Ain't Talkin'

Jex rode with Roche to the end of his property, that being the edge of where he maintained surveillance.

“Why’d you come this far?”

“See you on your way. Have to check the traps, too.” Jex puffed on his pipe.

The synthetic horse beneath him was an older model, probably one of the first to hit the production lines before the catastrophe. It’s muscles and joints were exposed whereas newer models wore a tight, carbon-weave skin. It’s tail was more akin to the knobbed, long-boned tail of a rat or a marsupial. Barring that, it was a near exact replica of a horse wrought in steel, carbon-fiber and military grade plastics with an ion battery that had to be electrically charged every week or so. It operated the way living horses responded to a riders heels and neck-rein pulls at it’s jaw and neck, albeit with pressure-sensitive plates the routed to an internal computer. It had been some time since Roche had needed a mount, and his last mount had been a synthetic, shot out from under him with several blasts from a high-powered rifle somewhere near the Great Lakes region nearly two years ago.

It was comforting to ride a real horse again, something Roche had not done since his childhood which had then been nearly a century ago, if the walker remembered correctly. Not that it mattered, he hadn’t forgotten how to ride.

“Traps?”

“Yeah. Can’t eat dehydrated meat from a hundred years ago every day. Did just that for my first month here before I got good and sick of it. Got a couple trap lines out here for coyotes and the like. Ain’t a ton of meat on ’em but they taste just fine when you grill ’em up right.” The synthetic horse moved under him with mechanical precision.

“Get a lot of coyotes out here then?”

“A few, some, a couple here and there. Don’t make much matter either way. I’d check them every day if I was sure they’d be full, but they never are.”

Roche lit a cigarette and looked west. The sun was up over the hills and day was alive across the Mojave.

“What’s the quickest way to New San Fran?”

“Think that’s where they’re headed?”

Roche tucked his smoke in the corner of his mouth and took the small black address book he had taken from the Ethercorp soldier from his pocket. He handed it across the gap between both horses to Jex.

“What’s this?”

“A notebook. Took it off of an Ethercorp mercenary back in Polkun county. Caught them as they were leaving a casino first thing in the morning.” Roche dragged from his smoke.

Jex flipped through the pages, taking everything written there in, but just as idly looking for the appearance of looking. Roche’s business wasn’t his own, and Jex was a man who kept his sentiments to himself. “And it says in here, with all this fuckin’ jib-jab, that they’re headed for New San Fran?”

“I know his spelling and handwriting aren’t all that they’re cracked up to be-”

“Wouldn’t I know too much of the difference.”

“-but the city is noted in there, after Terra 2 is mentioned and before a date of December 13th.”

“You think they’re taking the passage in New San Fran to Terra 2?”

“S’ what the little black book says.” Roche looked west again.

“And this weren’t the boys who took in your charge?”

“Nope. Just some other unlucky hands who were surveiling the kid. They didn’t have him and I had to put them down.”

“They were unlucky then.” Jex tapped the remaining spent tobacco from his pipe on his synthetic horses withers. “Well, quickest way to New San Fran is through Carson City. Head south and west for a day and you’ll probably get a glimpse of what remains of it. Mostly a hideout for highwaymen and wastelanders these days. Once your through Carson you’ll hit the Sierra’s goin’ west.”

“Haven’t been over the mountains in ages. Be a nice little reunion. Whaddaya think, Lucky?” Roche patted the horse on the neck and she nickered in response. Roche flipped the butt of his smoke away.

“Likely if they’re on foot the mountains’ll slow them up. You can catch them there. If you don’t get there in time they’ll head to New San Fran via Sacramento. It’s a government toll road, but if they’re Ethercorp soldiers they’ll have the dough for it. That’s my best guess, Roche. Good on ya.” Jex pulled his hat low and whirled his synthetic horse north at a canter.

No goodbyes, no shaking hands, not even a nod of farewell. An old merc and a walker parted ways beneath the Mojave sun of Terra 1 and the universe didn’t notice. Two hundred years of the world wasting away simply continued to decay beneath Lucky’s hooves as Roche spurred her into a gallop west towards the purple risers of the Sierra’s.