Fic: Re-Animator/From Beyond, "On the Open Road"
Title: On the Open Road
Fandom: Re-Animator/From Beyond (Bro'verse)
Pairing: Herbert/Dan UST
Rating: R (strong language, sorta animal cruelty)
Word Count: 2516
Summary: Dan, Herbert, and Crawford. In a car. For sixteen hours.
A/N: Like to thank ocelli who probably doesn't even remember suggesting a Bro-verse road trip, but did. Also, sort of stole a scene from Starman.
Bro'verse Master Post: HERE
The car was quiet, a stark and blissful contrast to the whining and arguing that had gone on before they set out on their trip. The biggest point of contention was the seating and driving arrangements.
"I don't want to be stuck in the back with him."
"Fine, you can stay in the back by yourself."
"I don't want him next to you."
"That's fine," Crawford said, closing the trunk of the car after putting in the last of their bags. "I didn't get much sleep last night. I could use a lie-down before my shift."
"That's another thing. Why am I the only one not allowed to drive?"
"Because you don't have a license," Dan reminded him.
"Please, I don't have a license for many things and still do them."
"Do you even know how to drive a car?"
Herbert frowned, looking through the window at the steering wheel, dashboard, and gearshift. "Hundreds of thousands of other people know how. How hard can it be?"
"No. Crawford and I will take four-hour shifts. You keep your hands off."
So, Herbert sat in the front seat, arms crossed. Crawford was curled up in the back, a balled-up sweater under his head. No one spoke as Dan made their way out of Arkham. It was fortunately a pretty straight shot along I-80. Dan would only need a navigator once they got to Illinois.
Dan had just merged into traffic when Herbert decided to get vocal again. "I don't understand why we're bothering with a sixteen hour drive when we could get to Boston in an hour, take a three hour flight to O'Hare, and only have maybe another hour to Jeanine's house. Five total hours instead."
"Because I am never getting on a plane with you again. And Crawford doesn't like flying."
Herbert twisted around in his seat to look over the headrest at his dozing brother. "Aw, Crawfish afraid of flying? Baby." He grabbed a cassette case and tossed it over his shoulder.
"Ow! Hey!" Crawford sat up, fingers pressed against his cheek. He took his hand away, there was red on it. "You cut me!"
Herbert looked back at him. "Are you serious? You're really that fragile?"
"There should be a box of tissue somewhere back there. Check the footwell," Dan suggested.
Crawford grabbed a couple tissues and pressed them against his cut. He glared at Herbert who turned back to the road, laughing. "How did you survive to adulthood?"
"Not living with you probably had something to do with it," Dan said.
"I look at you and think maybe Darwinism should be reexamined."
"Herbert! Shut up and stop throwing things. Jesus, it's like taking a trip with a seven-year-old."
There was quiet again. Dan sighed happily. Crawford lay back down, and Herbert broodily sat back and watched the dark fields go by in the pre-dawn. Actually, it was a little too quiet. Dan switched on the radio.
Herbert immediately switched it off.
Dan switched it on again.
Herbert switched it off.
"What is your problem?"
"Your taste in music."
"So sorry I don't sit around listening to Bach like a pretentious prick."
"It's Mozart, you ignoramus. And get used to it. Jeanine's a 'pretentious prick,' too."
"You shouldn't call her that," Crawford suddenly said. "She does a lot for you, you know."
"No one asked you to join the conversation," Herbert shouted to the backseat.
"Well, look: She actually invited you to Thanksgiving this year."
"Actually, she didn't. She invited Dan. Someone she doesn't know and never met, but not her own flesh and blood."
"Dan's kind of like family, though."
That really shouldn't have given Dan the small burst of warmth that it did. Of all the families to be accepted into, the West/Tillinghast was probably not much better than the Manson family.
"If it wasn't for that fact that the 'and guest' portion of Dan's invite did not expressly stipulate the guest could not be me, I wouldn't even be here."
"I'm sure it was just her underhanded way of inviting you without offending your anti-sentiment sensibilities. At the same time she's making you feel like that in accepting, you're actually defying her."
"Shut up, Crawfish. I don't remember seeing your psychology degree. Go back to sleep!"
"Well, if you weren't allowed to come, I wouldn't have gone either," said Dan.
"Really?"
"Well, yeah. I mean, I'd feel bad leaving you alone on a holiday and spending it with your family. Awkward."
