Chapter Two: "20,000 miles to an oasis."
Pale light---the first hint of a November morning---washed over a large truck stop just off Highway 25. Rows of semis, some with cargo, gleamed in the early chill. Those who could afford the fee slept in the hotel attached to the stop. Others slept in the cabs of their rigs, after eating, showering, and maybe catching a movie.
And then there were the nighthawks: blazing trails on caffeine and adrenaline, these wanderers roamed, depot to depot, picking up a cargo here, a hitchhiker there, swapping recipes and alerting others to radar traps via CB radio and wireless Internet broadband. They stayed up in the small hours, nursing cups of coffee and, occasionally, swapping road stories. When the sleepers joined them, they continued the conversation. It was equal parts back porch, tall tale, and networking. How else would the novice learn that diesel fuel was cheaper in Solis County, or avoid the iceberg lettuce run at Rockville Produce? And the old hands could laugh, and share memories with each other.
Sometimes cars pulled in, usually in the daytime. Families on vacation would take advantage of the breakfast buffet, or stop to use the restrooms. A few dollars (and several calories) later, they'd hit the highway, off to the newest outlet shops, or Wonderland Dreampark, or some other point on the map's edge. Rarely did motorists pull up after dark, and especially after midnight.
A dusty, royal blue two-door sat in the parking lot of the Oasis Truck Stop. Its occupant sat at the counter, listening to snatches of conversation, and sipping a third cup of coffee. He had driven all night from Langley Down, in search of a smuggler, known only as "Sombra"; the reward for his capture, at last report, came to a healthy $75,000. If he caught the criminal with a narcotics haul, the reward jumped to $250,000.
"Hon, if you're waiting for it, the breakfast buffet's almost ready," a rough, motherly announced. He pushed a lock of silver-white hair from his face, and regarded the waitress with cool, ruby eyes. The waitress, a woman in her mid-50s, had bobbed salt-and-pepper hair. She had an athletic build, and deep brown eyes. A tag on her rust-colored uniform read, "Hello, I'm Blanche." A handsome woman, Blanche must have been a beauty in her youth. She smiled at the young man, a small flirtation, which he returned.
"I think I am ready for breakfast, thank you, Blanche. May I have another coffee?" She nodded, returning with a steaming coffeepot and packets of half-and-half in tow. "Thank you, ma'am," he said, as she poured a fresh cup. "You ever been to Red River City, Blanche?" he asked, with a tone that could turn steel into honey.
"Been through it. Never really paid it much attention. Why do you ask?"
"I'm meeting someone there, and I'd like to know what to look for when I arrive."
"You must be one of those Goddess Pilots."
"What are they?" Blanche began laughing. "Hon, you come from another world or something? The Goddess Pilots were the ones who fought VICTIM years ago. Most of them settled in and around Red River City after the Final Battle."
"I remember some things. VICTIM lost, is that right?"
"Yes. The First Pilot took out the mothership, with the other Goddesses destroying the remaining troops." She frowned. "Crying shame, though, about the Second Pilot."
The young man's ears tingled, and a shadow crossed his face. "What about this Second Pilot? Tell me."
"The Second Pilot was shot down in battle. Some say his Goddess was sabotaged. Nobody knows for sure. The higher-ups at GOA refuse to talk, and the Repairer of his vessel shot herself, maybe a year later. Poor girl. She never had a chance."
A vision of a young woman, with short, cinnamon hair, oversized glasses, and a hangdog expression flashed through the young man's mind. He saw a boy of 15 slam her into a wall, screaming, as she wept, tears coursing down her cheeks. Who is she? And who's the bastard treating her this way?
Blanche appraised her customer. "You all right, sugar lamb? Go get some breakfast."
"Thanks, I think I will." He walked over to the buffet isle, sizing up the hot and cold dishes, as he grabbed a plate. Pancakes, link sausage, and scrambled eggs with cheese filled the plate, which he sat and devoured. On the second trip, he brought back two smaller dishes, one with fresh cantaloupe and strawberries, the other with a large slice of blueberry crumb cake. He picked up a copy of the Red River Current from an empty counter seat, and read through the headlines.
