beyondtheline | Tornadoes and skeletons and nacho dogs, oh my

Tornadoes and skeletons and nacho dogs, oh my

[So this is how he gets away with it, then. Cruz, a skeleton, with a skeleton horse, lives in a skeleton of a house with a skeletal barn attached - and he remains unseen, his home apparently abandoned, all the way on the outskirts of this thing that's barely a town.

Well, you do what you gotta do, and Johnnie won't turn down a kind offer of a safe place to stay the night. He can't help but grin at Chrissy having such a good time riding that bony horse as he pulls the bike in through the barn door and parks it to the side, then hops off.]

Hey man, we owe ya for this. Here.

[See, this is yet another reason it's good to stock up on alcohol. He finds their most recent stolen bottle of tequila and pulls it out as he saunters over to their host and offers it in an outstretched hand.]

On us. Uh, if you drink, that is. You do drink, right?

[Normally that would be a dumb question to ask but the guy appears to be actual bones. But, bones that can smoke, without lungs, so he can probably drink without a mouth, right?

That earns a laugh from Cruz.]

I sure do, fella. You don't have to, though. I'm not looking for any kind of repayment, just helping out a couple folks in need.

[Johnnie shakes his head and waves that attempt off.]

Nah, it's all yours. Or if you really insist, we can all split it tomorrow, the three of us an' the rest of your crew. Can't wait to meet 'em. They all skeletons too?

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[Goddamn, his knees are a little weak after that orgasm, and he has to steady himself by holding onto her legs for a second before he pulls out so he can sink all the way down on top of her and claim all the kisses she'll give. It takes a few seconds to clear the haze from his head, and then he smiles at those soft touches of hers and presses his cheek against her hand, simply enjoying her touch for now.]

Well, there'll be more. Promise you that. We have so many nights ahead of us where we'll have somethin' to celebrate.

[He aches for the cacophony of it all, the chaos and joy of having friends all around, howling their triumph at the night sky, passing drugs and booze around a fire that eats away at whoever dared to cross them. They'll find moments to steal away together, and then later rejoin the party and all that revelry under the stars.

But until then, they have this and it's damn good too. He smiles against her lips and kisses her again, slower this time.]

I wish we could be back home tonight.

[She's still breathless, and smiles more as he kisses her again. This kiss is slower and more passionate, the emotion and bond between them amplifying the sensation. She only lets him pull away when she feels her lips are kiss swollen and red, and it's then that she tries to sit upright so he doesn't have to completely support her anymore.]

But this really has been the best night I've ever had. Thank you for helping me become so strong, Johnnie.

[One more kiss won't hurt anything. This one is just as slow and drawn out as the one before it, but somewhere in the midst they manage to get her off the bike and onto her own feet. Which is good, because she has to straighten out her skirt and go hunting for her panties.]

Aw, babe, you're welcome. You did it yourself, though, just had to have someone show you how.

[He helps her down, an arm around her as she hops to the ground, and flicks on his lighter to help hunt down where he'd thrown those. It's not like they went far, thankfully, and the light fabric shows up easily enough against the gravel.

He zips himself up as she gets them back on, and then pulls her in for one more kiss before they both get back onto the bike. He takes a deep breath of cool desert night air, leans back into her hold for a satisfying moment, and then gets the engine purring underneath them as he turns and makes their way back onto the highway. Talk about one worthwhile little stop.]

Not much left of Texas. You still got your heart set on cowgirl boots?

[At some point early in the state she'd asked about those, right? Fact is, though, they can find those anywhere all the way west, too. It's not like the world will run out of cowboys the moment they cross into New Mexico.]

No, that's okay. There's things that are more important to me than cowgirl boots and a hat.

[She may laugh as she says it, but she really means it. Johnnie getting home is so important, and seeing him happy is important to her. Besides, she can find boots in California. And hats. And probably any other clothes she sets her heart on. LA has a lot going for it.

It's impossible to resist squeezing him a little tighter in a hug, and she imagines how excited they'll be once they get closer to home.]

Let's yeehaw out of Texas, okay? We can stop whenever you get tired.

[He laughs at that, bright and loud, and raises his fist in a circle like he's swinging an invisible lasso.]

Yeehaw, then! Fuck Texas. Except Miss Toni, she was all right. That was a good dinner. So fuck Jason, specifically, I guess. That asshole deserved everything he got.

