Maggie D likes to play (![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small} fastandloose) wrote in ![[info]](https://www.insanejournal.com/img/community.gif){kind=small} rooms,@ 2014-04-21 17:19:00 |
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Who: Maggie D and Shane A and open to anyone who wants to wander in.
What: Introductions and the 411 on how to live in zombie-land.
When: First light.
Warnings: Shane's mouth.
She had a motherfucker of a crick in her neck. It had been a couple months since she'd slept in her car. There had been no hits on the google-alert she'd set up for the boys (they'd get themselves into trouble, she knew it, but where they got themselves into trouble was the difference between settling in and getting the warm fuzzies over San Fran or hitting the road, burned rubber and a cleared out rental apartment in the rear-view) in long enough to get comfortable. Bed-comfortable. Pillows, blankets, the kind of stretch-out and sleep that came when the only thing bugging her had been making the receipts in the bar add up right.
When Maggie came-to, the light was clean, bright. It had heat in it, not much but the damp mugginess associated with thunderstorms and the kind of day a dog would lay down and pant over. The wheel had grooved ridges into her cheek; she wished for coffee, a split-second of scoping out the next spot to get some before the night-before ground itself into reality with the gun lying across the passenger seat, blunt and ugly and real.
The sedan wasn't making a lot of noise as it drove up the track toward the prison. Low-profile, but the sun glinting off the windshield, picking out the pale paint made it a beacon as the tires crunched over dirt. It was being driven slowly, like the woman behind the wheel had her hands wrapped tight around the wheel not because she was being dropping speed to idle, but because she was waiting for another thing to come out. The prison walls were apparent from a while away but close to, they were cracked cement and safety, her heart slowing in her chest. One of those walls was a hell of a lot more than her car window in between her and one of the things.
The car nudged forward, right up to the gate.