[The memory he catches is what causes Emporio to linger in the rain.
It's cold. It's cold, frigid, iced beyond anything he's even fathomed. It's numbing, and choking, and it causes him to drop his little umbrella on the spot as he hurriedly pulls his arms close, teeth chattering in his jaw. Cold. Cold. He can't stand here. He can't-
But it's so cold it feels like he can't move-
A similar feeling of futility floats out from his body. It travels through the rain, it wraps around another, but rather than immobility there is an immediate sense to go.
Go.
Keep going.
Something small cupped in one hand, as the other grips a steering wheel. Almost at Cape Canaveral now. Almost at the place where the Priest no doubt waits. They're going as fast as they can on this road, but the steering wheel is in your hands, just as bricks tied to the feet are keeping the gas pedal going.
The small something is dropped into the arms of the woman in the passenger seat, where it abruptly becomes a large 1984 desktop computer. They need to look something up, and she should manage it fine. For now they just have to keep driving. Keep...
The car seems to be slowing down. That's weird. The pedal is floored to the max, and frustration starts to build. How can they be stalling? How can they be stopping? How?
Cars start to slide past. Cars start to fall past, with people screaming inside. All eyes move to the front (the foot isn't off the pedal yet), dawning horror sinking in-
Memory Blizzard please!
It's cold. It's cold, frigid, iced beyond anything he's even fathomed. It's numbing, and choking, and it causes him to drop his little umbrella on the spot as he hurriedly pulls his arms close, teeth chattering in his jaw. Cold. Cold. He can't stand here. He can't-
But it's so cold it feels like he can't move-
A similar feeling of futility floats out from his body. It travels through the rain, it wraps around another, but rather than immobility there is an immediate sense to go.
Go.
Keep going.
Something small cupped in one hand, as the other grips a steering wheel. Almost at Cape Canaveral now. Almost at the place where the Priest no doubt waits. They're going as fast as they can on this road, but the steering wheel is in your hands, just as bricks tied to the feet are keeping the gas pedal going.
The small something is dropped into the arms of the woman in the passenger seat, where it abruptly becomes a large 1984 desktop computer. They need to look something up, and she should manage it fine. For now they just have to keep driving. Keep...
The car seems to be slowing down. That's weird. The pedal is floored to the max, and frustration starts to build. How can they be stalling? How can they be stopping? How?
Cars start to slide past. Cars start to fall past, with people screaming inside. All eyes move to the front (the foot isn't off the pedal yet), dawning horror sinking in-
It isn't that everyone's slowing to a stop.
Somehow.
Somehow.
Everything is now falling sideways.]