John swings by the Sheriff's office in his car. It's a wide-body hard-top model, so there's plenty of room for passengers as he pulls to a stop and (quietly, discreetly) calls for volunteers to go out to Country Road 17 and stop the third group headed to town. In the trunk, he's got spare weapons and ammo. Load up, all.

Ramon sits quietly in the hotel room he and St. John share, setting about to taking his clothes out of his suitcase, unfolding each article, folding it again, then putting it back. He's not going to unpack fully, just because of St. John's occasional habit of tossing all of Ramon's belongings out when the mood takes him. Things are easier to ( Read more... )

The first day, anytime John decides to dry himself out, is always a little worse than he really expects. He's never had any problems with the DTs, per se, but it's nonetheless a little bit of an ordeal. After that, though, he comes out of it feeling pretty good and ready to see how long he feels like going before indulging again ( Read more... )

St. John is not happy.  Given that there's a minor apocalypse going on, this is not an unreasonable state to be in, but in this case it's compounded by several other factors.

Thing the first:  There were Shop agents at the airport.  Despite the fact that he managed to shake them, he has no idea where they are now.  Given that he's now hanging around ( Read more... )

When he'd been told he had a fate there, Levon had always imagined the road to hell to have twisting stairs or a terrible fall. Some endless downward motion of horrifying inertia that sucked the will from you before your body broke against charred rock ( Read more... )