Carrion Crew

12

The caravaner station was full, which was good news if you planned on haggling. Better still, the caravan Ash dealt with looked a bit desperate, and they had enough that Ash was able to talk them down pretty far on a couple big bottles of water, a large bag of peanuts, and a smaller bag of seasoned bagel chips. Twist was happy to have her do the talking. Communication wasn't exactly his specialty. Ash knew how to ease around a conversation with all of the “Where'd you come from?” and “How's the road?” small-talk that Twist found to be a boring waste of time, which it would be if Twist were doing it. Ash knew what she was doing, so they got a good deal on the food and any news that might be related to the Drifter, all without revealing a single detail of what she and Twist were about. Twist was impressed, but when Ash turned away from the caravaners, she rolled her eyes and flashed a quick thumbs-down close to her chest.

“What was that about?” Twist asked her when they were moving again.

“Nothing,” said Ash. “They were kind of eccentric in that stupid, paranoid way caravaners get.”

“Considering recent happenings,” Twist said, “paranoid isn't what it used to be.”

“They told us not to go to Hospital City. That it was more like 'Hostile City' any more.”

“How so?”

“I don't know,” Ash ripped open the bag of bagel chips with her teeth, even though it had a  resealable zip top. “I guess they're turning up the security and getting choosy about who comes in.” She chomped a handful of chips and and pulled a face. “Woah! Way too much salt.” She reached behind the seat for one of the water bottles. “Anyway, haven't they always been like that?”

“What?” Twist asked. “The chips, the city or the caravaners?”

Ash sat back up and popped the clamp stopper from the bottle. “The city. They're never too friendly to outsiders. There's a reason I don't like to go to there.”

“Did it sound like the Drifter was going to Hospital City?” Twist asked.

“No,” Ash took a long swallow of water and wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “What they called the 'big scuff marks' turned onto this road from the south about sixty miles before we get to the City.”

“That's good...” Twist trailed off.

“What?” Ash asked.

“I don't know. I was just thinking about-- Where do you think the Drifter came from? I mean, did you notice how it wasn't made from scrap like everything else?”

Ash gave him one of her serious looks. “Are you suggesting it came from off-world?”

“Yes,” Twist said, trying to match her expression so she'd know he was being serious too, but he couldn't help but smile. “Sometimes I wish I was born earlier. Maybe I could have made it off. Do you ever think about that?”

Ash made a sour face, like Twist had just ruined the serious atmosphere with a crude comment. Like he couldn't ever have a real conversation, even though Twist never really told jokes. There wasn't much to laugh about.

“I've got enough problems on this planet,” Ash said.

“But don't you ever think what it would be like?” Twist pressed. “Imagine being a fighter pilot!”

The Dasher bounced through a deep pothole, and Twist and Ash hit their heads on the roll cage. 

“Imagine driving the vehicle you're already in!” Ash scolded, holding her head.

The swirling black trail took a sharp left and Twist turned the Dasher into a skid to stay with it. They ramped across an old highway and into a small, abandoned town. Where was this Drifter going?