"Huh. I suppose." Herbert was surprisingly touched by the confession.
They had set out early so that they would hopefully reach Joliet, IL before the end of the day, even if it resulted in a very quick meet and greet with the fabled sister, then immediately to sleep. When it was time for the first driver switch, they pulled off the interstate and grabbed a second breakfast at a small diner. Crawford, in anticipation for his four hours of needing to be alert, downed the most coffee. The waitress had clearly taken a shine to him and constantly came back to top him off, and gave him a large cup to-go for free.
Back out in the parking lot, seating arrangements once again became an issue. "You're not sitting up front anymore."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want you distracting or trying to kill the person who has our lives in his hands."
"Then you're not sitting in the front either."
"Fine. I can keep tabs on you that way." Starting with making sure Herbert didn't sit behind the driver. Dan wouldn't have put it past him to start kicking at the back of the seat like a bored child.
Crawford had no opinion on the matter and just stood by the car, bouncing on his toes, Dan's keys jingling in time.
Two hours into his shift, Crawford was still riding high on his caffeine intake. He hummed along quietly to one of Dan's Journey tapes and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Herbert had spent thirty minutes bitching about Crawford's driving skills until Dan finally threatened to shove a sock down his throat. Herbert then kept himself busy by pulling out a notebook from his coat pocket and presumably did some work. Dan tilted his head back and closed his eyes.
Looking in the rearview mirror now, Dan had clearly fallen asleep and Herbert, Crawford couldn't see. He probably had dozed off himself and slumped over on the seat.
He had in fact slumped over right into Dan's lap. When Dan blinked awake, he found his roommate's head pillowed on his thigh, glasses askew and digging a little into his leg. Herbert still had his pen and pad clutched in one hand. The part of Dan that wanted to shove him off was much, much smaller than the part that knew that a sleeping Herbert was a silent Herbert. That the hand he placed on the smaller man's shoulder to steady him when they hit a bump didn't move, even after they returned to smoother road, well... Dan noticed Crawford's eyes smiling at him in the rearview mirror. Dan flipped him off.
When they pulled off the interstate again for lunch, it was not a moment too soon. Crawford was crashing and crashing hard. He clutched his head in his hands, elbows on the deli's table, ignoring his turkey club. "Just get me more coffee!"
"No, you'll just crash all the harder later. I'll give you a couple aspirin for the headache, but otherwise, you can sleep it off."
"You're suppose to be the nice one," Crawford whined.
That made Herbert laugh. "Oh, my dear baby brother, you have no idea the depths of depravity lurking within our Daniel."
"What's that suppose to mean?" Dan asked.
Herbert just smirked at him and went back to his sandwich. When Herbert had woken up in the car and realized his position, he merely sat up, adjusted his glasses and frowned a little. Otherwise, neither of them acknowledged the incident.
After lunch and a stop at the gas station, they were back on the road. With Crawford dead to the world, Dan was left with Herbert to depend on to keep him mildly entertained. They played Twenty Questions, but Herbert's answers always lead to things like "dead cat" or "severed head." And Herbert always guessed Dan's quickly, accusing him of being unimaginative.
Herbert then conceded to the use of his notebook to play Hangman. But again, the phrases all turned out to be something morbid. Dan also realized he seemed to be getting more tries than a normal game. He glanced down and saw that all of Herbert's stickmen seemed to be wearing a fuzzy sweater. Finally tiring of the games, Herbert actually let Dan listen to the radio.
When they stopped for the last time to stretch their legs, change drivers, and get something to eat, it was full dark and dinner time.
The diner was very busy with its usual clientele of burly truck drivers and with the added custom of other families out on the road for the holiday. Crawford was dismayed his coffee did not receive the same amount of attention it had three states back.
"It's just as well," Dan pointed out. "You have too much now, you'll never sleep tonight."
Crawford shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Need coffee."
Herbert leaned over and whispered to Dan, "It's okay. I have sedatives in my bag."
"What? Why did you pack sedatives?"
Herbert shrugged. "You never know."
Refueled, Crawford was practically skipping across the parking lot while Dan and Herbert trudged behind him. He came to a sudden stop, causing Herbert to walk right into him. "What, the hell?"
"That's so sad."