Let's see. "Crime in the Outlands on the Rise." Tell me about it. "Corporate Accountability Law 'Not Necessary,' President Declares." Mister Thief-in-Chief, did the prospect of answering up to your own chicanery scare you? "Junior Varsity Soccer Gains New Fans." Who's this in the photo? Hmm, let's see the caption. "Rei 'Zero' Enna, second-year coach at Red River High, gets into the game with his team during a Saturday practice." Well, I guess you need some good news on a day like this. Do they have anything on the Quark trade? Sombra's traveled far and fast. I just hope he decides to take a break in Red River.
A whisper came up from one of the booths. "See that guy at the counter? That's the Angel. He's onto something, or he wouldn't be traveling. Yes, I mean Darden Angel. Better alert the Shadowcatchers, before---"
"Before what, gentlemen?" Two truck drivers, wiry and sunburned, turned to face the young man. He smirked at the speaker. "You do realize it's rude to talk behind somebody's back. But I'll let this slide, if you fill me in on a few things. May I sit with you?" The two edged away, as Darden slipped into a seat. "Thank you, gentlemen, you are too kind. Blanche!" He smiled at the waitress, who walked toward the booth. "May I have another coffee? Would you like your cups refreshed, gentlemen?" he added. The two nodded; she brought a fresh round of mugs and a pitcher of cream. "You are too good to me, Blanche."
She gave Darden a saucy smile, and winked. "You make me feel like a beauty queen at a cotillion. Call me if you need anything."
"My dear lady, I will," he replied, kissing her hand. As she walked away, he addressed the two men. "Now: talk."
The older driver sneered. "You think I'm going to waste my breath on a bounty boy like you?"
His younger companion laughed. "Pretty thing like you shouldn't mess with Sombra's best."
Darden's lips pulled into a grim smile. "Is that meant to scare me, gentlemen? Do you expect me to tuck tail and run?"
The drivers exchanged a glance, then grinned. "No," the younger one answered, "we mean to kick your ass clear into the Outlands. So, pretty boy, ready to bleed?"
"Only if you're ready to see your rigs explode." The older man reached for a Bowie knife; he lunged at Darden, but gasped when he realized his hand was empty. "Looking for this, Grampa?" The bounty hunter dangled the blade the way a mother would a baby's rattle. He then focused on the younger driver. "Not so fast, Junior, unless you like gelignite with your biscuits and gravy." The driver backed down. "Much better. Now, what say we have a civilized conversation? I'll start by introducing myself. I'm Darden Angel, the fiercest bounty hunter this side of Bakkabeyon. I handle the work that lawmen can't or won't. You gentlemen are?"
"Trobrin Cray," the older man muttered.
"Jarmusch Slattery," the younger man added.
"Trobrin, Jarmusch, it is a pleasure to meet you both. Now tell me who the Shadowcatchers are, and what they have to do with Sombra."
Trobrin and Jarmusch glared at Darden. He relaxed in the chair, sipping coffee. "I don't have anywhere particular to go right now. Red River City's a few hours away, and I really don't want to deal with rush hour traffic. As for you, I'd think twice about hitting the open road. I've been here since three in the morning, which gave me plenty of time to see you pull in. I also had the opportunity to plant a few caps of C4 explosive, with gelignite insulation. I've got two trigger devices wired to each of your cabs, and one is a decoy."
"And how," Trobrin asked, "do we know you're not bluffing?"
"You don't," the bounty hunter replied. "But you do know I can disarm you before you even touch your weapons. And you must have heard, somewhere on these highways, about that incident in Luritja Cove?" The two paled, flinching. Luritja Cove was the stuff of legend: the hardest career criminals detoured rather than risk a thrashing at the Angel's hands.
Jarmusch leaned in, whispering. "All right, Angel. I'll tell you about the Shadowcatchers."
"Begin," Darden replied. The young truck driver glanced around, then relaxed.
"The Shadowcatchers are a distribution network, based out of Red River City, that specializes in Quark. You know what EX is?" The other man nodded. "Quark is a drug that gives the user powers close to EX. It makes you faster, stronger, smarter. Whatever you do best, Quark takes it further. It also makes you violent when it starts wearing off, and the more you use, the more you need to use, and the less punch it packs."
"Who is Sombra?"
