The deafening roar of the wind stood hand-in-hand with the growl of the old engine as both fought atop the asphalt. Miles of black stretched behind, and miles of it still lay ahead. Allies in the war blared across the radio in an aggressive muddling of country, rock, and Evangelical preaching that guttered in and out with every mile. A phone lit up on the dash, the dull buzz lost to high speeds on a dry and desolate road.
A tanned hand reached out to cut the music, though made no move to answer. The hardy, old Jeep had no windows or roof for the moment, and it wasn't until the next gas station - some ramshackle thing whose paint was half replaced by arid sands - that the driver could hear a word. She sighed heavily at the name she'd spied from a moment's glance on the drive.
Casey Albright.
The door kicked open. She swung a boot out to meet the dusty parking lot and, with a shoulder leaned against the sun-baked frame, she swiped across the glass to return the missed call. The dial tone accompanied her on the short walk beneath the awning's shade and into the air-conditioned interior. Here, the local rock music station had finally won the good fight.
"Hey Sabine." The voice on the other end finally came through. She shoved the phone between her ear and shoulder as she pried open one of the freezers to grab one of the twenty off-brands of definitely-not-just-tap water.
"Hey. Sorry, was on the road-"
"No, no, it's fine. I knew you were headed out to Salt Lake and figured I'd try to get you before you got too far."
The blonde glanced up for a moment as the heavy door swung shut, her own visage reflected back in the glass. For a moment it was a handful of inches taller, tattooed, and scarred. The eyes looking back were far too bright to sit right with her.
She turned away and adjusted the warm flat of the phone. "You find another one, or are you actually calling to ask how my day was?"
"We both know the answer to that one." A short lull sat between them while she shoved through different bags of junk food before ultimately giving up. Stale pretzels it was. "But yeah. If you're up to it, we got someone in Price. Bit south from where you're headed."
"Never heard of it." Sabine set her meager fare down on the counter and tsked quietly at the older woman behind the counter, who seemed thoroughly distracted by whatever noise the sole earbud she had in was spitting out. She pulled out her wallet and dropped her voice, counting coins and a handful of worn bills.
"They locked in or-"
"Dead. A friend of theirs confirmed they'd thought it some stupid fucking creepypasta until they took a quest to go after a manticore- or some kind of chimera. Either way, gave me just enough to figure out who they were by matching obituary reports. Not sure the parents really wanna know, but..."
"Yeah, yeah, I got it." She smiled warmly, though without a scrap of sincerity around the edges, at the cashier as she was finally handed a thin, plastic bag with her purchase. With that, there was little to do but brave the dry heat outdoors once more. "I'd say I wonder which they'll think is worse, but I never look forward to finding out. I don't get paid enough to do this shit, Casey."
"I don't pay you at all-"
"That's the joke," Sabine cut back with a flat tone. She scuffed a boot across the pavement that was well on its way to gravel before leveraging herself back into the vehicle. "Sorry, that's not fair. I just- It's just a lot." Her voice softened. The next lull was at least more comfortable, besides the messy crackling of the bottle's flimsy lid being twisted off. The crackling of a connection burdened by poor service.
"Looking forward to, uh, Lamone Canyon?"
"Lamoille. Yeah, I am. It's good to get out west for a bit. Might stop and see family, just to say I've done it. Gunna camp some up in Oregon too before I head back." If she strained, she could hear the clacking of a keyboard on the other side of the line.
"I'll let you know if VRS has anyone in the area. Thanks Gw-" yn.
Her lips twitched upwards for a moment, eyes already back on the highway's white and yellow dotted back. Serpentine.
"Thanks Sabine. I'll shoot you the name and address in a bit. Drive safe."
The phone ended up tossed atop the dash once more and the plastic bag shoved into the glove compartment where the wind couldn't reach it. A twist of the keys kicked the engine back to life. 200 miles to another hard conversation. And only a few days until a familiar QR code and an even harder choice.
A tanned hand reached out to cut the music, though made no move to answer. The hardy, old Jeep had no windows or roof for the moment, and it wasn't until the next gas station - some ramshackle thing whose paint was half replaced by arid sands - that the driver could hear a word. She sighed heavily at the name she'd spied from a moment's glance on the drive.
Casey Albright.
The door kicked open. She swung a boot out to meet the dusty parking lot and, with a shoulder leaned against the sun-baked frame, she swiped across the glass to return the missed call. The dial tone accompanied her on the short walk beneath the awning's shade and into the air-conditioned interior. Here, the local rock music station had finally won the good fight.
"Hey Sabine." The voice on the other end finally came through. She shoved the phone between her ear and shoulder as she pried open one of the freezers to grab one of the twenty off-brands of definitely-not-just-tap water.
"Hey. Sorry, was on the road-"
"No, no, it's fine. I knew you were headed out to Salt Lake and figured I'd try to get you before you got too far."
The blonde glanced up for a moment as the heavy door swung shut, her own visage reflected back in the glass. For a moment it was a handful of inches taller, tattooed, and scarred. The eyes looking back were far too bright to sit right with her.
She turned away and adjusted the warm flat of the phone. "You find another one, or are you actually calling to ask how my day was?"
"We both know the answer to that one." A short lull sat between them while she shoved through different bags of junk food before ultimately giving up. Stale pretzels it was. "But yeah. If you're up to it, we got someone in Price. Bit south from where you're headed."
"Never heard of it." Sabine set her meager fare down on the counter and tsked quietly at the older woman behind the counter, who seemed thoroughly distracted by whatever noise the sole earbud she had in was spitting out. She pulled out her wallet and dropped her voice, counting coins and a handful of worn bills.
"They locked in or-"
"Dead. A friend of theirs confirmed they'd thought it some stupid fucking creepypasta until they took a quest to go after a manticore- or some kind of chimera. Either way, gave me just enough to figure out who they were by matching obituary reports. Not sure the parents really wanna know, but..."
"Yeah, yeah, I got it." She smiled warmly, though without a scrap of sincerity around the edges, at the cashier as she was finally handed a thin, plastic bag with her purchase. With that, there was little to do but brave the dry heat outdoors once more. "I'd say I wonder which they'll think is worse, but I never look forward to finding out. I don't get paid enough to do this shit, Casey."
"I don't pay you at all-"
"That's the joke," Sabine cut back with a flat tone. She scuffed a boot across the pavement that was well on its way to gravel before leveraging herself back into the vehicle. "Sorry, that's not fair. I just- It's just a lot." Her voice softened. The next lull was at least more comfortable, besides the messy crackling of the bottle's flimsy lid being twisted off. The crackling of a connection burdened by poor service.
"Looking forward to, uh, Lamone Canyon?"
"Lamoille. Yeah, I am. It's good to get out west for a bit. Might stop and see family, just to say I've done it. Gunna camp some up in Oregon too before I head back." If she strained, she could hear the clacking of a keyboard on the other side of the line.
"I'll let you know if VRS has anyone in the area. Thanks Gw-" yn.
Her lips twitched upwards for a moment, eyes already back on the highway's white and yellow dotted back. Serpentine.
"Thanks Sabine. I'll shoot you the name and address in a bit. Drive safe."
The phone ended up tossed atop the dash once more and the plastic bag shoved into the glove compartment where the wind couldn't reach it. A twist of the keys kicked the engine back to life. 200 miles to another hard conversation. And only a few days until a familiar QR code and an even harder choice.