smackenzie (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
smackenzie) wrote2007-11-26 10:37 pm
smackenzie) wrote2007-11-26 10:37 pm
day 6
She opened the bag of goldfish crackers and gave Oscar a handful. He was a messy eater but a grateful one. But Marya didn't have to sit in the passenger seat with all the cracker crumbs, so she didn't mind.
After she'd finished her dinner and Oscar had finished his dessert, she got the flashlight and walked him around the van one last time, then let him back in so she could pee herself. It wasn't any easier in the dark, and in fact it made her more nervous. The fact that she wouldn't be able to really see anyone or anything sneaking up behind - or in front of - her was worse than the thought that anyone driving by could get a glimpse of her with her jeans down around her ankles.
She scrolled through the playlists on her iPod after she turned the van back on but before she went anywhere. She'd gotten good at changing playlists while she was driving, but it was still easier to do standing still. She wanted something fast and loud that would inspire her to sing at the top of her voice and speed like a metallic-blue bat out of hell, and now that she'd be worried about running down the battery, she wanted to boot up her laptop and make some more long, fast, driving mixes. She had a stupid number of songs on her computer and she could make a really good, really long playlist.
She opened Oscar's window a crack, just so he could get some fresh air, and pulled back onto the highway. The stars spread out overhead like grains of salt or silver shavings thrown across a blanket, and if she leaned forward and craned her neck to look up out of the windshield, she could recognize some of the constellations. She wasn't sure but she thought she could find winter constellations next to the spring ones, star formations she shouldn't be able to see until much later in the year. And then she jerked her gaze back to the road because even if she was the only living thing for a hundred miles in any direction, and even if she had as much chance of seeing another vehicle on the road as she had of finding the Pope waiting at the next gas station, she didn't want to run off the highway and into a field because she was too busy trying to pick pictures out of the dense scatter of stars.
She hauled ass through Illinois, blowing by mile markers and billboards and exit ramps. As far as she knew, there was nothing on either side of her and nothing behind her and not very much in front of her either. Just the highway and the fields and somewhere off in the distance there were towns and cities that had been abandoned or at least greatly reduced in population. Somewhere north of her was Chicago and beyond that was Lake Michigan and Canada and huge tracts of land that no one had bothered to settle yet, and that now no one ever would. If there hadn't been enough people to civilize northern Canada two weeks ago, there sure as hell weren't enough people now.
But that wasn't something Marya was particularly interested in thinking about. She had other things to occupy her mind. Like how did this song get on her iPod, and why did she have the cover version of "Come On Eileen" when she didn't really like the original, and why hadn't she paid better attention in Spanish class because then she'd be able to understand more of the lyrics from these crazy-fast Mexican punk songs that her friend Sydelle had downloaded onto her iPod. What happened to Sydelle, anyway? She moved down to Miami for a boy. Granted, he was a cute boy and he could really shake his ass, but Sydelle had thrown over all her old friends for him. Marya hadn't heard from her in at least a year. Now she hoped Sydelle and her good-looking Florida boy were ok, and still alive.
Oscar pushed his nose against the window glass and whined until Marya rolled the window down far enough for him to stick his head out. His ears flapped in the wind and if she didn't know better she'd think he was smiling. Silly mutt. But she was happy he was so easy to please.
She drove through the empty night across Illinois and at least halfway through Missouri before she stopped. (Well, she thought she was halfway through Missouri. It was hard to tell when you couldn't see anything beyond your headlights and you were starting to doubt the accuracy of the odometer.) Marya looked at the dashboard clock, which read eleven-twenty-three, and then she looked at her watch, which was stuck at seven-eighteen. Dammit. She hoped she could find a new battery somewhere when she got to California. If it was only eleven-thirty, she could go a little farther. She had absolutely no idea what time it really was, only that it was late and she was kind of tired, so maybe she really should stop. Eleven-thirty was early for bed but she had been driving all day by herself, and she had had a few very strange encounters. She'd blow through the rest of Missouri and tackle Oklahoma tomorrow.
She didn't think doing the same thing two nights in a row out of necessity made it a routine, but she slowed down, pulled off the road, and let Oscar out like she had last night. When he was done, she dragged her sleeping bag and blanket over the back of the bench seat, draped the blanket over the front passenger seat for Oscar, and arranged the sleeping bag over herself. She wriggled around, trying to get comfortable, then sat up and took off her shoes. Sleeping in her shoes seemed kind of excessive. She hoped she got a better night's sleep than last night, but she had the crazy guys blocking entry to Columbus and the crazy guy in the white car at the gas station in Ohio and vanishing Castro on his bike to think about. She couldn't worry about the fact that the stars were in different arrangements than she was used to, or that she was very possibly going to run out of working gas pumps in the very near future, or that there was an outside chance she'd get to her dad's house and he'd be gone. All she could worry about was crossing the rest of the country in one piece and not running afoul of anyone else with a shotgun.
