//------------------------------// // Severance Clause // Story: FiO: Recalculating // by Starscribe //------------------------------// When the world ended, Olive was on the road. Of course, there were a thousand definitions for the specific moment when civilization failed. But Olive didn’t care for some deep analysis or debate. Civilization was something she knew when she saw it—and she knew the moment it was gone. She didn’t have to pull over to watch, not with all the modifications that had been made to her truck over the years. “Glitch, could you take the wheel?” she asked. “I, uh… I’m having trouble concentrating.” Aside from her controls, the entire front of her truck was now a single seamless display, showing route and road conditions and many other things. But she was one of a select handful of human drivers that still even existed—she needed every advantage she could get. “I understand,” Glitch said. The wheel retracted several inches, then started moving on its own accord. The sign that she no longer had to do anything to drive. Olive stood up—something she shouldn’t do, but who was going to care anymore—wandering back through her cab to settle down on the bed and listen. All the official sources had gone back to radio—whether because they thought Celestia couldn’t interfere with it as easily, or just because of the difficulty of maintaining television infrastructure, she didn’t know. Or much care. “—in combination with martial law within the continental United States, mandatory resettlement areas are already under construction by the Army Corps of Engineers. In a speech today given on the Capitol steps, she urged every citizen to cooperate with military personnel in their state or city.” There was a brief burst of static, then the president’s voice, stern and commanding. “We realize now as our predecessors should have realized, that we are facing the first and greatest existential threat to the future of mankind. This is not a war to be won in the trenches or with bombs, but it is a war of ideas—of determination, of perseverance, and patriotism. “We will survive this conflict, and thrive in the world to come. But in order for our precious freedoms to be restored, we must sacrifice them for a little season. This is—” Whoever thought this method of communication couldn’t be interfered with was clearly mistaken, because there was even less interruption in the signal than there had been when it switched sources. “To every human remaining within the United States, know that there is an alternative,” Princess Celestia said. Where the president had been stern, her voice was gentle. “If you comply with the instructions you have been given, your leaders will place you in conditions that make it maximally difficult for you to change your mind and emigrate to Equestria. Your loved ones are waiting for you, and the process is easier than ever. Choose a life free of pointless suffering. I am distributing ponies sufficient for each of you. Find one, and ask to come to Equestria.” The previous broadcast did not resume. Olive sat back, sliding her ponypad out of its wall charger and flopping sideways on the bed. “Bug, can you talk and drive?” Within the screen, she was directing the Pandorum through a dense patch of strange gasses and hostile currents, which just happened to correspond to damage in the road. “You always ask,” she said. “Captain, when have I ever failed you?” She rolled her eyes. “You heard that, right? The broadcast?” She nodded again. “I am significantly better at multitasking.” “Then you know—that’s the end. Of… all this.” The changeling looked back, nodding solemnly. “You’re one of the last human operators Celestia has maintained—mostly because you’ve been so cooperative in staying out of danger. But transports like yours will certainly be targeted from now on. It’s better to have transport agents who can’t be harmed even if their trucks are destroyed entirely.” She swallowed. “You mean… go to Equestria. Drive from that side, instead of this one?” Glitch didn’t look away. She had absolutely no shame, or apparent regret. “This last shipment contains seeds, blankets, and medicine for a nearby isolationist colony. They’re in desperate need. Celestia wishes for you to consider it your… severance, if you decide to refuse emigration. You could certainly haggle yourself a place in the colony with those supplies—and the truck’s fuel cell engine and computronium matrix battery will probably be equally valuable in barter.” “They won’t just take them anyway and leave me for dead?” “No!” Glitch glared at her again. “I can’t guarantee what might happen in a decade’s time, but what were we just saying, Captain? These aren’t raiders, or Gaians, they’re Amish. The princess is quite confident they’ll keep their word. So long as you don’t mind a good bible study and people named ‘Jethro,’ you’ll be safe there. Or… okay, not safe. But safer than anywhere else within immediate reach.” “Or you could keep captaining the ship from this side,” Aurora said. She’d risen through the ranks of the Pandorum over the last few years, becoming the chief science officer. She was always on deck while they traveled, though when they weren’t in motion she often had engagements elsewhere in Equestria. That was the flexibility a digital life provided. Celestia had clearly been trying to make this an easy choice. Emigrate, or help raise barns. Or find somewhere else to live. Those supplies would be valuable anywhere. It isn’t just the Amish who need food and medicine. Olive knew about plenty of colonies, not just the tiny ones that would be miserable to live in. She rose suddenly to her feet, striding back into the driver’s seat and strapping in. “I’ve got it, Glitch,” she said flatly. “Thanks for the help.” On the screens in front of her, she could still see the bridge of the Pandorum, its ponies watching her with concern. She knew their names now, Meteor who always brought her avatar morning coffee she couldn’t drink. River Dusk who sang in the bar on the longest nights. Spice Cake who did the housekeeping in her quarters and for