"Ever notice nobody talks about what they were doing before the stars fell? I'm not going to be the one to start doing it but – if everyone else is anything like me it's not because things were so different it's hard to talk about.
It's because we're all doing exactly the same thing we were before.
With less time to bullshit about it."
Lydia Love (WARN: Know alias. Birth name [redacted])
[Year 3 ASE (After Starfall Event) | November 12 | 0950 Local Time | Human Settlement "Bask"]
Sara gasped and sat up.
Bright daylight streaming between dusty blinds, illuminating dark wood paneled walls and old red carpet. Bland pictures on the wall depicting non-descript outdoor settings. The faint smell of disinfectant.
A doctor's office. She'd drifted off to sleep on the uncomfortable padded table. Her left leg dangled, right propped up on the table with her heel dug into the shallow padding. It wasn't a relaxed position. It was meant to keep her alert.
It didn't work.
She gulped in a breath. Exhaled. Turned her gaze away from the door, toward the windows and –
"Hi."
"Bloody hell!" She shoved herself up from the table with her left arm, simultaneously pushing off with her right heel. During the roll she yanked her knife from her thigh and by the time her feet touched the floor it was lifted between her and the source of the noise.
Two hands shot up into the air, dropping a metal tray and causing a storm of noise as the items on it crashed and shattered. "Sara woah! It's me girl chill!"
Sara's grip on her weapon tightened. She remained tense, coiled to bolt or strike.
"It's Grace. It's just me. I was gonna let you sleep a while, shit."
The woman speaking in as calm a tone as she could manage now stood with her back pressed against the dark faux-wood wall beside the window. Hands raised at shoulder height, palms out.
Sara held still. Her breathing caught in her throat, erratic and tense. Kept her gaze fixed on Grace, searching for some indication of a threat which was not there.
Grace simply kept her hands up, though her eyes were wide. Startled. After a beat of silence, a smile pushed its way across her full lips.
The warmth which always accompanied Grace's presence did its best to filter back into the room. A warm summer breeze, a trickle of sunrise over the hills, a soothing voice of encouragement. The things Grace embodied effortlessly.
Sometimes that annoyed Sara. Even with her life being threatened, Grace was… Grace.
"There you are. You good now?" Grace asked her, voice now low and concerned.
Sara exhaled, allowing calm to filter through her. Letting the fear she felt at the sudden awakening drain from her, replaced with the secure presence of her friend.
"…yeah. Yeah I'm – what the fuck Gracie? What're you even doing in here?" Sara clenched her jaw, righting her posture. Lowered her knife wielding hand to thumb for the opening of its sheathe, then rotated it to slam it home where it couldn't do any harm.
"This is my office, girl. What do you mean?" Grace replied with a hint of shaken humor on her tone.
"Yeah but you knew I was in here." Sara fired back.
"I didn't know you were sleeping. Hon you never rest – I mean I hoped maybe but I didn't know. And when I saw you were out, I figured I'd just grab you some water for when you woke up and –"
Sara cut her off. "Wait so you came in twice?"
"Sara this is my off-" Grace began, Sara cut her off again.
"How didn't I hear you the first time?" Sara demanded, hearing the frustration in her own voice.
"I just – Sara I just peeked in. Christ. Sit down."
Sara opened her mouth to retort but this time caught a shift in Grace's posture. Expression moving from alarmed but soothing to firm. Her right hand came down from its raised position to point at the table. "I said sit down." Grace repeated firmly. "Sit."
Sara looked toward the door then shook her head. Glanced back at Grace who was still pointing. Sighed. "Fuckin' fine."
She returned to the examination table, now sitting on the edge of it. Lacing her fingers together, placing them in her lap and choosing to stare at the floor rather than Grace. "Do you want help cleaning that up?"
Sara didn't look her way as she heard movement, the sounds of her hunching down to begin picking glass up from the floor. "No. Just… just sit there." The words rode along a sigh. "...the hell was that about?"
"Nothin'. Sorry. Just jumpy." Sara muttered back.
"Then why are you going?" Grace demanded, as though the question had just been lurking on the tip of her tongue.
"I'm always jumpy Gracie, I'm not… scared or anything. And you said you were just gonna check me out before I head out, not – "
It was Grace's turn to cut Sara off. "I'm not going to try and convince you to stay, Ra-ra. You already made it clear that you're not having it, so whatever. Still never pulled a knife on me before. So I want to know."
"It's better than here." Sara huffed out.
"It's not. Bask is the best place – best place we even… know is still here. It's wild out there. It's worse than when you came. You've heard more than anyone what the travelers say."
