The storm calmed throughout the wastes; the winds that had thrashed about the desert and sprayed ash like a turbulent ocean, coolly settled and began to gently lap the dunes of scorched sand. Scattered across the ground; wreckage and building fragments flung far from the city began to unearth themselves as the breeze picked away dust.

            A rusted van rumbled as it picked up speed through the barren land. Its large tires clawed and ripped their way through the crumbly sand. Its lifted suspension bounced and rattled as ruined concrete sunk underneath. The compound shrank away in the distance, its safety long gone.

            Behind the reinforced windshield, a gaunt looking man gripped the steering wheel. His head sat slightly crooked; a blank staring expression remained affixed ahead. His eyes barely twitched, his eyelids peeled apart. He silently breathed through clenched teeth. Occasionally a hand would release the wheel and quickly scratch at his thinning greyish hair before wrinkling the wheel cover once again with a tight grip. His arms were riddled with track marks, his veins were bruised and damaged from a lifetime of substance abuse.

Stitches sat passenger side, his eyes nervously watching the haggard looking man. Unfortunately, these men were the only ones willing to taxi them. Working vehicles typically had joint ownership between contracts and Prospector, and many sat ruined after being drafted into use during the attack. Broken equipment claims were festering about HQ, unanswered by the jaded staff. For the more established groups this was a perfect excuse to hold back and take it easy while the majority of the workforce was refusing expedition.

The men they had hired were already planning to leave however. In the back, sitting across from Saul and Witch, a ragged man carefully checked and tinkered with survival equipment. Greasy unkempt hair drooped over his bony face. His skin was dry and cracked with an odd yellow plastic appearance. His nails scritched and scraped against a handheld radio as he tightened its screws by hand.

Angel sat on the floor using her bag as a cushion. She was too tall to sit on the couch with Saul and Witch. The cracked man sat on a dirty plastic lawn chair. It creaked as he leaned it off its legs. When the van bumped, he and the chair would hop and slam back into the floor, but he would remain completely unphased. At his feet, bags sat opened spilling supplies over rusty metal scrap.

 A bump shook the cabin causing Saul to bump into Witch. She disdainfully shoved him away and crossed her arms with a sigh. She’d been irritable since they left, her antennae twitching anxiously.

“S-sorry…” Saul leaned onto the arm rest trying to put some more space between them.

Angel gave him a warm smile, holding her card deck up inquisitively.

Saul didn’t really feel like playing with her, but it was a better alternative to doing nothing, “Sure.”

Angel grinned and turned towards the cracked man, “Would you like to play too mister?”

He flinched away from the pager in his hands and stared. His lips parted away from rotten teeth as his fingers combed his scraggly goatee. He pondered them for a moment, sharp eyes transfixed.

Angels expression didn’t change, her innocent smile unfaltering while she awaited his response. Saul felt uncomfortable and avoided meeting his eyes.

“Heh… Heheh…” the man scratched the scabs on his knuckles, “You all still have that newbie energy going for you…”

Witch eyed him suspiciously.

“That can-do attitude, all that hope and fear, Im honestly a little jealous,” he picked a small bag from his pocket and dipped a pinky in, “Once it’s gone you gotta replace it with something,” his gums bled as he rubbed his finger into them.

Angel looked to Saul confused, “Does he not want to play?”

“No,” the man answered, “this equipment needs checking. Don’t need it breaking down a month in.”

“A month?” Saul asked?

“Once we drop you off, we’re taking a trek,” he flicked open a pocket knife and checked the blade; it sat wobbly and he began to tighten it into place, “It’s like camping but we spend our time exploring ruins and looting anything shiny,” He rubbed oil into the mechanism before folding it and tucking it away, “Should be out there for about 6 months. Would’ve planned it longer, but that’s the limit.”

“Wait, why go out so long?”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“Isn’t that dangerous?”

He paused and looked up towards Saul. His eyebrow raised and a half smile formed assuming he was awkwardly trying to joke.

Saul stared back blank faced.

“What’s dangerous is hanging around corpses when the beasts smell blood,” his expression turned serious.

“But… you won’t be safe on your own; back there you have walls, guards, numbers…”

He frowned, “The last place we want to be right now is the compound… Can you really not smell the tension in the air? The danger coming? We gifted have sharp instincts for that sort of thing,” his teeth grit together and his eyes shook, “something big is about to go down, something massive…” his hands squeezed an old can opener, “We didn’t believe Aaron when he told us. Thought he just got a bad batch… Shoulda believed him; he was right and now he’s dead… gotta survive… gotta be far away from that place for as long as we can… gotta keep breathin…” he shakily dipped another finger into his bag and brought it to his nostril. With sniff the white powder on his finger was gone before it quickly disappeared into his mouth.

Witch scoffed and shook her head.

Saul nervously twiddled his thumbs. A card poked him in the cheek, Angel stared at him expectantly. He took it and flipped it over; a four of diamonds.