Herbert peered over his brother's shoulder and Dan came up next to them to see what killed Crawford's buzz. Some of the diners' patrons were apparently hunters. A car had a dead five point buck strapped to its hood. Intrigued, Herbert approached the animal as he pulled a pair of latex gloves from his coat. He started examining the bullet wound in its chest, sticking a finger in the hole.
"Single shot, very clean," Herbert announced like some kind of coroner. "They must be proud. I wonder..." He started muttering to himself as he continued to examine the poor creature.
"What are you doing?" Dan finally asked, getting nervous that the owners would come out any moment and take offense to Herbert's interest.
"I realized," Herbert answered, "that we've tried small animals and humans, but never larger animals..."
"You didn't. Herbert!"
Sure enough, Herbert reached into his coat again and removed a syringe already filled and glowing. Dan ran up and grabbed his wrist before he could jab the needle in. "Are you really going to do this here, now? Is this what your work has been reduced to? Randomly injecting roadkill for shits and giggles?"
Herbert scowled. "Hardly. This is still all part of the scientific process, Dan."
"I don't see how."
"Maybe you should be more with concerned with Crawford right now."
"What?" Dan turned around. Crawford looked fine. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, arms wrapped around himself, and looking generally distressed. Nothing unusual or cause for alarm. When Dan turned back to Herbert, he realized he had just fallen for the oldest trick in the book. Herbert already had the needle stuck in the base of the deer's skull and pressing down the plunger.
Herbert immediately started staring at his watch. "Come on, come on."
"Herbert-" Dan tugged his roommate back a little as the buck started twitching. A moment later it was kicking and thrashing against the ropes holding it down. Herbert grinned. The animal, in its attempts to free itself, was crushing the front of the car. It flung its head, its antlers smashing the windshield.
The commotion, naturally, did not go unnoticed. People started coming out of the diner.
"Hey, what the fuck are you doing to our car?" Two men clad in denim, flannel, and camo pushed their way to the front of the crowd. They were big. They were angry. Dan grabbed Herbert's arm and pulled him away.
The buck finally broke its bonds and jumped to its feet, wailing, head thrashing up and down. People started screaming. The beast wailed again and staggered into the street like a newborn fawn. It was trying to cross to the woods on the other side. Oncoming traffic swerved to avoid it, vehicles crashing into ditches.
"What the fuck man, what the fuck?" The hunters charged forward.
Dan yanked on Herbert's arm again, grabbed Crawford, too, and pulled them both along back to his car. But the brothers were not very cooperative. They were more concerned with watching the re-animated buck until it disappeared into the dark woods, its ungodly cries fading into the night.
People were shouting for the police to be called. The hunters, getting over their shock and confusion when they saw the state of their car and their kill running off, turned their attention back on the three of them.
"Shit, shit, fuck. Dammit, Herbert!" Dan continued to swear as he hastily shoved the twins in the backseat. He jumped behind the steering wheel and peeled out of the parking lot, tires squealing, leaving a cloud of smoke behind them.
Dan's heart was hammering as he merged back onto the interstate, nearly side-swiping a station wagon. He stayed at eighty miles per hour for about twenty minutes. When he started feeling a little more confident that state troopers weren't coming after them, he pulled off onto the shoulder of the road.
He switched on the hazard lights and gripped the wheel tight, trying to stop his shaking. Dan closed his eyes and let his head drop against the wheel. Crawford threw open his door, leaned out, and threw-up his dinner and several cups of coffee. "Well, that was interesting," Herbert said.
Once everyone's nerves settled, they rearranged themselves. Crawford took the driver's seat for the last leg of the journey. Dan was in the back with Herbert, who he couldn't stop glaring at even as he held a flashlight so that the little mad scientist could take his notes.
Dan started feeling his own kind of crash as the adrenaline from earlier faded. He slumped in his seat and let his eyes drift shut.
When they opened again, Herbert and Crawford were in the middle of an argument. Apparently Herbert was playing backseat driver and insisting that he knew the directions to Jeanine's house better than Crawford. Although unsure as to how often Crawford visited, Dan figured last time Herbert saw his sister was before he left to study in Switzerland.
Dan leaned over to read the dashboard’s clock. It was going on 11:00 pm, if they had correctly changed it when they crossed time zones. Dan sat back again, letting out a long sigh. He felt like he'd been trampled by a dozen rhinos.
The car slowed down and stopped in front of a gated driveway. "We're here!" Crawford announced.
