🎶 Merry Little Bookmas 🎶

As we drew nearer, two dirt bikes turned into four, then seven, and finally the rider who’d trailed us the whole way peeled off, making a wide U-turn and spitting up a rooster tail of his own as he fled back the way he came. We weren’t free of a tail for long, as the seven riders quickly formed a perimeter around us and escorted us into the small city.

Much about it reminded me of Coyote Springs, but there was also a lot that was different. The heart of the city was smaller, with tents completely ringing the city here. And they weren’t well maintained, from what I could tell as we drove past. Holes provided a window into the lives of the citizens on the outskirts, and what we could see wasn’t much. Though . . . the bikes were well maintained, if patched together. They had a solid mechanic here, at least. And some sort of working radio tech. I thought back on the irritating conversation with ‘Conda, but quickly shoved it down, dragging my attention back to my surroundings. We were only moments inside the city before the riders forced us to a stop outside of a large striped tent, a red-helmeted rider kicking down the lead bike’s stand and approaching my window.

To my surprise, when the helmet was pulled free, it was a woman shaking a long mane of russet hair loose and gesturing for me to roll the window down so we could talk.

“What are your intentions for visiting the collective?” Her tone was all business, and her eyes were sharp as they skated over me and River in swift appraisal, lingering on River longer than I liked.

“Just passing through and hoping to shake an annoying tail.” I gestured with a nod back to the way we’d come, and her eyes narrowed angrily. “We do have trade goods, though, if you’re interested.”

“How many riders?”

“Four, we took three of ‘em down a few pegs,” I admitted with a shrug. Better to lay all the cards on the table up front. “We appreciated the help ditching the fourth.” It was an afterthought, and she knew it. It was always wise to start on good footing with the locals before trading began, though.

She snorted, and I caught the briefest hint of a smile at the corner of her mouth, but it quickly dissolved back into stern calculation.

“Not sure you needed any help, but we don’t get a lot of trade out here. We’ll be happy to see what you’ve got.”

My mind immediately went back to the threadbare, holey tents, and I cursed my luck that I’d sold all of my good, new ones to the Sidewinders. They were probably ash, now. Depressing.

“I didn’t catch your name.” I lifted an eyebrow in question.

“Sasha. You?”

“Nyx, and River.” I reached a hand over and squeezed his forearm quickly, before dropping my hand back to the wheel.

“Pleasure to meet you both. You can park here, and we’ll show you around.” She turned back towards her bike but paused, adding over her shoulder, “Sorry about the un-welcoming committee. Steve can be a real camel’s hump sometimes.”

“Err, Steve?” I asked.

She sighed wearily, and looked down as if embarrassed before admitting, “He’s my idiot brother.”

“Ooh, that sucks,” River half-cackled from the passenger seat.

I shot him a shut-it-up-so-we-don’t-offend-these-people look, but he grinned back, unfazed.

“She already knows it sucks; didn’t you see her face? Come on, maybe they’ve got something better to eat here than your sawdust bars.”

“Meal bars,” I insisted as I hopped down from the driver’s side and clicked the lock.

“You keep telling yourself that,” he teased with a wink as he joined me outside the Bronco and we made our way toward where Sasha waited for us at the end of the nearest tent row, “and I’ll try to sweet talk someone out of something that’s actually tasty.”

***

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