![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png){kind=small}
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Apr. 19th, 2025 at 7:28 PM
[A few hours of open road makes for easygoing fun. It's great to be traveling again, and the feeling of Chrissy leaning up against his back, holding on tight while he whips ahead on a wide-open freeway through the pitch black of night is like nothing else. The last time they were racing up and down this freeway, they were on the way to go burn a bunch of people's lives down - but now that's hours back, back with the rest of the city. They've left the lights and have nothing to look at but the pavement in Johnnie's headlight, the glimpses of stars shining weakly through hazy clouds, and occasionally an oncoming car.
Johnnie hasn't exactly been trying to tune in to his senses or abilities or whatever it is he has - he's just been cruising, letting the night go by, enjoying their plunge northward without a care or a thought. So it is deeply irritating when the pavement quickly fades to a well-worn dirt track that almost tosses him and Chrissy to the ground, and it takes all of his skills to get the front wheel under control and to slow down before they hit a rock that really might launch them into the nearest alfalfa field. Or whatever it is that's here, whenever they've found themselves. Somewhere pre-freeway. Boo.
But there are a few lights ahead, and he did need a stop to pee, so, fuck it.]
Well, shit. Y'know, I dunno exactly where we are. Last sign said San Jose was still fuckin' hours off. You good? That was kinda shaky.
[As long as this dirt road stays packed, they can drive it, but it's going to be slow. Good thing they're almost to somewhere.]
Johnnie hasn't exactly been trying to tune in to his senses or abilities or whatever it is he has - he's just been cruising, letting the night go by, enjoying their plunge northward without a care or a thought. So it is deeply irritating when the pavement quickly fades to a well-worn dirt track that almost tosses him and Chrissy to the ground, and it takes all of his skills to get the front wheel under control and to slow down before they hit a rock that really might launch them into the nearest alfalfa field. Or whatever it is that's here, whenever they've found themselves. Somewhere pre-freeway. Boo.
But there are a few lights ahead, and he did need a stop to pee, so, fuck it.]
Well, shit. Y'know, I dunno exactly where we are. Last sign said San Jose was still fuckin' hours off. You good? That was kinda shaky.
[As long as this dirt road stays packed, they can drive it, but it's going to be slow. Good thing they're almost to somewhere.]
Comments
You're prob'ly right. That dude's weirded out already anyway, maybe we don't give him any more of our time. I kinda doubt this place has anything for us. Gimme a second an' then I'll go distract him while you grab somethin' from the bar?
[Look, he is actually thirsty. But also, whatever is grabbable behind the bar is probably hard liquor, not canned beer or soda. Wrong kind of thirst but a recipe for fun anyway.]
Or we skip it, just get the fuck outta here. Bet there ain't even much to rob anyway.
[Creepy mothefucking old towns. He's gonna pee. Fuck it.]
We'll see if we can find water or something down the road. He mentioned a rail station or something, so maybe there's better stuff there. Or cleaner stuff anyway.
[She could steal something just for the sake of stealing, but that doesn't sound like a good time right now. So they emerge from the bathroom together, and the man behind the bar watches them with that same bewildered look as they walk past the bar.]
Usually your kind don't venture far from the station.
[That makes her eyebrows arch, as she tries to figure out what he means by "your kind". He definitely is lumping them into the same category.]
Our kind? What's that supposed to mean?
[He only looks more disturbed, and gives a light shake of his head.]
People who are just passing through.
The commentary from this dude makes him raise an eyebrow. Johnnie stuffs the lighter back in his pocket and narrows his eyes a little, almost more out of confusion than annoyance.]
Well, we didn't come in off the regular road then, I guess. Haven't seen a station. Dunno that I even need to. Whatcha writing over there?
[Absolutely none of his business, but he's feeling nosy.
The saloon manager, or whoever this dude is, looks slightly taken aback by the abrupt change of topic. And evidently, judging by how he sets his jaw, he quickly decides he's not going to play along. Something about this town is off just enough where he's suspicious of travelers passing through anyway, and to have two that are so unusual must be setting off alarm bells in his head. He stands his ground and somehow manages to take a posture that makes him look an inch or two taller.]
Are you two going to buy a drink? If not, I suggest you be on your way.
We're not. Thanks for your hospitality anyway.
[She urges Johnnie to come along with her toward the door, and waits until they're outside and back on the bike to address that whole situation.]
Let's keep moving on ahead. Even if we have to go slow on the dirt roads it shouldn't be too much longer before we find a train station. There's more lights up ahead, and you can hear some noise.
[There's an unspoken concern there, one that travels down to her arms as they hold onto him just a little tighter. What kind of train station is operating and has people working at this time of night in this time period? She hopes the answer isn't upsetting.
