Extinction Event¹ ━ FTWD

CHAPTER 2: Rude Awakening

EXTINCTION EVENT

chapter two: rude awakening

[ season 1, episode 1; pilot ]

DAY 03

Heather's head tilted back, lolling against the side window as her fingers drummed against her thigh. She knew, intellectually, that Los Angeles traffic was bad.

But there was a difference between knowledge and experience, and currently, they were getting up close and personal with the latter.

She frowned and leaned a freckled cheek against the passenger side window, almost wincing at the contact. Only a few hours into their LA visit, and already the pale girl had developed a slight sunburn.

Her brunette hair was loose, and fell over her shoulders. The soft purple tee she'd donned for the plane ride had turned out to be a godsend for the intermittent air conditioning of the rental car — the peplum design and flare kept it from sticking. Unfortunately she couldn't say the same of her jean shorts, which chafed against her now tender skin.

Heather's brown eyes drifted over to her mother, who was faring no better in the California heat. The flowered sleeves of Katie's sheer kimono cardigan were rolled up to her elbows, displaying a healthy tan. Underneath, her white collared button-up was soaked in a sheen of sweat, which glistened on her exposed collarbone. Dark hair streaked through with locks of silvery blonde was tied neatly into a side ponytail, stopping just before her collarbone. Deep-set dark eyes shaded with a subtle nude, further accented by a dark mascara, creased in concentration as she focused on maneuvering the complicated traffic — preferably without getting rear-ended. Occasionally, she'd reach over and take a sip from the medium decaf she'd bought at the airport, which had more than likely gone lukewarm by now. Luckily, Katie didn't seem to mind.

Heather internally groaned at the monotony of it all. At least in Vermont, when they got stuck behind a tractor, the scenery acted as a nice distraction. All LA offered in views were other backed-up cars and their fellow angry drivers, honking and cursing at their poor choice of travel.

How on earth did Meghan manage to pull off a hit and run in the most traffic-dense city on the West Coast? If Heather wasn't so put out by the whole affair she'd be impressed. A feat like that should be, if not commended, at least acknowledged. At the rate they were moving, a hundred addicts could dash out in front of their car and they wouldn't even graze them.

The teen thought back to two nights ago, when she'd learned they were going to be leaving for LA.

Heather crept down the stairs, craning over the railing as she listened intently to the already heated phone conversation between her mother and sister. It had gotten to the point where even in the quiet gloom of her upstairs bedroom, she could hear the debate between the two with relative ease; at least on her mother's part. While Meghan was on speakerphone (Mum always complained that smartphone speakers were impossible to hear on) it was more of a challenge to interpret her half of the conversation through floorboards and insulation.