TO BE CONTINUED
Now with Fan Art!
Fandom: Re-Animator/From Beyond (Bro'verse)
Pairing: Herbert/Dan UST
Rating: R (strong language, sorta animal cruelty)
Word Count: 2516
Summary: Dan, Herbert, and Crawford. In a car. For sixteen hours.
A/N: Like to thank ocelli who probably doesn't even remember suggesting a Bro-verse road trip, but did. Also, sort of stole a scene from Starman.
Bro'verse Master Post: HERE
The car was quiet, a stark and blissful contrast to the whining and arguing that had gone on before they set out on their trip. The biggest point of contention was the seating and driving arrangements.
"I don't want to be stuck in the back with him."
"Fine, you can stay in the back by yourself."
"I don't want him next to you."
"That's fine," Crawford said, closing the trunk of the car after putting in the last of their bags. "I didn't get much sleep last night. I could use a lie-down before my shift."
"That's another thing. Why am I the only one not allowed to drive?"
"Because you don't have a license," Dan reminded him.
"Please, I don't have a license for many things and still do them."
"Do you even know how to drive a car?"
Herbert frowned, looking through the window at the steering wheel, dashboard, and gearshift. "Hundreds of thousands of other people know how. How hard can it be?"
"No. Crawford and I will take four-hour shifts. You keep your hands off."
So, Herbert sat in the front seat, arms crossed. Crawford was curled up in the back, a balled-up sweater under his head. No one spoke as Dan made their way out of Arkham. It was fortunately a pretty straight shot along I-80. Dan would only need a navigator once they got to Illinois.
Dan had just merged into traffic when Herbert decided to get vocal again. "I don't understand why we're bothering with a sixteen hour drive when we could get to Boston in an hour, take a three hour flight to O'Hare, and only have maybe another hour to Jeanine's house. Five total hours instead."
"Because I am never getting on a plane with you again. And Crawford doesn't like flying."
Herbert twisted around in his seat to look over the headrest at his dozing brother. "Aw, Crawfish afraid of flying? Baby." He grabbed a cassette case and tossed it over his shoulder.
"Ow! Hey!" Crawford sat up, fingers pressed against his cheek. He took his hand away, there was red on it. "You cut me!"
Herbert looked back at him. "Are you serious? You're really that fragile?"
"There should be a box of tissue somewhere back there. Check the footwell," Dan suggested.
Crawford grabbed a couple tissues and pressed them against his cut. He glared at Herbert who turned back to the road, laughing. "How did you survive to adulthood?"
"Not living with you probably had something to do with it," Dan said.
"I look at you and think maybe Darwinism should be reexamined."
"Herbert! Shut up and stop throwing things. Jesus, it's like taking a trip with a seven-year-old."
There was quiet again. Dan sighed happily. Crawford lay back down, and Herbert broodily sat back and watched the dark fields go by in the pre-dawn. Actually, it was a little too quiet. Dan switched on the radio.
Herbert immediately switched it off.
Dan switched it on again.
Herbert switched it off.
"What is your problem?"
"Your taste in music."
"So sorry I don't sit around listening to Bach like a pretentious prick."
"It's Mozart, you ignoramus. And get used to it. Jeanine's a 'pretentious prick,' too."
"You shouldn't call her that," Crawford suddenly said. "She does a lot for you, you know."
"No one asked you to join the conversation," Herbert shouted to the backseat.
"Well, look: She actually invited you to Thanksgiving this year."
"Actually, she didn't. She invited Dan. Someone she doesn't know and never met, but not her own flesh and blood."
"Dan's kind of like family, though."
That really shouldn't have given Dan the small burst of warmth that it did. Of all the families to be accepted into, the West/Tillinghast was probably not much better than the Manson family.
"If it wasn't for that fact that the 'and guest' portion of Dan's invite did not expressly stipulate the guest could not be me, I wouldn't even be here."
"I'm sure it was just her underhanded way of inviting you without offending your anti-sentiment sensibilities. At the same time she's making you feel like that in accepting, you're actually defying her."
"Shut up, Crawfish. I don't remember seeing your psychology degree. Go back to sleep!"
"Well, if you weren't allowed to come, I wouldn't have gone either," said Dan.
"Really?"
"Well, yeah. I mean, I'd feel bad leaving you alone on a holiday and spending it with your family. Awkward."
"Huh. I suppose." Herbert was surprisingly touched by the confession.
