Gibs hung his head. He wondered if he’d been outflanked by logic or if he’d been bested by something else; a need for companionship. He thought hard on it and decided he couldn’t say for sure. He looked back toward the homes, saw the others standing outside watching them silently. He saw Greg standing behind Alish in her wheelchair; Alish with the rapidly swelling belly. They both waved and nodded.
“Well… fuck me with something painful…”
“What?” Alan asked.
“I said I guess I have… oh, Christ’s sake, give me that fucking thing…”
Alan read: “I GUESS I HAVE COMPANY.”
He smiled and said, “Hell yes! I’ll throw my shit in the back and grab some more supplies!”
“AND STAY THE FUCK AWAY FROM MY COFFEE.”
They loaded up more of everything; more water; more food; more ammunition; more medicine. They did the job in a frantic rush to keep the syngas from going to waste, even though a little waste was inevitable, and jumped into the cab sweating. Gibs turned the engine over, blew the horn, and made for the recently cleared valley exit.
He glanced at Alan as they trundled along, snorted at the kid’s satisfied smirk, and rested an elbow on the door frame. Glancing through the gaps of the side window’s plating, he could see that Fred had taken the mirrors into account, positioning the armor so that Gibs could still see things behind them. He thought about commending the man for his craftsmanship; then wondered if he’d ever get the chance. He supposed there was a better than average chance he might come back this way, now more so than ever given his new passenger.
“Little shit,” he muttered, “did you barnacle yourself to my ass to drag me back here later?”
“Did you say something?”
Gibs shook his head.
They rode on quietly a while and then Alan asked, “So… where are we going?”
“Heading out to a place called North Platte.”
“Sorry, what?”
Gibs turned toward Alan and exaggerated the action of his mouth to say, “NE-BRAS-KA.”
Alan nodded. “Oh, right on. What’s out there?”
Rolling his eyes, Gibs gestured at Alan’s notebook and posted his finger on the dashboard: “Put your cheat-sheet there.”
When Alan did, he divided his attention and wrote, “FRIEND OUT THERE. FIND HER.”
“Gotcha. Uh… who?”
“GIRL NAMED PINCH.”
“Pinch? That’s a crazy name…”
“Maybe so…” Gibs said, half to himself. Then he continued, “She’ll be older now. She’s tall… not compared to me but for a woman in general… tall. Darker hair and light eyes with good muscle. I think sometimes she likes to dye parts of her hair funny colors; reds and purples and shit, you know? She has an honest smile and a light laugh, and she’s every goddamned bit worth of driving across the country to see.”
He glanced at Alan but discovered the younger man had turned his attention through the gaps of his own window, getting a last look at the Bowl as they passed beyond. Back out into the world.
Gibs nodded and returned his eyes to the trail.
He smiled, and for a wonder, it felt real.
Together, they left the valley behind.
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ALSO BY JOSHUA GAYOU FROM AETHON BOOKS: ALL GIFTS BESTOWED
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
JOSHUA GAYOU lives in Southern California with his wife Jennifer and son Anthony.
When he isn’t writing, he divides his time between being a senior engineer at a prominent In Flight Entertainment (IFE) company, accomplishing tasks around the house as assigned by his wife (The Boss), building stuff out in his wood shop, playing board games with his kid, and whatever else his twisted little mind takes an interest in.
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