The day grew darker, quieter. An erie silence fell upon the Drivers as they stared off over the prairie. Tomorrow they would unleash musical mayhem on a small mid-western town. Finally back in the States after a long run on the lam, it was if they had never left. Sheila put her hands on the still warm hood of the '37 Packard to take the chill off her fingers. Gail was in the field by the road, peeing again. Steve and Ken sat in the dusty gravel, backs to the side of the parked car, cleaning instruments and weapons. Ellie sniffed the air and huffed on a clove cigarette, glaring irritably at Bob, who was still sleeping in the car. Just because he was the singer didn't mean he should never have to drive. "Lazy bastard," she thought. She reached into her coat, grabbed a flask of bourbon and poured it over his face. "WHAT THE F---!" he screamed, thrusting hands to his burning eyes only to make it worse. "Time to hit it," she said. posted by B-Man
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