With the Memphis Blues Again, chapter 1
This is a Veronica Mars/Supernatural crossover, which made sense at the time. Spoilers for pretty much everything, eventually. This is sort of a departure for me, so feedback would be pretty great. Title is from Bob Dylan's "Stuck Inside of Mobile with the Memphis Blues Again," which I think is about wanting to be someplace other than where you are--Memphis isn't actually involved in the story. Just for the record.
Chapter 1
"You'll have to take an umbrella EVERY TIME you go outside," the old lady--she was about a hundred and fifty, in Veronica's estimate--was saying. "I mean EVERY time. People think umbrellas are just for the rain. They don't know that in heat like this, they're one of the only ways to prevent sunstroke."
"Thank you," Veronica said.
"EVERY TIME," the old lady said.
Veronica nodded, stepped inside the hotel lobby, and said to Wallace, "That clinches it. We're in Hell."
"I don't think you get umbrellas there," he said. "It would explain the heat, though. And the Corn Palace."
It was all, technically, his fault. "Life just won't be worth living if we don't go on a road trip this summer," he'd said. "We need to get way out of town before we settle down here for good," he'd said.
"Not for good," she'd said. "Please. This is temporary insanity on my part."
"Okay, well, for the next four whole years, anyway," he'd said. And she hadn't needed much convincing, really. Even two months after her night at the Neptune Grand--possibly the weirdest night of her life thus far, which was saying something truly impressive--getting out of town sounded like a fine idea. She'd been feeling a bit claustrophobic lately, especially with her dad being mysterious about his case with Kendall. Veronica had let him get away with that for the time being; she was distracted with Logan, among other things. First among those other things was trying to accept that she really wasn't going to Stanford, that she was staying in Neptune for the foreseeable future. It was a tad depressing, to say the least. She tried not to think too much about the next four years, which seemed like a near-infinite stretch of time.
So driving out to visit Wallace's dad in Chicago, stopping at an assortment of cheesy roadside attractions on the way, had been a welcome distraction. They were on their way back through South Dakota, the Postal Service on the radio, generally having a good time, when the LeBaron had started to make noises. Bad, awful, death-throes kind of noises. They were in what appeared to be the literal middle of nowhere.
"You have absolutely GOT to be kidding me," Veronica had said.
**********
"Well," the mechanic said, "looks like you won't be driving this out of town."
Veronica counted to ten. It didn't have much of an effect, so she tried it again. Then she gave up and said, "What's the problem?"
He said a great deal of things. They seemed to boil down to, "You need a new engine." She resisted the urge to kick the car, possibly many times.
"Wow," she said. "Okay. So how long's it going to take to fix?"
"Maybe three, four days," he said. "I suggest you head over to the hotel. We'll give you a call later, talk more about your options."
"Is there only one hotel?" Wallace asked.
"There's only one street, Wallace," Veronica muttered. "You know you're in trouble when the nearest big city is Mitchell." They were currently in some town called Lambert, which appeared to have a population of about twelve.
"Cheer up," he said. "It could have been worse. We could have broken down in the Badlands." He himself had been overly cheerful since he'd learned about the existence of the Corn Palace from the guy from the gas station who'd towed them into town. "He said we're right near the Enchanted World Doll Museum, too."
"How about we don't talk right now?" she suggested, as they walked towards an old-fashioned two-story hotel. The old ladies sitting on the porch eyed them with great curiosity.
**********
After learning about the importance of umbrellas, they got a room for the next three nights, along with a request not to play any loud music at night because of the thinness of the walls. "I guess we look like the party-hard type," she said, as they ascended the stairs.
"Soda machine's on our floor," Wallace observed. "See, things are looking up already."
"I'm going to go call my dad. And Logan--maybe see if he can helicopter us out of here or something."
"Uh huh," said Wallace. "Hey, do you think the building is literally made of corn or--"
She covered her ears and walked halfway down the hall to unlock their room.
There was a woman on one of the beds. No--there was a dead woman on one of the beds. She was pinned to the mattress by a knife through her throat. A ragged-edged red circle had formed around her on the white bedspread.
For a second, Veronica was too astonished to move. Then she ran back to Wallace, who was still perusing his pop choices. "Go back downstairs right now," she said. "Get the manager. Tell him to call the police. There's a body."
Wallace said, "What the hell--" and tried to move towards the room. She blocked him as best she could. "Don't look, okay?" she said. "Go."
He went. She returned to the open door, knowing it might be the only time she could get a good look at the body. Assuming a town like this had police, they probably wouldn't be too receptive to her checking out their crime scene.
As she walked towards the bed, she heard, indistinctly but clearly enough, a man in the next room say, "--too subtle. If it was meant for us, there'd probably be a note with our names under the knife."
Guess nobody warned them about the thin walls, she thought, and moved against her side of the adjoining wall to hear better.
Another man said, "Well, we're in it somehow. You saw it before it happened. That's never a coincidence."