 

The evening sun began to beam through the back window of the van. Light sat on the cracked man’s lips as he sat slumped back into his chair. His eyes drowsily stared out the window, his arms limply swinging by his sides. He slightly twitched against the shaking of the van, occasionally he would slurp up a hanging strand of drool.

Angel shuffled her deck with delight, she didn’t seem to bore from the repetitive games. Saul absentmindedly played; his attention was spent mostly on the changing scenery through the window as well as ensuring he didn’t stray onto Witches side of the couch again. Witch leaned her head on her hand, tapping her fingers against her chin. She watched them from the corner of her eye but quickly looked away when Angel’s attention turned to her. She felt a slight bit guilty about losing her temper earlier but the thought of apologizing disgusted her.

A large bump jostled the cabin rousing Stitches from his sleep. He wiped the sleep from his eyes and looked around.

The gaunt man hadn’t changed, save for some increasingly bloodshot eyes.

Did you forget to blink pal? Stitches thought.

His bony hand released the wheel and flicked Stitches’ shoulder, “Aaron,” he croaked, “I need my pills… It’s starting to burn again…”

He cringed a bit and wiped his shirt, “I aint Aaron.”

He turned and stared, his eyes squinting to see Stitches face, “Ah, you’re not…” he turned back to the desert, “Get me the tin from the glove box.”

Stitches pulled the handle and it dropped open. Inside, loose pill cases and ash stained papers shook about alongside a broken cassette player. He reached in and found an old mint container. He flipped it open and handed it to the man. Large chalky pills rattled around on the dust stained aluminum.

The man dipped in his hand and sorted around, tossing aside the smaller broken up pieces. He finally found a subject he was satisfied with and tossed it into his mouth. His greyish teeth grinded and crunched as he chewed up the pill. He took his time, slowly breaking it up and massaging the bitter powder into his gums with his tongue. His throat quivered as he swallowed, sucking his teeth contently.

Stitches tossed the tin back into the glove box, “Damn, you got it bad dontcha?”

The man grunted a response keeping his attention on driving.

“I knew an addict who did the exact same thing, he told me it got it into his system faster that way,” he leaned back into his seat, “I think he just learned to enjoy the taste.”

“Human?”

“Yea, he was.”

“They spiral quick,” he adjusted himself, “can’t be caught round here using. But not us, as long as it doesn’t fuck with your work quota.”

“There’s better ways to cope you know?”

He turned and stared for a bit before his gaze returned, “You remind me of a human I used to know, he had all sorts of opinions on shit,” his fingernails scratched the wheel cover, “Opinions don’t mean nothin when you’re a hypocrite.”

“I don’t use.”

“Course not, you know better. You dealed, didn’t you?”

Stitches picked at his teeth, “How’d you know?”

He snickered, “Can’t hide that scumbag look in your eye,” he scratched at his neck, “eyes are the windows to the soul you know? Yours is rotten.”

Stitches laughed, “Do you get many people with that fake psychology bullshit?”

“Hm,” he smiled a bit, “Used to. Humans are the easiest to screw with; one mind reader pops up and they just assume we all have the ability. Everyone wears guilt on their sleeves.”

“Not like they can test for it yet,” Stitches scratched at some burnt skin, “So what do you feel guilty about?”

His teeth grinded together, “Huh, maybe…” he smiled, his eyes seemed to relax for a moment staring nostalgically into the suns reflection on the sand, “No, easiest way forward is blind.”

“The hell does that mean?”

“You’ll learn someday,” His finger snapped towards the glovebox, “Get me my tin, talking makes my joints hurt.”

 

Witch propped herself up on the back of Stitches seat, her hand gripped his shoulder and shook him from a daydream, “Hey, how much longer? I’m starting to feel sick back here.”

Stitches yawned and unfolded a map from his bag. He measured with his fingers along the dotted route, “thirty minutes maybe?”

“Ugh, switch me seats then,” she groaned as she shakily kept her balance.

“Fine but you gotta keep watch for anything dangerous,” he said as he climbed over the console.

Witch pushed past him and settled into the seat, “Whatever, I saw you napping.”

The driver eyed her down, sneered than looked away.

Witch responded with a scowl.

The cracked man had sunk into his chair, his lanky arms the only thing holding him up off the floor.

Stitches fell back into the couch with a sigh, “That guy aint dead is he?”

Angel shook her head, “I can hear his heartbeat.”

“Then why is he drooling like that?”

“I think he’s been mixing medications; his heartbeat is quick but his breathing is slow,” she flipped her hair out of her face, “He must have a really bad doctor.”

Stitches chuckled, “That’s a mean joke you know…”

“Joke?” Angel cocked her head innocently.

Another bump rocked the van. The cracked man’s legs jostled some metal pipes with a clang.

Angel sighed as she massaged her back, “I hate road trips,” she whined, “everything’s so boring and uncomfortable.”

Stitches nudged Saul who remained unbothered by the drive.

He sat still, lightly snoring. His arms were curled up together, his head leaning back.

