Silver Sahara

Chapter 5: Diggin' Canals

Jay and Rich step off of the strider bike. Jay's face is still stained with agitation. V's presence etched into every action he makes, the lingering thought persisting. What if? What if he were watching? Jay's nerves were furrowed like jagged quills.

"So this is the fabled 'Ranch?" Rich smiles. The rusted gun in hand.

"Yup. This is where I live." Jay apathetically says while taking the rusted gun from Rich. He marches to the doors of the main building, his shoulders raised, causing his back to look like a large shield.

The Ranch consists of four sections. In the very center is the two story home made from strong synthetic wood and alloy. Two large cattle pens flank the homestead, one of the pens has two Cavre calmly grazing upon a pile of uprooted weeds. Far behind the central home is a large gray/brown barn off to the side.

Jay enters the home and tosses his bag and the old gun he took from the junkers atop the table in the kitchen. A tall old man with a bloated gut and old robotic arm is calmly cutting vegetables while a small radio plays rock songs from the old world. The calm winds carry the melody a short distance.

Without turning around, the old man stops cutting and says, "who'd you bring?"

"This is Rich. A toury who paid me to show him around." Jay sits down at the dining table.

Uncle turns around to reveal an old grizzled face with a healthy peppered beard. "Hi Rich. Good to meet you." Uncle wipes his hand off before offering Rich a handshake.

"Howdy!" Rich smiles while grasping Uncle's hand.

Rich notices the force of Uncle's human hand; it felt akin to V's without the sense of rage. As Rich observes Uncle while shaking hands, he realizes the old man reminds him of his own father. An old American with regret scars to reminisce about their past. One side of Uncle's face has a large burn running from the edge of his lip to his gray receding hairline. The eye on that side is vividly robotic. It is square-shaped with rounded edges and a small circular lens moving, allowing for vision to shift from that eye while the cube is fixed in place. Despite the hardened grip, rugged face, and 6'7 height, Rich holds no fear towards Uncle. The man stands tall with a deadly nature, but a kind, approachable demeanor soothes any worry. There is a strange hesitation to his movements. Uncle preferred to use his organic arm while turning his body ever so slightly to hide the dim red composite-plated cybernetic arm.

"Oh." Uncle steps back to the kitchen counter and affixes an eyepatch to cover the artificial eye. His heavy cybernetic leg creeks as he turns back to face them.

"Uncle, no one cares about your eye." Jay kindly says.

Uncle squints at Jay for a moment before readjusting the eye patch.

"You fought in the war?" Rich abruptly asks.

Uncle looks at Rich. "Yes, I did. The Marine Corps gave me the eye after I lost it while fighting in Louisiana."

"That's so cool!" Rich smiles with excitement.

Jay and Uncle give Rich a confused look.

"I hope that wasn't rude. My father has a scar too. A chunk of his jaw was destroyed trying to take back Baton Rouge."

Uncle nods with surprise. "Yeah, not many in my generation weren't in the war. Was he able to get a good replacement?"
Rich nods. "No, the army connected the augment too deep in his nerve to allow it to be properly removed without paralyzing half his face."

"Yeah, their 'anything will do' philosophy has me keeping this eye and this old arm." Uncle points at his robotic arm.

Before another word is said, stomping comes from the stairway towards the kitchen. A little girl slides in the doorway of the kitchen. A large scar runs across her left eye, the iris of the left eye is murky white. Atop her head is a bandana beneath a pair of dusty goggles.