Sara cut her gaze over to Grace, who also stopped and met her eyes.
"Don't even." Grace stated with a tired drop of her shoulders. "Don't. You know I don't see you like that, but you do get to chat up the traders and all with what you do. Okay? So you know what's going on out there."
"Think I'm scared of some crazy people and some monsters under the bed?" Sara asked in a flat tone.
"That's a really loose interpretation of Zealots and Nightclaws. And if you were scared of them? I'd just say… I'd say that's really sane of you, and I'm proud of you for caring what happens to you. And I'd make you a pie or something..." Grace trailed off awkwardly.
"Then kiss my forehead and call me a good girl? Tuck me in too?" Sara smirked as Grace directed her attention back to cleaning up.
"Ugh, stop." Grace muttered. "I'm being… wholesome, not – "
"I know. Being fair, I did always want to spend the night with you." Sara shrugged into her words.
"You know you're not my type, Ra-ra." Grace muttered again in reply.
"Yeah? Part where I'm a girl, or the part where I'm a whore?" Sara lifted her chin, fully grinning now. Her breath caught a bit when Grace's hands stopped working at cleaning up what she'd dropped.
I shouldn't do shit just to get a rise out of her. Sara thought. Distant guilt was quickly replaced by an irrational hope to see a flare of passion from her friend.
"The wanderlust part, Sara. That part." Grace's voice was tense, and quiet. She didn't look Sara's way to speak.
That's not what I wanted. You're just going to make me feel bad. Fuck you, Gracie.
"The part where I'm tired of losing things." Grace continued, now busying her hands again. Her voice took on a more casual tone, measuredly flippant. Whatever reaction Sara had managed to stir, she'd gotten it under control quickly. "…especially the things I wanna keep." Only at the end of her reply did Grace set her eyes on Sara.
Sara had looked away by then, but it didn't matter – Grace had a way of her dark gaze boring a hole in things if it lingered too long. Grace was like the sun in that way. Warm, radiant even, but standing in focus without a healthy amount of respect wasn't a great idea.
"You mad at me?" Sara asked quietly. Loosening her posture now, unlacing her hands and leaning back on them. She crossed her legs at the knee, right over left. Absently bouncing her right foot, now avoiding meeting Grace's gaze by inspecting the ugly wood paneling of the office.
"Nah. I just want you to be alright." Grace managed to communicate a shrug with tone alone.
"I'm coming back." Sara sighed with an eyeroll.
"No, you're not. If Fort Penn's good, you'll stay. And that's… that's assuming you even – girl, it's dangerous out there. Real dangerous. You know that." Grace was rising as she spoke, the glass shards and spilled supplies rattling on the tray.
"Thought you weren't gonna try and convince me to stay." Sara huffed, lofting a brow at the point on the wall she was staring at.
"Thought we just covered the part where I'm tired of losing things. Figure if I don't say it now, I'm probably never getting the chance. Almost didn't get the chance anyway, what with you trying to kill me a sec ago." Grace replied teasingly.
Sara blinked and felt a short laugh bubble out of her immediately. "Love, I didn't try to kill you."
"Um, you were definitely about to shank me." Grace asserted.
"I was – " Sara stopped to laugh again. "...like I would've gotten halfway across the room. Stop lying."
Sara heard Grace making her way to the door and finally turned to look. Taking a moment to look her over – always surprised but not dismayed at how tall Grace was. "I need to heal my hands up. And get new… everything. Can you not stab anything until I get back hon?"
"Yeah yeah sure. I'll stay right here. Your bodyguard off today or something? Noticing a real lack of me being stabbed actually." Sara directed her gaze away from Grace toward the window.
Grace paused at the door. "She probably just knew I was fine. Because it's just you in here, and if I've ever been safe with someone it's you. Despite what you seem to think, Firefly doesn't like… hate you. She's just doing her job. It's hard on her."
Sara didn't reply.
[Year 3 ASE (After Starfall Event) | November 12 | 0955 Local Time | Human Settlement "Bask"]
"Checkup going well?" Firefly heard the impatient clip in her own voice and didn't care to remove it. Staring up at Grace as she relieved her of the tray, ignoring the rattle of broken glass. She'd been waiting outside of the room the entire time.
"It was an accident." Grace murmured back, taking a step to pass her.
Firefly stepped into her path, keeping her voice low. "Your hand is bleeding."
"Then let me by, so I can go heal it." Grace huffed back.
"That's not the point." Firefly muttered. "Is this going to be one of those days? The ones where you don't let me do my job?"
