Receeding Tides (mcyt)

Chapter 5

Dream darted into the parking lot of an abandoned motel, and Tommy lagged jogging behind him. Still sore from running. The cars were parked horribly in dozens of spots, and the painted parking lines were no longer pristine. Tommy knew people that parked atrociously, but damn, the sight started to bother him. Dream pounded his fist on a maroon red car's trunk using it as a crutch and ducked behind it.

"What are we doing in a car park?" Tommy whispered crouching beside Dream.

"There are dozens cars here and my right leg is nonexistent," Dream held his bony index finger to his masked lips. "One of these cars has to have gas and a key. Plus, we need more supplies. hat may or may not have been y last can of tuna."

Tommy scoffed, "Good riddance says me."

Dream shushed him, "Keep quiet. The people might not be too friendly."

Tommy nodded as a busted pickup truck rattled into the parking lot. As soon as they heard the sound, Dream and Tommy pressed themselves against the tires. Out of curiosity, Tommy poked his head over the trunk. One person sat in the front seat driving the truck. Just one. Dream quickly pointed to where a vividly navy-blue pickup truck, covered in mud and rust was parked.

That one. Ours. We call dibs.

As much as he wanted to judge Dream's taste in vehicles, Tommy just nodded and looked back to the incoming truck. Only obnoxious people drove coloured cars. Oh right, Dream was American. Same difference. It rolled to a stop in front of a boarded-shut room, and a tall woman with pasty skin hopped down from the seats. She surveyed the parking lot before delivering a rolling cooler the door.

Knocking three times, the woman stepped back, and a man opened the motel door. The pair hauled the cooler inside. Before he shut the door, the man glared at the seemingly empty parking lot then shut the door and the curtains behind him.

Dream made a run for the beat-up truck. Tommy paused. What happened to getting to the blue one? He shrugged and hauled himself into the raised bed. In it, were dozens and dozens of different belongings. Clothing, accessories, trinkets, useless money. You name it. The place could have been a crow's nest for all Tommy knew. He couldn't tell if it all belonged to just one or to a multitude of people. Dream sifted through a grey wallet and tossed it aside finding nothing useful, but an Irish license lightly clattered to Tommy's feet.

"God, what happened to this woman? She looks like she's going to kill the photographer," Tommy read the card's faded print out loud. "Mine... no wait, that's an x. Oh, Minx! Don't we know her?"

"Yeah," Dream nodded groping in bags and suitcases for something useful, "She won George's Love or Host. Friend of Wilbur's and Niki's."

Tommy nodded and placed the identification back in its slot, "Was that her just now? What's she doing in Britain?"

"Who knows," Dream shrugged finding and putting back a child's dampened sock. "Did she have anything valuable? I found nothing."

Tommy rattled off the wallet's contents.

"A used gift card to Ikea, a driver's license, expired last year by the way," Tommy chuckled, "15 euros, and a pocket flashlight. Any of that useful?"

"The flashlight," Dream replied shuffling through clothing items. "Money's worth nothing."

The pair sorted through the dozens of bags in the trunk bed turning any system of organization on its head. If there even was one. After their search, Dream and Tommy had found some hopefully unused batteries, several partially empty bottles of water, a few dull pocket knives and handfuls of loose ammunition. And another gun.