Evidently, it took a while to get to Septero from the outskirts of Kvartero’s marshlands. Esther was falling asleep against the passenger window, and Pepsi was feeling heavy in her lap. “Can’t you drive any faster?” She complained. 

“I can’t risk hurting Deidre.” Bentley explained matter-of-factly.

“Deidre?” Pepsi couldn’t restrain her laughter. “What kind of name is that?”

“It’s a good name for a good truck!” Bentley frowned. He couldn’t wait to get rid of these disrespectful criminals. Only watching them get locked up and sent to Unutero’s rehab facilities would satisfy him. 

“We haven’t eaten in two days. If you can’t get there faster, at least pull us over to collect some fruit from the trees.”

“How are you supposed to get fruit from a tree?” Bentley laughed sarcastically. He’d never heard of such a ridiculous concept. “Don’t you people know where food comes from?”

“Plants and animals?”

“What? Don’t play dumb with me. It comes from Walmort, and you two don’t look like you have any Walmort money. Ohh- so that’s why you eat fish.” It was all adding up now. “I would have thought drug dealers would have carried some gold on them.”

“We’re not drug dealers, and we don’t have any gold or drugs. Otherwise we would have killed you, stolen your stupid ‘mate’, and gone to Septero to buy something to eat!” Esther was fed up with their driver. She considered killing him for a minute, but she had no idea how to operate this thing. And making Pepsi do it would probably give her a heart attack.

Bentley laughed and shook his head. “Fruit growing on trees. What’s next, gold growing on trees? You’re funny.”

“Wait, why don’t the trees produce fruit here?” Pepsi asked. That could be vital information for her records. 

“What are you talking about?” Bentley asked, frustrated. 

“It doesn’t make sense.” Pepsi whispered to herself as she took a note. “Why would the most densely populated continent have no food for their people outside of stores? Then everyone would need money just to survive.”

“Uh, yeah. No shit.” Bentley chuckled at her stupidity. “Everybody needs money to survive. Why do you think everybody in Kvartero has jobs? You have to pay for food somehow. We’re not like you Septeros who abuse government handouts and do nothing all day.”

“Needing money to survive…” Pepsi wrote that down. It was such a foreign concept to her. “Hey, you never told us your name. I’m Pepsi, I’m an anthropologist. Would you mind if I interviewed you?”

“Pepsi!” Esther protested. She gave her name out like it was nothing. “We don’t have time to interview truck drivers.”

Pepsi frowned and rested her head on Esther’s shoulder. “I have to get a perspective from Kvartero, and this might be my only chance,” she whispered. 

Esther sighed and looked at Bentley. She really thought he was reliable?

“Your friend is right, we don’t have time for interviews. As soon as I drop you off I’m heading to the warehouse for a pickup.”

Esther realized what he was really planning. The warehouse. That was where he previously threatened to have them arrested. “You know what Peps? I think your interview is a great idea, you could really use the research. I’ll go into Septero, and you can wait with Bentley in the car. That way he doesn’t have to talk to any low-lifes.”

Bentley narrowed his eyes and gripped the wheel. Fuck. The report would have to wait. 

———————————————————————————————————————

Bentley pulled his truck halfway down the dead-end road at the southwest coast of Septero. There was a faint smell of garbage floating through murky skies above. The polluted air was so thick it blocked most of the stars from the sky. It felt warmer here in the center of the middle continent from the warm water that washed up onto the beach.

“I wouldn’t be caught dead walking in Landfill Beach at night. This is the first stop in Septero, if you’re too impatient for me to drive further you can dig your supplies out of the garbage hills. There’s a soup kitchen down the dirt road where volunteers from Unutero give it out for free. Bring me back a bowl will you?”

“I thought you were above government handouts.” Esther raised a brow, judging him.

“I’ve had a long day dealing with assholes, I deserve soup!” Bentley whined. 

Esther smirked and hopped out of the truck. She was armed and dangerous, a couple of mutant criminals wouldn’t scare her at night. “I’ll be right back, Pepsi. Keep an eye on Mr. Truck Lover.”

Silence coated the inside of the truck cabin. Bentley and Pepsi sat still, breathing in the humid air. Bentley tapped his fingers against the dashboard rhythmically, then put his music on low.

“So, your mate has quite a temper,” he joked to Pepsi.

“Tell me about- hey. She is not my mate.”

“Suit yourself, but you were sitting on her lap the entire drive.”

“Bold words from a guy that fucks vehicles!” Pepsi snapped at him.

“Geez you’re no better. I thought I was in for a pleasant interview, but I guess you don’t want to know anything about me.”