"What then, you're gonna go fry her over a mistake? I know you're looking for a reason but shit. She's leaving. Let her go." Grace kept her voice low as well, and Firefly noted her avoid their gaze meeting.
Grace was, Firefly had decided long ago, interesting to look at. Smooth dark skin which made the whites of her eyes seem to pop and vividly betrayed her emotions when she let the usual mask of warm comfort slip. Right now, they were narrowed some. Concerned. Worried.
Grace was of full lips and a full voice carried from behind them. Firefly was certain she could carry out an entire choir by herself, a notion supported by the few times she'd heard the woman sing. Her black hair was almost always wound into long glossy braids which themselves were pulled back into a bun which almost always left a few straying loose. She was taller than Firefly by a head and a half, and this was outside of the heeled boots she tended to wear.
Firefly had no idea why she still bothered to gloss her lips, tend her hair and perform her lengthy morning ritual with the regularity she did given the current state of the world and her own status in Bask. To some degree, she assumed it was Grace's way of outwardly expressing some of the weight they both knew she carried: Not only did she need to be who she was to others, she also needed to look something akin to effortless doing it.
Beauty was of course still considered synonymous with low effort, contradictory though that was to the reality.
But that's not my problem with Sara.
"Nah." She sighed, shaking her head. "And I'm not… looking for a reason. I just want you to be okay. It'd be great if the last thing she did in Bask was anything other than hurting you again."
Grace started past her again. "She didn't hurt me. I dropped the tray, and she offered to help me clean it up. I said no."
Firefly followed her along the narrow, relatively dimly lit hall. Old floorboards creaked beneath the run-down rug. There were moments where she thought everything in this house was intentionally ugly, though she couldn't think of any meaning behind it. She also couldn't think of any meaning behind why Grace chose to set up shop here rather than anywhere else in Bask.
Firefly would have preferred someplace… fortified. But Grace insisted on living and working in this house.
"…why'd you say no?" Firefly asked with open exasperation. "Her hands work. Pretty well I'd imagine."
"Stop it." Grace snapped back.
"What?" Firefly began quickly, doing her best to choke back a laugh. "I'm just saying – "
"I know what you're saying." Grace cut her off as she pushed open a door to their right. It opened into a bathroom. Baby blue tiles, standing shower, ugly flower print curtains, toilet which looked like it was overdue for a scrubbing, partially ajar cabinets, towel and a half on the rack.
It looked lived in, as the rest of the home did. Remarkably, frustratingly, plain.
Firefly leaned against the doorway, watching Grace turn on the sink facet and begin rinsing her hand.
"Then you know it's fuckin' funny." Firefly asserted with a shrug of her left shoulder.
Grace stopped running her hands over one another, cut her dark eyes over to Firefly. She grinned back at her, though she knew the smile was mostly mirthless. "You know, you work with your hands too Erin. If I had to guess though, your body count's far higher than hers. What right have you to judge her?"
Erin. Firefly knew she was in trouble with Grace when she got the 'First Name Treatment'. It did nothing to keep her from grinning. "Body count? Bad choice of words, Gracie. Don't ef-en-tee me." She shrugged again. "You work with your hands too. Almost like we've all got hands, and it's pretty easy to 'judge' based on what we do with them."
"Starting to sound like a Zealot, Erin." Grace muttered back, returning to rinsing her hand.
"Speaking of body counts…" Firefly pulled in a long, slow breath while looking off toward the small window near the toilet. Bracing herself. "That group that's been roaming around off the southeast edge of the valley? Spotted again around sundown yesterday. I'm gonna take Law and some folks to see if we can thin that out a bit."
"No." Grace responded immediately.
"Grace." Firefly sighed the name out.
"I said no." Grace repeated firmly. "Last time we just found them picking at berries and things at the edge of the valley. They probably do hold a town somewhere around here, and they aren't doing anything but trying to feed their people."
"Okay sure. But sometimes they run off with ours and – " Firefly knew she was going to be cut off, so she stopped speaking as soon as Grace turned the knob to stop the flow of water.
"They're just hungry. And they aren't 'our' people or 'their' people. If they'd just come to the table, we could all be the same people again." Grace was staring ahead of her, rather than looking over at Firefly.
Firefly watched those dark eyes study the face they inhabited as she spoke. Watched Grace assess herself, always looking for the right path. She never envied Grace, not even for a moment.
Firefly clicked her tongue, rolling her eyes as she spoke. "You're not stupid. And you don't have amnesia. There was literally never a time when we were all the same people. It's been three years, but you should know that better than most folks in this valley."
