Book 3 - Retrievers

XXXI - Hotwire

Alabama hops into the front passenger seat, and Dixie pulls himself into the driver's. Russia bites into a granola bar he had grabbed off the counter. It's stale and tastes old, but Russia is far too hungry to throw it away.

"Dix! I can drive my own truck," Alabama complains.

"Yes, and the several dents in the exterior prove it," Dixie replies, turning the engine over, "now buckle in. I'm driving cuz Amy won't be able to handle you playing bumper cars."

"Awwww.... whyyyy?" Alabama complains.

"Cuz you have to. Now quit your whinin' and get buckled."

Alabama sighs and Mississippi kicks his seat.

"Just buckle so we can get moving," Mississippi says, buckling his own belt.

"Fine..."

America leans against the window, and Russia stares out the windshield.

"Okay Ruski, do your trick and point us in the right direction," Dixie says.

Russia takes a deep breath, though he feels skittish. He tries to stare out the window, but nothing happens.

"Rue?"

"Sorry, it's not working," Russia replies, looking away.

"Why not?"

"I'm... scared of it. I feel disconnected," Russia admits quietly, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah, Sett mentioned you dissociated," Dixie says flippantly, waving one hand over the center console.

"Ew. Bama, when is the last time you wiped anything down?" Dixie says in a scolding tone, lifting his hand limply out of the cupholders.

"Uhhhhh...."

Dixie sighs.

"Just grab some wipes and start cleaning up."

Russia hums and looks down. America gently takes his hand and laces their fingers together.

"It's okay. I'm here. We won't let anything happen to you," America promises, "I know it can be scary, but it'll be okay."

Russia nods and closes his eyes. He squeezes America's hand, and America squeezes back. He re-opens the valve in his chest and everything numbs. The radio song distorts, and the sun seems dull. The only thing that feels normal is America, whose hand feels warm.

They pulled onto a paved interstate, and Russia feels the car bump underneath him.

Russia opens his eyes and mutely points forward toward the grey blob on the horizon. His body feels weirdly warm, as if the cold had faded away. America glows light blue in his periphery. The color is comforting.

Russia takes a deep breath and watches the trees pass in front of the blob. He turns to watch and mumbles for them to get off, though he's not sure if they understood. Either way, the car turns down another paved road.

Russia watches as the ominous fog approaches. They break the surface, and Russia's whole body fills with anxiety. He starts to shake, and he recloses the valve. He takes a deep breath, and the static, anxious feeling still fills the air, but it doesn't fill him anymore.

"We're here," Russia says.

"Huh."

"It does feel weird," America says, squeezing Russia's hand.

"Well, I'm gonna see where this goes," Dixie says, driving down a winding road that opened into what looks like a city center.

Russia looks around at all the abandoned cars around the road. There is also red and rusty smears around the road.

"This don't look right," Alabama comments, pulling a handgun from the glovebox.

"Hand me one too?" Mississippi asks.

Alabama passes one back from over the seat. and then he hands back ammo. Mississippi quickly loads it and cocks it with a click. Then, a black truck catches Russia's attention. It sits out in front of a grocery store.

"Pull over," Russia says.

Dixie hums and pulls over. But he doesn't stop the car, instead, he leaves it parked and running. Russia gets out behind Mississippi. America stumbles out behind them, and Dixie hops out the front seat. Alabama walks around to the bed and pulls out a crowbar.

Alabama opens up the store doors and waves Mississippi forward. The two walk inside, back to back, and clear the halls between the shelves. Dixie follows them in, a shotgun over the shoulder. Russia and America begin filling the bed of the truck with snacks and canned food.

"The store is clear!" Dixie shouts.

Alabama and Mississippi start helping load the truck and Dixie walks around.

'Where is he going?'

"Damn, this is heavy," Dixie says from outside.

"What is?" Alabama asks, poking his head out the door.

Russia walks outside and drops the cans into the truck. He turns around to see Dixie trying to pry a gas transfer tank from the back of the black truck.

"That ain't gon move if its got gas in it," Mississippi comments.

"But it could be useful."

Russia feels his hair stand up. America tosses water bottles and empty Jerry cans into Alabama's truck.

'Something isn't right.'

"I don't have a good feeling," Russia says loudly.

"Well, we need more than a few jerry cans to keep the house running," Dixie says.

Russia sighs.

"Do any of you know how to hotwire a car?" Russia asks.

"No?" Dixie replies.

"No... wait! Can you teach us?!" Mississippi replies, a huge smile on his face.

"Ooh! Ooh! Please!" Alabama exclaims.

Dixie looks on with apprehension.

"Russ..." America says, giving Russia a look of 'Don't.'

Russia shrugs and tries to keep his smile innocent.

"I can't stop them if they watch me," Russia says flippantly.

Alabama and Mississippi cheer. America rubs his face, a scowl set in his features. Dixie sighs and shakes his head. Russia smirks.

'At least now they'll have fun.'

Russia picks up a drill and a screwdriver from the toolbox in the back of Alabama's truck. He walks over to the truck's driver's side door. It hangs open and Dixie waves at it.

"I picked the lock already, but I ain't sure how to get it to start without the key," Dixie says, leaning against the cab.

Russia climbs in and onto the passenger seat. He holds the drill steady and drills into the key slot. Alabama and Mississippi poke their heads around from the driver's seat, and Russia calmly waves their hands away.

After he finished drilling away at the pins, he removes the drill and sticks the screwdriver in. Turning the screwdriver turns the engine over. Russia cheers a little. Alabama hollers loudly and Mississippi gives Alabama a high-five.

Russia backs out through the passenger's side and feels eyes on the back of his head. Russia makes eye contact with America with a nervous look. America starts looking around apprehensively. Russia walks over to America and stares around the various houses.

"Something is watching us," Russia mumbles.

Alabama and Mississippi look at each other and Alabama clammers out and points his gun toward the darker shadows. Mississippi begins scanning windows. Dixie checks the gas tank.

"Whatever it is, it's probably the reason there ain't no people 'round here," Dixie comments, closing the canister and cocking the shotgun.