But as they slowly continue along, the tiny town is mostly dark. The noise of a more industrial area gets louder as they pass tiny homes and creaky little shops. As they round the corner by the postal building, the train station becomes very obvious. It's about a hundred feet away, a small station, but well lit with plenty of lanterns going. There's plenty of people working, carrying wooden wagons of goods around. Two trains are parked, one clearly a steam engine. The other that sits behind it is far more ornate and ancient looking, with passengers looking out through tinted windows. Their eyes glow amber and Chrissy stares at them curiously, particularly since none of the men that are out working at this hour pay them any attention.]
You see that other train too, right? The one that's just parked there. All the eyes inside are glowing like they're on fire or something.
Yeah... I see it.
[He watches, wary but unafraid. One of them makes eye contact through the window, then, and he gives a nod in greeting.]
Seems pretty fuckin' weird but those guys are all acting like it's real normal. Or like they can't see 'em. That's like no ghosts I've ever seen though. An' I can't quite tell...
[Well, much. He was going to get a read on race just in case that told him anything, but the figures are distant enough and obscured enough that it's not that easy. ]
Well, who fuckin' knows. Let's go talk to these workers, ask if they got some water we can have, maybe they'll tell us what's what.
Let's hide your guitar over here too. I don't think we should carry it around with us.
[It's taken off her back before he has time to answer, and she hurries to hide it between the front tire of the bike and the wall. There's some taller grass there that helps hide it, but really it's the cloak of night that will keep it safe.]
I don't think those guys can see the other train. Should we try talking to them, or try sneaking on the train to see what's going on there?
[Really, they don't need to know what's going on with that other train. There's no big mystery here they need to solve to save their lives or anything. But the call of adventure is always strong for them, and she knows neither of them can resist the urge to see something new and exciting.]
[He was going to keep his guitar with him, have a quick chat at most with the guys working, then have them be on their way. But, fuck it. It's only been a few hours, they have time to get wrapped up in whatever this is. Maybe they'll get something good out of it. Maybe.
He looks a little forlornly at his guitar, but yeah, it's fine where it is.]
Me, I'd rather talk to the guys working, 'cause I'm sure they know the area, they can tell us the best way to get movin' north again, hopefully meet back up with the freeway. I dunno about that train fulla freaky motherfuckers.
[And he's not really interested in standing around here debating it either, so he trots on ahead, hands in his pockets, toward the men moving cargo.]
Hey boys. Word around town is down here's where we can get some water for the road?
[One of the men, heavier and bearded, sets down a burlap sack full of something or other onto a wheelbarrow, and wipes his arm across his brow, while a few others glance their way.]
Aye, the pump's just around the corner there, past ol' Jack, see? Him wavin' with the hat. Just the two of you, or do ya have horses with you?
[Johnnie blinks at the unfamiliar accent. Irish? Scottish? He's bad at telling those apart. Something like that.]
Oh, no, just us. Don't think horses would really work out, where we're goin'.
Hearing the guy's accent makes her grin, and she gives a little wave before she heads off toward the water he's pointed out.]
Are we really just going to get water and then leave?
[If he's not into things, that's fine. It's just that she can't help but be drawn in toward the unknown of figuring out what that other train is all about. She eyes it as they walk back the other direction, and is so distracted that she doesn't notice the guy with a wheelbarrow that she runs right into. She yelps as she topples over right inside.]
[Of places that don't suck. Of places where he can actually ride his motorcycle, practice the shit he's supposed to be learning. A train full of spooky people isn't really his personal concern when they could be off having fun, riding until sunrise.
But Chrissy somehow fucking faceplants into a wheelbarrow, and he groans and goes to help her out.]
Aw, shit, c'mon, gimme your hand.
[Wheelbarrow guy is rightly startled too, of course - but Johnnie is quick to get in there and help, leaving little for him to do but apologize. That's one dusty, dirty wheelbarrow, though.
And that asshole is backing away, looking more startled than expected even for what just happened. Johnnie rights Chrissy and helps her brush dirt off her clothes, but gives an eyebrow raise at the just-as-dusty worker.]
Hey, man. It's cool. We're good.
[Seems just as spooked as the saloon dude. So what's with the Irish guy being so casual, then?
Oh, fuck it.]
Hey - you. Hold up. What's that train about, over there?
You didn't get off that train?
[He's still backing away, and Chrissy tries to figure out what the look on his face means.]
No, we haven't been on it yet. Do you know why it's here?
[The guy backs up right into someone else, who curses at him and shoves him away.]
The only people who can see or board that train have been touched by death. I've only seen it once, right after my brother died on the line. Swear I saw him get on and wave goodbye before it headed out of the station.
[That explains why he's looking at them like that. To the people here they must be ghosts. It's so weird how that happens when they're not at home.]
Oh. So it's like a ghost train then.
[To Johnnie, she leans in to whisper.]
Maybe some kind of train to the afterlife. We're not getting on it to check it out.
