cordialness.
“Where’s she from?” the greasy bridge man asked. “Seems different. I never fucked a foreigner.”
I heard Dax sigh loudly. “What did I tell you?” he asked me.
“You had to know the mute thing wasn’t going to work well. I'd say that’s just as much on you as me.”
“Where you from, girl?” the man asked, taking a couple of steps closer.
“None of your fucking business,” Dax said, and was getting off the bike. I reflexively put out my feet and grabbed the handlebars to keep it from tipping over. He walked past Tank and grabbed the fuel on his way. “Stay by her,” I heard him say as he did.
Tank got back on his bike and rolled it a bit closer to me, while Lucy was shooting me the evil eye but not saying anything.
Dax stopped a foot from the guy and handed him the jar. The bridge man shook his head.
I grabbed the handlebars and tiptoe-rolled myself a hair closer to Tank. If I was going to survive in this place, I needed to start learning their ways.
“What’s going on?” I asked Tank, since the mute thing was blown anyway.
“He wants more fuel,” he said, his eyes never leaving where Dax stood and his hand on his gun strapped to his hip.
“That’s, like, your money?” I asked.
“One form and the only kind the pirates will take.”
I looked around. The bridge spanned a huge expanse of water, definitely a nice-sized bay that probably let out into the sea. But there was no boat. “This guy’s a pirate?”
“Pirates control all the waterways. From what I know, they alternate duties. The guys working the bridge are always pissed off.” He looked at me briefly to stress his next words. “They hate land duty.” He shrugged a not my problem and went back to watching Dax’s back. “I’ve never seen this one before, but Dax will work it out.”
Dax and the bridge man walked a bit farther away. I couldn’t hear what was being said but the bridge man’s stance softened, from something confrontational to very accommodating.
Then the bridge man was shoving the jar back at Dax, shaking his head with one hand up in what looked like a gesture of surrender. Dax didn’t accept the jar and walked away from the man and back to the bike. I scooted backward as he grabbed the handlebars.
“What did you say?” I asked. I needed these kinds of details to add to my arsenal of information on how to live in the Wilds.
“Not now,” he said, and seemed annoyed for someone who’d just come out the winning side of a negotiation.
The bridge man was opening the gate while hollering some gibberish toward the tree line.
“Why’s he yelling at the trees?”
“He’s not yelling at the trees. He’s telling the gunmen who have their sights on us that it’s okay to let us pass.”
“I don’t get it,” I said as we waited for him to finish opening the gate. “Why do the pirates get to say who goes over the bridge? It’s not theirs.”
“Because they’re the ones that keep this thing standing. It is their bridge. It would’ve crumbled a long time ago if they didn’t.”
Tank leaned closer. “Did he agree to the other thing?”
Dax nodded. “Yeah. If they come this far, they won’t let them pass.”
“They’ll never pick up our tracks after that,” Tank said.
We started moving again as I realized he was talking about the group from Newco following us.
***
After crossing the bay, we went deep into the forests again. I hadn’t seen anything but greenery for a few hours until we stopped about thirty feet shy of a large wooden building. It had the kind of detail in the woodwork and a certain character that made me think it had been standing here for a very long time. There was a large porch that ran along the front, with a few wooden chairs sitting unoccupied. A painted sign over the entrance read Eat, Drink, Sleep. There were a handful of horses lined up to a hitching post and a barn out back where I guessed a few more horses might be.
The place was
“Where’s she from?” the greasy bridge man asked. “Seems different. I never fucked a foreigner.”
I heard Dax sigh loudly. “What did I tell you?” he asked me.
“You had to know the mute thing wasn’t going to work well. I'd say that’s just as much on you as me.”
“Where you from, girl?” the man asked, taking a couple of steps closer.
“None of your fucking business,” Dax said, and was getting off the bike. I reflexively put out my feet and grabbed the handlebars to keep it from tipping over. He walked past Tank and grabbed the fuel on his way. “Stay by her,” I heard him say as he did.
Tank got back on his bike and rolled it a bit closer to me, while Lucy was shooting me the evil eye but not saying anything.
Dax stopped a foot from the guy and handed him the jar. The bridge man shook his head.
I grabbed the handlebars and tiptoe-rolled myself a hair closer to Tank. If I was going to survive in this place, I needed to start learning their ways.
“What’s going on?” I asked Tank, since the mute thing was blown anyway.
“He wants more fuel,” he said, his eyes never leaving where Dax stood and his hand on his gun strapped to his hip.
“That’s, like, your money?” I asked.
“One form and the only kind the pirates will take.”
I looked around. The bridge spanned a huge expanse of water, definitely a nice-sized bay that probably let out into the sea. But there was no boat. “This guy’s a pirate?”
“Pirates control all the waterways. From what I know, they alternate duties. The guys working the bridge are always pissed off.” He looked at me briefly to stress his next words. “They hate land duty.” He shrugged a not my problem and went back to watching Dax’s back. “I’ve never seen this one before, but Dax will work it out.”
Dax and the bridge man walked a bit farther away. I couldn’t hear what was being said but the bridge man’s stance softened, from something confrontational to very accommodating.
Then the bridge man was shoving the jar back at Dax, shaking his head with one hand up in what looked like a gesture of surrender. Dax didn’t accept the jar and walked away from the man and back to the bike. I scooted backward as he grabbed the handlebars.
“What did you say?” I asked. I needed these kinds of details to add to my arsenal of information on how to live in the Wilds.
“Not now,” he said, and seemed annoyed for someone who’d just come out the winning side of a negotiation.
The bridge man was opening the gate while hollering some gibberish toward the tree line.
“Why’s he yelling at the trees?”
“He’s not yelling at the trees. He’s telling the gunmen who have their sights on us that it’s okay to let us pass.”
“I don’t get it,” I said as we waited for him to finish opening the gate. “Why do the pirates get to say who goes over the bridge? It’s not theirs.”
“Because they’re the ones that keep this thing standing. It is their bridge. It would’ve crumbled a long time ago if they didn’t.”
Tank leaned closer. “Did he agree to the other thing?”
Dax nodded. “Yeah. If they come this far, they won’t let them pass.”
“They’ll never pick up our tracks after that,” Tank said.
We started moving again as I realized he was talking about the group from Newco following us.
***
After crossing the bay, we went deep into the forests again. I hadn’t seen anything but greenery for a few hours until we stopped about thirty feet shy of a large wooden building. It had the kind of detail in the woodwork and a certain character that made me think it had been standing here for a very long time. There was a large porch that ran along the front, with a few wooden chairs sitting unoccupied. A painted sign over the entrance read Eat, Drink, Sleep. There were a handful of horses lined up to a hitching post and a barn out back where I guessed a few more horses might be.
The place was
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