"It doesn't have to be that way." Grace stated firmly. "And if it's going to be that way again, it's not gonna start with us. We're not going out of our way to pick fights outside of Bask. We're definitely not starting a war with a Zealot colony. We're not Fort Penn."
"Tch, fucking right we're not." Firefly quipped in reply. "Penn's dumb enough to patrol the roads and smart enough to build walls."
[Year 3 ASE | November 12 | 1010 Local Time | Human Settlement "Bask"]
Sara did the best she could to push back a hollow, bitter feeling welling in her throat and chest. She'd expected something different of her last day in Bask. Perhaps a surprise that someone wished her luck out there in the world, even if they were glad she was leaving.
Instead, she'd gotten what made sense. Rumor tended to travel quickly around the valley, and news that Bask's only openly admitted and thus least favorite sex worker was leaving had traveled quickly.
She'd tried to keep it quiet, but cancelling appointments with her regulars was bound to result in someone talking. Not because they would talk to spite her, but because their partners would wonder why they were suddenly home so much sooner and put two and two together. Talks were being had, damage control was being done, and it all resulted in an increase of looks and sneers as she made her way to the town hall.
Fuck this place. Seriously.
She huddled her cloak around her arms, shrugging her shoulders to adjust the pack on her back and tugged at her hood to keep it drawn more over her head. She wasn't the only redhead in the valley, but that was enough of a visual distinction to be associated with her notoriety. She'd thought of cutting it short as some symbol of starting her new life, but that idea was short lived. Even though it made her stand out, she was unwilling to change something about herself that she liked purely for the sake of a place which didn't like her.
Because fuck this place. She thought, jaw setting as that feeling deep down brimmed and threatened to boil over again. A laugh escaping her in its stead surprised even her.
I mean, I've probably fucked most of this place.
As she started up the stone stairs of the town hall, she tried even harder to keep her hood drawn. Now to mask a grin and laugh she didn't feel like explaining, or more likely having ruined by eyerolls and glances by those who couldn't quite understand that the valley whore could have a good moment now and again.
"You Sara?" She hadn't even made it half-way up the stairs.
The voice called from behind her, beside a run down looking truck she'd passed on the way with only a fleeting hope that it wasn't the vehicle supposedly intended to whisk her away from here.
She stopped, sighed. Turned to look over her shoulder. Eyed the man who peered up at her, dressed in messy overalls stained with the grease of machine work and dirt and grime of the road. He looked the part. A traveler, a trader. Complete with the rifle slung on his back and an uneven yet far too interested grin.
"Name's Rider. C'mere, I'll get you all signed up." He gave a quick beckoning wave with his left hand.
Sara stared at him for a long moment. A flood of remarks she'd have liked to make created a traffic jam in her mind and on her lips, resulting in her just staring at him until her gaze slid off to his right to take in the truck. It was large. It looked like it was designed for carrying livestock before the Starfall. Its tires were sagging with chains, there were bullet holes and claw marks riddled all about.
There were already people loading things into it – themselves, goods to be moved, all sorts of things. She was going to be one of those things.
Looks like a death trap.
"Alright, shit." Rider blurted out. "My name's not Rider. It's Jeff alright? My name's Jeff. I'm just – Rider's cooler, shit, and I ride… you know, I drive the truck, I'm just, I'm just trying to rebrand you know? C'mon you just gonna play me like that and st –"
Sara took in a deep breath. Turned, started down the stairs. "Shut up 'Rider'. I was just taking in your… safe, reliable transport to Fort Penn."
"Awh shit so people do read the flyers! Wait 'till I tell Hannah they actually fuckin' work. I knew they'd work. Gotta say I'm pretty impressed you can read though, you're not at all like they said."
Sara had reached the bottom of the stairs. She was still looking over the truck. That sort of remark didn't even earn Rider a glance. "I'm a whore, not a moron. Some of you are really gettin' into this whole 'Post Apocalpytic' thing. It's only been like three years, I went to public school before that."
Rider was silent for a beat. His confusion, even in his silence, was like a stifling wave of heat from his direction. Curiosity, pouring over her. It was invasive, uncomfortable, and always made her uneasy.
"No I'm not 'under age'. I'm nineteen. Not that it fucking matters anymore – look, just… what do I have to sign? Why am I signing things? We don't just queue up somewhere?" She snapped at him, finally looking up at the thin scruff of a man who was in the middle of closing his mouth.
Whatever he was going to say, she'd answered it or prevented it. Now she had to wait for him to recover.
"Oh – yeah um…" Rider lowered his voice a bit. "…gotta sign the passenger manifest or we can't get into Penn. They're real picky about that shit."
