Chapt. Ten: (Sine-chronic)

They had not gone far when Walter pulled the car over on the side of the road, and Astrid was suddenly afraid that Walter would tell her to get out. He surprised her as he turned and said, "I need you to punch me in the shoulder, miss. As hard as you can, please- I don't want to do this again."

"What?" Astrid questioned, bewildered, "Why?"

"My shoulder has been dislocated," he said seriously, and Astrid gave an exclamation of horror, and he shook his head, continuing, "I know what kind of a hook you've got, and I know you can do it. Please, quickly. Damage may be irreversible, if I go with it out of joint much longer."

"You're serious?!"

"I am that."

Astrid gaped at Walter in disbelief for a few moments, as he continued to stare out the window patiently, waiting for her strike to land, "O-okay," Astrid said at last, shifting uncomfortably in her seat as her hands shook, "Um, how do I do this…?"

"Try to spread out the force of the blow," Walter pulled up what appeared to be a rather ancient geometry book, placing it lightly over his unnaturally slouching shoulder, "the larger the surface of the connection, the better the chance it will go back into joint. Go on. Give it everything you've got."

"Will it-" Astrid paused, then frowned. Of course it would hurt., she was wasting time.

She hit the book so hard that they both issued a cry of pain. Walter contracted, his fingernails digging into the chipped rubber of the steering wheel as he hissed a stream of curses, and instinctively Astrid threw her arms around his neck in a hug, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Are you alright?!"

"Better, thanks," he answered with a wry smile. They sat looking at each other for a few moments, before Walter gently shrugged off her hold, grinding the ignition. "I see you got gas. Thank you. We'll need it."

"For what?" Astrid questioned, "Where are we going? Wait- you're letting me go with you?"

"Not for where we're going, silly. It's for the fire."

xXx

Olivia felt stupid, putzing around, doing nothing in a corner gas station for what had felt like hours, already. It would have been different, had there been a coffee machine around, but her luck was out. It appeared that this town was so removed, they did not even have regular traffic of truckers.

But, as far as she could tell, at least everyone appeared to still be in possession of their teeth.

And so, Olivia sat, cursing herself for any number of reasons. She didn't know what was going on, what she was doing, what Peter was doing. He'd only borrowed her badge and told her the wait there. Apparently, there wasn't even a hotel around… but Olivia doubted that whatever Peter was doing would make it easy to spend the night.

It only took so long to read the label on a can of deviled ham.

Astrid had been a change of pace, to say the least. Young. She seemed scared, scared of the world. But behind the exhilarated look of fear she had had, Olivia was certain she had seen a brilliance that looked like nothing else, in this town.

Olivia was somehow reminded of herself, and the way she used to be. She wondered if she would ever see Astrid again, and if she and Olivia would be just alike. Olivia hoped not.

The bell sounded, somewhere above the cash register, and Olivia looked up from reading over a month-old Highway magazine as someone entered the basking glow of the harsh, artificial lighting. Olivia carefully watched the rather round sheriff's deputy over a rack of dusty sunglasses, as he called out to the clerk, "Ernie!"

Ernie, a gent in a tall truckers cap that sat behind the counter and seemed entirely content on glaring at Olivia when she strayed too close, looked up from his newspaper, "What?" he snapped.

"Lemme get a cup of coffee. Charlie called me in, apparently there's been some sort of attack, down at the station," the pudgy deputy rubbed the tip of his small, red nose in an attempt to warm it. Olivia's thought immediately turned to Peter, and she felt her stomach seize with dread, knowing what he had done even before the deputy had a chance to explain.

"Oh? What happened?" Ernie grudgingly got up from his seat, grumbling as he shuffled into the back, feeling his effort was a fair trade for a bit of the goings-on. Olivia only frowned, remembering that she had offered to buy a cup of coffee, and he had denied having any.

"Dunno. First the FBI show up this morning, and Charlie has us clear out. Then some poor bastard gets jumped, and we get called back in. I guess this guy is pretty bad- they sent the agent to the hospital, but they don't think he'll make it."

"They setting up road blocks to get who did it?"

"Nah. Charlie says we're not even allowed to put it out on the radio- says it's restricted, something like that. I don't know how we're supposed to catch the sunnovabitch who did it, if we don't even know what he looks like…"

"Or if he's a he," Ernie said lowly, taking a suspicious glance back at Olivia.