Pepsi grumbled and readied her pencil. “Let’s start with your name, shall we? No funny business.”

“Okay, it’s Bentley. It represents an ancient automobile manufacturer created by the gods. Happy?”

Pepsi looked up at him slowly. Her eyes took him in. His colorful hair, patchy skin, and shining eyes were quite distinct. It wasn’t appearances that she liked about him, though. It was his unusual way of thinking. “I was named after an ancient relic too. Pepsi, like the bottles?”

Bentley scoffed and looked away. “Don’t act like we have anything in common. I’m not like anyone else.”

“We do, though, don’t we? We’re both interested in the artifacts of the past. We just do it in different ways. I have a museum, and you use the machines directly. And honestly, I’d love to experience a job like yours. I think your truck is pretty rad.” Pepsi couldn’t get him to agree with it, so she moved on. “Okay well, tell me about your life. Do you have friends, family? How’d you grow up?”

“The same way everybody in Kvartero grows up.” Bentley said, condescendingly since she didn’t know such obvious facts of life. “One of the birth-givers gives birth to you, and a corporation comes to pick you up, take you to a trade school, and you do what everybody else does to survive. Keep your grades up so you won’t get sent out to Septero with the freaks, and try to avoid becoming another cog in the machine at the same time.”

“That sounds like a tough balance. How do you do it?”

He scoffed. “By figuring out who you want to be, and then buying that stuff- I don’t know. I haven’t really… figured it out yet.” He frowned and reclined his seat to stare longingly up at the ceiling. “Because as far back as I can remember, all I ever wanted to be was a truck driver. But that’s not an identity, that can’t be all I am.”

Pepsi tilted her head and studied him. He had gone from looking like a test subject to feeling like a friend in distress. “Why can’t it be? You clearly pride yourself on it. It’s okay to want simple things in life- I feel the same way about being an anthropologist.”

Bentley’s expression softened. He reached for the key inserted beside the wheel and turned it to shut the truck down. It was even more quiet than before. “But it’s not the point of life, is it? There’s so much more to life and people, and I never know how I’m supposed to find it.”

Pepsi put her notebook down and sat cross legged on the seat. She turned to face him and placed her hand on his arm gently. “Well, what have you always wanted to do? I’m sure there’s a way you can make your dreams happen.”

Bentley laughed and shook his head. “All I’ve ever wanted was to stand out and be unique- just like everyone else! But most importantly, I wish I knew who I really was on the inside.” He patted his chest over his heart. 

Pepsi frowned and met his eyes. “I don’t think that’s something we ever stop learning about.” She shrugged. “But if your job makes you happy, then to hell with the haters. That’s what I say.”

“The point of a job isn’t to be happy. The point of a job is to get money, so you can buy what makes you happy. I try new things and looks and identities- but nothing feels like me, you know? It’s not authentic. The happiest I ever feel is when I’m on the road.”

“Maybe… all you have to do is be yourself then.” Pepsi told him in her wise philosophical voice. “And stop worrying about being unique, and just be- Bentley.”

“Is that even allowed?” He asked hopelessly.

Pepsi smiled and gave him a gentle punch. “How could anything be more allowed than existing as who you are?”

Bentley smiled back. He had never had such a thought provoking conversation before. “You’re pretty deep, for a non-Kvartero.” He complimented. “So where are you two headed for anyway?”

“Sestero.” Pepsi announced. Bentley’s eyes widened in shock. “I know it’s dangerous, but Esther has a great purpose for going there. She has to return that sword and free her tribe from imprisonment. And I’m going because she needs my help, obviously.”

“Sestero.” Bentley repeated, shaking his head concerned. “You’ll never make it through the mountains of Tritero without decent transportation.”

Pepsi sighed. “Hey don’t stress me out man, I’m still trying to wrap my head around it all. You have no idea what preparation I had to go through to launch the boat in the right direction. I’m sure Esther will find us a way to get there.”

Bentley looked at the keys in his hand. The happiest I ever feel is when I’m on the road, he thought, why don’t you just be- Bentley? He clutched the metal in his fist and nodded decidedly. “We’ll take my truck. Deidre has never let me down before, she’ll get us through those mountains.”

Pepsi grabbed the armrest and shouted. “You mean it?”

Bentley smirked. “Don’t make me change my mind now, but I think I’m due for a road trip.”

He gazed out his window towards the empty pavement. Sometimes he wondered just how far these roads stretched before they disappeared from under his wheels. The mysteries of the world called him almost as much as the mysteries inside himself. He was more determined than ever to figure them out. 

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