Sara wrinkled her nose, squinting her left eye. "Why?"
"Well. Because Penn's got this real strict no slave policy that they're um. They're pretty serious about. So they check signatures to make sure, you know, people came willingly and weren't sold or picked up on the road or any've that shit. Y'know?" Rider grinned again, shrugged. Looked away at the truck, back at Sara.
"Yeah, I've heard." Sara muttered back.
"So that how you wound up a –" Rider began. Sara cut him off again.
"No." She huffed through an eyeroll.
"Oh." Rider sounded disappointed in a way which made Sara's stomach turn.
"You had something for me to sign?" Sara pressed, now impatient.
"Right yeah. Lemme get the clipboard – Ey! Ey!" Rider turned, raising his voice to yell toward the back of the truck. "Who's got the board! EY! You better not try and make off with my fuckin' pen, I'll shoot yer dog!" He paused, looked over and down at Sara. Winked at her. "You stay righ' here pretty, I'll get it for you. That all you got, that bag?"
Sara nodded, watching as Rider stomped off down the length of the truck toward whoever had his clipboard.
This doesn't look safe or reliable. Great. Looks like they've made multiple trips though, so… this can't be the one trip everyone dies on, right?
Right.
[Year 3 ASE | November 12 |1125 Local Time | Human Settlement "Bask"]
As the morning dragged on, Sara watched others assemble around the truck. Mostly traders and travelers who had already come from out of the valley, with a few more familiar faces she decided immediately to avoid. More vehicles rumbled in, almost all of which were in better condition than Rider's truck.
For some reason, that was something he took pride in.
"See, problem with all that new-tech shit? Don't anybody actually know how it works really. I'm much more a good ol' diesel guy." He was explaining to her again, having found his way over to her as she sat on the curb and waited. "Long as I got the fuel, my shit always runs. More power on it too. Can't tell ya how many times I've pulled one've these assholes out've a ditch."
"Mhm." Sara hummed the response, which had become her standard. Rider liked to talk, and Sara didn't really want time to herself to ruminate on how bad of an idea leaving Bask really was. Rider was also a useful kind of oblivious – it was clear to her that he saw associating with her as some sort of privilege of driving his own truck, a mark of honor or authority, rather than what nearly everyone else saw it as.
"You like trucks? You know, before it all went to shit?" He occasionally pressed her for details about herself. Almost all of which she avoided giving, for reasons even she wasn't quite sure of.
Somewhere in her, it stung to have the most interest shown in her on the day she was leaving be from someone from out of town. Someone who was probably just trying to gauge how available her services were.
"Trucks?" It took her a moment to catch up with the question.
"Yeah. You know. Trucks. Or cars, or whatever." Rider cleared his voice lightly, and she could hear the shrug on his tone. It was so easy to make him retreat.
"I was fifteen. Or sixteen. Or whatever." She muttered. "I couldn't drive. Still can't drive."
"Nah, you mean you didn't have a license. Which doesn't really mean anythin' now does it? You don't strike me as the 'good girl' type." Rider replied, and she heard him shrug again.
"I get called that a lot. You'd be surprised." Sara replied dryly. Then flinched as he let out a bark of a laugh.
Sheesh, it wasn't that funny. That one was for me, pal. Sara thought, irritation brimming from her. He seemed to catch on to this, as he did his best to squash his laugh and wound up in a coughing fit before speaking again.
"Yikes. Shit well – uh. I didn't mean because of all that. Actually meant because of you leavin' this place. It's fuckin' paradise isn't it? Bask?" Rider spoke quickly in his attempt to recover.
The question made Sara knit her brow, pause to think for a moment, and then finally look up at him. She'd been staring out across the street, watching the nearby road which lead to the town's central market. Not entirely paying attention to the man aside from keeping aware for any sudden movements.
"Paradise?" She asked back.
"Yeah. I mean – I mean you know what I mean. It's November and it's warm here. Sun's always shining. Sky's always blue. Nightclaws don't get in. Zealots don't either, from the looks. Raiders don't…. raid. Crops are good, people are good. If it wasn't for the crazy uh, what do you call it…" Rider trailed off.
"The Citizenship Review Board." Sara clicked her tongue after supplying the name.
"Yeah that. Wasn't for that? Shit, I'd be livin' here." Rider admitted. "Anyone would, I think. Well 'cept…"
Sara cut in. "Raiders, Zealots, Traders, anyone living in Fort Penn, wanderers and… me."
"Yeah." Rider agreed lamely.
"Sounds like there's more people not wanting to be here than be here. But what do I know. Be real strange if it turns out I'm the sane one around here." Sara heard the bitterness in her tone and didn't bother to remove it.
