Stories From VO1.2

Francis

"Shit week, isn't it?" 

Francis forced a smile and cursed anything that had the misfortune of listening in on her thoughts. In the rear view mirror she saw the the insincerity and turned back to the window. Watching the passing scenery was better than having a face to face conversation. 

"Lucky thing I was on this road too."

Of course.

Of course that guy that knocked her face in at the supermarket was the one person to come across her broken down on the side of the road. Because why not. She had barely managed to escape the supermarket situation with a smudge of dignity. She had left with a bunch of blood on her clothes. 

Shame and embarrassment just wasn't enough. 

Now, he just happened to be the only person besides her taking this abandoned rodent filled back road out of the city. Pulled up his nice, big, working truck right next to her unstartable car where she was hopping back and forth with a throbbing foot. Kicking that tire wasn't her best idea. 

"I didn't even want to take this damn road," she muttered under her breath.

A point for her truthfulness. 

Once it was revealed that the virus spreading across the country was VO1 and not some new treatable illness her cell was flooded with calls from her parents and her boyfriend begging that she get out of the city and come back home. 

Originally Francis didn't want to. She had a life in the city. There were friends and coworkers here, plus a job that was way more stable than anything she could find back home. Higher pay was just a perk.

Fingers trembling she was about to text her apology back. Then Christopher sent her that video from Jones Station where that sick guy ripped out the doctor's face off. He followed up with another showing the Adam's Care Facility on fire. 

She was pulled her emergency money from under her mattress when he phoned again. Every road leading out the city was backed up to the high heavens, his words not hers. Even if she left now Francis wasn't getting out of town. Police were attempting to get the situation under control and turning away newcomers. 

There was some internal freaking out. Francis might have cried. 

After Christopher calmed her down they sat both sat on the phone and searched online maps of the area until they found a little service road that would spit her out past the highway near home. It would take three days. 

"Use that. Please stay safe, Franny."

She promised that she would. Her car didn't. The dumb thing broke down two days into the journey. Hissing and spitting curses at it didn't help. Neither did slamming gas while she jammed the push to start button. Calling Christopher for help was a loss because he wasn't picked up the phone. 

Just her luck. 

"I'm surprised you know about back here." Pier kept talking. "Only a handful of locals do."

"The internet is a thing."

"Then why are six thousand plus people involved in the worst traffic pile up in known history?"

***

Pier let her drive through the night so that he could catch up on some. Passed her the keys as casual as ever after he came back from a bathroom break.

"It's either that or we both sleep the night in the cab and that would be really cramped and awkward."

So Pier spread out on the unoccupied seats and Francis threw the truck into drive. The first couple of miles were nerve wracking. What she was doing was illegal. The car wasn't licensed in her name. If a cop came across them now they'd both get a ticket because Pier also didn't have his seat belt on.