They finished loading the gear, and Grimm jumped into the driver’s seat with Diesel riding shotgun. They motored up the ramp to the desert outside, and Fix hauled the doors closed behind them, covered the garage with the tarp. The Major waited for them in the deepening sunset light.
“Evening, soldiers.”
“All right, sir?” Grimm asked.
The old man looked among the trio with cold eyes. “I want the three of you to remember this mission is strictly recon. If you encounter Brotherhood, take note of numbers and disposition, then retreat. They’ll be looking to settle scores after what you lot pulled in New Bethlehem, and I don’t want bullet holes in any of you when you get back here. No heroics, just heroes. Is that understood?”
“Yessir,” Fix replied, jumping into the truck.
“No fear, sir,” Grimm said. “The whole ‘Live fast, die young’ thing never sat well with me. I’d rather live long, die rich.”
“Very well, then.” The old man nodded. “Good hunting.”
The Major thumped a fist on the truck’s flank, and Grimm planted his foot, monster tires tearing up the dirt as they peeled out.
They headed north through the badlands, the sun falling slowly away to the west. Long shadows slunk over the desert sands as they drove, a thin trail of blood-red dust whipped up behind them, smooth and serpentine. Ten minutes or so passed without a word before Grimm finally piped up.
“I spy,” he declared.
Diesel moaned. “Do we have to?”
“It’s ten hours to the Clefts. You wanna ride all that way in moody silence?”
Diesel produced a black memchit from her cargos, marked with a skull and crossbones. “I brought some tunes.”
“Baby, you know I love you,” Fix said from the backseat. “But there’s no funkin’ way anything you listen to could be accused of havin’ a tune.”
“Eyyyy, three points!” Grimm grinned, bumping fists with the bigger boy.
“Eat a dick,” the girl said flatly. “A big bag of them.”
“Swear jar, baby,” Fix protested.
“I spy!” Grimm shouted. “With my little eye! Something beginning with D.”
“Dicks,” Diesel said. “Big bag. Much for the eating, yes.”
“Swear jar!” Grimm and Fix sang.
Diesel folded her arms and pouted. “I hate you both.”
“Come onnnn!” Grimm said. “Beginning with D.”
Fix looked out the window, scratching his concrete-hard quiff.
“…Desert?”
“Eyyyyyyyyyy, three points!” Grimm cried, bumping fists again.
“Desert?” Diesel demanded. “Seriously? That was your pick?”
“Yeah, so what?”
“We’re surrounded by it.” The girl gestured wildly. “It is literally in every direction you look. The object of the game is to make it hard to guess, Grimm.”
“Where’s the fun in that?”
“Oh my god.”
“My turn!” Fix declared, tapping his lip and pouting in thought. “I spy with my little eye…something beginning with…B.”
“Boobs,” Diesel said immediately.
“…How’d you know?”
The girl slumped lower in her seat. “This is going to be a long ten hours.”
Fix adjusted himself in the backseat, trying to get comfortable among all the gear. “Did y’all have to bring quite so many guns, by the way?”
“Brotherhood are all over the desert like a red rash, Fixster,” Grimm replied, glancing in the rearview. “Better safe than sorry, yeah?”
“I still don’t know what we’re doing out here,” Diesel growled. “Sticking our necks out for some damn rustbucket. We should be lying low.”
Fix nodded. “Not like the Major to risk a field op on something this small. Especially so soon after y’all got nailed. All this fuss over little Shorty don’t feel right.”
“She’s his granddaughter,” Grimm said.
“I know that, motherforker,” Fix said. “But it don’t feel right.”
“I’ve known the Major two years,” Diesel murmured. “He’s never really spoken to me about his daughter. Never made a big deal out of kin. Not once.”
“His daughter bailed on him, Deez,” Grimm said. “It’s obviously a sore spot for him, and he’s obviously tryin’ to make up for his mistakes with her by spoiling Lemon. I kinda feel sorry for the old sod.”
“Rrrrright,” Diesel said, glancing at him sidelong. “And I’m sure your cooperation has nothing to do with the fact you like this girl.”
“What?” Grimm cried, pressing his hand to his heart. “That is some slanderous defamation of my good character, madam.”
Diesel turned, looking to the big boy in the backseat. “Fix, in the four years since you pulled the Major out of that wreck in Plastic Alley, have you ever seen him run a risk like this over a damned robot?”
Fix shook his head. “No, ma’am.”
Diesel nodded, turned back around to look at Grimm. “One general law. Leading to the advancement of all organic beings, namely, multiply, vary, let the strongest live…”
“…and the weakest die,” Grimm replied. “You don’t need to be quoting Darwin at me, Deez.”
“Organic beings,” she repeated. “Meat, not metal. So, being the future of the species and all, we’re risking an awful lot for a tin can is what I’m saying.”
Grimm scowled, but made no reply. Fix adjusted himself again, elbowing the packs out of the way in an attempt to get comfortable. Finally the big boy sighed, flung a bulky satchel into the well behind the rear seat.
“Ow!” came a muffled yelp.
“…D’y’all hear that?”
“I heard that,” Grimm said.
The boy slammed on the brakes, and Trucky McTruckface skidded to a halt. The deviates bailed out, Fix putting his finger to his lips. The temperature around Grimm began dropping, his breath billowing off his lips in white puffs. Diesel had her hand on her pistol as the trio crept around to the back of the truck. The girl drew her weapon as Fix jumped up and unclasped the rear door, dragged it wide.