The
mournful, tinny music continued to ooze its way lazily out of the speakers. Between the cigar smoke and musical monotony, the three roamed on through the night. Bands of stars and the floodlights atop the cab the only illumination for who knows how many dozens of miles. Gomer even had his doubts on Sarges memory, and if he could pinpoint the original camp they had set up. For hours it seemed they drove on at a slow but steady pace, weaving through dried creek beds, dodging remains of barbed wire fence and the occasional giant yucca plants.
Movement could occasionally be seen outside of the cab, if one was quick enough to catch it. A pair of eyes, few and far between would glisten momentarily in the headlights. It was unclear if Sarge had seen them, but if he had, he was not acknowledging it in the slightest. Gomer, on the other hand, had found the most relaxed position he could in the cramped front seat, leaning up against his assault rifle and one of his feet on the dash. No bump or squeak of the suspension, or wail of the obnoxious slide guitar could make him stir. He was out for the count.
Finally, just when the sky was turning purple with the first rays of sunlight, Baker performed a maneuver that Even jostled Gomer awake, rocking the whole cab back and fourth as though the truck might roll. When the correction was made however, it was clear they had jumped some sort of embankment onto the first road they had encountered since leaving civilization. Not only that, it was paved. Sarge put his foot on the gas as the truck lurched into passing gear, tires welcoming the difficulty-free surface.
“Weeelllp, not too long now conscripts, and we will have arrived and forward station Ute. Your new home for the next year.” Sarge once again spoke with an authoritative yell to be heard over the music he refused to turn down.
Gomer, who still seemed half asleep and was currently looking up and out of his window, tiredly said
“Or maybe the rest of yer life.” He chuckled lazily.
“Oh shut the fuck up Gomer. At least those two look like they wouldn’t walk straight into a bonfire, like you would, Mister Jack Daniels.” The slightest bit of exacerbation with his cohort ringing though.
“Now. Take in a bit of the
scenery before its tryin’ to kill ya. “
Cranking down his window, The sergeant spat out the remains of his cigar, still lit, into the dry, dead field of weeds on the side of the road. Without a second thought, he pulled out another cigar and began to light it, steering the truck with his legs as he did so. They only remained on the road for a short time as they were traveling thrice as fast as their previous pace now. Slowly a gigantic bluff began to appear, casting a miles long shadow in its wake. The Rising sun crowned above it, flooding the pink and red desert sand with sunlight. A forest in the distance was slowly approaching, and trees began to pass by the road. Then, signs in front of old, concrete foundations. The signs read of old gas prices, with their respective vendors above. Finally, a large sign that very boringly stating “Fruitia Welcomes you!” in a font that screams science nerd.
Bigger buildings began to pop up, all in various states of disrepair. Warehouses with gigantic parking lots in front of them, the occasional civilian car still dutifully waiting for its owner as it slowly becomes one with the pavement. Tall, imposing chain link fences topped with barbed wire surrounded most of the buildings. All were broken and downed in several places however, rendering them useless. The gates ironically still stood next to their guard posts. But still they drove on, and soon the reason why was apparent as the road began to wind up onto the plateau. The sun was fully up as they pulled up to a small, stout building atop the plateau, next to an imposingly tall radio tower. The loud buzz of electricity came from within the building, and one could see that there were power lines, somehow miraculously still standing running down the plateau, back towards the warehouses and complexes they just passed.
The truck lurched to a stop, and Sarge killed the engine. Gomers boots were already on the pavement walking towards the building. He opened the door and walked inside, as the sound of a breaker being thrown echoed out of the metal shack. The radio in the truck turned to static.
“Finally!” Gomer cried with genuine relief.
Baker simply turned the radio off, stepping outside of the truck and looking back down the road towards the grassfire he had started.
“Welcome to the edge of the world, conscripts. These ruins represent the edge of the map.”
He faced away from the rising sun, waving his his cigar at he forest of pine creeping up the foothills in the distance.
“We do not currently know what, if anything strategically valuable is in those foothills. They are still 7 miles away across uncharted and rough terrain.”
Taking a long puff he added: “But we’re going to know. We refuel here, and get some rest. Now! Help Gomer with the gas cans in the shed.” Baker continued to look towards the mountains in the horizon, mind already contemplating the next move.
