Quote from Indy on March 29, 2020, 10:01 pm

I made some weak sound at the back of my throat, like a whine. Was it agreement, protest? I couldn't say.  Ordinarily, I wouldn't have allowed anyone in the driver's side. It was my place, right down to the indentation on the steering wheel from my fingertips. It wasn't anything against Robin's driving, but in a world where so many things were beyond my control, it was nice to feel like I was in the driver's side once in a while.

Cursed, tired, caffeine-free body.

But Robin hadn't been asking, and I knew she wouldn't hesitate to shove if I was unresponsive. I rose like a member of the walking dead, lazily plopping myself into the passenger's side.

Quote from Adriana on March 30, 2020, 3:44 pm

"Thank you," I slid into the driver seat. "I hope your interview didn't go that well." I commented, already pulling out the parking lot, not bothering to look back at El Blanco Lobo.

The drive was decently long and tired. It felt like we were the only souls on the road for miles. Except for the occasional raccoon or coyote with it's eyes glaring off of my high beams from the edge of the road, we were.

The campsite was in the mountains on the way to the train station we were headed to. Off the road a ways. The gravel crunched under the tires as I pulled in,parked the car in a free space and looked the area over. It was simple - one of those places where people with RV's or big SUV's parked, and they'd either stay in their camper and drive or hike to the rivers and lakes in the morning, or set up camp at a tent sight a little further in. It had one communal building with showers you could pay for and a little kitchen setup you could use if you brought your own cookware and food. It'd to smell like coffee and bacon around five AM when the early risers got up. By then we'd be up at waiting at the train station. The gave me about two and a half hours of sleep, if I could close my eyes now. I rolled down the windows a bit so we wouldn't drown in our own air and set out the windshield visors-we had them for the backseats too. Wasn't the first time and wouldn't be the last. Then I rested my seat back as far as it would go-never seemed far enough-and laid back with my arms crossed, staring at the ceiling til the sun come up in the morning.

Quote from Indy on March 30, 2020, 9:26 pm

By the time the car started to purr I was almost fast asleep; I lingered enough in the waking world to hear Robin mumble something about an interview.   I tried to remember what interview, but it was gone.  The edges of my thoughts were becoming murky, and with it any concern or care.

I had no sense of time when I jolted awake, the last shadows of a dream I didn't want to remember slipping away and the cold air unsettling sweat and Axe. Momentarily at a loss of where I was, my first instinct was for a fight as I tensed my fists and moved against the constriction at my chest.  A wave of panic stretched over me, but as I turned my head to the far left, I saw Robin's solitary figure.  I made sense of the seat belt and relaxed with a shaky breath, unclicking it so I could breath without claws at my chest.

"What time is it?" I asked as I squinted at the darkened sky, not certain if the sun's first rays were about to pierce through or if I'd somehow slept through to the following night.

Quote from Adriana on March 30, 2020, 9:48 pm

I tilted my wrist to see the watch - a bulky one from a big box store that cost about ten dollars, colored black with a neon green backlight. I clicked the light on and glanced down at it. "Four-thirty seven. Can sleep for a bit longer if you'd like, otherwise I'm gonna head to the station."

Quote from Indy on March 30, 2020, 9:57 pm

I shook my head.

"Nah, couldn't if I wanted to," I grunted as I straightened my spine from the weird slouching maneuver it was doing with the seat cushion and tilted my neck until it cracked.

I rasped my tongue along the roof of my mouth. It felt like sandpaper. And tasted like day-old coffee in motor oil.  I sighed mournfully for what I didn't have, but I didn't think the camp kitchen would be open yet.

Quote from Adriana on April 2, 2020, 4:00 pm

Robin raised her seat back up and popped her neck and shoulders, taking the visors down off the windows and started the car. "There's a little breakfast place up there, and a gas station. Let's clean up and get some breakfast. On me. Birthday day two. Yesterday didn't count for nothing." she smiled and began out and up the road again.

    ---

The car was parked in a lot designated for travelers. Most people would take a bus and then take the train. For a little extra you could park there for a few days, and the entry to the train station was secured after the last stop, so it was mostly safe. Anyway, Robin felt bad for a poor soul who'd want the Honda. They had to be more desperate than herself and Val. Robin got out of the car, took her backpack from the trunk and made sue she had everything, then waited for Val to do the same. She tossed him the keys and stretched, gazing over the area with some renewed vigor.

It was a mountainous train stop, in a decently elevated and well wooded area. The air on top of the mountain this early in the morning was frigid, but it'd warm up when the sun came out over the peaks. It was still early, the sun just taking on those first lighter blue hues before the light would engulf everything.

