ArchivedLogs:Carpool
| Carpool | |
|---|---|
| Dramatis Personae | |
| In Absentia
|
2013-11-09 Cage picks up Alison and Co to hole up for the apocalypse. |
| Location
<NYC> 505 {Alison} - One Sixty-Seven - Upper West Side | |
Luke's text went out about half an hour ago.
Twenty minutes came and went, but still no Luke. Alison's response to the text was a briek 'K', and then the blonde kept doing what she had been -- namely, kicking some serious butt against Anton in a racing game on her television. Dressed in a blue sweatshirt over a pair of brightly-patterned yoga pants, she doesn't look like someone sitting out a zombie apocalypse so much as someone waiting for a pizza to be delivered. Sadly, though, it doesn't seem to be meeting the '30 minutes or less' policy, and she is continuously distracted by glancing between the game, her phone, and the door to her apartment. Her agitation only grows the more minutes that stretch across the promised time. Finally, she gets up, and drifts to look out the peephole. "I'm getting worried," she announces. "It's not really like Luke to take this long." "There's all kinds of traffic problems," Anton offers, jerking his shoulders as he steers his car on the screen. "He probably got hung up at one of those National Guard outposts. It's not like he's going to get chewed up or anything." Alison turns away from the door, making a face. "That's not really what I'm worried about," she says. "It's just we -- unusual for him to be this long." She peeks out the peephole again before returning to the couch and picking up her phone. "Usually, he's texting from the lobby." "Well, if the doorman went zombie, he might be having trouble," Anton offers helpfully, without looking away from the game. "Unless he rips the door off the hinges." Alison rolls her eyes, fingers already skimming over the screen.
Luke is in the street still, when Alison is checking the peep hole. He's in the remnants of an expensive leather jacket, with a bright yellow t-shirt underneath, dark jeans, and biker boots. He's also pushing, at a jog, a full-size Humvee from the driver-side well, reaching through the window to steer from time to time when needed. The streets are practically deserted, which is to his benefit, because he's not cutting the straightest line. Finally, Alison's building comes into view, and he heaves a sigh of relief. He lets the Hummer coast to a stop, double parked next to the line of cars parked in front of her building. Luckily, parking enforcement isn't exactly out and about today. When it finally stops, he fishes some rubber tubing out of the back. He pries open the nearest car's gas cap, and then pops open the humvee's cap before feeding the tube into the car's tank, and begins siphoning gas. He coughs a mouthful of gasoline out and puts the business end into the humvee. When the tube finishes glugging, he shakes it dry and throws it back into the rear compartment of the hummer. Luke wipes his face off on a dingy towel, and throws that back into the hummer as well. He clears his throat, spits gasoline, and jogs to the building. Luke dials the buzzer for Alison's apartment, taking care not to damage the device in his exhausted state, and waits for the door to click open. From there, he jogs the five floors up. Forty-five minutes after his text, he's standing outside her door, knocking quietly. Alison's apartment is far enough from the elevator that Luke is forced to pass several doors, one of which has someone or something pounding rhythmically against the door. At the base of another one, a red stain is spreading into the plush carpet of the hall. It seems less creepy near Alison's door, with the sound of the game playing inside. When Luke knocks, Alison flings herself at the door, peeking through the peephole before she flings the door open. "Luke! Where have you /been/?" she asks, managing to sound both relieved and annoyed at the same time. She motions for the detective to come inside, closing and locking the door behind him. "I was getting worried." From the couch, Anton raises a hand over his head without looking. "Yo, Mister Cage." Alison is already pulling at Luke's jacket, in an attempt to pull it from his shoulders. When she gets close to him, though, she wrinkles her nose. "Ew. You smell like gasoline." "Car troubles," Luke says when questioned about his timeliness. "Turns out the gas stations are closed and locked down for safety or something." He nods at Anton, but makes to keep his jacket on. When Alison mentions the smell, he nods and says dryly, "Well, that'd be the gasoline. Had to siphon it-" Cage pauses and his brow furrows when he takes in Alison's mode of dress. "Uh, are you going in that? We really need to get moving..." Alison frowns at Luke's insistence on keeping his jacket on, and moves away, furrowing her brow. "You were serious about going to your mother's?" she asks, clearly surprised by this. "I didn't really know what to make of those texts." She stands there for a moment, looking at Luke with a thoughtful expression. "Is the plan really to hole up there?" Luke sighs and resigns himself to not making a quick escape. Either way you cut it, Alison's at least not going out in her PJs. "Well, yeah, I'm serious. There are two things I lose sleep over: Her