"Oh
for Christ sake, just tell her already!" Jill exclaimed,
exasperated. They had been at it
for a good ten minutes, dropping
hints, even going as far as to link arms with Leon in a clumsy
mimicry of "The Wizard of Oz." Claire threw a pillow their way,
effectively knocking over a cup
of juice that had probably sat there
for a fortnight. Chris dropped the act long enough to look
disgusted,
in which Jill took the opportunity to smack him soundly
upside the head.
Sighing with mock severity, Chris finally let it drop.
"Jill and I decided that we're not getting any younger, or more attractive…"
"Oh, thanks."
"…Aaaaaaaaaaand,
seeing as that we're probably not going to be participating in any
epidemic anytime
soon, we thought we'd take this opportunity to…"
"Sell Claire to a Nike sweatshop in Beirut?" Leon offered helpfully.
"Sacrifice pygmy goats in the name of the almighty Snufflelupagus?" Claire finally chimed in.
"Jill
has decided to make an honest man of me. We're heading to Vegas,
we're driving, and I already claim
shotgun." Jill snorted,
folding her arms over her breasts, but smiling as if it were the most
natural thing in the
world.
Claire
felt like she had been run over by cement mixer. Not that it was
entirely unexpected, but she certainly
hadn't predicted the sort
of carelessness and ease they seemed to project.
Certainly,
the intensity of the last year had dwindled down to a minimum; so
much so, that she had trouble
recalling just how insane her little
Umbrella vacation had been. Her memories of it were cloudy and
vague.
Mostly, she recalled the amount of emotional exhaustion spent
in the aftermath… the pent up intensity that
had at times,
progressed into physical ailments ranging from mild panic attacks to
severe insomnia. It took
some time to realize that the paranoia,
that painstaking self-preservation would not fade easily.
But
this wasn't panic. This wasn't a new devastating conspiracy that
would do its damndest to fuck with the
world. This was her brother
and his girlfriend finally deciding to find some element of normalcy,
and they
certainly deserved her steadfast support.
"Holy
shit." She finally managed. Leon managed a smirk, adjusting the
duffel bag in his arm. She noticed
that they all seemed to be mildly
prepared for departure… something she assumed that had been in the
works and she had certainly been oblivious to it. Running a hand
through her bed-mussed hair, she pondered
the ramifications of a
missed criminology midterm, but figured she could plead illness and
hopefully make it up
when they returned. She was getting quite good
at the art of manipulation. "We're not doing Shotgun Pete's
drive-thru matrimonial bliss, right?"
The
open road: an often glorified and universal tradition. In this case,
items, preparations, money, and what
have you were packed haphazardly
in Jill's year old Taurus. Tunes and munchies were dealt with in
an
expeditious and thoughtful manner. The rules were simple: driver
had ultimate veto power as far as music,
but the shotgun could
dictate appropriate rest-area analysis.
Claire
had always been a minimalist; it took her a good five minutes to
pack, grab a textbook, and send a
brief email to a fellow class mate,
instructing her to take especially good notes. Though school could
be
put off occasionally, she was momentarily amazed that the three in
her immediate facility had been able to
leave work for however long
this little trip would be.
"Won't
la policia be missing you?" She poked a backseat companion, who
had looked like her wanted to
catch up on his consistent lack of
sleep. "Since when do Vegas exploits go before truth and justice?"
"Since
it has become necessary to pulling 18 hour shifts for the last two
weeks," he chuckled, gesturing to
the illuminated Portland city
landscape. "This place will keep for a few days."
"Yeah. You could always bust a few illicit prostitution rings in Nevada," Chris offered.
"Prostitution is very legal, cowboy." Jill winked. "At least outside the city limits."
"Oh REEEAAALLY…" Chris popped in an old Radiohead mix, pulling onto I-5 south, ready to make the California border by dawn.
