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Dark*Matter: Gators Under Gary (Was Exit 23)
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<blockquote data-quote="arwink" data-source="post: 1793849" data-attributes="member: 2292"><p><strong>Exit 23, Part Two</strong></p><p></p><p>Ammie didn’t like the quiet. It was too still. She slipped a hand into her pack, searching around for the flashlight tucked in behind the toiletry bag. Her hand brushed against the wound cord of the hilt, and she had to fight the temptation to draw it and take comfort in the weight. <em>Unlikely to be helpful</em>, she thought. The flashlight emerged not long after. All she wanted was a weekend on the ranch with Jonas, a few short days riding and training. Instead she got bad coffee and smart-arse geeks and gunshots. Christ. </p><p></p><p>Jonas didn’t even have the decency to sound disappointed when she’d called to let him know about the storm.</p><p></p><p>She found the flashlight and flicked it on, shining the beam around the faces at the table. Nick was pressed against the side of the booth, one hand dipping towards the back of his camouflage jacket. <em>Probably some crazed survivalist</em>, she thought. <em>Telling himself he’s ready for everything.</em> Zac was quietly eating a donut, his eyes darting nervously behind his glasses. He had seemed amiable enough when he sat down, a sort of crazed cross between Michael Moore and a lumberjack, but his nervousness and size were a bad combination in an emergency. </p><p></p><p>Someone needed to do something. Ammie figured it might as well be her.</p><p></p><p>“Does anyone else want to be the first person to ask what was that?” </p><p></p><p>No one answered, but it broke the tension. Across the others side of the room, Ammie could hear someone start to cry. On the opposite side of the booth, Nick was recovering from the shock and getting ready to move. He leapt to his feet and commandeered the flashlight, turning the light on the rest of the room. Everyone was huddled together, but there were no injuries.</p><p></p><p>“Mabel, does this place have generators?” Nick called. </p><p>“Yeah man, they do.” </p><p></p><p>The answer came from the far side of the shop, where a bunch of teenagers wearing service uniforms were squeezing into the corner. Ammie thought back to the people sitting there, remembered an Indian kid wearing the dull gray of a bowser jockey. It sounded like his voice.</p><p></p><p>“Where is it?”.</p><p></p><p>“Outside,” the voice returned. The light flicked back and forth across the group, eventually focusing on the wide eyes of the Indian kid. </p><p></p><p>“About two hundred feet away from the back door,” he said. “You know how to work it?”</p><p>“Yeah?” </p><p>It wasn’t a confident answer.</p><p></p><p>“Right,” Nick said. He gritted his teeth.</p><p></p><p>“Why are they never inside?” Ammie muttered. “No matter how many times this sort of thing happens, they insist on keeping the generator outside.”</p><p></p><p>Nick ignored her, heading over to the group of kids. She glanced across the table to Zac, barely able to make out his features in the darkness. He shrugged.</p><p></p><p>“Likes to take charge, doesn’t he?” </p><p>Ammie offered him a smile, clenching a fist in frustration. </p><p>“I guess someone has to do it.”</p><p>She pauses, uncertain.</p><p>“What do you think happened?”</p><p></p><p>There was a long slurp as Zac drank more of his coffee. Ammie did her best to avoid picturing herself shattering all the bones in his hand and mouth.</p><p></p><p>“Probably a broken window or something. Or the state trooper trying to drive off a bear or something that was taking shelter from the storm.”</p><p>“Why the state trooper?”</p><p>“She had a gun,” Zac said. “And she’s not in the shop anymore. State trooper would have a flashlight nearby, probably trying to take control of the situation about now.”</p><p></p><p>Nick reappeared by their table.</p><p></p><p>“Lets go.”</p><p></p><p>Ammie glanced across the table. Zac shrugged.</p><p>“Go where?”</p><p>“Gift shop,” Nick explained. “One of the kids gave me the keys, told me there’s some spare flashlights behind the counter. I’ll need spare hands, and its your flashlight I’m planning on taking, so I figured you’d be wanting to help.”</p><p></p><p>“Mind if I come along?” </p><p>Zac had finished his first donut and opened an I-Mac, the silvery light from the screen making him seem even paler. He typed a few words, then held the computer up. It wasn’t much light, but it shed a dim radiance that lit the table with a silvery glow. Nick just shrugged and started moving, gesturing for Ammie to follow.</p><p>“Guess your in,” Ammie said. </p><p></p><p>It took a few minutes to find the right key to the gift shop, a nervous process that made Ammie feel exposed every time the wind hurled itself against the sliding doors of the rest stop. Nick was busy swearing around the flashlight he had clenched between his teeth, testing key after key until one finally slid into the padlock.</p><p></p><p>“Right,” he said, then he disappeared into the shadowy mountains of shelves and stock dangling from the ceiling. It wasn’t a large store by any means, but it took a few seconds longer to pick their way through the debris without the aid of the flashlight.</p><p></p><p> “The girl said they’ve be back behind the counter. About a dozen or so,” Nick said. He paused for a moment. “Right.”</p><p>“Right what?”</p><p>“She didn’t mention they were all left over <em>Finding Nemo</em> toys.”</p><p></p><p>Nick held up a flashlight, clicking it on. The cheery light emerged from the mouth of a yellow and blue-stripped fish, weakly illuminating a spot about three feet wide on the far wall.</p><p></p><p>“Novelty toys,” Zac muttered. “I hate novelty toys.”</p><p></p><p>There was a sudden flash of light as he raised something to his face. Ammie blinked, dropping into a ready stance and holding her fists at the ready.</p><p></p><p>“Sorry,” Zac said. “Camera flash.”</p><p>“They’re torches,” Ammie said. “What in hell do you need to photograph them for?”</p><p>Zac was quiet for a few moments, his shadowy silhouette shifting uncomfortably.</p><p>“Posterity?”</p><p>“You want to remember this experience?”