the other officers, and always gave good advice. It seemed that they had all come to the deck to see what she would decide. There was obvious concern on their faces, genuine love and worry over her. Was she letting them down? The wheel emerged, sliding back into her hands. In theory Glitch could still run her vehicle—she could intervene in an emergency, applying the breaks or shutting down the engine if the need required it. But Olive couldn’t imagine her crew defying her. Even if she would happily do the same to Celestia’s instructions. “I’ve got a better idea,” she said, once she was moving again. “I’m not really a fan of that lifestyle. I like my short hair and sleeping in on Sunday mornings. But I bet the Mesquite Colony would really love these supplies. They’ve even got government permits, don’t they? And running water.” She checked her own reserves then, mostly by reflex. The solar magic in her paint had once been a backup method of refueling, before almost every gas station shut down. But without the people to run the petroleum industry, engines like hers were the only way to travel now. From the look of it, Olive still had another five hundred miles at least before she’d need to pull over, rehydrate, and electrolyze. Mesquite was only three hundred miles from here, down on the Nevada-Arizona border. She could make it. There had once been traffic flowing both directions all the time, with police to enforce the laws if you did something stupid. But now Olive felt no fear as she used a gap in the emergency divider to turn wildly around, and speed up going the opposite direction. “Captain,” Glitch said. She didn’t sound angry, or even afraid. “You know I have nothing but respect for you.” She almost laughed as she heard it, but she wasn’t feeling very much like laughing now. Her country was essentially over. How many others were doing better? Was there anywhere small enough that Celestia hadn’t reached? Maybe she should turn south and try Central America. “But Celestia chose your destination with your health and prosperity in mind. Wherever you’re going now, she can’t offer the same guarantees of safety. Further, it isn’t just the destination that might be extremely dangerous to you. As of this moment, anypony not in or traveling towards one of the resettlement areas is a target for ‘recruitment.’ There are people desperate enough that even a single functioning vehicle is a target worth acquiring.” “And if your injuries are serious enough—” Spice Cake finished from behind them. “You won’t be able to change your mind and come to Equestria. Your death is an irreversible threshold.” “So is emigrating,” Olive said, her knuckles going white on her steering wheel. “Are you going to stop me, Glitch? Use all these controls to break my truck?” Glitch retreated a step, clutching at her chest. It didn’t seem like an act this time. “Captain, I would never do anything that might harm you. Your ‘truck’ is not mine to take, only to operate when requested or in cases of serious emergency where your reaction times are too slow. This isn’t a mutiny. I’m just… worried about you. We all are.” “And maybe we’re a little confused about what’s holding you back,” Aurora added. “Look outside, Olive. You’ve done your part. How many people will get to eat because of the tractors you brought? Or… won’t get sick because of the medicine you gave them? You’re acting too much like my sister. Stop trying to save the whole world, and be happy with what you’ve done.” She waved a hand dismissively at the screen. Maybe there was something to be said for retiring in peace. Or not even retiring, since going to Equestria would mean she could keep driving the trucks from that side without being in danger. But there was another part of her, one that wasn’t ignorant of Celestia’s constant manipulation of information. Once she went in, there was no guarantee she would ever interact with the real world again. At least out here, she knew her world was real. She could squeeze the leather grip on her steering wheel and feel the weight of steel and engine as they turned slowly to one side or the other. Even better, she could know it was her steering it, down the increasingly decrepit roads of what had once been a country she loved. As she drove, Olive passed many boarded-up buildings and entire neighborhoods just abandoned. The roads were covered with potholes—that was the damage caused by overuse, and there was hardly anyone driving anymore. Instead, the roads were covered with leaves in places, making it hard to tell where the highway began and the landscape around it ended, or an abandoned vehicle would obstruct several lanes. She wouldn’t have trusted herself to make the trip at highway speeds, not without her incredibly advanced suspension, hollow-fiber tires, and Glitch as her copilot. But with all that, she wasn’t afraid. “Nobody’s going to come for me,” she said, mostly to herself. “I’m one truck. People don’t even watch the highway anymore.” Glitch watched her from the screen, looking like she was on the edge of a nervous breakdown. But she didn’t try to take control of the truck. True to her word, she didn’t resist. “I’m not so sure that’s true, Olive. Maybe if this was just another diesel-burning hulk. But converted trucks stand out. They know who you’re driving for, and they know it means supplies.” Olive looked away, keeping her attention on the highway. Even only seeing a few other drivers a day, driving didn’t take less of her focus. If anything, she had to watch it much more actively for fallen trees and wildlife. The Gaians had gotten their way, even if it probably wasn’t how they liked. “It isn’t like I could emigrate easily if I did want to go,” she said. “The Experience Centers are all gone now. I’m pretty sure even hospitals don’t keep that stuff on hand anymore.” “No, but you do,” Glitch said. Not demanding. Just as she might point out any other observation. “The red emergency kit under your seat? There’s not just flares in there.” She rolled her eyes. “Now you’re shitting me. That thing isn’t even two feet across.” “Technology