[He mimes shooting a pistol into the sky, cackling as he does it, then blows off his smoking finger-gun and keeps driving. It really ought to be a nice open road for miles, judging by the map. They'll roll into El Paso by midnight, he figures.

He was not, however, counting on having to stop again so quickly but it's only a few minutes before lights and stop signs appear ahead, and they're forced to wait behind a couple other cars, all lined up at a border patrol check station that seems not to be letting anyone through. He waits, parked, for all of ten seconds before he groans and slumps forward with arms crossed over the handlebars.]

Man, what the fuck is goin' on here?

[He can see a guy in uniform on the radio, pacing back and forth, while another couple officers, a mix of CBP and regular police, seem to be loading up into vehicles.

Okay so maybe a detective had his car blown up and maybe somehow word's already gotten out since it wasn't far away and they were kind of occupied for a few extra minutes. Johnnie frowns and drums his fingers against the bike.]

I mean, they're not gonna know.

[The real question is is it faster to sit and wait, or faster to take winding gravel roads into the fucking abyss of the desert night?]

[Chrissy, for as brave as she's become, feels suddenly sick at the thought of stopping here. As much as she wants to believe that they're not going to know, she's afraid of what might happen if they do know.]

But what if they do?

[She whispers, holding onto him a little tighter. Her eyes watch all of the police presence, before she turns to look off to both sides.

I mean, I've never been to prison before. That's like jail, but worse.

[That's what she's assuming, anyway. It's unfortunate that the path ahead is the faster route, because she's seriously considering pleading with him to head off in another direction and see where that ends up. She knows she probably looks guilty, and the second they're questioned she'll probably burst into tears.]

You ain't ever been to jail either, anyway.

[She sounds all nervous, poor thing. He probably should be more nervous, but he can't be bothered to get that worried about it. Maybe if he got stopped in his own time, in his own state, where someone probably has a damn folder with everyone's faces just watching for one of them to fuck up and get caught, but here? There's no chance anyone at this checkpoint has somehow already gotten to that detective guy, gotten a statement, and come back, and already has an idea of who to watch for. Surely, they've beaten him. It looks like they're maybe just now sorting out what even happened.

But the longer they have to sit and wait here, the higher the chances of them getting a car back and forth and picking that guy up and someone IDing them. Ugh. And then it's charges of assault and theft and illegal possession of weapons and pot and honestly who knows what else they'll come up with. Or, maybe that guy will describe some kind of fire demons, or maybe the fucking idiots here won't see them at all because they're looking for live people, not dead ones.

Another minute ticks by and he gives up.]

Whatever. Gotta be another way to get to El Paso, right? These guys might be at this all night.

[It might look suspicious as fuck that he's turning around, but what are they going to do, chase after him just because he's impatient? Time to make a u-turn and look for a side road, because he's pretty sure they passed one somewhere in the last few minutes.]

I don't really wanna give those guys time to work out we were involved in what happened back there. An' we can't really go south, so I guess we're lookin' for a road that goes north. Man, fuck border patrol, that's the worst kinda cops, too. Maybe we blow up the checkpoint instead.

[He wasn't serious, but then he says it and maybe that's actually a good idea. Or, if not a good one, then an exciting one. They have time to decide while he looks for an alternate route.]

[He can't just mention fire and not expect her to enable him. Her head turns and she looks back the way they came, and there's really only one choice here.]

We only have a lighter. How are we going to blow it up?

[Clearly, she has no moral obligation to blowing up a cop checkpoint. What's border patrol supposed to be, anyway? It sounds restrictive and mean, and they really need to do something about that. Her question is sign enough that she's on board with whatever he wants to do. They can keep on going down this route and try to find their way through El Paso. Or they could blow up the checkpoint and blast through screaming like the really cool people that they are.]

I dunno.

[It's kind of a big job, normally. Not something he'd ever dare attempt by himself, knowing the consequences. But the thing is, now that he's dead and can't be pinned to any particular time here in this part of the world, there are no consequences. If they ever come back to this year or those shortly afterward, if anyone bears witness to their attempt well enough to recognize them even with goggles and bandanas pulled up, there could be trouble, but honestly? How bad could it be?]

I guess we could just blast right on through, don't even have to blow anything up, I just fuckin' hate these guys for wastin' everyone's time. I mean, look. Look at all this. If anyone's smuggling cargo tonight, they don't go on the highway, they just go around like I was gonna. So what the fuck's the point?

[He gestures broadly to the night around them, then pulls the bike abruptly around again so that they're facing the checkpoint and its distant lights. Time to decide, before options start to shut off one by one.]

