"Oh, come on!"

Hobbes sighed as Calvin tried, in vain, to push the jeep out of the mud puddle that they had driven in. "Maybe you should go easier on your arms," he suggested.

Calvin turned towards him with a withering glare. "Well maybe, if you had been looking out more, we wouldn't have gotten into this mess!… literally!" He pointed at the giant mud puddle to emphasize his point.

"Hey!" Hobbes exclaimed. "I had to stand guard throughout most of the night because you got yourself roughed up by a mutant! Now I've got only a few hours of sleep in me!"

He crossed his arms. "Don't blame me for this."

"Guys," Evelyn broke in, an annoyed expression on her face. "I'm pretty sure complaining isn't gonna help us push the jeep out."

"It might!" Calvin retorted immediately.

"No, it won't," Hobbes sighed, and glanced at the stuck car again. "But I don't know if we even can push this thing out together. This mud puddle is closer to a small pond than an actual puddle."

"Well," Evelyn said, walking over to the other non-muddy side of the jeep, "We might as well try, right? C'mon!"

Calvin offered a few halfhearted grumbles, but both him and Hobbes lined up on either side of Evelyn without any further complaints.

"On three," Evelyn stated. "One, two-"

"Wait a minute," Calvin broke in. "Why do you get to choose the number?"

Evelyn and Hobbes both looked at him with confused expressions. "...What?" Evelyn asked.

"Why do you get the privilege of selecting the countdown number?" Calvin asked, crossing his arms. "Why three?"

Evelyn looked at him with disbelief, then shrugged. "Fine. You count down."

"Alright!" Calvin said, rubbing his hands together before placing them on the back of the jeep. "On six! One, two, three, four, five, six!"

Everyone pushed as one with all their strength, and slowly but surely, the car began to move forward, out of the slough. It pays to have the strength of a mutant tiger on your side. Calvin thought, and pressed even harder.

Suddenly, the jeep lurched forward, the back right tire emerging fully out of the muck, and using the rest of their effort, the trio pushed it safely onto dry land.

"Alright!" Calvin cheered after everyone had caught their breath. "We did it! High five!"

Hobbes, Calvin, and Evelyn quickly high-fived each other before the tiger spoke. "So, I guess we should get going."

"Yeah," Evelyn said, and did just that, clambering into the back seat of the jeep. Her two companions quickly joined her, with Hobbes once again taking the driver's seat. He turned on the ignition, and put a hand on the clutch before looking over at Calvin. "Hey, how far is the Toshka settlement now?"

Calvin, also curious, opened the glove compartment and consulted the same wrinkled, dirty piece of paper that they used for a map. After some silent reviewing he said, "Only a few more hours."

"Sweet!" Evelyn grinned. "The place is near Lake Erie, right?"

"Yeah," Calvin confirmed. "What's left of it."

The jeep started to move, again, quickly becoming a speck in the distance, surrounded by vast expanses of nothing but mud and dust.

And a few miles away, three large, bulky vehicles followed after them, each occupant ready to kill and armed to the teeth.

The winds had picked up slightly as the jeep rolled by an old chain-link fence that surrounded most of the Toshka settlement, suggesting that rain was coming.

Inside the vehicle, Calvin, Hobbes, and Evelyn looked out of the windows at the decrepit buildings that covered the town's ground. Each one looked just as miserable, their roofs and walls made of corrugated iron and wooden planks. A few were sturdier, having been made of old, chipped bricks and shingles, but those few looked insignificant in comparison to all of the other houses. A few people walked along the streets, stopping to look at the three as they rolled by.

"Seems sorta sad," Evelyn noted.

"What'd you expect?" Calvin asked. "Not a lotta successful towns and cities around anymore."

"Well, there is New York City, right?"

"Yeah," Hobbes chuckled. "That bastion of a city has resources to last them for decades. Not to mention it being one of the only remaining active harbors."

"Ever been there?" Evelyn asked.

"Nope," Hobbes said. "The closest we got was the Black River. Ever been there?"

"No."

"Everyone hates it," Calvin told her, re-entering the conversation. "The river is so polluted and oil-filled that it shines jet-black in the moonlight. Dip a toe in there and you might be able to live for another few hours, maximum."

"Shines in the moonlight, eh?" Evelyn asked. "That sounds kind of pretty."

"In its own way, I suppose," Calvin admitted. "But wait 'till you smell it. I'd bet a hundred dollar bill that you'd faint from just a single whiff of that riverbank."