“Sucks we have to take the long way, but it’s the safest,” Stitches pressed the crinkles out of the map. The newly bought paper held firm against his thumbs, the factory fresh smell of the pages offered a pleasant break of the gasoline stench that hung about the van.

Angel fiddled with her bag; the bump had rearranged the items inside making it uncomfortable.

Stitches looked over and sighed, “You better not break any of that stuff. Those supplies were expensive.”

Angel shrugged, “I didn’t feel anything break.”

“Check your tracer,” Stitches became worried.

Angel groaned comically before digging through the pack producing a small metal cylinder. The bottom hatch hung open, “Uh, whoops…”

Stitches jumped to the floor beside her and began rummaging through her things, “Shit Angel!”

Angel fiddled with her sleeve, “Sorry…” she said meekly.

Stitches pulled a small wired device from the bag, relieved by its flashing a blue light, “Its ok, you just knocked it out of its casing,” he placed the device carefully into the cylinder and closed the hatch, checking to ensure it was safely locked before handing it back to Angel, “This regional positioning tracer is the one thing that distinguishes us from a deserter, Angel. This stops sending its signal, the humans will assume you’re trying to bail and send hunters.”

Angel nodded downtrodden.

Stitches patted her shoulder, “Look its fine, it didn’t break so no harm done. Just be more careful,” he got up and walked back to his seat, “I kinda like yall, so I’d prefer it if you weren’t on some homicidal wackjobs hit list,” he smiled at her.

Angel seemed a bit relieved, “I’m sure if we explained the situation, they might forgive an accidental interruption in the signal.”

“Humans maybe, hunters no,” he took the opportunity to check his own tracer before returning it to his bag, “From what I’ve overheard, the types of people that take hunting jobs aren’t in it for the money. They get off on that kinda-“

The van braked hard throwing and unprepared couch of people forward. Scrap metal scattered about the floor creating an unpleasant series of banging scraping noises against the rusted iron. The cracked man seemed unfazed as his lawn chair skidded under a rusty pole preventing it from tipping.

Stitches pulled himself up onto the back of the driver seat, “Mother-!”

“Fucker!” Witch screamed, holding her chest in pain. The glove box in front of her hung open knocked off its latch by her impact with it.

Saul muttered a couple angry words under his breath as he rubbed his side, rudely awakened from a dream.

Angel seemed to be the only one who was able to grab the couch and hang onto it.

The driver quickly pulled the keys out of the ignition and raised his finger into a hush sign.

Witch groaned, “Ugh… Wha-“

“Sh!” the man whispered, “Try not to move or make noise, you never know what they can perceive,” his finger pointed to a large figure crawling across a far away dune.

Ashy sand rolled out from underneath its mass. Its long body slid down the dune as it continued to crawl to its edge. Many appendages sprawled from its core digging into the sand as it tried to haphazardly drag itself along. The thing didn’t seem to have any elegance in its movement at all as it stopped, raised itself and then threw its upper section over the edge, allowing gravity to help it tumble down to the next dune.

Stitches took the binoculars from the dash but was stopped by the man.

“Stop,” he whispered, “like I said, you never know what they can perceive.”

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” Witch hissed.

The man stared unblinking at the creature, “Think of us as quarter gifted,” he reached slowly to the glove box and retrieved his tin, “A mutant is fully gifted. Sometimes it goes even further than that,” his bony finger softly explored the smaller chunks of pills. When he was satisfied, he grabbed a few and placed them into his cheek, “Us, a quarter of the way between monster and human, imagine all the abilities that we could’ve been born with. Think of all those possible senses and powers that beast could have in common but multiplied to a ridiculous degree.”

The binoculars were slowly put down, “Alright, so what do we do?” Stitches whispered.

“Nothing,” he grunted, “We wait until we can’t see him, wait 30 minutes after that and then continue” he slowly lowered his hands, the plastic of the steering wheel snapping as his grip was finally released.                                                                                                                                A stifled groan escaped from Witch as she pushed her way back into her seat. Angel had silently approached, fascinated by the aberrant creature slowly disappearing into the dunes.

Witch blew some hair out of her face, leaning onto the door as Angel stole her headrest, “At least one of us can enjoy staring at its ass.”

Angel didn’t respond, her eyes reflected the horizon, completely transfixed. She’d wanted so long to see a mutant close enough to distinguish its anatomy. Even if it wasn’t right in front of her, it was more than she ever hoped for since she was a child. Her face was paralyzed in awe as her pupils hungrily gorged themselves with the specimen.

The creature raised its body into the air and paused . Its head sluggishly twisted to see its left, then its right. It pulled back as its twisted limbs all stretched out in unison. The appendages vibrated and shook as dust fell from its body creating a small cloud around it. Finally satisfied, the creatures arms drooped and it clumsily flopped back down into the ash and continued its journey.

When the mutant disappeared into the distance, Angel waited a moment, hoping it would return at least for a second before hurriedly opening a notebook and scribbling away her observations. The sound of pencil scratching away at paper continued even after the van begun to move again.