"I was thinkin' the same thing. Not gonna lie." Rider admitted with another shrug. "Just – you know how it was before. Think people would've learned about trustin' shit that seems too good."
"Nice talk to have with a girl who's about to be stuck on the road with you." Sara muttered.
"Fuck're you on?" Rider scoffed. "My truck's shit, it's hell out there, and I can't even get my own damn name right half the time. I'm like you, Sara. We ain't shit. So we're the only thing makin' sense anymore. That's just how it is."
To Sara, an attempt to get her to feel kinship usually meant someone following it up with a request for a lower fee. That was what she expected, so she didn't reply to him. Stared out ahead in silence, trying to banish the twisting feeling in her stomach.
Of course that's what he was doing. Don't even know why I feel anything about it.
The silence dragged. Sara with her own thoughts, Rider exuding a sort of held-breath tension she tried to ignore. When he spoke again, it was exactly what she expected to hear.
"So…" She heard Rider begin cautiously. "…how're you payin' your way, sweetheart?"
She stood up suddenly. Her hands had balled to fists. She'd rounded on him before she could think to stop herself.
"I already paid!" She flared at him. Screaming harder, louder than she'd intended to. "Don't you even fuckin' think – "
She'd expected him to put his hands up. Back off, play innocent. The same routine everyone used when she went after them. It was easy to play off the local whore as just being crazy and, despite no one voicing it aloud, there was a common thread among most that whatever was happening to her she ultimately deserved. A dispute over a fee was nothing anyone aside from her cared about.
He didn't put his hands up. He didn't back off. Instead, he leaned in slightly, his voice hushed. "Hey, fuckin' chill." He stage-whispered. "I know you paid. I'm tryna ask what you're doin' out there. Once we're out've 'paradise'. Yeah? So, when we stop for breaks, I can tell folks what you are. Which ain't a whore no more, right?"
Her hands were gripped tightly into fists. Her arms were shaking. The tension desperately wanted to explode from her, and Rider suddenly just looked like a target. He deserved it as much as anyone else. She knew it was her own hurt and fear from the day looking for an outlet.
Was anyone going to feel bad for an out-of-town trader? No one trusted them anyway. It'd just be a whore and a swindler going at it on a muddy street. No one would care to know who was right.
But he's not doing anything to me. Grace tried to tell people I wasn't trouble, why am I acting like I am on my way out?
"I know a lot about tryin' to rebrand, swee- "He continued, and Sara cut him off once more.
"Stop callin' me sweetheart." She chuffed from between grated teeth.
"Alright alright. Sorry." Rider's shoulders sank. He shook his head. "Look, sorry. Forget I even asked-"
"Courier." Sara snapped, lowering her voice to a similar hush. "Courier. I didn't pay for the trip by fuckin'. Didn't need to. I'm carryin' something to Fort Penn. A letter to someone or whatever. That paid for it. So I'm a courier."
Rider blinked. She watched his smudged, dirty features mull over what she'd just told him. Confusion, understanding and then concern.
Oh no. What now?
"…better off bein' a whore." He spoke quickly. Pushing past the initial statement before she could explode on him. " – because, because. Hold on. Because if anyone finds out you got somethin' valuable on you? Othern' – well you know, uh, entertainment or whatever – you, you know what I mean. That'd make you a target. So uh."
Her heart sank. That made sense. "It's really not that valuable it's – "
"They're not gonna ask that until after they've got it."
He's right.
"…right. Right, yeah." She muttered, turning away from him.
"…so, I was thinkin'. You might as well ride up front in the cab with me. So, you know, you won't have to deal with no one trying to get work outta you when you're not about that anymore."
His voice from beside her sounded distant. She didn't want to hear him anymore. She mostly wanted to sit alone and try to digest the fear of leaving the valley along with the despair of having to keep on existing outside of it.
She didn't want to agree with him. She didn't trust him, but she didn't trust anyone. Dealing with one person who had some authority was easier than being passed around their camps for rations.
"Whatever. Fine. Just go get a shower before we leave, for fuck's sake." She spoke with her back to him.
"Hey, I didn't mean for like – " Rider tried to defend himself, sounding shocked and insulted.
"You stink, Rider." She spoke over him.
"Alright but – " He tried again to protest.
Sara moved away from him, her goal now his truck. When she reached it she climbed up the two steep, metal, muddy stairs leading to the passenger door. Grasped the handle and pulled, only to find that it stuck.
