Dee leaps forward, zipping through the lower numbers without missing a beat. She's going 65 by the time they pass the others, and still going strong. The numbers on the gauge keep climbing -- 70. . .75. . .80. . .85. . .
88. . .
The wormhole opens and envelops them in a bright flash -- but then there's an odd sense of straining against something, like they're trying to drive through a huge rubber band. Dee honks in annoyance and adds more of her own efforts to Doc's. Come on, come on, they're almost there --
Then the resistance snaps, and there's a sense of a shockwave in their wake -- but there's no time to dwell on it, as a split-second later they're racing down the street again.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2012-10-12 11:52 am (UTC)88. . .
The wormhole opens and envelops them in a bright flash -- but then there's an odd sense of straining against something, like they're trying to drive through a huge rubber band. Dee honks in annoyance and adds more of her own efforts to Doc's. Come on, come on, they're almost there --
Then the resistance snaps, and there's a sense of a shockwave in their wake -- but there's no time to dwell on it, as a split-second later they're racing down the street again.