Hobbes chuckled. "Yeah. Cavin almost did."

"Did not!"

Evelyn grinned in the back seat. Sometimes it seemed like her new companions acted more like bickering eight-year olds than the mature, fully grown best friends that they were. She craned her neck to look out of the windshield.

In front of them lay a square courtyard of sorts surrounded by buildings and containing several dozen stands. Some were empty, but most were manned and had several customers standing in line in front of them. Some walked around the courtyard, ignoring the stands. Others sat on rotting benches, smoking cigarettes.

The car slowed to a stop a dozen yards from the first market stand, where Hobbes proceeded to turn off the ignition. He reached over to open his door.

"Evelyn," Calvin turned to address her, "you can get out with Hobbes. I'll be with you guys in a second.

Evelyn nodded and opened her door, quickly reaching the tiger. "So what do we do now?" she asked.

"We wait for Calvin to get the money," Hobbes answered, "and then we go on a shopping spree."

"Got it!" Calvin exclaimed behind them, emerging from the jeep clutching an old, beat up metal box with a lock on it. "Let's get some new supplies!"

The three began their shopping with a visit to the nearest stand, made out of dirty folding tables and a faded blue tarp over it that sold several different types of rations in old ziplock bags, all of which looked rather unappetizing to Evelyn.

"Do you even know what kind of rations those are?" she asked as she watched the vendor unceremoniously dump a dozen squares of… something into the canvas food bag they were utilizing.

"No idea," Hobbes replied. "But you can't be picky when it comes to stuff like this.

"Yep," Calvin agreed. "The taste is not a factor in what everyone buys nowadays. What really matters is if the food is nutritious enough to keep you alive." He took several Coca-Cola bottle caps out of the box and slapped them on the folding table in front of the vendor, who collected them and put them in a box of her own.

"Okay, Hobbes," Calvin asked. "What's next on the list?"

Hobbes held up a small piece of paper and scrutinized it for a few seconds before handing it to Calvin. "Here, read this for me. Your handwriting is undecipherable."

Calvin snatched the paper out of his hands and looked at it before frowning. "Whaddaya mean? This obviously says 'Meat!'"

"I think you gotta retake the first grade," Hobbes snickered.

"Shut it, smartypants. Let's buy some meat."

The three rotated over to the butcher stand, where several large pieces of strange meat and fish hung on hooks from the plastic tarp roof. The vendor, a large broad man clad in a blood-splattered apron, turned to address them, a meat cleaver held firmly in one hand.

"What'll it be?" he asked, his face tired and gray. Flecks of red dotted his cheeks. "I got a new haul o' fish from the lake a couple a' days ago."

"The lake still has fish?" Hobbes asked, very surprised.

"Well, carcasses preserved by the ice-cold mud, but what'sa difference, eh, mutant?"

For a moment, Calvin stood in silence, calculating the amount of protein they would need to keep them running. The rations would be a bit scarcer now that Evelyn was on the team.

He stopped, surprised by his thoughts. Him and Hobbes had met the kid not two days ago, and he already considered her a part of the team?

I mean, she did blast that mutant to bits with her shotgun, and save my life, but…

"Hey! Boy!" the man said, jolting Calvin out of his thoughts. "Are you gonna buy somethin'?"

"Uh, yeah," he confirmed, and quickly completed the calculations in his head. "I'll take two-hundred pounds of the most nutritious meat you got."

The vendor nodded, and turned his back on them to separate several hunks of meat from the top of the stand. As he placed the meat on the table, Calvin in turn bought out a couple dozen bottle caps and plunked them down on the table. As the vendor took the currency, he looked up at them with a curious expression.

"Y'know, that's the biggest sale I've made so far today," he commented. "You three must have some serious dough."

"We manage," was all that Calvin revealed.

The man shrugged, and turned to attend to another customer. The trio began moving away.

"Hey, Calvin?" Evelyn asked.

"Sup'?"

"You seemed a bit lost in your thoughts for a second," she observed. "Everything alright?"

"Uh, yeah," he lied. "All good. Hey, what's next, Hobbes?

"Fuel, I think," Hobbes responded, scrutinizing the shopping list to make sure. "Oil, gas, anything that will keep our vehicle going." He looked around. "Now where was the fuel shop the last time we rolled through here?"

Calvin shrugged. "I dunno. It's been a couple of months. Let's look around."

