there's a bullet in my pocket burning a hole Who: Teagan Morgan and Johai Corauni Where: Austin Used Auto Parts - 15800 FM 969 What: The bitch is back in town. When: June 29, 2018
There's a bullet in my pocket burning a hole. You're so far from your weapon and the place you were born. You dream of seeing fire in them hills, But you better wipe that smile from your lips. Which of us will be the one to go?
This truck is a cantankerous old bitch, and if the world were still as it once was, Jo thinks she'd take it to the scrap yard just to teach it a goddamn lesson. If it wants to stop running whenever it feels like it, she really ought to show it what it would feel like to stop running forever. But this faithful old tank has steamrolled through too many zombie hordes to be abandoned so easily, so Jo eases the screeching truck into the lot of the auto parts store and hopes that whatever is wrong is one of the handful of things her brothers found the time to teach her to fix for herself.
Jo drives around the buildings to check for any other patrons of the used parts lot before she parks the Blazer and climbs out. She circles around to the front, and after she shoves the hood open she has to climb up onto the bumper to get a proper look inside the lifted truck's engine. Scorching heat rises up to burn against her face, but the problem is what she guessed it would be when she started hearing the squealing rip from her engine. It's one of the component belts-- but which one? Jo hopes she doesn't need to know that to replace it. She peels the frayed remnants of the belt out of the engine, hissing in annoyance as she burns her fingers on the hot metal.
"The things I do for you," she snarls at the truck before she climbs down, looping the belt around her fist and heading to the entrance to one of the buildings. The lock is already broken-- probably by the Dogs, who she hopes haven't already picked this place clean. Jo slips inside, keeping her hand on the grip of the pistol at her hip as she stalks down the dark aisles looking for the belts. The building has only a few windows, and Jo's eyes aren't used to the dark they way they used to be. The house she'd been squatting in was always bright, bright, bright. Sometimes she wondered if it was taunting her. The sunny lit-up daytime world felt so different than the one in the tunnels, the one she had known with Virgil.
No time for that. Keep moving.
Jo finally sees something that looks like it could be the right belt, but upon closer inspection she's not sure. It might be thicker, but it isn't any wider. She isn't sure if the thickness changes the belt's function. It's labeled as being an alternator belt, but Jo isn't sure what belt is out in the first place, so that does her little good. Frustrated, she kicks at the bottom shelf and keeps sorting through the belts to see if one is a closer match-- and then suddenly stops in her tracks. She hears the tell-tale growl of a motorcycle coming into the lot outside. Where there's a bike, there's a Dog. Acid fills her instantly, and she draws her M&P as she ducks down in the aisle, hiding in the shadows. The Dog will probably know someone's in here-- the truck outside will give her away, still steaming from the heat in the engine-- but at the very least, he won't know where she is. As far as Jo is concerned, that gives her the advantage.