"Rider! Gimme your keys I wanna freshen up!" She called over to him, louder than was necessary. Looking over in time to see his hesitation, see a look which might have been some sort of remorse pass over his features before he slid into character himself.
"Right sweetheart! Be a good girl and don't run off with it now!" He laughed, too loud and too hard, as he fished his keys out of a pouch and pitched them over to her.
Like anyone would want to steal this piece of shit. I'm surprised it even runs.
"I'm not a thief, I'm a whore!" She shouted back, biting down on her bottom lip as she flashed a grin in an expression which to the outside world was provocative and flirtatious but was actually her feeling to need to inflict pain upon herself to keep herself from saying anything she actually wanted to say.
"Didn't matter when you stole my husband!" One of Bask's lovely townsfolk screamed at her from across the street. She took a deep breath. Leaned to the side to look past the windshield to see who it was. Gave in to the flare of anger in her that had been searching for an outlet all morning.
"Bloody hell, Misses Warren," She found herself shouting back before she'd given much thought to her words. "I thought I sent him right back to you when we were done! If he hasn't been home though, check your sister's place? I always felt weird being second best, can't imagine how you feel being third!"
She swung the door of the cab open. Stuffed herself inside, already aware that she didn't feel particularly good about what she'd said.
She just wanted to leave without there being anymore trouble. Hurting that woman wasn't doing that, and it wasn't something she had any desire to do. Knowing her retaliation would land only left a bitter taste in her mouth, a twisting in her gut and a sudden stinging in the corners of her eyes.
I'm not going to cry today. Just fucking let me leave okay?
"Bitch I bet you are great at being under-"
Sara slammed the door. Locked it. Flinched when something thrown pinged off of the driver's side door from across the street. Mrs. Warren had a good arm. Sara knew that intimately, as Mrs. Warren had caught her with her husband before and decided the remedy for it all was to beat Sara into the floorboards.
It'd even taken Grace a few days to heal her face completely, which only seemed to make Mrs. Warren angrier.
Still, the commotion she heard outside – punctuated with fits of laughter from onlookers – wasn't what Sara wanted. She didn't want one last 'burn' before she left. She just wanted to go. This was going to be one more thing for Grace to clean up, and one more item on the list of reasons why Firefly was right.
Doesn't matter anymore. I'm gone. Fuck 'em.
And fuck you, Martha. He cried to me when we were done. Do you know how scared he is? Why'd he need to come to a whore with that? Why'd he need to come to me?
Doesn't matter. Now your problems are between you and him now. Not between my legs.
…hope you work it all out.
[Year 3 ASE | November 12 |1530 Local Time | Human Settlement "Bask" (Outskirts)]
Leaving the valley was always a tense experience for Rider. There was something off about it, something unsettling. It wasn't that the place was hostile in any way – rather what bothered him was how uncannily perfect it was.
It didn't at all align with the current state of the world outside of the valley. It wouldn't have matched with the world before the Starfall either. Rider had grown accustomed to seeing strange things which would have strained his pre-Fall sensibilities to the point of breaking in the time since. Monsters which were very real, heroes which maybe weren't. Technology he'd never have dreamed of even after the Stars arrived and changed everything.
Wild times.
The valley which held the settlement of Bask was still something else to him. Even driving down the dirt road toward the edge of the valley, nestled a few trucks deep in the caravan, he could feel the difference. The warmth dropped away as they approached the edge. The slight golden glow which settled about everything in and around Bask drifted off into the pale browns and grays which fit the region at this time of year. The strange faint tingle along his skin which he forced himself to ignore and forget about slipped away the further out they were.
It was uncomfortable to leave. It felt like freedom to leave. Like returning to the real world. The middle of November in this region of the world should have been cold or quickly becoming cold. Blustery and chilly with trees losing their leaves, and green leaching away for the frigid tones of winter. In Bask though – it was never winter.
Not since the first winter had there been a winter in Bask. No one was entirely sure why, but he had his suspicions. Nothing he'd voiced in his seven or eight trips between Fort Penn and Bask. Nothing he felt safe voicing.
"…so you gonna turn up the heat in here or what?" It was the first time she'd spoken directly to him since they'd pulled out of town. It was the first time she'd spoken to him at all since they'd been in the cab together. He still wasn't quite accustomed to her accent, which he could only figure to be vaguely British.
Or maybe it was Australian? He hadn't met enough of either to be able to tell them apart.
When he'd gotten in, he'd grinned at her. Told her about the fight that broke out after her comments to that woman. Told her a few of the other boys from the caravan thought she was a legend now. She didn't seem amused. She'd been quiet, curled up in the seat ever since.