That wasn't a small worry, and somehow she managed to get a decent amount of sleep anyway.
words: 1090
total words: 44,206
After she'd finished her dinner and Oscar had finished his dessert, she got the flashlight and walked him around the van one last time, then let him back in so she could pee herself. It wasn't any easier in the dark, and in fact it made her more nervous. The fact that she wouldn't be able to really see anyone or anything sneaking up behind - or in front of - her was worse than the thought that anyone driving by could get a glimpse of her with her jeans down around her ankles.
She scrolled through the playlists on her iPod after she turned the van back on but before she went anywhere. She'd gotten good at changing playlists while she was driving, but it was still easier to do standing still. She wanted something fast and loud that would inspire her to sing at the top of her voice and speed like a metallic-blue bat out of hell, and now that she'd be worried about running down the battery, she wanted to boot up her laptop and make some more long, fast, driving mixes. She had a stupid number of songs on her computer and she could make a really good, really long playlist.
She opened Oscar's window a crack, just so he could get some fresh air, and pulled back onto the highway. The stars spread out overhead like grains of salt or silver shavings thrown across a blanket, and if she leaned forward and craned her neck to look up out of the windshield, she could recognize some of the constellations. She wasn't sure but she thought she could find winter constellations next to the spring ones, star formations she shouldn't be able to see until much later in the year. And then she jerked her gaze back to the road because even if she was the only living thing for a hundred miles in any direction, and even if she had as much chance of seeing another vehicle on the road as she had of finding the Pope waiting at the next gas station, she didn't want to run off the highway and into a field because she was too busy trying to pick pictures out of the dense scatter of stars.
She hauled ass through Illinois, blowing by mile markers and billboards and exit ramps. As far as she knew, there was nothing on either side of her and nothing behind her and not very much in front of her either. Just the highway and the fields and somewhere off in the distance there were towns and cities that had been abandoned or at least greatly reduced in population. Somewhere north of her was Chicago and beyond that was Lake Michigan and Canada and huge tracts of land that no one had bothered to settle yet, and that now no one ever would. If there hadn't been enough people to civilize northern Canada two weeks ago, there sure as hell weren't enough people now.
But that wasn't something Marya was particularly interested in thinking about. She had other things to occupy her mind. Like how did this song get on her iPod, and why did she have the cover version of "Come On Eileen" when she didn't really like the original, and why hadn't she paid better attention in Spanish class because then she'd be able to understand more of the lyrics from these crazy-fast Mexican punk songs that her friend Sydelle had downloaded onto her iPod. What happened to Sydelle, anyway? She moved down to Miami for a boy. Granted, he was a cute boy and he could really shake his ass, but Sydelle had thrown over all her old friends for him. Marya hadn't heard from her in at least a year. Now she hoped Sydelle and her good-looking Florida boy were ok, and still alive.
Oscar pushed his nose against the window glass and whined until Marya rolled the window down far enough for him to stick his head out. His ears flapped in the wind and if she didn't know better she'd think he was smiling. Silly mutt. But she was happy he was so easy to please.
She drove through the empty night across Illinois and at least halfway through Missouri before she stopped. (Well, she thought she was halfway through Missouri. It was hard to tell when you couldn't see anything beyond your headlights and you were starting to doubt the accuracy of the odometer.) Marya looked at the dashboard clock, which read eleven-twenty-three, and then she looked at her watch, which was stuck at seven-eighteen. Dammit. She hoped she could find a new battery somewhere when she got to California. If it was only eleven-thirty, she could go a little farther. She had absolutely no idea what time it really was, only that it was late and she was kind of tired, so maybe she really should stop. Eleven-thirty was early for bed but she had been driving all day by herself, and she had had a few very strange encounters. She'd blow through the rest of Missouri and tackle Oklahoma tomorrow.
She didn't think doing the same thing two nights in a row out of necessity made it a routine, but she slowed down, pulled off the road, and let Oscar out like she had last night. When he was done, she dragged her sleeping bag and blanket over the back of the bench seat, draped the blanket over the front passenger seat for Oscar, and arranged the sleeping bag over herself. She wriggled around, trying to get comfortable, then sat up and took off her shoes. Sleeping in her shoes seemed kind of excessive. She hoped she got a better night's sleep than last night, but she had the crazy guys blocking entry to Columbus and the crazy guy in the white car at the gas station in Ohio and vanishing Castro on his bike to think about. She couldn't worry about the fact that the stars were in different arrangements than she was used to, or that she was very possibly going to run out of working gas pumps in the very near future, or that there was an outside chance she'd get to her dad's house and he'd be gone. All she could worry about was crossing the rest of the country in one piece and not running afoul of anyone else with a shotgun.
That wasn't a small worry, and somehow she managed to get a decent amount of sleep anyway.
words: 1090
total words: 44,206