The deputy looked back at her, and Olivia waved. Yeah, you dumb bastards, as if I'd stick around in this place after killing someone. I'm thinking of killing myself, you two are so boring.

"Evening, ma'am," the deputy said.

"The man who was attacked, who was he?" Olivia asked, emerging from the isle. Ernie returned to glaring at her, and she ignored him.

"Dunno," the deputy answered.

"What's it to you?" Ernie questioned sharply.

"Olivia Dunham, US Customs," Olivia said, flashing her sidearm rather than her missing badge, "I'm just concerned. I had a partner, he was once killed…" Olivia did not finish her statement.

"Well, I guess he was almost killed with a lunch tray," the deputy continued, seeming eager to get into the grisly details.

"The prisoner?"

The deputy blinked, "No. The officer taking him his dinner. The prisoner escaped."

Olivia felt her face drain of color, and swallowed back her dread, clearing her throat to calmly question, "What hospital did you say they were taking the officer to?"

xXx

"What are you doing to my hotel?!"

Walter looked guilty, as he attempted to hide the majority of the red plastic jerri can and yellowed siphoning hose behind his back, "Cleaning…?" he answered slowly, with a labored grin.

"Walter, that doesn't look like a bottle of Febreeze," Astrid frowned. He inched around her, and jogged up the stairs. She followed after him, "tell me what you're doing!"

"Miss, if it isn't already quite apparent, I am on the run," Walter said, passing the other room doors without heed, "I have very little time, and as you've decided to help me, neither do you. Any evidence I leave behind has the potential for deadly consequence. They know I was here, but I can't give them any indication of where I'm going," He fiddled the lock of the door open with his fingertips and let swing it open.

"You still haven't told me what you're doing," Astrid said.

"We're going to burn it down," Walter smirked darkly as he hefted up the gas can, heading inside, "It should provide a proper deterrent, and a wicked good distraction while we slip away."

Astrid stood in the doorway, gaping openly, "Walter, you can't be…" the harsh smell of gasoline hit her nostrils, "…serious…"

"It should only be a small structure fire, if I control it properly," Walter insisted, as he emerged from within the closet, dumping small douses of liquid on the walls and rug, "providing I can set up proper breaks and such- woah!" he exclaimed as Astrid pulled the jerri can from his hands, "Hey, what are you doing?!"

"This is my damn hotel!" Astrid said, throwing bouts of gasoline onto the walls and across the carpet, "If anyone gets to burn this hell-hole to the ground, it's me!" she set to drenching the mattress and pillows with the harsh-smelling petroleum.

"You're far more game for this than I had previously anticipated…" Walter murmured, flushing slightly. Astrid responded by kicking over the television to shatter on the floor. She topped it with more gasoline, and flung the can into the bathroom with a cry, shattering the mirror.

"Give me the damn matches," she demanded gruffly, blowing a curl from her eyes.

Walter swallowed, holding them out to her, "Can't we pillage the bath soaps, first…?" he asked weakly.

Astrid struck the match, letting it flare up in her fingertips. She took a deep breath of gasoline fumes and carpet freshener, and bared her teeth, "Fuck Luciano. Fuck this town. I'm done." and she cast the little flame onto the sheets, as they immediately caught fire. Thick, fuming black smoke billowed from the red, greasy flames, and Walter murmured something about being glad he'd slept in the closet as Astrid set her hands on her hips, a dark smile of satisfaction on her lips.

"As beautiful as your soliloquy has been, I somehow think we should get around to running and shouting 'fire' at the top of our lungs, shouldn't we?" Walter mused, and Astrid's eyes widened.

"Omigawd, I forgot about the other patrons!" she cried, covering her mouth with her hands.

Walter laughed, grabbing her by the wrist, "Come on!" and they sprinted from the structure, Walter occasionally stumbling over his own feet as red flames and black smoke began to curl out of the windows and around the roof. Confused, screaming patrons began to pour from their rooms as Astrid and Walter scrambled into the Vista Cruiser, revving the engine and slamming the car into reverse as the air began to grow hot. The tires screeched as they rocketed from the parking lot, the mass of unnamable junk in the back rattling loudly.

Almost as loudly as they were laughing.

xXx