smackenzie (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
smackenzie) wrote2007-11-25 06:04 pm
smackenzie) wrote2007-11-25 06:04 pm
day 6
"Someone's coming," she told him, leading him around the back of the van. "A guy on a bike. I wanna say hi."
As the guy on the bike got closer, Oscar got more excited. Not that Marya was surprised - people excited him, especially new and possibly interesting people - but it was a little encouraging. At least he wasn't lying down on the highway again, preparing to nap, or growling. Although Oscar didn't really growl at people he'd never met, so maybe that didn't mean anything.
She couldn't figure out why someone would be biking along the highway, even now when there were clearly no cars or trucks to worry about, and especially alone and apparently without anything strapped to the back of the bike. No backpacks, no duffle bags, no nothing. Just a guy on a bike. From this distance he looked a little bit like Lance Armstrong, except not quite as skinny. He had the same kind of shaved head, though, and he didn't look very tall. But he wasn't hunched over the bike like a professional racing cyclist would be. He was just... biking, like the bicycle equivalent of taking a stroll around the neigborhood.
Maybe he was just some random crazy person from Indy or one of the little corn towns along the highway.
"Hey," Marya called, when he got close enough to actually talk to. She held up a hand in a kind of half-assed wave. "Can you stop for a sec?"
The guy pulled up in front of her, braked, and put one foot down on the ground to steady himself. "Hey yourself," he said. Up close he really did look like a slightly heavier Lance Armstrong, as if Lance had started eating more steak and pumping iron. Not fat yet, just a little more solid. There was a water bottle in a holder clamped to the frame of the bike, but the guy was wearing jeans and a t-shirt and aside from the facial resemblance to a famous cyclist, he didn't look like a professional athlete at all. "Name's Castro. Nice day, huh?"
"Yeah, I guess. Where'd you come from? Why are you biking on the highway?" Oscar pulled against the leash to go up to Castro and say hi. Marya held on to him, not wanting him to knock the guy down.
"I'll tell you the truth." Castro leaned forward over his handlebars. "I don't know where I came from. And I don't know where I'm going. I just know I like to bike. Used to be a lower-tier racer, back in the day." He grinned. "That was some fun, let me tell you. I did the Little Five every year I was in college. Biked on my dorm team as a frosh and the other years with my fraternity. We only won once, when I was a junior. Good times." He nodded cheerfully. "Can't remember how to get to Bloomington from here. I wanna see the place again. You know where we are?"
"We're on Seventy. Maybe thirty miles from Indy. I don't know where Bloomington is." This guy was definitely crazy. He seemed harmless enough, and he was certainly friendly, but he was nuts.
"Huh. I think it's south. I think. You got a map? I've just been goin' along hoping I'd recognize something, but so far I got nothin'. You from around here?"
"No, I'm from Massachusetts. Are you, um, are there a lot of people left? Have you seen anyone recently besides me?"
"Nope, nothing. Just me." He grinned again. Marya squinted at him. She had very little experience with genuinely insane people of the utterly-divorced-from-reality type, and she wasn't sure how to deal with this guy. He seemed much too cheerful to have any idea what had happened in the past week, unless this was his way of dealing. Maybe he'd suffered a complete psychotic break at the thought that everyone he knew had disappeared, and had regressed to back when he was just out of college. That might explain why he was biking around without any supplies or gear other than his water bottle - he clearly wasn't going far. "Hey boy, hey," Castro said, leaning around his bike and holding out his hand to Oscar. "Aren't you a good boy."
Marya gave Oscar enough leash so that he could get close enough to Castro's hand to lick it and then hopefully stop barking. Oscar tried to lick his hand, Castro patted him on the nose, and Oscar did stop barking and then tilted his head and looked at Castro curiously. He backed up a step.
"I don't bite," Castro told him, sounding a little baffled and a little hurt.
"He can't hear you," Marya said. "He's deaf. He usually likes people, though. That's weird." By now Oscar had moved back to stand next to her. She rubbed his ears. "What's wrong?" she asked him, pretending she hadn't just told Castro that Oscar couldn't hear.
"I guess I don't taste that good." Castro shrugged. "Eh, don't worry about it. At least he didn't bite me, right?"
words: 828
total words: 41,644
note: the little five (officially called the little 500) is a bike race held at indiana u every spring. the movie breaking away is about a group of townies who form a team.
