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aldersprig
Lina and Jackson got to the parking lot, or, rather, they got to the campground side of the parking lot — a strange stretch with some Uhauls and vans, box trucks and the like cheek to jowl with Bentlies and Beemers, Mercedes and Corvettes.
Another woman in a robe stopped them. “Sorry, kids. Nobody in, nobody out, we’re locking down. The boss got a bug in his bonnet and we’re getting ready for the final — well, you know.
Lina didn’t know at all, but she looked at Jackson, who looked guilty and huffed. “We just want to go into town for a couple hours?” he wheedled. “It’s not like town is dangerous. It’s barely downhill from here.”
“Sorry, no exceptions. Go to the water if you want some recreation. If you want some recreation, I won’t notice if the pavilion behind the food storage gets its lock picked. Just lock it again behind you if you can.”
Mirrored from Alder's Grove Fiction.
