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Dec. 18th, 2009 10:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
indiana_jThis was totally based on the hell I went through tonight (irony! I was actually out of damned milk!) and what I think happens to the crazy people in the stores.
As James took another drag on his cigarette, he actually felt the temperature drop by another ten degrees. "Fuck," he said and then added in a "Damn it" for good measure. He sat on the rooftop of a beaten up Honda that was clearly well into it's second life, one it probably would never see the end of. It wasn't even his car, just some poor schlub who hadn't even been able to get a car that would last him the rest of the year, but it made a good spot to watch from.
And wait.
"And why," the voice of his partner was raised against the wind, "did you feel the need to drag me out of my warm apartment into this miserable mess?" She appeared next to the car, her head not all that far from his point of view even with the added height advantage of the borrowed car. Despite her ire - because she always seemed to be irritated at him and managed to work around it - she handed him a Starbucks coffee that was still hot to the touch.
"What's tomorrow?" he asked instead of answering her question, grinning into the molten coffee as she glowered at him. Stephie might've been taller than him, might've been older than him (by a bit), but she was still the apprentice in the relationship, something that certainly gave her a headache.
"Saturday?"
James nodded the point but it wasn't what he'd wanted to hear.
Stephie's face relaxed as she thought it over. She was at her prettiest when she was thinking, as the lines on her face softened and her lips quirked into a secret smile. "They're predicting a large storm," she said slowly as James took his third sip of coffee. "This big sudden storm, which was why I was home in the first place, Jamison."
It was his turn to grimace. "Watch it, Stephanie Alice," he taunted back and they fell into a brief silence.
"Right, the reason we're out here in this piss poor weather is because of those bastards," he finally told her and he pointed a long finger at the people tumbling out of the grocery store doors like they were being spat out. One or two of them had a solitary bag but more than one were struggling under the weight of several bags and boxes of food and drink. "Isn't it funny how so many people needed stuff the day before a blizzard?"
"'Eggs, milk, water and bread!'" Stephie said in a higher pitched voice than her normal tone. "Paranoia. The storms always seem to bring out the crazy in people."
"Got that fucking right. Paranoia, stress and worry about all sorts of things come the great white storm. Makes them prime."
"Prime ... oh hell, James, you can't possibly mean..."
He shrugged, wishing he'd worn a warmer jacket, and finished off his cigarette, flicking the still burning butt to send it flying into a nearby puddle that was quickly becoming more ice than water. "Not all of them, no, but fuck, you put that much stress into the air and Something is going to respond. The little old lady smacking the woman with the baby in the cart to get the last thing of bread? The bastard who cut in line to get the last bottle of water? The kids who somehow manage to run right into the damned display case? Oh yeah, at least one of them's got a little something extra up there in their brains. Not quite running shotgun but pushing them in the right direction."
Stephie, still new by all accounts to all things occult and goddamn mystical, frowned. "What happens to them?"
"Oh, for most, not much. They wake up the next more a bit horrified at what cunts they were the night before but they get over it." Despite the scalding heat, he drained the rest of the Starbucks coffee and slipped off the roof of the car. "Some, though, wake up tomorrow a little different. Maybe they hit their spouse or yell at their kid and you know what they feel?"
Their eyes meet over the car.
James continued, "They feel fucking great as the nasty fuck in their head gets a better hold. And it spreads like a disease."
Her eyes broke contact and flickered to the grocery story and he could see her wondering if they were looking at ground zero. "Okay, boss," she said, words turning into clouds of frozen air before her face, "what do we do?"
A grin split his face as his lips cracked and bled in the cold. "We, Stephanie Alice, go hunting. I fancy a carton of milk, how about yourself?"
"...yeah, you know, I sort of wanted to make omeletes tonight."
As James took another drag on his cigarette, he actually felt the temperature drop by another ten degrees. "Fuck," he said and then added in a "Damn it" for good measure. He sat on the rooftop of a beaten up Honda that was clearly well into it's second life, one it probably would never see the end of. It wasn't even his car, just some poor schlub who hadn't even been able to get a car that would last him the rest of the year, but it made a good spot to watch from.
And wait.
"And why," the voice of his partner was raised against the wind, "did you feel the need to drag me out of my warm apartment into this miserable mess?" She appeared next to the car, her head not all that far from his point of view even with the added height advantage of the borrowed car. Despite her ire - because she always seemed to be irritated at him and managed to work around it - she handed him a Starbucks coffee that was still hot to the touch.
"What's tomorrow?" he asked instead of answering her question, grinning into the molten coffee as she glowered at him. Stephie might've been taller than him, might've been older than him (by a bit), but she was still the apprentice in the relationship, something that certainly gave her a headache.
"Saturday?"
James nodded the point but it wasn't what he'd wanted to hear.
Stephie's face relaxed as she thought it over. She was at her prettiest when she was thinking, as the lines on her face softened and her lips quirked into a secret smile. "They're predicting a large storm," she said slowly as James took his third sip of coffee. "This big sudden storm, which was why I was home in the first place, Jamison."
It was his turn to grimace. "Watch it, Stephanie Alice," he taunted back and they fell into a brief silence.
"Right, the reason we're out here in this piss poor weather is because of those bastards," he finally told her and he pointed a long finger at the people tumbling out of the grocery store doors like they were being spat out. One or two of them had a solitary bag but more than one were struggling under the weight of several bags and boxes of food and drink. "Isn't it funny how so many people needed stuff the day before a blizzard?"
"'Eggs, milk, water and bread!'" Stephie said in a higher pitched voice than her normal tone. "Paranoia. The storms always seem to bring out the crazy in people."
"Got that fucking right. Paranoia, stress and worry about all sorts of things come the great white storm. Makes them prime."
"Prime ... oh hell, James, you can't possibly mean..."
He shrugged, wishing he'd worn a warmer jacket, and finished off his cigarette, flicking the still burning butt to send it flying into a nearby puddle that was quickly becoming more ice than water. "Not all of them, no, but fuck, you put that much stress into the air and Something is going to respond. The little old lady smacking the woman with the baby in the cart to get the last thing of bread? The bastard who cut in line to get the last bottle of water? The kids who somehow manage to run right into the damned display case? Oh yeah, at least one of them's got a little something extra up there in their brains. Not quite running shotgun but pushing them in the right direction."
Stephie, still new by all accounts to all things occult and goddamn mystical, frowned. "What happens to them?"
"Oh, for most, not much. They wake up the next more a bit horrified at what cunts they were the night before but they get over it." Despite the scalding heat, he drained the rest of the Starbucks coffee and slipped off the roof of the car. "Some, though, wake up tomorrow a little different. Maybe they hit their spouse or yell at their kid and you know what they feel?"
Their eyes meet over the car.
James continued, "They feel fucking great as the nasty fuck in their head gets a better hold. And it spreads like a disease."
Her eyes broke contact and flickered to the grocery story and he could see her wondering if they were looking at ground zero. "Okay, boss," she said, words turning into clouds of frozen air before her face, "what do we do?"
A grin split his face as his lips cracked and bled in the cold. "We, Stephanie Alice, go hunting. I fancy a carton of milk, how about yourself?"
"...yeah, you know, I sort of wanted to make omeletes tonight."