I'm just gonna drive. I can fit the bike through up there an' they can't catch us before we fuck off into some other decade anyway. You ready?

[He's had his goggles around his neck as he drives, preferring to leave them off when there's no bad weather or anything, but now? It's Time Bandit time. He pulls them up over his eyes and grabs his bandana from his back pocket to tie around his face, then gives her a thumbs up. It's silly, but fuck it, it's probably not the worst idea he's had tonight, having some bare minimum of a disguise before he charges the checkpoint, just to help them out in the future if they wind up near this time and place again.]

[Chrissy watches that checkpoint as he speaks, and she tries to quickly come up with a plan. But he pulls her out of her thoughts and she nods even though he can't see it.]

I was thinking maybe we could try shooting some of those cop cars in their gas tanks, but I don't think that would make anything blow up or set on fire. We're out of bottles of alcohol, so we don't have anything left to throw.

[He seems like he's already set on just driving through as fast as he can, which is fun in its own way because there's probably some kind of barrier or block they'll charge through. Her hands go to his shoulders, and she rubs them to help him get ready. She can press her face against his back and not need to cover her face, so her thumb goes up and she laughs.]

I'm totally ready. Let's do this!

[She's thinking along the right train of thought, so he appreciates that, but she's right - shooting cars in the gas tank sounds cool until you realize it basically doesn't do anything. It's not like the movies, you need something a little more powerful than that. And they're fresh out of "more powerful", unfortunately.

But she leans up against him, and he lowers his head, streamlining them both as the speedometer ticks rapidly upward and the lights of the checkpoint grow quickly closer. It's not worth yelling anything over the engine sound right now - sure, he could caution her to be ready if they come after the two of them, but that's obvious. He sees those squad cars, he knows they're disorganized here, trying to figure out what to do about the situation they've freshly found themselves in. He and Chrissy can just add to their disarray and that will have to be enough for now.

He assesses the situation as they draw close. Officers are already looking their way, at the bike coming at them at high speed, but they won't have time to react. They've just recently stopped the checkpoint operations, they still haven't actually swung the gate arm closed, but he can see two people trying to do that right now before they can get through. Johnnie rips fuel through that throttle and shifts his weight hard, using Chrissy at the back to his advantage as he pulls the front wheel into the air right as he's about to connect with a guy's face. He can see the sweat on his bald forehead, the whites of his eyes as his pupils shrink to pinpoints before narrowly tumbling out of the way, while Johnnie gives a howl of pure delight. They just bump the gate arm and send it flying on its hinge, where it knocks someone else over and then thuds into the hood of the nearest waiting car.

The front tire hits the pavement hard as he comes back down, and for a second he raises both hands in the air, middle fingers to the cops they're now leaving in the dust of the I-10.]

So long, motherfuckers! Whooo!

[There are lights and sirens and engines rumbling behind them now, but there's little chance they'll get up to speed and catch them anytime soon. They'll probably call ahead to the next patrol office, send people coming this direction, but by then, he and Chrissy are likely to be long gone, into the past or future.]

[At first, all she can do is hold on for dear life. There's fast, and then there's this kind of fast. And the shifting of the bike as Johnnie shows off as they reach the checkpoint makes her hold on even tighter to him. Her face is pressed firmly against him, no one can see who she is or what she looks like. But there's still an instant of fear that they won't make it through and they'll be stopped.

As soon as she hears that holler from him though, she's lifting her head and looking around. The first thing she sees is both his hands up in the air, middle fingers raised in a salute. She laughs and joins in, though it's a little too late. That checkpoint is far behind them now.

It's only a matter of time before they'll shift out of '67, and she's a little sad about that. Johnnie never got to speak to Alex, but Dale will get his message back and everything will be fine. They'll be expecting them to come crashing back into town any day now. That thought fills her with such a giddy joy that she can't stop giggling for a few seconds. She has to lean over and give his cheek a smacking kiss before she can focus on anything but that happiness that's flooding through her.]

Nothing's gonna stop us from getting there now!

[She wants to stay close, so she rests her cheek against his and hugs him tight. It's probably a little too close for his comfort, so that doesn't last for too long. Eventually she leans back, extends an arm, and enjoys feeling the wind between her fingers.]

How far do you think we'll be able to get before morning? I want to find somewhere to pull over and stop so we can have a breakfast picnic and watch the sun rise.

