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the many uses of bowls
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. ✧ ・゜. +・o ✧
The only problem with them driving away from the cabin—where the Mind Flayer continued to thrash and shriek and was clearly in plain view of anyone who decided to wander through these leafy woods (even though Gabe didn't think anyone would, given that it was the Fourth of July and there was an exquisite fair going on just outside of it)—was that they had no idea where they were going. Of course, there were definitely things that needed to be done, because El was in agony in the back seat, blood running in rivets down her leg and staining the back seat, and, less pressingly, Gabe's entire face was covered in muck. But those were problems, not locations, and right now the only real objective was to drive as far away as possible.
As Gabe shifted slightly—it really was crowded back here, with Mike practically sitting in his lap and Lucas jamming his shoulder uncomfortably into his neck—he realized that he could probably pass as a serial killer. With the bloodstained face and the meat cleaver he still clutched in one hand, it would be a miracle if they got wherever they were going without getting the cops called on them first. Which would definitely lead to a lot of awkward questions.
When they were far enough away that they could no longer hear the occasional boom of the fireworks, Lucas pointed out the store. It was called Bradley's Big Buy, and it seemed to be the type of place to have supplies for El's leg along with some food, because none of them had eaten since that cereal and toast breakfast that morning. Nancy nodded, her jaw set, and spun the car into the parking lot way over the speed limit. Gabe was jolted around like he was on a rollercoaster, and judging by his friends' green faces, he wasn't the only one feeling nauseous. But there wasn't any time to blow their chunks, so everyone swallowed down their vomit and made their way out of the car.
The store was closed. Obviously. Which meant that they were going to have to break in. Usually Gabe would feel guilty about this—and if he was being honest, he still sort of did—but given the immense, literally world-ending circumstances, he decided that it was okay for now. So one well-aimed rock by the one and only Nancy Wheeler, shattering the front doors, and they had the place to themselves.