safety. And your safety. I figure if we're all in the same place, I could actually get a full night's sleep." He makes an effort at a weak smile, but this only highlights how physically exhausted the unbreakable man looks. Alison doesn't reply immediately. Instead, she studies that weary face, moving forward to lift a hand and stroke it along Luke's jaw. She returns the smile just as weakly, and nods. "Okay," she says simply. "Give me a few minutes to get changed, and throw a few things in a bag, and we can go." She leans in, as if to give him a kiss, but wrinkles her nose as the smell of gas washes over her, and shakes her head slightly as she pulls back. "Be right back," she says, disappearing into her bedroom and shutting the door. On the couch, Anton pauses his game and cranes his head around to look at Cage. "Are we really going to your mom's?" he asks, lifting his eyebrows. "Can I bring the XBox?" "Anton!" Alison's voice sounds from behind the door. Anton jumps, his expression turning guilty as he begins the process of shutting down the game. "...I can bring my DS." Cage nods, and actually smiles more when the gasoline repels Alison. He even chuckles softly, and goes to the kitchen, stripping off his shirt and jacket which also reek, before rinsing his face and mouth out in the kitchen sink. When he's done, he finishes the job with one of Alison's kitchen towels and calls down the hall, "Hey, you got that black shirt you 'keep meaning to return'?" He turns to Anton, apparently not shy about just wandering around shirtless. "Don't worry, mom's got one too. But whatever you do, do /not/ play her in Madden. She'll destroy you, and leave you in tears. Just sayin." He's deadpan, but not without a hint of humor. Alison makes a noise from behind the door, and says something unitelligible in response to the question. There's the sound of drawers being opened, and then the door cracks. A delicate hand flings the shirt out into the hall, with a squeaked "Sorry!" Anton grins at Cage, and lifts a shoulder. "Tell her to bring it," he says as he moves towards his bedroom door. "I totally /rule/ the leaderboards, dude." Then he, too, disappears, leaving Cage alone for the moment. It's only for a few minutes, though, as Alison appears again, dressed in jeans and boots, with a blue turtleneck under a leather jacket. In one hand, she carries a leather bag that seems relatively small. She pauses to knock on Anton's door as she comes down the hall. "Better hurry," she calls. "And don't waste space with a bunch of stuff you don't need. Shirts and underwear. " She listens for the affirmative response, and then moves into the living room. "If Mel was here, he'd have had us all packed before you even got here," she says. "I texted him to meet us at your mom's." Cage stoops to pick up the shirt but doesn't put it on right away. He just flips it over his shoulder like a bar rag, apparently just enjoying the air for a moment. He shakes his head at Anton's bravado and just shrugs. "It's your funeral bro-" Cage's demeanor deflates some, as the reality of the situation reasserts itself in his mind. He tries to shake it off, and leans on the edge of the couch while he waits for everyone to get ready. He gives Alison a gentle but weary smile. "No, I get it. This whole thing is so fucking we-" He stops himself, self-consciously checking his speech with the 'forbidden word'. "It's all so /unreal/. Oh but uh, you guys saw the fliers, right? What not to say?" Alison nods limply, glancing at the windows. "It's all just..." she lifts her hand in a helpless gesture. "It's like the plot of a movie," she says. "Some horrifying movie. I wish it was." She tucks her thumbs into her back pockets, and cocks a hip. "Maybe this is why I was destined to make all those crappy films. To prepare me for this moment." It's a weak attempt at humor, and her expression shows it. She looks at the door, then, and steps closer to Cage. "I'm worried about Anton," she admits. "He doesn't have any kind of mutant ability. I'm afraid, being a teenager, he'll get into some kind of trouble." She furrows her brow. "At least, while Mel's not around." Anton comes out of his room, then, carrying a backpack and with a messenger bag slung across his chest. He's dressed similarly to Alison, only with a red hoodie under his leather jacket. "I'm not going to do anything dumb," he says petulantly. "Mel already told me if I go zombie, he's going to use my head as a planter." Alison's smile is less weary, at hearing that, and she turns it on Cage, sighing happily. "You see why I love Mel so much?" Luke pulls Alison in for a quick hug, and an unleaded kiss before Anton emerges. "It's ok. /None/ of us were prepared for this. Not really, anyway. I'll keep an eye on him." Cage pulls the shirt on, pausing to enjoy the smell of Alison's fabric softener. "Just remember while we're moving - they're like movie undead. Let me handle them if you can, or if not, go for the head." He nods at the window. "There's a big, black humvee parked out front. Go straight for it when we get outside. No detours. We'll be at mom's in time for dinner." Luke rubs at his jaw, and for a moment his weariness is right there on the surface. Then he shoves it down again, duty before all else. "Let's roll." | |
