Participants:
| Scene Title | Self Saving Women Of Means |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | Wendy and Peyton make their great escape. It doesn't go unnoticed or unpunished, but in the end, all those times at the gym between parties and hangovers pays off. |
| Date | August 18, 2009 |
They're taken turns at getting and working on the screws. Strips of cloth scavenged off the sleeping bags to protect their hands when too many slips of the tools meant gouged and bleeding hands. Wendy would work and Peyton would rest. Then Peyton would take over and Wendy would get her small portion of forty winks. Slowly but surely the screws came loose. Not pulling them out all the way because there's still an A/C that need to be supported. Sometimes it was both of them working on it.
Finally though, the last screw gives, turns without much effort and then with only the need to use fingers. "Pey…" Wendy's voice high and reedy, a little hoarse from all the singing they've been doing. "Pey, I think.. I think we can remove the A/C"
Peyton's awake in an instant. It's not like one sleeps deeply when one is waiting to be murdered at a moment's notice. She's up on her feet and picking up their shoes, so that they won't have bare feet once they get out of this god forsaken hole. Of course, Wendy's shoes are now flats and have a hole in the bottom, but it's better than bare footed if they have to run. She dumps them on the table, then climbs up herself. "Good job," she says, as she moves from knees to a standing position. "All right. I'll work on one side, don't let it drop…" She says, taking the opposite side and beginning to unscrew. All of her spa manicure nails are broken down to the quick from the work they've been doing.
IT's not that big a machine, but they can be heavy, depending upon the model. She's seen them in the windows of her friends places. So with the table beneath them, Wendy maneuvers to her side, getting in place so she can manually remove the two on her side with one hand and still support it with the other. "I haven't heard anyone outside. So I think we're good Pey. Really, we're getting out of this, we're gonna get out of this" She's excited, nearly vibrating.
"There," Peyton says, the final screw on her side out, dropping to the ground below. Her hands keep the machine in place until Minea's ready to help get it out of the wall. "We are. We're getting out of this, and I'm going to be a better person, I swear it. I'll donate money to good causes and go walk the dogs at the pound and visit old people, whatever, as long as we get out of this."
"Glad you're thinking of doing good things" Wendy tries to joke. Her screws are done too and tossed to the floor. Brown eyes glance over to the other. The acid test. She doesn't really know what's on the other side. One the count of three they start to move it. Resistance at first but perseverance finally works and with the careful and calculated removal… sunlight pours into the container through the hole in the wall. It's enough to blind Wendy at first, being that all they've had to work with is the chemical camping lights. "Pey… Pey it worked… holy fuck…"
Peyton ducks as the light comes streaming in, then, as her eyes adjust, lifts her head a tiny bit to peek over the "sill" of the new "window" they've made in their redesign of the place. Dark eyes go left, then right, looking for someone to come running — after all, there was the sound of metal scraping metal when they pulled the unit through the hole. "I don't see anyone," she whispers quietly, before hopping down to get one of the two chairs and lifting it up to set it on the table. "Put your shoes on - it's going to be a long drop on the other side." She climbs back up on the table and pulls her own shoes on. "You want to go first?" she whispers, chewing her lower lip nervously.
What's left of her shoes. WEndy hops down off the table, passing a chair up to her to use to boost themselves up since the A/C vent is still at eye level when on the table. THe destroyed laboutins, the red sole torn up and beyopnd repair are slipped on. They'll afford her enough protection till they can get out. The A/c dangles by it's cord before falling down to the floor of the soundproof container. "I'll go first, i'm taller. I can help you out on the other side" And with that, she's up on the chair, gripping the edges of the hole and squeezing her body out. It's going to be a small drop on the other side but instead of ducking over and tumbling out, she twists herself to grab at te top blindly and sit on the edge of the hole. Pull herself up. up. up until her feet are now where her ass used ot be and she's climbing onto the top of the container. "You're turn Pey. It'll be safe this way" and maybe there will be something to climb down.
What's left of her shoes. Wendy hops down off the table. The destroyed laboutins, the red sole torn up and beyond repair are slipped on. They'll afford her enough protection till they can get out. The A/c dangles by it's cord before falling down to the floor of the soundproof container. "I'll go first, I'm taller. I can help you out on the other side" And with that, she's up on the chair, gripping the edges of the hole and squeezing her body out. It's going to be a small drop on the other side but instead of ducking over and tumbling out, she twists herself to grab at the top blindly and sit on the edge of the hole. Pull herself up. up. up until her feet are now where her ass used to be and she's climbing onto the top of the container. "You're turn Pey. It'll be safe this way" and maybe there will be something to climb down.