Trobrin laughed. "There is no Sombra, at least not a person named Sombra. They just came up with a name and face to send authorities on a wild goose chase. 'Sombra' is what they call the ultra-pure form of Quark. It's 20 times more potent than the original, addictive as hell, and fatal. Start on 'Sombra,' you'll be dead within a year."
Darden growled, his eyes narrowing. "And you're part of the network."
"That's right," the older man said. "We are. Touch us, and you'll have the boys from Q Labs breathing down your neck."
"Will they take me to dinner? I won't let anyone breathe down my neck without dinner, a movie, and a long talk over dessert. Sorry, I am not that kind of boy."
Darden got up. "Well gentlemen. Thank you for the chat and chew, and don't worry, this one's on me. Happy trails."
He handed Blanche a ten-dollar bill, and paid the checks for his breakfast, as well as those of the two men, watching him, dumbfounded. He walked outside, breathing a heady mix of tobacco, diesel fuel, dead leaves, and stale beer. The sun tinted his hair coral, as he walked toward his car, starting the ignition, and cranking up the radio.
"Milan Trevor with you this Monday morning, on Radio Flora, where you hear the classics, commercial-free. Stay tuned for songs from Patti Smith, the Buzzcocks, the Staples Singers, and Hank Williams."
Darden Angel pulled onto Highway 25: so what if there wasn't a real person by the name of "Sombra"? He had more interesting leads now, and they converged in Red River City.
Get ready. The Angel is on his way.
Author's Notes
Thank you all for your response. There will be more ahead. Count on it.
Tatsu-no-Houou: I took a leaf from T.K. Yuy's "Revolution," where Hiead ascends to pilot Eeva-Leena. That's all. To the nameless poster: this is still a work in progress. I'm taking threads and working them together to make a seamless (well, as seamless as can be) story. Please bear with me! And why should I be mad, eh? Cloa: again, you are too kind. *Bows to all who have reviewed*
Coming up: What happens when a bounty hunter collides with a gym teacher? What have Clay and Saki been up to at Q Labs? What sparks will fly when Zero and Kizna invite their friends over for dinner? And what secrets sleep in Red River City? Stay tuned.
Thank you again, and I look forward to all reviews.
Antoinette (poetisa)
Pale light---the first hint of a November morning---washed over a large truck stop just off Highway 25. Rows of semis, some with cargo, gleamed in the early chill. Those who could afford the fee slept in the hotel attached to the stop. Others slept in the cabs of their rigs, after eating, showering, and maybe catching a movie.
And then there were the nighthawks: blazing trails on caffeine and adrenaline, these wanderers roamed, depot to depot, picking up a cargo here, a hitchhiker there, swapping recipes and alerting others to radar traps via CB radio and wireless Internet broadband. They stayed up in the small hours, nursing cups of coffee and, occasionally, swapping road stories. When the sleepers joined them, they continued the conversation. It was equal parts back porch, tall tale, and networking. How else would the novice learn that diesel fuel was cheaper in Solis County, or avoid the iceberg lettuce run at Rockville Produce? And the old hands could laugh, and share memories with each other.
Sometimes cars pulled in, usually in the daytime. Families on vacation would take advantage of the breakfast buffet, or stop to use the restrooms. A few dollars (and several calories) later, they'd hit the highway, off to the newest outlet shops, or Wonderland Dreampark, or some other point on the map's edge. Rarely did motorists pull up after dark, and especially after midnight.
A dusty, royal blue two-door sat in the parking lot of the Oasis Truck Stop. Its occupant sat at the counter, listening to snatches of conversation, and sipping a third cup of coffee. He had driven all night from Langley Down, in search of a smuggler, known only as "Sombra"; the reward for his capture, at last report, came to a healthy $75,000. If he caught the criminal with a narcotics haul, the reward jumped to $250,000.
"Hon, if you're waiting for it, the breakfast buffet's almost ready," a rough, motherly announced. He pushed a lock of silver-white hair from his face, and regarded the waitress with cool, ruby eyes. The waitress, a woman in her mid-50s, had bobbed salt-and-pepper hair. She had an athletic build, and deep brown eyes. A tag on her rust-colored uniform read, "Hello, I'm Blanche." A handsome woman, Blanche must have been a beauty in her youth. She smiled at the young man, a small flirtation, which he returned.