The first man said, "Yeah, but that doesn't mean it's--" Their voices became indistinct; they might have stepped out onto the balcony.
Veronica said, quietly, thoughtfully, "That is interesting."
Chapter 1
"You'll have to take an umbrella EVERY TIME you go outside," the old lady--she was about a hundred and fifty, in Veronica's estimate--was saying. "I mean EVERY time. People think umbrellas are just for the rain. They don't know that in heat like this, they're one of the only ways to prevent sunstroke."
"Thank you," Veronica said.
"EVERY TIME," the old lady said.
Veronica nodded, stepped inside the hotel lobby, and said to Wallace, "That clinches it. We're in Hell."
"I don't think you get umbrellas there," he said. "It would explain the heat, though. And the Corn Palace."
It was all, technically, his fault. "Life just won't be worth living if we don't go on a road trip this summer," he'd said. "We need to get way out of town before we settle down here for good," he'd said.
"Not for good," she'd said. "Please. This is temporary insanity on my part."
"Okay, well, for the next four whole years, anyway," he'd said. And she hadn't needed much convincing, really. Even two months after her night at the Neptune Grand--possibly the weirdest night of her life thus far, which was saying something truly impressive--getting out of town sounded like a fine idea. She'd been feeling a bit claustrophobic lately, especially with her dad being mysterious about his case with Kendall. Veronica had let him get away with that for the time being; she was distracted with Logan, among other things. First among those other things was trying to accept that she really wasn't going to Stanford, that she was staying in Neptune for the foreseeable future. It was a tad depressing, to say the least. She tried not to think too much about the next four years, which seemed like a near-infinite stretch of time.
So driving out to visit Wallace's dad in Chicago, stopping at an assortment of cheesy roadside attractions on the way, had been a welcome distraction. They were on their way back through South Dakota, the Postal Service on the radio, generally having a good time, when the LeBaron had started to make noises. Bad, awful, death-throes kind of noises. They were in what appeared to be the literal middle of nowhere.
"You have absolutely GOT to be kidding me," Veronica had said.
**********
"Well," the mechanic said, "looks like you won't be driving this out of town."
Veronica counted to ten. It didn't have much of an effect, so she tried it again. Then she gave up and said, "What's the problem?"
He said a great deal of things. They seemed to boil down to, "You need a new engine." She resisted the urge to kick the car, possibly many times.
"Wow," she said. "Okay. So how long's it going to take to fix?"
"Maybe three, four days," he said. "I suggest you head over to the hotel. We'll give you a call later, talk more about your options."
"Is there only one hotel?" Wallace asked.
"There's only one street, Wallace," Veronica muttered. "You know you're in trouble when the nearest big city is Mitchell." They were currently in some town called Lambert, which appeared to have a population of about twelve.
"Cheer up," he said. "It could have been worse. We could have broken down in the Badlands." He himself had been overly cheerful since he'd learned about the existence of the Corn Palace from the guy from the gas station who'd towed them into town. "He said we're right near the Enchanted World Doll Museum, too."
"How about we don't talk right now?" she suggested, as they walked towards an old-fashioned two-story hotel. The old ladies sitting on the porch eyed them with great curiosity.
**********
After learning about the importance of umbrellas, they got a room for the next three nights, along with a request not to play any loud music at night because of the thinness of the walls. "I guess we look like the party-hard type," she said, as they ascended the stairs.
"Soda machine's on our floor," Wallace observed. "See, things are looking up already."
"I'm going to go call my dad. And Logan--maybe see if he can helicopter us out of here or something."
"Uh huh," said Wallace. "Hey, do you think the building is literally made of corn or--"
She covered her ears and walked halfway down the hall to unlock their room.
There was a woman on one of the beds. No--there was a dead woman on one of the beds. She was pinned to the mattress by a knife through her throat. A ragged-edged red circle had formed around her on the white bedspread.
For a second, Veronica was too astonished to move. Then she ran back to Wallace, who was still perusing his pop choices. "Go back downstairs right now," she said. "Get the manager. Tell him to call the police. There's a body."
Wallace said, "What the hell--" and tried to move towards the room. She blocked him as best she could. "Don't look, okay?" she said. "Go."
He went. She returned to the open door, knowing it might be the only time she could get a good look at the body. Assuming a town like this had police, they probably wouldn't be too receptive to her checking out their crime scene.
As she walked towards the bed, she heard, indistinctly but clearly enough, a man in the next room say, "--too subtle. If it was meant for us, there'd probably be a note with our names under the knife."
Guess nobody warned them about the thin walls, she thought, and moved against her side of the adjoining wall to hear better.
Another man said, "Well, we're in it somehow. You saw it before it happened. That's never a coincidence."
The first man said, "Yeah, but that doesn't mean it's--" Their voices became indistinct; they might have stepped out onto the balcony.
Veronica said, quietly, thoughtfully, "That is interesting."