Log edited with Logedit 2.6.6pl on Wed Aug 26 14:17:49 EDT 1998

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After a dusty California plate from an older van replaces the dented Oregon one, the arrow is tried again. Still south-southwest.

Bailey climbs into the driver's seat. "So, where to?"

Seirian settles into the bed of the truck, back up against the rear window of the cab.

Bailey hmmms. "Just take the major highways or what?"

Elan also stays in the bed, in order to keep watch better.

Tin Can Wilson shrugs. "You're driving, man. Didja get a map at Wal-Mart?"

Bailey nods. "Yeah, I actually thought of that." He hands Jimmy the map. "I'm gonna hit the main roads, then, for now."

Tin Can Wilson crosses his arms and leans back in the seat. "Drive on, Walker-No-Walker."

Elan fidgets in the back seat, glancing to the guys, Seirian, and the road behind.

Seirian watches the road behind them, one hand absently rubbing her right side now and then.

Elan can see heads moving inside the cab, but nothing more than that before Bailey finally accelerates. He has to stop for gas before getting on the Interstate, but then the group is off. The dawn wind is chilly for those in the back, and Seirian's hair whips wildly.

Bailey snickers. "Walker-yes-Walker, bro," he says as he steps on the gas.

Elan looks to Seirian, suddenly. "Seiri, are you bonded to /your/ packmates?"

Seirian looks over at Elan, hands poised in twining her hair into a knot at the back of her head and blinks, "Bonded how?"

Elan says "Like us. In your mind."

Seirian thinks a moment, then shakes her head, "I donnae think so..."

Elan says "Dang. Guess Hank ain't convinced the Walkers to develop that movie film we got. Ain't heard no word from him. Crap."

Elan says "So, I thought if /you/ had it, you could get Scott or Mark to go look into it."

Seirian folds her arms over her chest, "If I did have it, it'd be more'n a touch reassurin' at times." She shrugs, "B'sides, Scott's left town, something 'bout his father bein' ill."

Elan blinks. "I did not know that..." He falls silent once more.

Bailey looks over to Jimmy. "So, how have you been?"

Tin Can Wilson just shrugs. "You know," the ragabash answers. He doesn't seem overly talkative tonight.

Bailey nods quietly, and continues to drve.

Seirian tucks her knees up to her chest, folding her arms on them and setting her head down, "These roads allus seem diff'rent when yer not walkin' on 'em."

Elan sleeps in fits and starts, catching catnaps as they drive. He smiles a bit more, now, as they go further south.

Tin Can Wilson seems more and more agitated, the further the group travels. He doesn't speak much, and a few times that they stop to flip the bottlecap, he just flips it then returns to the vehicle, barely looking at the cap, if at all. He wears a constant scowl.

The bottlecap finally begins to adjust direction, as a switch of highways finally puts the group on Interstate 5 and going south still. It's now south and east, and the interstate slowly curves to match as the hours go on. The next big city: Los Angeles--40 miles.

Tin Can Wilson growls. "We shoulda took a fucking Greyhound."

Bailey hrms. "I don't like this. At all."

Seirian just watches the scenery, what there is of it, go by blearily, napping occasionally.

Tin Can Wilson does his bottlecap thing, as necessary. The fact that it's leading them into a major city seems to calm his nerves slightly. He seems to be heading back into an environment he understands and enjoys more than the open road.

As the group enters the city limits, the next flip of the bottlecap reveals a more extreme change yet. East still, but east-northeast instead of south-southeast.

Bailey blinks. "Hel-lo," he says, and changes course accordingly.

Seirian turns and peers cautiously over the cab, into the wind, to see where they're going.

Tin Can Wilson hrms. "Either we go back home, or we backtrack a few miles an' try again. I'm not ready ta go home yet. C'mon."

Bailey nods. "Let's do it."

Seirian settles back down and trusts the navigators to do their job.

Bailey turns onto a major arterial and begins tracking. Things go slower now, as his alpha is forced to flip more often. But the wavering arrow gives hope that the goal is within sight. Finally the truck makes its way into a residential area that has a feel that Bailey and Elan recognize: large, spacious lots (on the edge of LA suburbs) but overgrown with weeds, paint peeling on houses.

Tin Can Wilson surveys the place. "As much as I wanna rush in there an' fuck some people up, let's hang back an' watch for a while." He looks around to see if there's anywhere inconspicuous to park and observe.

Bailey nods, eyes turning grim. "

Bailey says "Yeah. Wait til dark."

Elan comes up from behind. "What's it look like, guys?"

After driving around to look for somewhere to park, Bailey recognizes a certain van in the driveway of a sprawling white house. There's not much to do but park on the street, but that certainly can be done. There's even a scrawny tree or three to shade those in the bed, which is getting warm in the sun.

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