</p><p></p><p>“Guys, not the time,” Nick said. He handed a handful of flashlights over the counter. “Take one each and get the rest to the folks in the Donut Shop. Loud thumps? Gunshots? People hurt in the toilets? Remember?”</p><p></p><p>Ammie glared.</p><p>“Who died and made you boss?”</p><p>Nick grinned in the dim glow of the flashlight.</p><p>“No-one," Nick said. "Yet."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="arwink, post: 1793849, member: 2292"] [b]Exit 23, Part Two[/b] Ammie didn’t like the quiet. It was too still. She slipped a hand into her pack, searching around for the flashlight tucked in behind the toiletry bag. Her hand brushed against the wound cord of the hilt, and she had to fight the temptation to draw it and take comfort in the weight. [I]Unlikely to be helpful[/I], she thought. The flashlight emerged not long after. All she wanted was a weekend on the ranch with Jonas, a few short days riding and training. Instead she got bad coffee and smart-arse geeks and gunshots. Christ. Jonas didn’t even have the decency to sound disappointed when she’d called to let him know about the storm. She found the flashlight and flicked it on, shining the beam around the faces at the table. Nick was pressed against the side of the booth, one hand dipping towards the back of his camouflage jacket. [I]Probably some crazed survivalist[/I], she thought. [I]Telling himself he’s ready for everything.[/I] Zac was quietly eating a donut, his eyes darting nervously behind his glasses. He had seemed amiable enough when he sat down, a sort of crazed cross between Michael Moore and a lumberjack, but his nervousness and size were a bad combination in an emergency. Someone needed to do something. Ammie figured it might as well be her. “Does anyone else want to be the first person to ask what was that?” No one answered, but it broke the tension. Across the others side of the room, Ammie could hear someone start to cry. On the opposite side of the booth, Nick was recovering from the shock and getting ready to move. He leapt to his feet and commandeered the flashlight, turning the light on the rest of the room. Everyone was huddled together, but there were no injuries. “Mabel, does this place have generators?” Nick called. “Yeah man, they do.” The answer came from the far side of the shop, where a bunch of teenagers wearing service uniforms were squeezing into the corner. Ammie thought back to the people sitting there, remembered an Indian kid wearing the dull gray of a bowser jockey. It sounded like his voice. “Where is it?”. “Outside,” the voice returned. The light flicked back and forth across the group, eventually focusing on the wide eyes of the Indian kid. “About two hundred feet away from the back door,” he said. “You know how to work it?” “Yeah?” It wasn’t a confident answer. “Right,” Nick said. He gritted his teeth. “Why are they never inside?” Ammie muttered. “No matter how many times this sort of thing happens, they insist on keeping the generator outside.” Nick ignored her, heading over to the group of kids. She glanced across the table to Zac, barely able to make out his features in the darkness. He shrugged. “Likes to take charge, doesn’t he?” Ammie offered him a smile, clenching a fist in frustration. “I guess someone has to do it.” She pauses, uncertain. “What do you think happened?” There was a long slurp as Zac drank more of his coffee. Ammie did her best to avoid picturing herself shattering all the bones in his hand and mouth. “Probably a broken window or something. Or the state trooper trying to drive off a bear or something that was taking shelter from the storm.” “Why the state trooper?” “She had a gun,” Zac said. “And she’s not in the shop anymore. State trooper would have a flashlight nearby, probably trying to take control of the situation about now.” Nick reappeared by their table. “Lets go.” Ammie glanced across the table. Zac shrugged. “Go where?” “Gift shop,” Nick explained. “One of the kids gave me the keys, told me there’s some spare flashlights behind the counter. I’ll need spare hands, and its your flashlight I’m planning on taking, so I figured you’d be wanting to help.” “Mind if I come along?” Zac had finished his first donut and opened an I-Mac, the silvery light from the screen making him seem even paler. He typed a few words, then held the computer up. It wasn’t much light, but it shed a dim radiance that lit the table with a silvery glow. Nick just shrugged and started moving, gesturing for Ammie to follow. “Guess your in,” Ammie said. It took a few minutes to find the right key to the gift shop, a nervous process that made Ammie feel exposed every time the wind hurled itself against the sliding doors of the rest stop. Nick was busy swearing around the flashlight he had clenched between his teeth, testing key after key until one finally slid into the padlock. “Right,” he said, then he disappeared into the shadowy mountains of shelves and stock dangling from the ceiling. It wasn’t a large store by any means, but it took a few seconds longer to pick their way through the debris without the aid of the flashlight. “The girl said they’ve be back behind the counter. About a dozen or so,” Nick said. He paused for a moment. “Right.” “Right what?” “She didn’t mention they were all left over [I]Finding Nemo[/I] toys.” Nick held up a flashlight, clicking it on. The cheery light emerged from the mouth of a yellow and blue-stripped fish, weakly illuminating a spot about three feet wide on the far wall. “Novelty toys,” Zac muttered. “I hate novelty toys.” There was a sudden flash of light as he raised something to his face. Ammie blinked, dropping into a ready stance and holding her fists at the ready. “Sorry,” Zac said. “Camera flash.” “They’re torches,” Ammie said. “What in hell do you need to photograph them for?” Zac was quiet for a few moments, his shadowy silhouette shifting uncomfortably. “Posterity?” “You want to remember this experience?” “Guys, not the time,” Nick said. He handed a handful of flashlights over the counter. “Take one each and get the rest to the folks in the Donut Shop. Loud thumps? Gunshots? People hurt in the toilets? Remember?” Ammie glared. “Who died and made you boss?” Nick grinned in the dim glow of the flashlight. “No-one," Nick said. "Yet." [/QUOTE]
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