The blue Stang grumbled as Laynn pressed the gas. Honestly, if cars could complain, this one did. She wondered what kind of looks she would get if she tried to drive it around New York. Lots of honking, she imagined, but that was background noise, whenever the thing would stall. And, baby, did it stall. She had begun to simply blow through traffic lights if there werenâ€™t any other cars, and cars were a rarity on this godforsaken Texas road in the middle of nowhere. Sheâ€™d actually begun to count the tumbleweeds.<br/><br/>No one was on her tail tonight, so she should better find a place to pull over and sleep. And gas. Sheâ€™d need that too.<br/><br/>Laynn had spent so much time driving around Texas she was fearing that the accent was creeping into her voice. She liked to tell herself it was just her adaptive skills that made her tone of voice change whenever she talked to someone. Like making them feel more at ease or something talking to a stranger. Nevertheless, she had the slightest twang in her voice which would likely go away once she hung around California for a bit.<br/><br/>The Mustang let out a spontaneous put that startled her. The metal beast jerked slightly, making Laynnâ€™s nerves fray at the ends a little. She pushed her short black hair out of her eyes. Her gaze went up to the rearview mirror, where her eyes stared back at her. Her eyes were backward in the mirror, instead of her right eye being yellow, it looked like it was the left one. And vice versa with the blue one. Returning her gaze to the road, she began humming the tune of some childlike song, like London Bridge with a mix of Ring around the Rosie. The combination was so eerie she stopped.<br/><br/>She didnâ€™t know how long sheâ€™d been on the road, but she began to notice the hollow feeling in her stomach. When it began to make noises, she decided she hadnâ€™t eaten in a day. Keeping one hand on the wheel, Laynn reached over to the floorboard on the passenger side. She came back up with a plastic baggie, and quickly swerved to get back in her lane. The contents of the baggie were green and papery. Dollar bills.<br/><br/>Laynn drew out the twenty from a Hank Danvers, and a ten from Clarence Hoover. Hoover was such an unfortunate surname to have. She shoved the bills in her pocket. It seemed to take a year for her to reach the first signs of life out in The Middle Of Nowhere Texas, but it actually took her until nightfall. She pulled into the parking lot of a bar, praying to Gramma Nana that they served food.<br/><br/>Laynn pulled the Mustang next to a Pontiac, the only other car there besides a rusty pickup, noting that the old, rusted out paint job seemed to blend right in. Laynn shut off the engine and unclipped her seat belt. She climbed over the seat into the back, miraculously avoiding the boxes and piles of crap as she slammed into the bench seat. Looking around the nest of crap, she picked out a new clip of 9x19mm for her Smith & Wesson. Bending over the front seat again, she snatched the handgun from the passenger seat, and exchanged the. It could hold up to 17 rounds, barrel length 4.25â€, trigger pull of 6.5 lbs, zytel polymer frame, stainless steel barrel/slide and structural components. It kept her safe, though she had never shot a person. Flashed it to scare some people off, maybe fired off a warning round or two. But she mostly avoided trouble with her quick wit and charm.<br/><br/>With the gun reloaded, Laynn pulled herself over the front seat. Careful to check that the safety was engaged, she jammed it in the waistline of her black capris, and pulled her t-shirt to haphazardly cover it. Tugging down the long sleeves on her gray shirt, she threw the passenger door open. Just before she slid out, she grabbed the keys and hit the driver side lock, then locked the passenger door as well.<br/><br/>Standing outside for the first time in a while, she stretched her legs. Laynn paced for a few minutes, getting her land legs back. With a growl from her needy belly, she quickly made haste getting inside. She stomped up the wooden steps of the porch, her heavy old combat boots kicking up the Texas dust. The summer night was hot and dry, and Laynnâ€™s throat ached for a drink.<br/><br/>Suddenly Laynn stops short, realizing there was someone else outside. Startled, she whipped her head to the right, finding a young woman doing the same. She had blonde hair in a messy ponytail and pretty blue eyes. She was smoking a cigarette.<br/><br/>Laynn missed only half a beat. She folded her arms behind her back and rocked back on her heels, smiling sweetly. â€œHi,â€ She greeted cheerfully. â€œAre you open still?â€