1.

Her eyebrow twitched as she stared down at her hand. The cards were almost good, almost usable. The next draw was the most important one. She glanced up at the wrinkled hands across from her, and then the face that they belonged to. Jo was unreadable as usual. Miloh was ready to take the risk. She reached down and pulled a card from the deck. It flipped between her fingers with the rest of her cards, and she inspected it.

Jo looked up at her and raised his brow, "Well? You ready to fold?"

Miloh grinned at him. "Well, actually I'd say that’s a game in my favor boys! Read them and weep,” throwing down her hand, Miloh pumped her fist into the air. A chorus of groans echoed her words and she grinned wider. If there was one thing in this world that she was unrivaled at, then it was a game of cards.

“Goddamn it all, you damned cheater!” 

Of course, there would always be a naysayer of any group of losers.

“Oh come ooon! You say this every time, Jo! Are you ever going to admit that I’ve got more skill than you?”

“To hell I will! You always cheat us hard-working folk out of our well-earned goods! It ain’t right,” Whenever Jo got on a tangent, it was a hard-time getting him off his tracks."

“What? You mean the flask you stole?”

“It ain’t stealin’ if the bugger’s already dead.” True. But Miloh still couldn’t resist giving Jo shit about it.

He was a dweller of the Farm, and Miloh was actually pretty friendly with the guy, but all bets were off when it came to gambling on the cards. In a world where you scrounged to get whatever you could, it was a matter of principle to argue over every trade, every gamble. Over the couple of years since she and Al had found that literal hole in the ground, they had become familiar with the people who’d stopped by, or even lived there, and Jo was one of the latter. Respect wasn’t easily earned in Miloh’s book, but Jo got it with ease through his wily eyes and grabby hands. There were few things that Jo couldn’t dig up. Ordinarily, maybe that wasn’t something to be liked for, but among nomads and scavengers, he was a king.

Still, even a king could suck at cards.

“No need to get your feathers ruffled, old man!” Miloh laughed.

“I’ll ruffle your feathers, you-!”

It was kind of funny seeing him riled up like this, Miloh thought.

“Ok, ok. We hear you, Jo. Miloh, give the guy his flask back, you know how pissy he gets without it.”

Of all times for Al to show back up, it just had to be then. She glanced over her shoulder and said, “I won it fair and square though!”

Al raised her dark eyebrow and reached into Miloh’s jacket, tugging out her stash of cards and said,”Yeah? The cards up your sleeve would say otherwise.”

Al’s remark was met with another series of groans, punctuated with a couple of colorful swears. In Miloh’s defense, cheating was considered part of the game. It was long past the time when a man would get slashed for cheating in a game of cards.

“I knew it!”

Miloh rolled her eyes.“Yeah, yeah. I hear you,” she said, tossing Jo’s flask back to him. Turning to look up at Al, Miloh threw on the smirk she knew drove Al crazy and said, “I only had your best interest at heart, Al. Winning things is what I do best!”

She snorted, and flicked Miloh on the forehead while replying, “And I have our best interests at heart when I say that we do not need more junk!.” She was right, and Miloh had known it before she had even started the game.

Everything in the Farm was junk in its own right: found, pillaged, and stolen. It didn’t really matter how someone had gotten them, as long as they were usable. It was all junk that was buried in a system of tunnels that a small group of survivors had taken great pains to excavate years ago. Many had taken to digging into the ground in order to escape the painful changes on the surface, and the Farm was one of the few successful attempts at establishing something permanent that people could come back to.

Rubbing her forehead, she smiled at Al, “ Alright, alright. I get it. What’s the news then? We make anything?” They had come to the Farm in order to scrap some machine parts they’d found in an old shop located in the nearest town south of the Farm.

Al ruefully shook her head, “No, it turns out that most of the shit we were able to pick up were car parts.” Damn. Yeah, that stuff was next to useless out there. Most of the scavengers didn’t have cars, and if they did, it was because they were being stripped from top to bottom for anything useful.

Al and Miloh were a different story. “Anything we can use on the Mustang?”

Al shrugged at that, “Maybe. I’ve got to examine the stuff more closely in order to see if any of it’s workable.”

It wasn’t a total loss then. Every scavenger needed a vehicle, and though many had abandoned cars as a viable option due to limited fuel supplies, Al still clung on to hers. She wasn’t much for inventing things or fiddling around with too much fine-tuned equipment, but when it came to cars, she was something else altogether. It was a wonder that she hadn’t recognized the parts for what they were right off the bat. Then again, it had been a fast-paced, grab-and-get-the-hell-out sort of job that time around.

A gruff voice piped up, “Eh, better luck next time then. You up for another round, or will the urge to stick all the cards up your ass be too much?” Miloh turned and flipped off the pale girl who’d spoken. “Nah, Bri. I’ll pass. I’ve got to give you mediocre players a chance, haven't I?” Brisa punched her in the arm, and Miloh flinched away with a bark of laughter.

Al turned and walked to the counter carved out of stone at the side of the room and said, “Bard, we’re about to head out; before Miloh starts a brawl-”

“That was one time!”

"Any news?"

Bard continued to clean his repair tools without looking up. The methodical washing and drying never stuttered as he said, “Keep her on her leash-”

“I am right here-”

"There is nothing. People have been short on news, that and any findings at all. The last heard of teeth passed within three miles of the Farm, but they were quickly led away without issue." 

Al nodded and replied, "Alright, thanks for the heads up. It's good to hear that nothing's gone wrong."

"Yet."

"Always the optimist. Have a nice night, Bard, and good findings to you."

Bard looked up at her and nodded, " And to you."

As Al turned to leave the room, Miloh rose from her place at the table and nodded to Jo and the other scavengers, "Good findings," and rushed out after Al, followed by a few who replied in kind.