[The wind whistles in his ears and whips his hair back as he maintains that crazy speed up until the rise over the little mountain pass ahead of them forces him to slow down. The bike did good, but it can only haul the weight of two people and all their shit so well, after all.]

Uh, let's see. What is it now, gotta be around eleven? I guess it just depends on the roads. Maybe Tucson, if we keep the highway.

[History says they won't keep the highway the whole way through, though - he knows that by now.

From up in these rocky hills, they look down onto the black stretch of midnight desert below. It's one long, straight highway heading northwest from here, and there's nothing to judge the decade by but the radio, which is still keeping on whatever it was just outside Van Horn, playing old country tunes. The style of cars at the checkpoint felt like what he now recognizes as the late 90s or early 2000s, maybe, same as in town when they left. It won't hold out forever.

In the far distance to the west, a series of tiny lights flicker through the brush. Flashlights, probably.]

We'll just have to see where we end up. I'm gonna guess we gotta slow down just to get through El Paso, anyway, that's gotta be a big city. We'll get gas there as long as it's not all cowboys an' indians again. Then from there, we'll go as far as the road lets us. I just hope we don't gotta walk too much of it, because that'll be real fuckin' rough in the desert.

[They've been traveling in and out of time long enough for Chrissy to be aware they'll lose the road here and there. It doesn't worry her when it happens, but she definitely remembers how rough it was getting the bike into New Orleans. The desert they're in now will be difficult in other ways, and she hopes they don't have to do it.

Luck is only on their side for so long, and eventually the road vanishes and it's just hard rock and loose sandy dirt beneath the tires. The radio doesn't work for them then, and they both get off and work together to keep the bike going until the road comes back to them.

Once they're back on, they approach a big city soon enough. It's late at night, but there's still all kinds of lights up ahead. She isn't surprised when she sees it's El Paso, and judging from the cars parked all over it looks pretty close to the time she comes from.]

We have to be in the 80s sometime. That looks exactly like my parents' station wagon.

[Late at night in the wide open desert, it's the way lights pop in and out that's just as striking as the road coming and going. He's tired of pushing the damn bike but at least it happened at night, where at this time of year it's dry and cool out.

But the road comes back, and the lights come back too, little pinpoints of towns along the river on both sides of some imaginary line drawn in the sand and mesquite, and now ahead, too, as border villages merge into the sprawling network of El Paso and Ciudad Juárez. He looks at that car Chrissy points out, parked outside a movie theater, and nods.]

Yeah, I remember seein' ones like it. All right, well, let's hope the 80s here aren't too damn weird, I just wanna get through.

[And get gas, before they run out of modernity again. It's some bullshit, because he could probably drive all the way to Tucson on this tank if he knew he could rely on the interstate and some kind of temporal consistency, but whatever. There's a gas station ahead with its lights on, and hopefully that means the pumps are on, too, so he doesn't have to fuck around and find the switch.

Unfortunately, that level of optimism is clearly too much. Once parked, he grumbles and kicks one of the damn machines, then starts looking around for a button or valve or however this decade's manual override works.]

They probably got it inside the damn -

[He's looking at the little building itself, lights on but locked up for the night, when he spots the VMB tag with their signature spiral symbol sprayed just around the corner, next to an empty newspaper dispenser. His demeanor shifts, from casual but irritated to something on far higher alert as he scans the area.]

Are you fucking kidding? Out here?

[While he's messing around with the gas pumps themselves, Chrissy's pulling a bobby pin out of her hair and is going to peek inside the station itself. She has no idea how to pick locks, but she's watched Johnnie do it before so she's sure as heck going to try. She's fiddling with that lock when he speaks up, and that makes her stop and glance back at him in concern.]

What's wrong?

[He sees something, so she ditches trying to get into the store to find a way to get the gas pumps on for now. Instead, she makes her way over to him and looks at the letters he's...well, not admiring. He's clearly not liking what he sees.]

What does VMB even mean?

[Wait a second. It hits her what this must be and she gasps in excitement.]

Is this tagging?

[Goddamn she's clueless. Not that that's her fault, and not that he's mad at her for it, but fuck. He's just on edge now and nothing about this situation is something he likes. The longer they stick around here fussing with the lock, the more likely they are to land in trouble.]

Yeah. Watch my back, okay?

[The lockpicking is cute but they don't have time for that, so he trots over to the bike and grabs the stashed bolt cutters, since they're easier to grab without a hunt like the hammer is, wherever it got to. He motions Chrissy aside, then swings them hard against the lock several times until the thing breaks and the glass cracks.]

