"Those who worship silence seldom welcome new voices."
– A Caged Prisoner
While I did try to sleep, the loud honking around us did not improve. The spirits refused to relent on their lullabies either, but between the constant honking and the colourful curses flying from Miranda's tongue, sleep was simply not an option.
Miranda seemed unaware that I had woken, as she continued flinging creative insults at the other drivers. While I found it entertaining at first, it quickly grew tiresome.
"While I do find your curses quite creative, I would like to understand the circumstances behind such creativity," I said.
She did not seem surprised that I was awake. I resumed eating the remaining snacks while enjoying the soft songs of the spirits.
"We are still stuck in this traffic? Are you certain we will arrive early?" I asked her.
"We have already passed that road. You slept for about an hour. Sadly, this is another traffic jam we have found ourselves in," she replied.
I looked out the window and saw what she meant. The road looked different, and there were even more cars than before, though a few makeshift shops still lined the side—fewer than earlier.
"Are we not meant to receive priority, since we are essentially part of the government?" I asked.
"Normally, yes, but we are currently trying to move incognito. Our fleet of cars closely resembles that of the mafia or a group of rich kids—take your pick."
I had the distinct feeling she was lying, but I really did not care.
"So why is there traffic on this road then?"
"I received word that there was an unfortunate accident ahead of us."
"I see. My condolences to them," I said dispassionately.
I continued eating the snacks in silence until they were gone. Then I sat back, humming a tune as the scent of the sea filled the car. Miranda seemed to enjoy the melody.
The car inched forward occasionally, but progress remained painfully slow. As I hummed another tune, I spotted a makeshift shop selling food that looked quite delicious.
"Miranda, may I have your card? I wish to purchase that meal over there," I said, pointing. She raised an eyebrow as if questioning me.
"Though the snacks were quite delicious, I do want a proper meal."
"Even though someone may have died?" she asked, pulling out her card and handing it to me.
"Yes, yes—they have my pity," I replied, taking the card and opening the door. Blistering heat poured into the car.
I stepped outside, already longing for the comfort of the air-conditioned interior, but hunger drove me toward the shop. I felt eyes on me as I approached. The sweet scent of stew filled the air.
"Do forgive me," I said to the man serving the food. "I wish to purchase a meal."
"Umm… you wish to buy my food?" the man asked, looking quizzical.
"That is what I said, yes."
"Umm, okay. What do you want?"
"I want that delicious-looking sandwich and something to go with that wonderful stew you are preparing," I told him.
"Oh, okay, boyyo! Coming right up!" he said with surprising energy.
He packaged the sandwich I had pointed out, then added some macaroni and a generous serving of the stew.
I paid for the meal and carried it back to the car. On the way, several vendors tried to sell me their wares, but I had little interest.
As I re-entered the car, I placed my food on the seat beside me and submerged myself once more in the cool air.
"Alez, please return my card."
I did so and went back to enjoying the cold. After basking in its radiance, I set about my food and, of course, gave her the sandwich.
When I finished eating, I lay down again, setting the disposable plate on the floor, and relaxed. I returned to humming the songs I used to sing while travelling with my old troupe of friends.
I cycled between different tunes until I felt the car moving properly. I sat up and saw we were finally on our way.
"So, were there any survivors?" I asked.
"Yes. They had quite serious injuries, but they survived."
"Good. How long until we get there?"
"We are back on track, so possibly by evening if all goes well."
"Hmm. Thank you, Miranda."
"You are most welcome."
I relaxed back into the seat, gazing at the roof as the spirits held a quiet conversation near my ears.
We eventually reached the closed community called "Salt Springs." As we entered, people stopped what they were doing and stared at the vehicles.
The stares held contempt, hatred, and disgust toward us. I had to wonder why. Yes, we might not worship the same god, but was such intense emotion truly necessary?
I tried to ask the spirits, but as if reading my mind, I heard them laugh and say, "You will know soon enough," before they disappeared.
We stopped in front of a house. Miranda stepped out, so I followed. The sun was already setting, and an old woman waited for us at the door with quite the frown.
I followed Miranda toward the others, but she told me I should go and rest. I did as she said and approached the old lady, offering a polite greeting.
"We have two rules for outsiders in this town," she grunted. "Be quiet and mind your own business. Understood?"
"Orders Received," I replied, knowing fully well that the business I would be minding would not be my own.
"Good. Come, let me take you to your room." She turned and walked into the house.
"Thank you for your hospitality, ma'am," I said, following her inside.