"I think I am ready for breakfast, thank you, Blanche. May I have another coffee?" She nodded, returning with a steaming coffeepot and packets of half-and-half in tow. "Thank you, ma'am," he said, as she poured a fresh cup. "You ever been to Red River City, Blanche?" he asked, with a tone that could turn steel into honey.
"Been through it. Never really paid it much attention. Why do you ask?"
"I'm meeting someone there, and I'd like to know what to look for when I arrive."
"You must be one of those Goddess Pilots."
"What are they?" Blanche began laughing. "Hon, you come from another world or something? The Goddess Pilots were the ones who fought VICTIM years ago. Most of them settled in and around Red River City after the Final Battle."
"I remember some things. VICTIM lost, is that right?"
"Yes. The First Pilot took out the mothership, with the other Goddesses destroying the remaining troops." She frowned. "Crying shame, though, about the Second Pilot."
The young man's ears tingled, and a shadow crossed his face. "What about this Second Pilot? Tell me."
"The Second Pilot was shot down in battle. Some say his Goddess was sabotaged. Nobody knows for sure. The higher-ups at GOA refuse to talk, and the Repairer of his vessel shot herself, maybe a year later. Poor girl. She never had a chance."
A vision of a young woman, with short, cinnamon hair, oversized glasses, and a hangdog expression flashed through the young man's mind. He saw a boy of 15 slam her into a wall, screaming, as she wept, tears coursing down her cheeks. Who is she? And who's the bastard treating her this way?
Blanche appraised her customer. "You all right, sugar lamb? Go get some breakfast."
"Thanks, I think I will." He walked over to the buffet isle, sizing up the hot and cold dishes, as he grabbed a plate. Pancakes, link sausage, and scrambled eggs with cheese filled the plate, which he sat and devoured. On the second trip, he brought back two smaller dishes, one with fresh cantaloupe and strawberries, the other with a large slice of blueberry crumb cake. He picked up a copy of the Red River Current from an empty counter seat, and read through the headlines.
Let's see. "Crime in the Outlands on the Rise." Tell me about it. "Corporate Accountability Law 'Not Necessary,' President Declares." Mister Thief-in-Chief, did the prospect of answering up to your own chicanery scare you? "Junior Varsity Soccer Gains New Fans." Who's this in the photo? Hmm, let's see the caption. "Rei 'Zero' Enna, second-year coach at Red River High, gets into the game with his team during a Saturday practice." Well, I guess you need some good news on a day like this. Do they have anything on the Quark trade? Sombra's traveled far and fast. I just hope he decides to take a break in Red River.
A whisper came up from one of the booths. "See that guy at the counter? That's the Angel. He's onto something, or he wouldn't be traveling. Yes, I mean Darden Angel. Better alert the Shadowcatchers, before---"
"Before what, gentlemen?" Two truck drivers, wiry and sunburned, turned to face the young man. He smirked at the speaker. "You do realize it's rude to talk behind somebody's back. But I'll let this slide, if you fill me in on a few things. May I sit with you?" The two edged away, as Darden slipped into a seat. "Thank you, gentlemen, you are too kind. Blanche!" He smiled at the waitress, who walked toward the booth. "May I have another coffee? Would you like your cups refreshed, gentlemen?" he added. The two nodded; she brought a fresh round of mugs and a pitcher of cream. "You are too good to me, Blanche."
She gave Darden a saucy smile, and winked. "You make me feel like a beauty queen at a cotillion. Call me if you need anything."
"My dear lady, I will," he replied, kissing her hand. As she walked away, he addressed the two men. "Now: talk."
The older driver sneered. "You think I'm going to waste my breath on a bounty boy like you?"
His younger companion laughed. "Pretty thing like you shouldn't mess with Sombra's best."
Darden's lips pulled into a grim smile. "Is that meant to scare me, gentlemen? Do you expect me to tuck tail and run?"
The drivers exchanged a glance, then grinned. "No," the younger one answered, "we mean to kick your ass clear into the Outlands. So, pretty boy, ready to bleed?"