They had set out early so that they would hopefully reach Joliet, IL before the end of the day, even if it resulted in a very quick meet and greet with the fabled sister, then immediately to sleep. When it was time for the first driver switch, they pulled off the interstate and grabbed a second breakfast at a small diner. Crawford, in anticipation for his four hours of needing to be alert, downed the most coffee. The waitress had clearly taken a shine to him and constantly came back to top him off, and gave him a large cup to-go for free.
Back out in the parking lot, seating arrangements once again became an issue. "You're not sitting up front anymore."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't want you distracting or trying to kill the person who has our lives in his hands."
"Then you're not sitting in the front either."
"Fine. I can keep tabs on you that way." Starting with making sure Herbert didn't sit behind the driver. Dan wouldn't have put it past him to start kicking at the back of the seat like a bored child.
Crawford had no opinion on the matter and just stood by the car, bouncing on his toes, Dan's keys jingling in time.
Two hours into his shift, Crawford was still riding high on his caffeine intake. He hummed along quietly to one of Dan's Journey tapes and tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. Herbert had spent thirty minutes bitching about Crawford's driving skills until Dan finally threatened to shove a sock down his throat. Herbert then kept himself busy by pulling out a notebook from his coat pocket and presumably did some work. Dan tilted his head back and closed his eyes.
Looking in the rearview mirror now, Dan had clearly fallen asleep and Herbert, Crawford couldn't see. He probably had dozed off himself and slumped over on the seat.
He had in fact slumped over right into Dan's lap. When Dan blinked awake, he found his roommate's head pillowed on his thigh, glasses askew and digging a little into his leg. Herbert still had his pen and pad clutched in one hand. The part of Dan that wanted to shove him off was much, much smaller than the part that knew that a sleeping Herbert was a silent Herbert. That the hand he placed on the smaller man's shoulder to steady him when they hit a bump didn't move, even after they returned to smoother road, well... Dan noticed Crawford's eyes smiling at him in the rearview mirror. Dan flipped him off.
When they pulled off the interstate again for lunch, it was not a moment too soon. Crawford was crashing and crashing hard. He clutched his head in his hands, elbows on the deli's table, ignoring his turkey club. "Just get me more coffee!"
"No, you'll just crash all the harder later. I'll give you a couple aspirin for the headache, but otherwise, you can sleep it off."
"You're suppose to be the nice one," Crawford whined.
That made Herbert laugh. "Oh, my dear baby brother, you have no idea the depths of depravity lurking within our Daniel."
"What's that suppose to mean?" Dan asked.
Herbert just smirked at him and went back to his sandwich. When Herbert had woken up in the car and realized his position, he merely sat up, adjusted his glasses and frowned a little. Otherwise, neither of them acknowledged the incident.
After lunch and a stop at the gas station, they were back on the road. With Crawford dead to the world, Dan was left with Herbert to depend on to keep him mildly entertained. They played Twenty Questions, but Herbert's answers always lead to things like "dead cat" or "severed head." And Herbert always guessed Dan's quickly, accusing him of being unimaginative.
Herbert then conceded to the use of his notebook to play Hangman. But again, the phrases all turned out to be something morbid. Dan also realized he seemed to be getting more tries than a normal game. He glanced down and saw that all of Herbert's stickmen seemed to be wearing a fuzzy sweater. Finally tiring of the games, Herbert actually let Dan listen to the radio.
When they stopped for the last time to stretch their legs, change drivers, and get something to eat, it was full dark and dinner time.
The diner was very busy with its usual clientele of burly truck drivers and with the added custom of other families out on the road for the holiday. Crawford was dismayed his coffee did not receive the same amount of attention it had three states back.
"It's just as well," Dan pointed out. "You have too much now, you'll never sleep tonight."
Crawford shook his head. "Doesn't matter. Need coffee."
Herbert leaned over and whispered to Dan, "It's okay. I have sedatives in my bag."
"What? Why did you pack sedatives?"
Herbert shrugged. "You never know."
Refueled, Crawford was practically skipping across the parking lot while Dan and Herbert trudged behind him. He came to a sudden stop, causing Herbert to walk right into him. "What, the hell?"
"That's so sad."
