Post by iris on Aug 15, 2010 3:22:50 GMT -5
He wasn't sure how long he'd been driving; he knew it'd been quite a while. He'd had to pull off the interstate once or twice for food - every three hours - not to mention the truck had needed gas a few times.
It was wet out here, on this far-out backwater highway. Dark; grungy. The rain had given up on the tough stuff about an hour ago and was now resorting to being obnoxiously fine and misty. Dark woods loomed on either side of the road; several times he passed beneath where the trees were stretched overhead, as though plotting and scheming with their partners in crime across the way. The sun had long forsaken him behind the clouds.
Jared Hammell had a map and a prayer, and that was about it.
Oh, and an alien squid puppy that ate his food for him. That was probably a notable addition to the situation, wasn't it? ...And his truck.
Lord, if anything ever happens to this truck...
Fast food bags littered the interior and travel maps covered the passenger seat. Cigarette butts in the ash tray. He'd given up on the radio hours ago; an ipod plugged into the tape deck coaxed Americana out of the old speakers.
Stop sign. Left turn here.
He felt the truck hydroplane for a brief second as he spun the wheel. Recovering, he slowed and shook his head to clear it. Didn't need to be rash right now.
The city of Bridgeport did not stand out colorfully against it's surroundings. Rather, it lurked... clinging to its perch with stilt-legged docks, fighting the tide pulling it back out to sea.
Perfect.
Of course it was perfect, there was only about a 40k population count. Now to find someone who could help him.
A coffeeshop/bookstore was the first domestic thing he saw. He pulled over. It'd only been two hours since he'd last stopped for food, so there shouldn't be any... incidents. Still, he grabbed an orange hooded Clemson sweater from the back seat and pulled it on over his t-shirt. Keep him mostly dry til he got inside, anyway.
Once in, he peered around. Nobody here. The place was dusty and quiet, real small-town look about it. He stood awkwardly at the desk and hoped someone would come talk to him. Or maybe a local would walk in off the street. That would be helpful too.
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