Harrington 3

Highway to Hell

I wake up to the sound of Dustin speaking into his walkie talkie, pacing on the top of the elevator, and suddenly I miss the chirping birds that had roused me when I slept in Steve's car. You don't really know what you've got until it's ripped away from you.

I groan, massaging the crick in my neck and putting my flannel back on before reluctantly getting to my feet. The cut on my forehead is crusty, though not yet scabbing, and I brush my fingers against it gingerly.

"You're up," Robin says, eyeing me from across the room and looking amused at my rugged state, "I was starting to think you died."

"What time is it?" I grumble, walking over to her and retucking my yellow patterned shirt, which had come undone from my jeans at some point in the night.

"Like, eleven." She shrugs, "We let you sleep in considering how grouchy you were yesterday."

"How considerate," I say halfheartedly, glancing at Erica briefly to see her fishing through her backpack before turning back to examine what Robin is doing. She'd fiddling with the control panel, but it doesn't look like she's making much headway, "Do we have a plan yet?"

"Nope," she pops the 'p', and I sigh in disappointment, although I'm not sure what I expected her to say.

Suddenly, there's the sound of running water and a putrid smell, and Robin and I both look over to see the wall outside of the lift being sprayed by what I guess is urine.

"Can you redirect your stream, please?" Robin calls up to either Steve or Dustin, though my bets are on the former, and rolls her eyes as I scrunch my nose up in disgust.

"God, and I thought he was gross for leaving the bathroom door open back at home," I say, tugging my tangled mess of blonde hair from its ponytail before redoing it. I then make my way over to the table that's still positioned in the centre of the room and hop onto it, shoving a few boxes away and rubbing the sleep from my eyes as Erica starts banging the canister against a metal barrel.

"Hey, hey! Be careful, careful, careful!" Robin rushes over and grabs the green liquid from her, stopping the kid from doing any damage, "We don't even know what that is."

"Exactly. It could be useful," Erica responds snarkily, sounding just as grumpy as I did yesterday when dealing with the customers at Scoops Ahoy. Ah, a simpler time. When which ice cream flavour Lacy would choose was my biggest problem.

"Useful how?"

"We can survive down here a long time without food," Erica starts, "but if the human body doesn't get water, it will die."

"I hate to break it to you," Robin leans in and gestures to the canister, speaking to the kid like she failed preschool, "but this is not water."

"No, but it's a liquid," Erica points out, speaking in the exact same manner despite Robin's status of higher intelligence, "and if it comes down to me drinking that shit or dying of thirst, I drink."

Robin scoffs and rolls her eyes as I hop off the table and walk over, placing my hand on Erica's shoulder and smiling tightly.

"Hey, if the kid wants to be a guinea pig, by all means, let her." I shrug, placing my hand back on her after she shoves it off and looking her in the eye as I point at her, "I'll make sure we name an ice cream flavour after you when your guts come out of your ass."

She narrows her eyes at me in annoyance, looking about to say something rude in response when suddenly a distant electronic whirring reaches all of our ears. My hand falls from her shoulder and I look around in confusion, wondering where it's coming from.