She looked smaller to him now than she did standing outside a few seconds from rearranging his facial features with a hook he'd claim he only took to be a gentleman.
"Oh, yeah." He muttered, reaching out blindly with his right hand to flip the cover from the row of toggles. He kept his eyes on the road, keeping himself in the trail of the truck ahead of them. The other drivers had a habit of suddenly slowing or stopping, and he didn't want an avoidable crash delaying their leaving. They were already running late, and he wasn't sure what was worse to him: Another night in Bask, or having to road camp for the night.
"You can uh," he began as he motioned to the row of dials. "You know. Right side is your side. Uh, seat warmer works too. Just a little enthusiastic. Click it off if you start smellin' burnt ass."
"…I can fucking read." She muttered back at him, leaning over to turn a dial to her desired setting. "Fancy. That why you keep this thing lookin' like a right piece of shit? So nobody'll steal it?"
"Uh, no. The… piece of shit thing's not intentional. Just wear from the road swee-" He stopped, feeling her gaze cutting into the side of his head. "Sara."
"So you're the one who stole it." Sara surmised immediately. "Figures."
"Ey." Rider grunted at out the noise. Sara, he was quickly learning, had a way about her which was evocative. Not just given her trade, but her overall attitude. He both felt compelled to be open with her, and careful with his own actions. It felt as unnatural as the warmth of Bask, but not nearly so welcoming.
Like he could be either his best or worst self around her, and he wasn't certain which. It was why he called out to her on the stairs – other crews had seen her coming, and they'd heard about her long before. They were eager to meet her, and he had a feeling she wasn't nearly so eager to meet them. If she had been, she wouldn't have been so covered when she arrived given the time in Bask was the last opportunity to be comfortably warm enough to show off.
He thought he was doing the right thing. It'd felt right at the time.
"I'm to get that you're a whore, not a thief right?" He continued. "Gimme the same respect. Fucker that owned this rig before me was a real good man. Went the way of most of the good men, when the world was going to shit. I didn't steal it from him. I'm just tryin' to use it like it oughta be used."
He kept his eyes ahead of him. Both hands on the steering wheel, and willed himself to loosen his grip. He didn't expect her to understand.
"…oh. Sorry." Her voice had softened in a way which surprised him. He glanced over to see her staring out of the window now, watching the uncannily green fields scroll by in the dimming afternoon light.
"Yeah me too." He replied automatically.
"That mean you're not one of the 'good men' then? Since you're still breathin'?" He wasn't sure why the question stung, nor could he have explained why he laughed after taking a deep breath.
"Ya got me, Sara." He exhaled through his laugh. "I'm a real criminal. You getting warm over there?"
She remained quiet for a long moment. He thought she just wasn't going to answer him.
"Yeah. It's better." She spoke quietly, more to the window than him. "…hey. Is it always like this?"
"Like what? Awkward drives with –" He began, and she cut him off as he was quickly gathering she tended to do.
"Ha. Ha. No. Leavin' Bask. Always got this weird feeling? Like coming down from a high?"
He hadn't ever been able to put it into words. As he heard her say it, he knew it fit.
"…yeah. Yeah it always feels like that. Ever since – well, that first summer. This your first time out?" He glanced over again. She was still staring out of the window. As they approached the edge of the valley, the sky was turning more gray than blue. He guessed it was cloudy outside of the valley, but it was impossible to tell until they were out completely. Sometimes he'd pass through what looked like a storm bank on his way out, only to find the weather on the other side was fine. Like it just meant to dissuade anyone inside from leaving, without throwing up a real barrier.
"Since I got here, yeah. Found my way here when everything was going to shit, right after the Starfall. Everybody… you know. All the dying. And the Nightclaws. All of it. I got here on accident. So I stayed."
It was Rider's turn to be quiet for a bit too long. "Well hopefully the roads are clear. Think you'll like the Fort. Now that it's on its feet."
"…yeah." Sara replied distractedly. "…look, your hands are on the wheel and we're locked in right? I'm gonna nap a bit. Shake off this feeling. Wake me up when you want your tip."
Rider rolled his tongue through his right cheek and took a deep breath. She was irritating, but he was resolved to be the best version of himself. "Cot's behind us, if you wanna stretch out or something. Suspension's alright, shouldn't chuck you into the wall on the rough stretches."
"I'll pass love. I try not to sleep in the office."
He blinked. Glanced over again. Her head was turned, so he couldn't see her expression. He'd wanted to laugh, but –
"You can laugh, stupid. It was fuckin' joke yeah? I just think you smell bad. So your bed probably does too."
"…right. Night, Sara."
"Mhm."