As promised, there was a gas station - one that was actually more of a tourist spot than a gas station, with a log cabin based exterior and all too expensive fuel prices. It would be clean and well stocked inside, one of those that sold T Shirts for about thirty dollars and usually had some kitschy mountain themed items. Alongside it, a generic breakfast diner, advertised to be open an hour before  the first call to an hour after the last stop. Robin definitely felt out of place. This was a popular stop for local families to come out to, a train ride for your kids tenth birthday, when they were old enough to appreciate it and right before they started saying how every activity short of playing their game system was "boring and pointless".  Or for that active hiking group - seasoned professionals that usually came in herds of at least three, who wore cargo shorts and tank tops and backpacks that were big enough to be their own method of transportation if only they had wheels. The women always had blonde hair cut bobbed at the chin, or dark hair in a poneytail, and the men always had a buzzcut. Everyone wore ballcaps.

"Let's wash up, then meet back at the diner."

Quote from Indy on April 2, 2020, 11:12 pm

It’s a funny thing to look at your car, wondering if it would be your last. I took the flash of the silver keys as they were thrown, the weight of them feeling somehow hefty.  It was just a poor little Honda wheezing its last breath, but I liked to think she was far away from going to Car-Heaven anytime soon.  It seemed a shame to leave her with miles in the odometer and gas in the tank, a shame to leave the familiarity of it if even for a week… and perhaps even longer.

I retrieved my bag from the back of the car and locked it, taking note of the lay of the land with a quick sweep. I did it for as much the benefit of knowing where we parked as to prepare for any future battles to be had.  Not that it was likely to come to that, of course.

“Good call,” I mumbled. My skin had started to get the crawling feeling and I feared if I didn’t do something about it soon, it might get up and leave without me.  Not to mention the Axe buried in my nostrils.

I turned aside, looking for the nearest rest restroom. It was a shame we hadn’t the opportunity to stop by a Rec area before we’d left, but I wasn’t exactly complaining about getting out of enemy territory as fast as it would let us.  Still, a person can get pretty far for a life on the road, and at this early hour, there wasn’t anyone milling around.

I tightened my grip on my bag and took the nearest stall. I made short work of the pack of wet-wipes and changed clothes  — I didn’t quite feel clean, but I did feel less walking biohazard. I went to the sink to brush my teeth, letting the minty flavor of toothpaste seep in a moment before I ran the toothbrush over the hazy film of my teeth.  In the last step, and after swiftly checking the door, I removed the patch in a short breath. I splashed cold water from the sink on my face as I scrubbed with liquid soap from the dispense.  When I finished, my gaze lingered on my reflection only a moment — and the sad, scarred, face starred back at me, wondering when everything had become so complicated.

I sighed, patted my face dry on the paper towels, and replaced the patch, lest I frighten small children. Or grown adults.

Within five minutes of our parting I was waiting by the diner, scanning the slow-ambling hikers with their sporty looks and sleepy-eyed staff for a familiar head of dreadlocks.

Quote from Adriana on April 10, 2020, 12:19 pm

When Val returned from cleaning up, Robin had managed to buy a cooler of foods and drinks for the trip, a couple of disposable cameras, and some other necessary items from the shop. She grinned at Val, before going into the diner and ordering a great big breakfast. She'd saved a lot for this trip, and if it was their only vacation, it was going to count for something.

Two cups of hot coffee, that actually tasted fresh, were brought to their table, along with a great big breakfast of waffles and sausage and bacon, eggs and hash browns. Robin sat down and ate with gusto, there was no room for talking.

Quote from Indy on April 10, 2020, 8:52 pm

Some days are canned beans, ramen, chuck roast, and burnt coffee.  And other days aren't -- they're massive waffles so thick I can tuck myself into bed at night with them, coffee so fresh I can practically taste the rainforest it had grown in, and eggs so yellow I can see the joy of the chicken that had laid them.  I let the flavors savor with each bite, trying to remember them for later, back when we were back to burnt coffee and ramen.

That's the secret to the bad days, really.  You realize they're just a bad guest passing through, and someday you'll get the waffles again.  The past doesn't exist, not really.  It's an intangible thing, just a collection of events made by a stranger.  When you feel it stir, it's just the ghost of Christmas Past rising to rattle his chains around a little.

As for tomorrow, I'd stopped guessing on that back when I didn't think I had one.

I finished, feeling pleasantly fat and tired despite the buzz of the coffee in my veins, glancing to Robin who seemed likewise.

"I don't think I'll ever be able to thank you enough for this..." I started, not sure how to complete the thought and deciding maybe putting my fork down on my cleared plate was the best way I could.