Herbert peered over his brother's shoulder and Dan came up next to them to see what killed Crawford's buzz. Some of the diners' patrons were apparently hunters. A car had a dead five point buck strapped to its hood. Intrigued, Herbert approached the animal as he pulled a pair of latex gloves from his coat. He started examining the bullet wound in its chest, sticking a finger in the hole.
"Single shot, very clean," Herbert announced like some kind of coroner. "They must be proud. I wonder..." He started muttering to himself as he continued to examine the poor creature.
"What are you doing?" Dan finally asked, getting nervous that the owners would come out any moment and take offense to Herbert's interest.
"I realized," Herbert answered, "that we've tried small animals and humans, but never larger animals..."
"You didn't. Herbert!"
Sure enough, Herbert reached into his coat again and removed a syringe already filled and glowing. Dan ran up and grabbed his wrist before he could jab the needle in. "Are you really going to do this here, now? Is this what your work has been reduced to? Randomly injecting roadkill for shits and giggles?"
Herbert scowled. "Hardly. This is still all part of the scientific process, Dan."
"I don't see how."
"Maybe you should be more with concerned with Crawford right now."
"What?" Dan turned around. Crawford looked fine. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, arms wrapped around himself, and looking generally distressed. Nothing unusual or cause for alarm. When Dan turned back to Herbert, he realized he had just fallen for the oldest trick in the book. Herbert already had the needle stuck in the base of the deer's skull and pressing down the plunger.
Herbert immediately started staring at his watch. "Come on, come on."
"Herbert-" Dan tugged his roommate back a little as the buck started twitching. A moment later it was kicking and thrashing against the ropes holding it down. Herbert grinned. The animal, in its attempts to free itself, was crushing the front of the car. It flung its head, its antlers smashing the windshield.
The commotion, naturally, did not go unnoticed. People started coming out of the diner.
"Hey, what the fuck are you doing to our car?" Two men clad in denim, flannel, and camo pushed their way to the front of the crowd. They were big. They were angry. Dan grabbed Herbert's arm and pulled him away.
The buck finally broke its bonds and jumped to its feet, wailing, head thrashing up and down. People started screaming. The beast wailed again and staggered into the street like a newborn fawn. It was trying to cross to the woods on the other side. Oncoming traffic swerved to avoid it, vehicles crashing into ditches.
"What the fuck man, what the fuck?" The hunters charged forward.
Dan yanked on Herbert's arm again, grabbed Crawford, too, and pulled them both along back to his car. But the brothers were not very cooperative. They were more concerned with watching the re-animated buck until it disappeared into the dark woods, its ungodly cries fading into the night.
People were shouting for the police to be called. The hunters, getting over their shock and confusion when they saw the state of their car and their kill running off, turned their attention back on the three of them.
"Shit, shit, fuck. Dammit, Herbert!" Dan continued to swear as he hastily shoved the twins in the backseat. He jumped behind the steering wheel and peeled out of the parking lot, tires squealing, leaving a cloud of smoke behind them.
Dan's heart was hammering as he merged back onto the interstate, nearly side-swiping a station wagon. He stayed at eighty miles per hour for about twenty minutes. When he started feeling a little more confident that state troopers weren't coming after them, he pulled off onto the shoulder of the road.
He switched on the hazard lights and gripped the wheel tight, trying to stop his shaking. Dan closed his eyes and let his head drop against the wheel. Crawford threw open his door, leaned out, and threw-up his dinner and several cups of coffee. "Well, that was interesting," Herbert said.
Once everyone's nerves settled, they rearranged themselves. Crawford took the driver's seat for the last leg of the journey. Dan was in the back with Herbert, who he couldn't stop glaring at even as he held a flashlight so that the little mad scientist could take his notes.
Dan started feeling his own kind of crash as the adrenaline from earlier faded. He slumped in his seat and let his eyes drift shut.
When they opened again, Herbert and Crawford were in the middle of an argument. Apparently Herbert was playing backseat driver and insisting that he knew the directions to Jeanine's house better than Crawford. Although unsure as to how often Crawford visited, Dan figured last time Herbert saw his sister was before he left to study in Switzerland.
Dan leaned over to read the dashboard’s clock. It was going on 11:00 pm, if they had correctly changed it when they crossed time zones. Dan sat back again, letting out a long sigh. He felt like he'd been trampled by a dozen rhinos.
The car slowed down and stopped in front of a gated driveway. "We're here!" Crawford announced.
TO BE CONTINUED
Now with Fan Art!