[The last thing they need or want is to be taken to some otherworldly train station in heaven or hell or something. She sighs as she turns away, her interest in that train fading away with the story they've just been told.]
Come on, I guess there's no reason to play detective here.
[Bummer.]
[Not like these people probably want. They're looking to all get swept off into some kind of heaven? Bullshit. Hope they enjoy their long cosmic dissolution into fuckall.
So the dude who pointed out the water must have some kind of common connection with the dead, if this guy is right. Neat. Also not his problem, though. At least sometimes they find people who are cool with them being the way they are. Anyway, his thirst is sated, and seemingly so is Chrissy's curiosity, so he gives her a quick squeeze and walks on toward the bike without so much as a farewell to the guy who answered her question.]
All right, let's get the hell outta here. Might have to walk a while anyway. We just gotta keep goin' north an' maybe we'll end up back on the freeway, or if we don't, some shitty side road that ties into it. I don't wanna spend all night here.
[Maybe he's rushing things but he does have goals and this place meets none of them. Maybe once he's had a few drinks, settled into the trip, has a clearer sense of how long they'll get to enjoy it before they have to head back, maybe then he'll be more interested in poking around some shitty dirt town with shitty candles for lights or whatever the hell they use here. He sighs and heads back to the bike, already smiling again with the promise of moving on.]
It's easier to walk the bike on these awful dirt roads than to ride, and she's content to do that for a while. Silence seems to stretch on, and that's fine by her. There isn't very much to say when she's disappointed that train ended up being just a way to get rid of the dead.]
It makes me uncomfortable that there's so many ways people think they can get rid of people like us. Not that there's anyone else like us, but...that guy in New Orleans...this stupid train. Why is everyone so eager to think people who died want to move on and be at peace?
[It's stupid, and she just has to vent about that.]
[Not him, obviously. And not anyone he knows or cares about. But he has a pretty dim view of most of the people who live in the periphery of his experience. The people who live in the daylight only to stay indoors the whole time, stuck to a desk, who come home and fear the streets outside their neighborhoods, who only give a shit about making enough money to buy some fucking ham for the table and then doing it all over again the next day.
Boring as fuck.]
An' maybe the idea that there's ghosts an' shit ruins their boring fucking lives too much, 'cause a little excitement fuckin' scares them. Better put all the excitement on a goddamn train an' send it off to some shitty nonexistence.
The thing is, I could send them all to a shitty nonexistence. We could stand back, and I could let darkness swallow this stupid little town whole. And you know what? I want to. I feel something inside me that's clawing its way up and is telling me I have to. That I'm feeing everyone from their boring, shitty lives. I'm setting them free.
[She knows she could do it. Would do it. And after Malibu, she wouldn't even be sad. What is sad, though, is the fact it feels like they'll be walking the bike for at least another half hour before they can get somewhere that's safe enough to try driving it.]
[Sounds cool.
Should they be... well, he'll just ask it aloud.]
Should we be like... Concerned about what that shit could do to the future? Sometimes we just dunno if we're still in our world or one right next to it. Y'know. If you wiped a town off the map, I wonder what that would do.
[On the one hand he's not against it in principle. But on the other, he'd rather not do something that makes it so his family doesn't exist anymore. Or so he doesn't exist anymore, for that matter. It would've been easier to do that shit in some place like Louisiana where he couldn't see it having an impact, but this is California. That's different.]
Then again, that's a long way back. They've already come this far, can't turn around now.]
The Ender isn't exactly teaching me to think about the consequences of the things I do.
[She shrugs, keeping a little quiet.]
If everything's going to end anyway, does it matter?
[He laughs, and gives a shrug. Fuck if he knows how time works. Maybe it doesn't matter. He'd like to think it doesn't, but time travel is way beyond him. Just because he can sort of do it, somehow, doesn't mean he really gets it.]
Look, I really don't give a shit if you wipe some shitty fuckin' town off the map, right? I'd be right there with you. Just don't evaporate my grandpa on accident, or blow a fuckin' hole big enough that nobody from my family ever wanted to move to California to start with. I hate sayin' we gotta stick to small stuff, but, I wanna exist.
[Surely she gets that much. That's why he's here, alive, having a great time hauling his damn bike down the road and kicking at rocks.]
She doesn't just stumble over her own feet, she outright trips over them and nearly face plants right in the dirt. The thought of losing him in any way fills her with such a strong emotion that her eyes tear up.]
I wouldn't ever want to do anything that made it so you didn't exist.
[Which means every ounce of confidence she's gained with her powers has now dried up to nothing. There is no way she is ever going to use those things if there's chance she could make him not exist. Not happening, not for any reason.]
I love you, Johnnie. More than anything. I want you to exist too.
