Chell’s assurance that she had a car was little comfort when Lane actually saw the vehicle she drove. It was waiting for them at the curb, parked illegally in the unloading zone, hazards blinking, but no one seemed to care. Lane almost didn’t notice it at first, but she started towards it and Remy made a strangled noise in the back of his throat, which caught Lane’s attention.
Chell drove a battered Jeep of indeterminable age and indescribable color. Rust and mud came to mind, though. The tires looked out of place, like blow-up monster truck wheels and not average, road-worthy tires one usually found on normal cars. The Jeep was weathered and beaten, and had no windows of any kind—not even a windshield. There were no doors, either, and no roof, and nothing protecting the riders from the e