Barrio Molinillo Boys, except they can't fuckin' spell or think the V sounds harder or somethin'. Call themselves the "Meat Grinders" though. Get in there an' look for the pump controls, all right? I gotta keep an eye out. I dunno how deep in territory we are, but we better not stick around long.

[And by keeping an eye out, he means he's darting back over to the bike with his back to a pump, and then searching for ammo for his pistol, since he's pretty sure that didn't get reloaded yet.]

[Meat grinders?

She swallows and goes very still and quiet, because his being on edge puts her in a similar state. He's always so bold and chaotic, that seeing this quiet concern makes her slip into an anxious state. Her eyes are peeled for any sign of danger, and she's suddenly filled with embarrassment because she's so completely clueless and stupid.

But she thinks she can make up for that by finding the pump controls, so she just nods and hurries inside as quietly as she can. The problem for her is that she's getting more worldly and learning a lot, but she's only been free from the life she was trapped in for about a month. Maybe a little less, time is pretty meaningless to her now. But her mess up with being excited about another gang's tagging hangs heavy in her mind, and she keeps replaying how differently she could've made that moment by just picking up on clues and being more useful right away.

She finds the pump controls in a small closet near the register, and it doesn't take her too long to get things up and going. Once she's sure they're on, she jogs back out to him and tries to show that she's not a complete lost cause by being the one that starts pumping the gas.]

Sorry about before. [She speaks quietly, once she manages to figure out how to get the gas pump working.] It was really stupid to ask that and not realize you were tense about something.

[He's still a little tense, actually, so she bites at her lip and lets it rest there.]

Do you think they've noticed us here?

Edited 2023-06-16 20:01 (UTC)

[Oh, he is certainly still tense as he loads the pistol and watches everything in range of vision. A car goes by down the street and he eyes it, tries to judge if the person inside is eyeing him back or simply a curious onlooker out late.]

I'm not mad at you. You're not stupid, an' you don't have to apologize.

[He just doesn't want her getting hurt, that's all. That, and the whole situation makes him skittish still. Lights on, so they're easily visible from all sides while anyone lurking in the darkness is far harder to spot? It feels like a trap, and he just has to hope either nobody's actually around right now, or that here in the 80s in El Paso, these guys are worried about some other gang and don't realize or care that he's here.]

If they're around, they've seen us. Back home, doin' this, breakin' into a place in someone else's neighborhood an' stealin' gas or whatever bullshit late at night, it's a real good way to pick a fight. These guys are from just north of us. I wonder if by now we ran 'em out an' some of them fled all the way out here.

[He likes that a lot better than imagining that the Meat Grinders actually hold enough power to spread their influence to other cities, but who knows what's happened over the course of fifteen, maybe twenty years.

He nods to a fence across the street with the same tag.]

See, there's another. I bet the highway's a boundary, so we must be right at the edge of things.

[Another car passes, slow, and Johnnie stares hard at a passenger, a guy just a couple years younger, as he tries to see if they're watching them or if they're being overlooked as ghosts.]

C'mon, I don't care if it's not full. Let's not give these guys a reason to stop an' ask what we're up to.

[Seeing him like this puts things a little more in perspective for her, of what turf and territories are going to be like back in LA. She reaches into the pocket of her skirt and makes sure her knife is there and is in reaching distance. Once she's sure it is, she goes to cut the fill up short, and puts the pump back in place.

Just so she can try to relax him a little, she puts her hands on his shoulders and pulls herself in for a quick kiss. They pull apart and go to get on the bike, and it's while they're doing that another car slowly drives by. They drive past the station, but don't make it far, then apply the brakes and move into reverse. Tires squeal as they zoom back, and Chrissy doesn't need to be told to hold on tight. She grabs hold of him like her life depends on it.]

Get us out of here, okay?

[Her fear that the guys in that car are meat grinders and will kill them all over again overrides any other feeling she may have. It's time to get the hell out of town, fast.]

These motherfuckers! Hey we're leaving, you assholes!

[He shouts back at the car over his shoulder just as he guns the engine and sends them rocketing forward toward the highway ramp. It's some relief that all he hears behind is laughter and the engines of the vehicles, rather than the pop of a gun. New York taught him plenty about that kind of future and now he's ready for it, but that doesn't mean he wants either of them being shot at. Especially not Chrissy, currently perched like a human shield between him and the guys in the car chasing after them.