After a dozen minutes of wandering and asking around, the trio was now standing in front of a small brick structure, bargaining with the man behind the counter.

"Seven bottle caps per gallon," the vendor said, his hands on the table

"You think we're gonna pay that absurd amount?" Calvin asked, making a practiced face of disgust. "Three bottle caps per gallon!"

"Fuel is scarce, you know that!" the man growled. "And importing it from the Rotten Apple is spendy. How 'bout six caps?"

"Just 'cause you get 'yer product from fancy schmancy New York City doesn't justify this price," Calvin sniffed. "But since you offered to lower, I'll pay one more cap per gallon!"

"Nope," the man refused. "Six!"

"Four!" Calvin snarled. "That or nada!"

"Alright, kid! How 'bout this? Five caps per gallon, and that's final!"

Calvin took a second to look over at Hobbes, who nodded. "Deal!" He declared, turning back to face the vendor. "We'll take eight gallons."

"Done!" the man said, and reached over to clasp the adolescent's hand. As he disappeared from the sales window to get the product, Calvin opened the metal lockbox and carefully counted out the amount.

"Hey, Evelyn," he heard Hobbes ask behind him. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing," the girl responded. "It's just that I didn't expect that to get so heated."

"Well," Calvin broke in, "With scarce supplies and not a lot of money, you have to learn how to get the best price you can."

"Yep," Hobbes agreed. "Calvin, do you remember the time where you argued with that one guy for almost an hour?"

"Yeah, he was a tough nut to crack," Calvin agreed, and making sure that the vendor was still out of hearing range, said, "This guy was surprisingly easy to bring down the price with."

A bustling alerted the three to the fact that the vendor was returning, and they all turned to face the bearded man who handed them eight cans of fuel. After uncapping one and smelling it to make sure that they weren't being swindled, Hobbes nodded and they all took several cans. Walking back to the jeep, Calvin opened another, larger box situated against the jeep's main body, and the three of them all deposited their fuel into it.

"Well," Evelyn said, "That's done. What's next?"

Taking the paper from Hobbes' paws, Calvin took a second to read the next item while the mutant tiger locked the fuel container. "Water and replacement parts for the liquid detoxifier."

"Ah."

For the next hour, that's how it went. Calvin, Evelyn, and Hobbes asked their way around the market section of town, crossing off items, spending more caps, and securely storing the bought articles in the jeep.

"What's next?" Evelyn asked, carrying a small coil of paracord around one shoulder.

"Ammo. For your shotgun and my revolver," Calvin read off, and started walking. "I think I saw the ammunition store back this way. Then we're just about done."

"What do we still need?" Hobbes asked, stepping faster to catch up.

"Just an acid resistant tarp for the occasional rainstorm." Calvin answered.

"Good thinking," the tiger said. "Judging from the wind around here, It might rain tonight or tomorrow."

Calvin's previous hunch proved to be true. And he, Hobbes, and Evelyn were soon making another business transaction inside of a small, repurposed warehouse.

"What kinda guns do you have?" a distasteful lady behind the salescounter asked.

"A Colt Python, fires three-fifty-seven magnum cartridge rounds, aaand…"

He turned to Evelyn. "What's your shotgun?"

"Uh, I think it's a Beretta."

"Can I see it?"

Wordlessly, Evelyn handed the shotgun over to Calvin, who inspected it for a second before nodding.

"Yep. Beretta S-zero ten."

"Got it," the lady drawled in a distinct New York accent.

Jeez, is everyone here getting their stuff from NYC? He wondered.

"And how much ammo for each?" the dealer asked.

"Two sixteen-round ammo bandoliers for the shotgun," Calvin began, and stopped to calculate the amount that he would need.

"...and?"

"And forty rounds for the Python," he finished.

"Alright, all in all, that makes twenty-six caps for the forty python rounds and the two-"

"Woah, hold it!" Calvin interrupted. "Now, I'm sure that your ammunition is good, but with the amount that we're buying, twenty-six whole caps is borderline-"

"Don't care!" the lady interrupted.

Slightly surprised, Calvin tried again. "Hey, lady, I'm just 'sayin that-"

They all jumped as the lady slammed a fist down and pointed to an old hand-drawn poster plastered on the nearby wall. "You see this, kid?" she asked, and didn't bother for an answer. "'Take it or leave it,' is our motto! We're not like some of the other schmucks around here. You wanna buy from us? You take the price we give or ya hit the road."

"Now listen, woman-" Calvin started, angry.