As the guy on the bike got closer, Oscar got more excited. Not that Marya was surprised - people excited him, especially new and possibly interesting people - but it was a little encouraging. At least he wasn't lying down on the highway again, preparing to nap, or growling. Although Oscar didn't really growl at people he'd never met, so maybe that didn't mean anything.
She couldn't figure out why someone would be biking along the highway, even now when there were clearly no cars or trucks to worry about, and especially alone and apparently without anything strapped to the back of the bike. No backpacks, no duffle bags, no nothing. Just a guy on a bike. From this distance he looked a little bit like Lance Armstrong, except not quite as skinny. He had the same kind of shaved head, though, and he didn't look very tall. But he wasn't hunched over the bike like a professional racing cyclist would be. He was just... biking, like the bicycle equivalent of taking a stroll around the neigborhood.
Maybe he was just some random crazy person from Indy or one of the little corn towns along the highway.
"Hey," Marya called, when he got close enough to actually talk to. She held up a hand in a kind of half-assed wave. "Can you stop for a sec?"
The guy pulled up in front of her, braked, and put one foot down on the ground to steady himself. "Hey yourself," he said. Up close he really did look like a slightly heavier Lance Armstrong, as if Lance had started eating more steak and pumping iron. Not fat yet, just a little more solid. There was a water bottle in a holder clamped to the frame of the bike, but the guy was wearing jeans and a t-shirt and aside from the facial resemblance to a famous cyclist, he didn't look like a professional athlete at all. "Name's Castro. Nice day, huh?"
"Yeah, I guess. Where'd you come from? Why are you biking on the highway?" Oscar pulled against the leash to go up to Castro and say hi. Marya held on to him, not wanting him to knock the guy down.
"I'll tell you the truth." Castro leaned forward over his handlebars. "I don't know where I came from. And I don't know where I'm going. I just know I like to bike. Used to be a lower-tier racer, back in the day." He grinned. "That was some fun, let me tell you. I did the Little Five every year I was in college. Biked on my dorm team as a frosh and the other years with my fraternity. We only won once, when I was a junior. Good times." He nodded cheerfully. "Can't remember how to get to Bloomington from here. I wanna see the place again. You know where we are?"
"We're on Seventy. Maybe thirty miles from Indy. I don't know where Bloomington is." This guy was definitely crazy. He seemed harmless enough, and he was certainly friendly, but he was nuts.
"Huh. I think it's south. I think. You got a map? I've just been goin' along hoping I'd recognize something, but so far I got nothin'. You from around here?"
"No, I'm from Massachusetts. Are you, um, are there a lot of people left? Have you seen anyone recently besides me?"
"Nope, nothing. Just me." He grinned again. Marya squinted at him. She had very little experience with genuinely insane people of the utterly-divorced-from-reality type, and she wasn't sure how to deal with this guy. He seemed much too cheerful to have any idea what had happened in the past week, unless this was his way of dealing. Maybe he'd suffered a complete psychotic break at the thought that everyone he knew had disappeared, and had regressed to back when he was just out of college. That might explain why he was biking around without any supplies or gear other than his water bottle - he clearly wasn't going far. "Hey boy, hey," Castro said, leaning around his bike and holding out his hand to Oscar. "Aren't you a good boy."
Marya gave Oscar enough leash so that he could get close enough to Castro's hand to lick it and then hopefully stop barking. Oscar tried to lick his hand, Castro patted him on the nose, and Oscar did stop barking and then tilted his head and looked at Castro curiously. He backed up a step.
"I don't bite," Castro told him, sounding a little baffled and a little hurt.
"He can't hear you," Marya said. "He's deaf. He usually likes people, though. That's weird." By now Oscar had moved back to stand next to her. She rubbed his ears. "What's wrong?" she asked him, pretending she hadn't just told Castro that Oscar couldn't hear.
"I guess I don't taste that good." Castro shrugged. "Eh, don't worry about it. At least he didn't bite me, right?"
words: 828
total words: 41,644
note: the little five (officially called the little 500) is a bike race held at indiana u every spring. the movie breaking away is about a group of townies who form a team.