The Capital

Life on the Road: Getting to Know the Crew

As the days passed, I began to feel a bit more comfortable with the people around me on the vehicle. I got to know the driver’s name—Lenny, a grizzled man with a deep love for history and a dry sense of humor. He had been driving routes across the desert for years, and while he rarely spoke about his past, the stories he did share hinted at a life filled with adventure and hardship. He was the kind of man who had seen it all, and his calm demeanor made everyone feel a little safer.

The protectors, all male and each with their own quirks, had become familiar faces as well. There was Jake, the unofficial leader of the protectors—a tall, muscular guy with a booming laugh and a penchant for telling terrible jokes. He had a heart of gold beneath his rough exterior and always looked out for the others.

Next was Sam, the youngest of the group, who was quick with a joke and always ready to lighten the mood. He had a bit of a wild streak and was known for taking risks, but his skills with a weapon were unmatched. Despite his carefree attitude, Sam was fiercely loyal to his comrades.

Then there was Leo, the quiet one who preferred to keep to himself. He rarely spoke, but when he did, it was usually something profound or cuttingly witty. Leo was a man of few words but many talents, and his sharp eyes missed nothing.

Lastly, there was Frank, the oldest of the protectors, who everyone called "Old Man Frank." He was a grizzled veteran of too many battles, with scars to prove it. Despite his age, Frank was still a force to be reckoned with and was often the voice of reason among the protectors.

And then there was the kid—Tommy, a scrappy little thief who had somehow become part of the crew. He was clever and quick, with sticky fingers that often got him into trouble. Despite his tendency to pickpocket, Tommy was well-liked by the protectors, who treated him like a younger brother. He had a mischievous grin that could charm his way out of most situations, and while he was a bit rough around the edges, he had a good heart.

It was comforting to know their names and a bit of their stories. It made the long days on the road feel less isolating. The others on the vehicle continued to chat and joke as we traveled, and I often found myself lost in thought, wishing there was some music to fill the silence of the long nights.

One day, I caught myself watching Cal as he sat across from me, nodding his head to whatever music he was listening to. He must have noticed because he suddenly pulled off his headphones and, without asking, placed them on my head.

"Listen," he said with a smirk, clearly enjoying catching me off guard.

To my surprise, the music was from the 70s or 80s—a song I recognized as a classic but that Cal, of course, referred to as "ancient music." It was strange to think that something so familiar to me was now considered a relic of the past.

I couldn’t help but smile as I listened, but after a moment, I took the headphones off and handed them back. "Next time, warn me," I said, shaking my head slightly.

Cal’s smirk widened. "I knew you were curious about what I was listening to."

Before I could respond, one of the protectors, Jake, chimed in from across the vehicle. "Maybe she didn’t like your music, Cal. Can’t blame her—sounds like trash to me!" The others laughed heartily, and Cal rolled his eyes.

"Hey, you wouldn’t know good music if it bit you," Cal shot back, though he was still smiling.

"Doesn’t matter," Sam added with a grin, "I’ve never heard a single tune in my life, and I’m better off for it!" The protectors burst out laughing again, clearly enjoying the banter.

Cal just shook his head, a smile playing on his lips, and let the conversation drift away as he settled back in his seat.

As usual, I couldn’t sleep at night, too worried about what might happen if I let my guard down. I stayed awake, listening to the hum of the vehicle as it moved through the desert. Eventually, I’d drift off just as the sun began to rise, only to be awakened by the sound of people talking around me.

One morning, I felt a familiar poke and opened my eyes to see Cal standing there, holding out some food and water. I accepted it slowly, still groggy from lack of sleep.

"Do you like to sleep, Princess?" Cal asked with a teasing grin.

I returned the grin, shaking my head. "Nah, I just don’t feel safe sleeping at night."

He looked at me, and I could tell he understood. "Don’t worry, we won’t touch you," he said with that same smirk, though there was an underlying sincerity in his words.

I wasn’t entirely convinced, but I appreciated the sentiment. "I’m fine with the routine I’ve got," I replied.

Cal chuckled and gave a mock bow. "Yes, my queen," he said before heading back to join the others, leaving me to my thoughts.

This stretch of the journey seemed to drag on longer than the others, and I could feel a growing sense of anxiety. The desert outside was endless, with no sign of the next town in sight. Still, I was determined to be ready for whatever lay ahead. 

Tommy, the little thief, approached me with that familiar mischievous grin on his face. "How’re you doing?" he asked, clearly up to something.

I smiled back at him, knowing his tricks all too well. "I’m fine, but not if you get those fingers of yours too close," I warned, making sure he understood I wasn’t in the mood for any games.

He grinned wider but then asked, "Do you know any good stories?"

I paused, trying to think of a story that might interest him and the other children aboard. Most of the stories I knew might not make much sense in this time, but then I remembered one from Hans Christian Andersen—*The Tinderbox*. It was a tale from my past, but stories, I figured, had a way of transcending time.

I began to tell the story, and as I did, more children gathered around, their eyes wide with curiosity. Even the other protectors seemed to take an interest, listening carefully as I spun the tale of the soldier, the witch, and the magical tinderbox that summoned three enormous dogs.

"The soldier," I explained, "was clever and brave. He tricked the old witch, took the tinderbox, and found himself in possession of a powerful tool. Each time he struck the tinderbox, one of the great dogs would appear to grant his wish. With this power, the soldier became rich and famous, but he was also kind, using his wealth to help those in need."

Tommy’s eyes were wide, clearly enthralled by the idea of such power. "But he was a thief too, right?" he asked, his grin reappearing.

I nodded. "Yes, he was, but he learned that even with power, being clever and kind was what truly mattered. In the end, he used the tinderbox not for riches, but to protect the princess and find happiness."

The story ended with the soldier and the princess living happily ever after, thanks to the tinderbox and his quick thinking. The protectors exchanged glances, some left with questions.

"So, what happened to the dogs?" Jake asked, scratching his head.

I smiled, realizing they were just as curious as the kids. "The dogs stayed with the soldier, but he didn’t need to summon them anymore. He had everything he wanted—a peaceful life with the princess."

The other kids had their own questions, and I did my best to explain the story’s mysteries, though some things remained delightfully ambiguous.

Later, Cal approached me, his usual smirk replaced with a genuine smile. "You’re good at telling stories too, huh?"

I grinned back. "Not really. Just remembered some from my parents."

He nodded, clearly impressed. "It’s a good story. You’ve got a way with words."