"Do I hafta call security?" the lady asked, and gestured over to a mutant standing near them. The sapient being growled, and cracked its knuckles.

Looking at Hobbes, Calvin confirmed that they were on the same page, and with a sigh, counted out exactly twenty-six bottle caps. The crabby saleswoman accepted them without a word, and in turn, the requested product was procured to the purchasers. As soon as Evelyn had slung the bandoliers over her shoulders, the three friends left without another word.

"Man, she was a tough old bird," Evelyn grumbled to herself. "Left no room for argument."

"Yeah," Hobbes agreed as they turned a corner, "some people are like that."

"Guys?" Calvin said to get their attention. Once he had acquired it, he motioned towards the market in front of them. "We have a problem."

"Huh?" both of his accomplices asked, before realizing that, yes, there was something wrong.

Something was very wrong.

All around them, people were swiftly walking or running away, while others were scrambling to take down stands and pull down metal barriers on their cashier windows. As the three watched, a man took up a faded yellow sledgehammer, and swung it against a brass bell.

"Gong! Gong! Gong! Gong!"

"What's happening?" Evelyn yelled to be heard over the panic and noise as people all around them rushed away.

"Something bad!" Hobbes shouted back. "Get to the jeep!"

Calvin, Hobbes, and Evelyn immediately began running for the vehicle, situated at the other end of the marketplace. In the distance, Hobbes could hear something… something like a vehicle speeding towards them.

"Something's coming!" Hobbes exclaimed, and pumped faster. Calvin and Evelyn followed suit.

The noise grew lounder and louder, until it seemed as though the vehicles were almost on top of them. Suddenly, Calvin and Hobbes knocked into a straggler also running to safety, and fell to the ground a dozen feet from the jeep.

Evelyn stopped at the vehicle and turned. "C'mon!"

Suddenly a crash sounded as a stand near them was run over, and before the two friends could get up, three armored SUVs roared into the marketplace. They quickly encircled Calvin and Hobbes as they skidded to a stop.

Armed figures clinging onto the sides of the cars jumped off, as another man on top of a vehicle manned a mounted machine gun. And before they could get away, Calvin, Hobbes, and the man that they had bumped into found themselves surrounded and held at gunpoint.

Calvin's first thought was to draw his pistol, but he immediately realized that such a thing would get him killed faster than he could blink. Slowly, he removed his hand from his jacket and raised his hands by his head, one on either side.

"Calvin! Where's Evelyn?" Hobbes hissed, and Calvin noticed that the tiger had mimicked his posture, arms by his head. He took a careful look around.

Perhaps a dozen humans were pointing their guns at them. Most had the look of ruffians, sporting brown jackets, dusty gear, goggles and red bandannas covering all but their eyes.

He took a second look around. Evelyn had disappeared. Lucky her.

"I don't know," he hissed back, and looked up at the sound of a door slamming.

Another human exited one of the armored cars, his face also covered by a bandanna, albeit black. The way he carried himself suggested that he was the leader of this band, and Calvin noticed the assault rifle in his beefy hands as well as his long, torn, dusty overcoat which sported a dozen pockets. Under it was a faded red shirt. Dark, muddy rubber boots stepped towards them, partially covered by a pair of baggy brown pants. And under a mop of black hair, a set of one-way, black glasses rested on his nose.

His monstrous form stepped closer to them, until he was a mere ten feet away. The other man that they had bumped into began trembling slightly, his eyes filled with fear. For a long while, the figure in charge simply stared at them under the dark, dark pair of glasses.

Then, one hand reached up to rip the bandanna down before sliding off the glasses, allowing for a full view of a chiseled face sporting lines of cruelty. A nasty scar stretched from his chin all the way across his lips, with it finally ending just shy of his forehead. A part of Calvin's brain pegged him as strangely familiar.

Interestingly enough, the guy seemed surprised to see him.

"Well, well…" his voice was deep and rough. "Of all the things that coulda' happened today, I was not expectin' this."

"And just who are you, anyway?" Calvin had to ask.

For another good fifteen seconds, he stayed silent. When he spoke, it was traced with a tinge of humor.

"What'sa matter, Twinky? You don't remember me? Cause' I sure as hell remember you."

For a few seconds, Calvin's brain went into overdrive as he put the pieces together. Then, he stood in silent shock for what seemed like an eternity before exclaiming one word; the name of the rogue standing before him.

"Moe?!"


:D