Nine hundred gallons of diesel. That's what my brother decided I was worth.
I had four exits mapped before the bidding started. I had a plan. What I did not have was a Dust Saint in a filthy grey cut bidding twelve hundred just to watch a worse man lose.
Now I'm in the cab of his tanker with nine days of drowned highway ahead of us, and he won't tell me what I am to him.
Cassius Beaumont drives like the road owes him money and talks like silence might kill him. He opens doors and doesn't explain why. He hasn't touched the map case with my own name inside it in three years.
There are towns on this causeway. Boats. Ways out.
I've stopped counting the days until I can run.
So what happens when the road ends — and neither of us says the thing we should have said at mile one?
Genre: Science Fiction
I had four exits mapped before the bidding started. I had a plan. What I did not have was a Dust Saint in a filthy grey cut bidding twelve hundred just to watch a worse man lose.
Now I'm in the cab of his tanker with nine days of drowned highway ahead of us, and he won't tell me what I am to him.
Cassius Beaumont drives like the road owes him money and talks like silence might kill him. He opens doors and doesn't explain why. He hasn't touched the map case with my own name inside it in three years.
There are towns on this causeway. Boats. Ways out.
I've stopped counting the days until I can run.
So what happens when the road ends — and neither of us says the thing we should have said at mile one?
Genre: Science Fiction
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