"Only if you're ready to see your rigs explode." The older man reached for a Bowie knife; he lunged at Darden, but gasped when he realized his hand was empty. "Looking for this, Grampa?" The bounty hunter dangled the blade the way a mother would a baby's rattle. He then focused on the younger driver. "Not so fast, Junior, unless you like gelignite with your biscuits and gravy." The driver backed down. "Much better. Now, what say we have a civilized conversation? I'll start by introducing myself. I'm Darden Angel, the fiercest bounty hunter this side of Bakkabeyon. I handle the work that lawmen can't or won't. You gentlemen are?"
"Trobrin Cray," the older man muttered.
"Jarmusch Slattery," the younger man added.
"Trobrin, Jarmusch, it is a pleasure to meet you both. Now tell me who the Shadowcatchers are, and what they have to do with Sombra."
Trobrin and Jarmusch glared at Darden. He relaxed in the chair, sipping coffee. "I don't have anywhere particular to go right now. Red River City's a few hours away, and I really don't want to deal with rush hour traffic. As for you, I'd think twice about hitting the open road. I've been here since three in the morning, which gave me plenty of time to see you pull in. I also had the opportunity to plant a few caps of C4 explosive, with gelignite insulation. I've got two trigger devices wired to each of your cabs, and one is a decoy."
"And how," Trobrin asked, "do we know you're not bluffing?"
"You don't," the bounty hunter replied. "But you do know I can disarm you before you even touch your weapons. And you must have heard, somewhere on these highways, about that incident in Luritja Cove?" The two paled, flinching. Luritja Cove was the stuff of legend: the hardest career criminals detoured rather than risk a thrashing at the Angel's hands.
Jarmusch leaned in, whispering. "All right, Angel. I'll tell you about the Shadowcatchers."
"Begin," Darden replied. The young truck driver glanced around, then relaxed.
"The Shadowcatchers are a distribution network, based out of Red River City, that specializes in Quark. You know what EX is?" The other man nodded. "Quark is a drug that gives the user powers close to EX. It makes you faster, stronger, smarter. Whatever you do best, Quark takes it further. It also makes you violent when it starts wearing off, and the more you use, the more you need to use, and the less punch it packs."
"Who is Sombra?"
Trobrin laughed. "There is no Sombra, at least not a person named Sombra. They just came up with a name and face to send authorities on a wild goose chase. 'Sombra' is what they call the ultra-pure form of Quark. It's 20 times more potent than the original, addictive as hell, and fatal. Start on 'Sombra,' you'll be dead within a year."
Darden growled, his eyes narrowing. "And you're part of the network."
"That's right," the older man said. "We are. Touch us, and you'll have the boys from Q Labs breathing down your neck."
"Will they take me to dinner? I won't let anyone breathe down my neck without dinner, a movie, and a long talk over dessert. Sorry, I am not that kind of boy."
Darden got up. "Well gentlemen. Thank you for the chat and chew, and don't worry, this one's on me. Happy trails."
He handed Blanche a ten-dollar bill, and paid the checks for his breakfast, as well as those of the two men, watching him, dumbfounded. He walked outside, breathing a heady mix of tobacco, diesel fuel, dead leaves, and stale beer. The sun tinted his hair coral, as he walked toward his car, starting the ignition, and cranking up the radio.
"Milan Trevor with you this Monday morning, on Radio Flora, where you hear the classics, commercial-free. Stay tuned for songs from Patti Smith, the Buzzcocks, the Staples Singers, and Hank Williams."
Darden Angel pulled onto Highway 25: so what if there wasn't a real person by the name of "Sombra"? He had more interesting leads now, and they converged in Red River City.
Get ready. The Angel is on his way.
Author's Notes
Thank you all for your response. There will be more ahead. Count on it.
Tatsu-no-Houou: I took a leaf from T.K. Yuy's "Revolution," where Hiead ascends to pilot Eeva-Leena. That's all. To the nameless poster: this is still a work in progress. I'm taking threads and working them together to make a seamless (well, as seamless as can be) story. Please bear with me! And why should I be mad, eh? Cloa: again, you are too kind. *Bows to all who have reviewed*
Coming up: What happens when a bounty hunter collides with a gym teacher? What have Clay and Saki been up to at Q Labs? What sparks will fly when Zero and Kizna invite their friends over for dinner? And what secrets sleep in Red River City? Stay tuned.
Thank you again, and I look forward to all reviews.
Antoinette (poetisa)