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DarkMatter D20: Drunk Southern Girls with Guns ... UPDATED - 8/18/05!
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<blockquote data-quote="jonrog1" data-source="post: 69337" data-attributes="member: 189"><p>EXIT 23 -- Pt. 1 </p><p>Andy slogged through the knee deep snow, grateful he'd found the rest-stop off ramp before his car had quit completely. He hadn't seen another off ramp on this stretch of Oregon highway for half an hour. </p><p></p><p>Exit 23 had a small rest area with a parking lot and a combination food court/gas station. The bright lights of the gas station glittered in the thick snow, set against a velvet black sky. Andy had to walk with his head down to keep from being blinded by the blowing snow. </p><p></p><p>He stepped through the double glass doors into a small foyer area, shook the snow from his hair. The storm had thundered in out of nowhere, just before nine at night. By nine-fifteen he was in a white-out. Now, at ten, three foot drifts of snow blocked the highway. </p><p></p><p>Once past the two payphones, Andy looked around, got the layout of the place. It was rectangular, and he was entering through the doors on the long south side. The foyer led into a little information area with a counter. Sodden "VISIT BEAUTIFUL KLAMATH FALLS" pamphlets littered the floor. To his right were the doors to the McDonald's, dark and shut tight. To his left a corridor with restroom signs and glowing lights at the end. Dead ahead, two glass doors. One to the gas station, the other to a coffee shop. The flourescent lights were on in the coffee shop, frizzing wildly. He stepped in. </p><p></p><p>"Well, Lordy, didn't think anybody else would get through THAT." The heavyset counterwoman, Mabel, set out a coffe cup without asking. "This'll be one for the books." </p><p></p><p>"A COMIC BOOK CONVENTION of all things ..." Andy turned saw a couple having a "discussion" at a nearby table. </p><p></p><p>Johanna was shaking her head, but smiling tolerantly. Her shoulder-length dark hair was wet from the snow. Her thin frame disappeared in an oversized parka. Her boyfriend, Ross, was over six-feet of half-back Texan who spoke with an oddly academic lilt. He was trying to convince her that a Marvel Team-Up #3 was worth the drive up from LA. </p><p></p><p>Andy shrugged off his jacket, revealing a fair number of tattoos on his arms. Mabel looked at those, his short, bleached blonde hair and her face shifted to "damn weirdo" mode. She grumbled as she poured his coffee. Andy did what he always did -- pissed her off by smiling at her. </p><p></p><p>A guy about his age on the next stool, Stephen, peered over his wire rims. "A little while ago she asked me 'why I was reading'. Not 'what'. Why." </p><p></p><p>Andy chuckled, extended his hand. "Andy. Was driving across country to LA, took the Northern route, was heading down." </p><p></p><p>"Stephen. Was visiting my brother in San Francisco, wanted to see Crater Lake." </p><p></p><p>"It's a lake. In a crater." </p><p></p><p>"Now you tell me." Stephen gestured to the half-dozen other people in the coffee shop. Two truckers, an Indian teenage boy with the gas station logo on his shirt, a cheerleader type girl he was chatting up. "There's a state trooper around here someplace --" </p><p></p><p>"Saw the cruiser outside." </p><p></p><p>"She said we'll be stuck for a couple hours." </p><p></p><p>Andy was about to respond when three things happened: </p><p></p><p>1.) The lights went out. Pitch dark. A SMASH came from the doors out front, and a wind, a freezing, FREEZING cold wind ripped through the little coffee shop... </p><p></p><p>2.) Everyone's stomach suddenly tightened, pitched. Vertigo, and a whispering in their heads, a grating voice of obscenities and shame and bad dreams ... </p><p></p><p>3.) Somebody started shooting.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="jonrog1, post: 69337, member: 189"] EXIT 23 -- Pt. 1 Andy slogged through the knee deep snow, grateful he'd found the rest-stop off ramp before his car had quit completely. He hadn't seen another off ramp on this stretch of Oregon highway for half an hour. Exit 23 had a small rest area with a parking lot and a combination food court/gas station. The bright lights of the gas station glittered in the thick snow, set against a velvet black sky. Andy had to walk with his head down to keep from being blinded by the blowing snow. He stepped through the double glass doors into a small foyer area, shook the snow from his hair. The storm had thundered in out of nowhere, just before nine at night. By nine-fifteen he was in a white-out. Now, at ten, three foot drifts of snow blocked the highway. Once past the two payphones, Andy looked around, got the layout of the place. It was rectangular, and he was entering through the doors on the long south side. The foyer led into a little information area with a counter. Sodden "VISIT BEAUTIFUL KLAMATH FALLS" pamphlets littered the floor. To his right were the doors to the McDonald's, dark and shut tight. To his left a corridor with restroom signs and glowing lights at the end. Dead ahead, two glass doors. One to the gas station, the other to a coffee shop. The flourescent lights were on in the coffee shop, frizzing wildly. He stepped in. "Well, Lordy, didn't think anybody else would get through THAT." The heavyset counterwoman, Mabel, set out a coffe cup without asking. "This'll be one for the books." "A COMIC BOOK CONVENTION of all things ..." Andy turned saw a couple having a "discussion" at a nearby table. Johanna was shaking her head, but smiling tolerantly. Her shoulder-length dark hair was wet from the snow. Her thin frame disappeared in an oversized parka. Her boyfriend, Ross, was over six-feet of half-back Texan who spoke with an oddly academic lilt. He was trying to convince her that a Marvel Team-Up #3 was worth the drive up from LA. Andy shrugged off his jacket, revealing a fair number of tattoos on his arms. Mabel looked at those, his short, bleached blonde hair and her face shifted to "damn weirdo" mode. She grumbled as she poured his coffee. Andy did what he always did -- pissed her off by smiling at her. A guy about his age on the next stool, Stephen, peered over his wire rims. "A little while ago she asked me 'why I was reading'. Not 'what'. Why." Andy chuckled, extended his hand. "Andy. Was driving across country to LA, took the Northern route, was heading down." "Stephen. Was visiting my brother in San Francisco, wanted to see Crater Lake." "It's a lake. In a crater." "Now you tell me." Stephen gestured to the half-dozen other people in the coffee shop. Two truckers, an Indian teenage boy with the gas station logo on his shirt, a cheerleader type girl he was chatting up. "There's a state trooper around here someplace --" "Saw the cruiser outside." "She said we'll be stuck for a couple hours." Andy was about to respond when three things happened: 1.) The lights went out. Pitch dark. A SMASH came from the doors out front, and a wind, a freezing, FREEZING cold wind ripped through the little coffee shop... 2.) Everyone's stomach suddenly tightened, pitched. Vertigo, and a whispering in their heads, a grating voice of obscenities and shame and bad dreams ... 3.) Somebody started shooting. [/QUOTE]
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