but then again, all there needs to be is a hole in the ground. The place does have some obvious security from here - a back maintenance building of some kind has razor wire on a fence around it, and he sees the glint of a camera by the front door. There are informational signs on posts near the front entryway, and what looks like a small trail encircles the building with more of those signs, but most of the attraction must be indoors.]
Guess we'll have to find our own way in. Let's look around the back. See if we can scope out the best entry point. That camera's aimed toward the door, we should be outta its range from here, but watch for more of those.
[It's a quick walk around the side of the building. It's not huge, not some enormous complex. If they extract the stuff here, they must take it somewhere else to refine it, somewhere with more secrecy and without the prying eyes of the public. But the equipment parked out back, digging machines and trucks, implies they must do some actual work here sometimes.]
There, little door by the loading bay on that back building. They probably got their gift shops an' history tours in the main building but who gives a fuck. If they're actually carting this shit out in quantity, that might be the place to start. Or... Hell, I dunno, maybe they sell samples in the gift shop. We can look there next.
[It's almost a shame there's nobody here. They could blend in with tourists, they wouldn't stand out so much.
The fence around the rear building makes him wish he'd brought bolt cutters, wire cutters, something. There's a heavy chain on the gate, and the padlock isn't something he can just pop open with a knife, no chance of that. Time to get creative. Or failing that, they can come back late tonight after they've scored some tools.]
If there's cameras, there's probably some kind of alarm too. They wouldn't leave something so valuable unguarded, would they?
[She's eyeing the fence as they walk along the rear of the building, and winds up pulling away from him to head over toward where it looks like trucks can come and go.]
Hey, come look at this. [She nods over toward the bottom of the gate. It doesn't go all the way to the ground. It's a small opening, but she's pretty sure she can squeeze through it. A little pain won't mean anything in the long run.]
If I can crawl and squeeze through, I can probably get at least one side of this open. I don't think an alarm would sound if someone's opening it from the inside. Or I could get in and see if there's a better way to get you in with me. We'd only be separated for a little while.
[And for her to be okay with that is a pretty big step. She recognizes that it's risky, but doesn't seem afraid by the idea.]
Yeah, good eye. Go ahead, see what the other side's like.
[He'll just keep an eye on things out here, meanwhile. This better not be just a goddamn maintenance shed with gravel for the landscaping. It looks real. He wants it to be real, and that's the dangerous part, the optimism.]