Clara Leigh St. James (clara_leigh) wrote in omega_rpg, @ 2008-06-16 12:52:00 |
|
|||
Current mood: | exhausted |
[in progress] Another Return
Who: Clara St. James and Mac McGregor
What: One heading out, the other heading home.
Where: North of the valley in the BAD PLACE
When: June 16
Okay, so this had turned into a really shit idea.
The running away from "home" thing had been risky enough, but Clara hadn't been able to stand another moment around her mother and Vincenzo. And Seattle was so depressing and raining. And her friend Jeremy at her new school -- friend being a loose phrase, of course, but outcasts tended to find solace in other outcasts, she had learned -- knew a guy who drove a truck and he was going to Denver and from there it shouldn't be too hard to hitchhike and it all seemed like a great idea after three beers and another fight with her mom.
Although it went okay until she hit the PA line, and then the world had exploded. She'd heard news of the bombing on the radio in the car she was sharing with a Kerouac wannabe, a Cobain wannabe, and some girl named Jed. They started freaking out and wanting to turn back to their Ohio hometown, and she'd had to get out and catch another ride. Except no one was going toward Bumblefuck, PA anymore. After Pittsburgh she'd had to get a bike -- not too hard to acquire since people seemed to be abandoning their homes left and right.
And then there were the dead ones. Fallout, blown west from Philly, seemed to affect more people the closer she got to home. This likely meant that there was nothing for her at home, that she was going to find her father dead, just the way her mom probably was. She hadn't let herself think of it, of course they were both fine, and once she got home everything would go back to normal... situation normal in Normalville, Captain. The way it had always been.
There was the sickness too, of course. Nausea and fever and that really made it hard to steer a bike, let me tell you. She took to walking on the highway, devoid now of cars, not too far from the valley now. Thirsty and dizzy and feeling like death -- don't joke! -- Clara felt a mad desire to lay down on the yellow line in the middle of the road. C'mon, sissy, you've run longer laps for field hockey practice than this.
But she tripped over her own shoe lace, and her backpack, getting heavier every moment, bucked her forward and she faceplanted on the ground. Just a few more minutes, Dad.
"I swear... I swear I'll get up then..." she whispered against the asphalt.