[Sure, he gets her out of Indiana and she wants that to always happen in every reality she exists in. But she'd be willing to just die and let that be that if it meant he gets to exist and live his life. She wipes at her eyes for a second and starts trying to push the bike harder. She can see signs of a smoother surface up ahead. Not much further to go, only a few hundred more feet.]
[He doesn't want to laugh at her stumbling, but he's totally laughing. He drops the kickstand with his toe and goes to help her up, but she's already managing it herself - still, she can have a hand up for moral support.]
Aw, well, thanks, baby girl. I'm real glad we both get to exist at the same time.
[Snickering, he folds that kickstand back up and carries on down the road. Annoyingly, the farther they get from town here, the rockier it gets. But what choice do they have but to press on?
Somewhere in the distance, a train whistles - the sign of one departing from the station behind them, or arriving? He's not going to give it any of his attention. Fuck that train.
It's another twenty minutes' walk before he sees something promising - the road joins up with a dry riverbed, mostly dust. The pebbles at the bottom will still suck, but it's wider, with more room to maneuver around them. He stops and has a look, turning the handlebars of the bike to shine the headlight down the river of sand.]
Might work? I dunno. An' even if it does, it might not drop us on a road, that might still be a river in our time, or whenever. Wanna try it anyway?
Let's try it and see what happens.
[As soon as he's back on, she's laughing and wrapping her arms around him.]
Did you bring your goggles? You might need them.
[It's hilarious because goggles aren't going to stop the water if they wind up in a river. But it's nice to laugh after all those heavy thoughts and emotions, and that little storm cloud that was over her head is gone as he gets the bike back in motion.
And oh gosh, it is slow going. Not as slow as walking the bike. But nowhere near as fast as being on a normal road. He's a skilled driver though, and seems to be able to handle it just fine.]
[And his handkerchief, which in this situation is more for keeping dirt out of his teeth as the wheels kick up silt and pebbles. Fuck this stupid riverbed. Why did he think this would be a good idea?
But something works - scooting up the bank, out of the middle. It's unstable, the ground slides and crumbles, but he picks up speed and laughs with joy as finally they get above some miserable fifteen miles and hour and skirt closer to thirty. This is not going to last long, there isn't enough stable bank for this, he needs to remember how the fuck he's supposed to control this -
The ground changes under his tires before he can figure it out. It isn't the time or place to think but at least they got going somewhere. The problem is, they're now kicking up tilled dirt in what looks like some kind of field and he doesn't have a fucking clue when they are, because agricultural fields are basically the whole history of this part of California as far as he knows, and the ground is too soft and he dumps the bike, but manages to at least get a foot down to keep himself from faceplanting into the soil and rolls with the movement. The only thing going through his head is his guitar, fuck, hopefully Chrissy falls forward into him and keeps it from getting crushed.
He spits dirt through his teeth and shakes off the fall, and looks around. At least there are more lights out there on the horizon. Civilization is lights and a river diverted around farmland. Sure.]
Well, fuck. If that's the freeway, it's over there somewhere. You okay?
Yeah, I'm okay. Just busted my lip a little, but it should stop bleeding soon.
[If only they had thought to fill up his canteen at the water, then she could rinse it off. But that's okay, she can just do it when they stop later.]
Your guitar is okay though. How's the bike?
[Thank fuck for his guitar. That's really the priority here. He and Chrissy can heal from things.
Once she's pulled herself to her feet, and he's done the same, he waves for her to come help him get the bike up and together they push it back onto its tires to tow to the edge of the field. That takes some tough pushing, but up above, the ground is packed from farm vehicles driving the edge and it's easier to walk it from there in the direction of those lights.]
I kinda wonder when we are, but I also kinda don't give a shit. Sometime there's pavement, an' I want on it. Your lip doin' okay?
[She's been through far worse than a busted lip. It's easy to just pretend it doesn't exist, even with the metallic tang of blood in her mouth.]
We should've used your canteen to store some water. I'm so thirsty all over again!
[That, and she wants to rinse her mouth. But that goes without saying. It's better to focus on when they are versus things like thirst, especially when they're just walking toward lights that hopefully will lead way to a more modern road.]
We gotta figure out how you can control what time we go to. There has to be a way, right?
Yeah, I think so. I was gettin' a sense for it when the Ender sent us to that place, I just gotta get in the right state of mind an' try it again. We'll get on this road here an' I'll try it out. I dunno if music helps or makes it harder - well. I'll figure it out.
[They come to a T, finally, and this cross road looks like the sort of frontage road that will eventually spill them onto the freeway. It's paved, that's the important part. He gives the bike a once over, but the lighting is pretty dim here and he gives up. Time to just help her up, hop on, and get the engine going, and hope it still drives in a straight line.
Which, blissfully, it does. He gives a sigh of relief as the wind picks up in his ears, and immediately feels more relaxed.]
All right, that's more like it!