It's a brief chase, only a few minutes, but it's enough to get his heart pounding, until finally the boys in the car break off and take an exit while jeering and shouting at the two of them, calling them cowards and all kinds of things far worse. It feels bad to run, he fucking hates it, but he has to get home. He told Dale he'd be home and he intends to make that happen.

He's still checking his mirrors as they start to leave the center of El Paso behind them, but by now they must be in the clear, and finally he loosens his grip and takes a breath.]

Idiots. They're just fuckin' around, I bet. I'll show their veteranos a thing or two when we get back to California. Stomp 'em into the fuckin' dust so they never make it out this far.

[Her laughter is a nervous chuckle, because she has no idea what to make out of all that. She's really grateful that it didn't turn into being shot at or chased further, but it's sinking in just how enforced those territories that are tagged really are. It's more of a concrete reality for her now, and her mind is taking a few minutes to process that. She's not afraid, not apprehensive by it. But she definitely understands more of what he has been trying to explain to her now.]

That could've been bad if we had to fight.

[Which is why he was worried about her, obviously. She's clueless enough that she really could've gotten hurt if things had gone wrong.]

When we get back and finish taking care of Zazo, you have to teach me exactly who to look out for. So then I can help you get rid of them.

[She's left smiling as her arms loosen their hold, and she's able to just relax up against him.]

Mmm. Yeah, you still got plenty to learn, babe.

[But he laughs it off and pats the side of her leg, then lets one of his hands rest on top of hers for the moment.]

I know you didn't grow up with all this like I did, so don't worry too much about not knowin', okay? You're real smart, you'll pick it up fast. I can tell you about a lot of it before we even get there anyway, an' I know I keep sayin' I'll do that but then we get wrapped up in all kindsa other stuff. Next time we stop, I'll try an' give you a rundown.

[Basics, anyway. There's still plenty that probably won't sink in until she's lived it a little while, but she's got to start somewhere. It's a shame he doesn't have a map of LA itself on him, that would be useful for her. Once they get to California, one of those tourist info kiosks will have one he can grab, and they can look it over together at some little desert bar. Hell, he can take over a table at the Broken Bottle for that, that'll be perfect. He misses that damn place, even if it's only been a few weeks since he was in there last. Feels like years now.]

[He's so gentle with her, so encouraging. It really strikes her in moments like this one how lucky she is. He must really love her, to have this kind of patience as they edge closer to home. That, and to take the time to let her have her moment with Jason earlier. He had even given her a choice about staying and dancing, or heading out on the road. That fills her heart with warmth, even as she feels a little anxiety about the unknown that lies ahead.]

I still really want to stop when the sun starts rising. Maybe you can tell me a little then.

[They fall pretty silent after that, the expanse of road ahead lulling her into a trance. She dozes off a few times, and by now she's an expert at sleeping up against him on a motorcycle.

After snapping awake at one point, she looks around and tries to figure out where they are and what time it is. There's a song playing on the radio that she instantly recognizes as Madonna, and laughs as she reaches around him to turn it up and sing along. Lucky Star is a great song.

It's such a great song that she sings loud over the road noise and wind, and finds a way to wiggle and dance with him while they stay seated. It's silly and fun, and a little levity after what they left behind in Texas. And really, when she's singing into his ear quietly on some parts, she realizes a lot of the lyrics to this song fit how she feels about him.

The song eventually comes to an end though, and she's left grinning as she works her mouth along the back of his neck.]

How far have we gotten since El Paso?

Edited 2023-06-16 22:08 (UTC)

[The road is hypnotic, even when it turns into something freshly paved for the first time in history, or something strange he can't quite understand, a slick glassy surface that hums with electricity. New Mexico is strange - the shifts have been quick but brief at times, like too many times are warring all to be in one place. There's always been a sort of mystery to the state in urban legends, and maybe there's reason for that.

But when she wakes up and starts singing, they're in some time that's relatively normal - with his definition of "normal" now stretching half a century after all they've seen - and he leans back against her a little and smiles at the feel of her lips on his neck.]

You zoned out on me for a few hours, I think. We just passed Deming. Guess we're about halfway through our stretch of New Mexico, now. No aliens out this way.

[He grins at that dumb joke. What is it, Roswell, where those are supposed to be? Sure, part of him is awfully curious too after all he's seen, but if ultimately if there are creatures from the depths of space here in New Mexico they'd better leave them and the bike the hell alone. Virginia was bad enough.]

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