I’d love to be able to say that the cruiser carried us across the plainlands as if on wings—that it hit speeds of epic proportions, and that Lavish and I looked totally badass sitting atop it. Unfortunately, that’s not the truth.
That’s not to say that the cruiser was shabby or anything. Quite the opposite: it carried us both without a problem and drove at a steady thirty miles per hour.
However, there is a reason we decided to call it the “cruiser.”
To be honest, I don’t really mind the slower pace. I’m enjoying the ride quite a bit. Lavish and I have never travelled this far beyond the Bunker, and though it’s nerve-wracking to know that we could run into an R-Zomb at any point, it’s just as equally fascinating for me to watch the blur of grass zip beneath us as we make our way towards Artip.
The warm sun warms my neck and back, and the rumble of the cruiser’s motor sounds like a symphony to my ears. But by far the best thing about driving is the wind.
When we had built the cruiser, Lavish and I had decided to save on some materials by not building a top or sides. There were only two windows on the cruiser—the front and back windshields. Other than that, it was completely open.
And so, as we drive, the wind whips and lashes at my hair, throwing it in every direction. It makes unwilling tears form in the corners of my dried-out eyes. It courses under my shirt and pushes my sleeves up to my shoulders. I’m sure these are phenomena that some older generations might’ve found annoying—but I cherish every moment of it.
For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m actually living.
“Damn, Rekill!” Lavish calls out next to me. “I haven’t seen a smile like that on you since we were kids!”
I laugh and punch his shoulder playfully. “Dude, you can’t even see if I’m smiling. I’ve got a mask on, remember?”
Lavish shakes his head. “It’s in the eyes, man. I can see your smile through your eyes.”
We drive for a little longer. I keep a lookout for any hostile R-Zombs while Lavish steers us towards our destination.
Suddenly, Lavish slams on the brakes.
I lurch forward, gripping my seatbelt to prevent the straps from digging into my neck. My fingers fumble for my gun.
“Lavish, what the hell-,”
“Hang on!” Lavish snaps.
I feel my blood pressure rise as I frantically scan the horizon for the yellowed teeth and the massive body of the R-Zomb that is surely hunting us for sport. Instead, what I come face-to-face to is a strange rodent with disproportionately large ears. The rodent’s nose twitches.
“I think that’s a rabbit,” Lavish murmurs.
Talk about anti-climactic.
“Maybe…?” I say, somewhat incredulous over Lavish’s overreaction to the animal.
Lavish parks the cruiser, and slowly unclicks his seatbelt. “I’ve never seen one before.”
“Lavish,” I hiss, “should we really be stopping the cruiser in the middle of the plainlands where an R-Zomb can just-,”
“Relax! Just give me a second.” Lavish insists. “I want to see if I can get closer…”
He leans forward, easing himself out of his chair. The skittish animal not a yard away seems to notice every millimeter of movement that Lavish takes. I look on in muted interest. Rarely have I seen Lavish’s attention captured so fully.
Lavish steps off of the cruiser. I hear a soft crunching noise as he crushes a patch of grass under his boot. That little noise is all it takes to frighten the rabbit into fleeing. It zooms away, diving safely into the underbrush.
I expect Lavish to look disappointed, but he isn’t. He smiles from ear-to-ear. I can tell that he’s smiling because the corners of his eyes are crinkled up. He was right—you can see a smile through the eyes.
“That was awesome,” he says, clambering back into the cruiser. He puts it in drive.
“What was so special about that?” I ask. “It was only a rabbit. We’ve seen dozens of pictures before.”
Maybe I would’ve been more understanding of Lavish’s awe had we encountered a bigger animal, like a lion or an elephant. As far as I was concerned, Rabbits were about as majestic as my left boot.
“I know we’ve seen pictures,” Lavish says. He opens his mouth like he’s about to explain the secrets of the universe to me, but then promptly decides against it. “You wouldn’t get it man,” is what he says instead.
We drive for another hour or two. Even though the landscape looks more or less the same in every direction, I don’t get bored.
Eventually, I start to see a little dot on the horizon. The dot grows as we drive towards it, until it begins to take the shape of a small rectangular building.
“This is it,” Lavish announces, confirming my suspicion that the building is the farmhouse where we’ll be parking the cruiser at.
Looking at the farmhouse, I begin to feel a little silly for doubting Lavish’s thermal scans. Just one glance at the dilapidated structure is enough to see that it’s completely abandoned. Much of the wooden exterior has been chipped and weathered away, and several of the windows are smashed in. The grassy lawn is overgrown, and moss climbs up the sides of the house, reclaiming it for the earth.
A dented silo sits to the left of the house, along with a large storage shed and a few abandoned vehicles that look as if they were once used for various agricultural tasks.
Despite its poor condition, the house is truly something to see. Lavish parks our cruiser right next to the shed and kills the ignition. It seems suddenly so much quieter without the hum of the cruiser’s engine to fill my ears.
“Isn’t it something?” Lavish asks.
“How did people live like this?” I ask. “Compared to the bunker, this just seems so… vulnerable.”
“I guess the world was less dangerous back then,” Lavish shrugs. He gets a glint in his eye; the same one that I’ve seen so many times before. It makes a pit form in my gut, because I know that it means Lavish is planning something that will likely get us both killed.
“What?” I ask.
He grins. “Let’s go in.”
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