Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Driving Lesson Chapter 6 Page 1

"Can I ask something?" George asked as he drove. Since he could not take his eyes off the endless sand in front of him, he tried conversation to take his mind off the dreariness.

He had reached that level of tedium, one which was attained by applying oneself for hours to the same monotonous task. All the excitement of control and freedom had long gone. He must have something new to experience, to think about, to learn.

"Ask away," Tricia replied.

"How did you, Mabel and Iona meet?"

Tricia in the passenger seat gazed distantly out her side of the vehicle. "Mab and I used to work for the Spears of the Singing Sheep - the Triple-S. Don't ask how that name came about," she told him, "It was one of the mercenary outfits in Covenant. Work was pretty boring - guarding convoys, guarding facilities out here in the wastes..."

The Vixen checked the information on her datapad. "Change our heading, will you?" She gave a new direction to George.

Once George had pointed the pickup in the instructed direction, Tricia continued, "Working out here, we knew that there was more to the wastes - mysteries and adventure, not to mention danger and treasure. Plus, we met Io during one of our jobs. She told us a lot about the wastes.

"We talked it over with a few friends in the squad. Only Mab and I were willing to quit our boring jobs to explore the wastes. We needed a guide out here so we contacted Io and she was interested in joining us."

"So it was just the three of you?" George asked.

"Laura joined a little later," Tricia told him, "She was bored with the comfy life in Covenant and we found her one day in Sandy's Last Hand, much like how we found you."

So Laura was recruited from that bar in Covenant. Could it be that George had seen her before? Which of the other bar's regulars could she have been?

"How does Laura look like?" Asking was the best way to find out.

"Small, spiky black hair."

George did not recall any small woman at the bar with that hairstyle. More details would be helpful. "What about her body shape?"

Tricia looked at him. "Well, she's a small person, slim. Or are you interested in her breast size or the shape of her rear, perhaps?"

"Erm, never mind." George turned away. It was unnecessary since his blush could not be seen through his mask.

"Keep your eyes on the front," Tricia directed him.

The boy continued driving in silence. After a long while, when he felt that his embarrassment had been forgotten, he tried another question, "How did the name 'Scarlet Vixens' come about?"

"Oh, that. That was from Mab's aunt," Tricia told him, "She's been exploring the wasteland much longer than we have..."

Their conversation was interrupted by a beep. It came from within his headgear. George was not sure what the sound meant.

"Someone's trying to call us," Tricia said as she examined her datapad, "Slow the pickup."

George slowed the vehicle as instructed.

"Hello," Tricia said, apparently to whomever was calling them. "Tricia here."

A second later, the Vixen greeted, "Hello, Miss Hiddenhill." There was a pause. "No, Mab's not in trouble or anything. She's on a job."

"She must have shut out external contact to her wristcom. She doesn't want any interruptions on her job."

"Well, she needs to be quiet on this job or she'll be in trouble." Tricia glanced at the cloud of dust in the distance.

"Uh, I've got to go." Tricia turned to George. "Speed up!"

George shifted into gear and accelerated.

"I'll tell her you called," Tricia continued, "I need to go now." She turned to George again. "Faster," she urged.

"What's the hurry?" George asked.

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