Peyton helps by pushing Wendy up, then climbs up after, following the motions of Wendy. "And we can see if there's anyone around," she adds, as she climbs onto the vantage point on top of the container. Free of the confines of the small space, she turns around to look at where they are. "Do you know where we are? Should we find police, or…" she frowns, not knowing who to trust. What if that FBI guy was in on the whole thing?
"I dunno Pey" Her hand shading her eyes. There's harbor, there's… there's… Manhattan. The scars of the ruins rising above the skyline. "One of the boroughs? There's mainland…" She's lived here her whole life. "There's.. I think.. that's… queens.." There's no one yet, that she can see. The terrorists didn't put any guards on them? "Idiots" Wendy mutters, her self control better now that they're not cooped up and waiting to die. "Lets get down. We can either…follow the shoreline or, head in and see if we cna.. we can catch a cab.." Right, a cab. "Or hole up somewhere and find a working payphone, collect call my parents;
Peyton looks across the water. "That's Queens," she points. "So this has to be Brooklyn, I think. Let's just… get the fuck out of here. Head… that way, I think." She points. "That should be lower east — if we hit water, we went the wrong way." She goes to the edge of the storage unit, looking for a ladder. No ladder, but there are metal rods that lock the doors. It's not much of a drop as it is, but the rods will at least give a hand hold so they don't have to jump off completely. She kneels on the edge, then brings one foot down, reaching until she's got her stomach against the "roof" and can "walk down" the door. A few seconds later, she's on the ground.
Wendy's following, a little more careful and less of a trip down since she's taller. But eventually both women are on the ground. That right then, is about when their luck turns sour.
"Hey!" Comes a yell, two men coming around the corner. Not their irishman, but the guns in their hands and the dark outfits can only mean one thing.
"Hey! How'd you get out you stinking fucking Evo's!"
"Pey!" Wendy's hand comes out to snatch a hold of the other girls and with her shoes kicked off, the womans running away from the two men and in between shipping containers. "Run pey!"
There's a little bit of a shriek — sure, they kept their heads and escaped the hole, but she's not hardened enough not to express a bit of girly surprise and fear when she sees the armed men. But then she shuts up and darts with Wendy between the containers that create a bit of a cover for them. Her dark eyes seek the ground… and there's a shoe, an old, stinky, forgotten shoe. She grabs it, then stands to lob it over the top of the container in the opposite direction, hoping to distract their hunters.
Success, for one guy as the one man could be heard barking orders to split up. And they do, the one heading off to the sound of the shoe and the other, hot on the trail of the two women. Wendy curses as she steps on something, but it doesn't stop her. Whatever it is, she doens't care, it's better than a bullet of which she is sure that the two of them are going to get now. "Keep running pey, keep running"
Peyton follows Wendy just as the man turns the corner. "Stop or I'll shoot!" he yells, and Wendy just squeaks and keeps running, but not before he fires off a round — aiming for the leg, since he's not supposed to actually kill the hostages. Peyton feels the hot bullet graze the back of her calf, a blur of white hot heat that causes her to stumble, but she keeps moving. Another round is shot, this time at Wendy before the two turn another corner.
Wendy's rewarded with a similar pain in her side, a bullet passing through and red blossoming in the wake of a punctured shirt. Nothing vital hit. Around the corner they go, she's not even looking behind. Doge, turn, run, keep running. Lungs burning and legs doing much the same as the two socialites make it out of the maze of shipping containers. Away from the deserted area's and more into the busy area's. The kind where the two men with guns might be more disinclined to shoot. "Keep running Pey, look, at the end, we can do this" Tears welling again as the exit is in sight. The sound of a bullet careening off pavement just behind them, as one of the men IS bold enough to take a shot and sending what few workers there are, ducking for cover. And Wendy Screaming as she runs full throttle.
"Help, help, help, they're shooting at us!" Peyton screams at the top of her lungs as she runs, to get people's attention, to let them know this isn't just some mutual gang fight or something of the kind. That two hysterical girls are running for their lives. And finally, the docks seem to come to an end, and there's a normal street, with street lights and cars and cabs and buses ahead. "Oh, my God, we're almost there…" Peyton sobs. Thank God she's vain and actually goes to the gym between hangovers.
It's enough to scare the others off, away, make them rethink and disappear back into the woodwork from when they came. Especially when someone else brings out a gun and fires back in their direction. "Hey isn't that…" Can be heard as the two girls run, run out into the street and grab the first cab that doesn't have a middle eastern driver. "The nearest police station. Please" Wendy pants, sliding into the back and hunching down. "I'll pay you a hundred dollars to get us to the fucking police station NOW" Peytons in next and the door is closed. The driver… drives.