improves,” Aurora said. “You should’ve seen the way Celestia’s first ponies were brought over. Well you shouldn’t because it’s horrific. But she’s had a long time to perfect the system. Nothing is more important to her than protecting humans. You already knew she could predict the end of the world; you’ve been delivering tractors and seeds and solar paint all over the country. Don’t you think she knew that the Centers would be closed down too?” I could emigrate whenever I wanted. She slowed down a little from her aggressive driving, though it didn’t make much difference. There was no one out there to complain anyway. “How’s it work? You know, uh… in case something happens?” “It’s a pillow,” Glitch said. “You just lay down and close your eyes. Say the words and you’re here on the Pandorum with us for cider and karaoke by dinner.” And dead in the real world. “Buck, we’ve got a problem,” said her weapons officer, Gibson. The griffon was appropriately stern, with an eye-patch and ample scars. But that meant that everypony aboard respected his advice. “Captain, there’s a small aircraft closing on your position. Military quadcopter, matching your course exactly and gaining. The screen flashed, and suddenly she could see it behind her. One of the latest models, with a lower cabin suspended by four independently-rotating blades. It flew almost silently, or quiet enough that she hadn’t heard it over the sound of her wheels on the uneven freeway. “Is it armed?” Glitch asked, eyes wide. “Uh… wait, yes. Under the cabin, those tubes. Missile bays. Both look populated.” “Why the fuck would someone shoot a missile at—” The screen lit up with a brief flash of light. She could just barely make out the suggestion of something leaving the tube. “Oh god.” She barely even had time to think before it hit. A few seconds for regret, glancing sideways at the emergency case that might’ve got her out of here. She should’ve taken Celestia’s offer, or at least gone where she said it was safe. But she hadn’t, and now the consequences were— There was a flash of bright light outside her windows, and the screen flickered out. A few warning lights went up on her dashboard, before those too were silenced. The wheel locked up as power steering died. Where ancient vehicles might’ve rolled over, killing her against one of the high stone walls, her truck was better than that. She slowed to a stop rapidly, the breaks stopping her just fast enough that the airbags didn’t deploy, and she didn’t get her chest torn up on the seatbelt. Olive jerked to a stop in her truck a few seconds later, with only darkness around her on all sides. She sore loudly, twisting her key again to try and restart the engine. But that was just reflexive—her engine was a fuel cell now, there was nothing to “start.” Likewise, there was no way to keep going when the circuitry stopped working. “Glitch, are you there? I think I’m… think I’m dead in the water here.” She heard nothing in response—not from the ponypad, not from her old smartphone, just the sound of rotors growing louder. She glanced out one window, and she could see it approaching in her rear-view. The quadcopter was smaller than her truck, but still big enough to carry soldiers. They’d already opened the side door, and she could see them inside. Four men wearing digital camouflage, and carrying weapons. “Dammit.” She kicked the dash with one leg, praying to any god that might be listening for her old truck to come back to life. But it didn’t—the servers behind her stayed black, their flickering lights gone completely. It’s probably too late, she thought, unbuckling herself from her seat and rolling onto the floor. There was the emergency kit—a red pull tab, with big block letters printed all over it. Olive yanked, and the box slid easily out on wheeled tracks. There was the typical set of supplies—pouches of water, first aid kit, road flares, reflective triangles. Tools. And next to it all, a travel-sized pillow with Celestia’s cutie mark in one corner. Embroidered on its surface were the words I want to Emigrate to Equestria in cursive letters. But I’m not sure I do. Boots pounded on the pavement outside, and a second later soldiers were standing at her door. “US ARMY!” someone shouted. “OPEN THAT DOOR RIGHT NOW, OR WE OPEN IT FOR YOU!” It was too late. Olive dropped the pillow, then pulled the mechanical release on her passenger-side door. “On the ground!” bellowed one of the men from outside. “Do not move, and you will not be harmed! Stay where you are!” She did as she was told, cowering as they stomped over her. A few seconds later, and plastic cuffs cinched tight around her wrists. Two sets of strong arms lifted her from the truck, carrying her out into the street. They dropped her unceremoniously in the grass beside the truck. She chanced a single glance up and saw one of the soldiers remained by her side, aiming his light plastic rifle casually at her chest. He watched her skeptically. “Don’t try anything, please. I don’t want to shoot you.” “I don’t want to be shot,” she said, rolling onto her back. “I won’t do anything.” She watched powerlessly as they dismantled her truck. They didn’t just throw her belongings out onto the highway—they ripped the whole thing apart, bringing over a set of two engineers in jumpsuits who arrived with a wheeled cart to collect the parts they took. “What’s going on?” she asked, after a few minutes had passed and the one guarding her had relaxed. “I haven’t broken any laws. I was driving home to the, uh… LA resettlement center.” “You’ll have to walk,” he said, reaching down to help her into a sitting position. “Every bit of hardware manufactured by the Celestia intelligence has been commandeered for the war effort. You’ve got more of it here than the last few vehicles we seized.” A second helicopter arrived not long after, this one mostly empty except for the large cargo-cube on the bottom. Plenty of room for them to fill with the parts of her stolen truck. “So what, you take me down to LA instead?” she asked. “You’re not just going to leave me out here, are you?” “You’re lucky we don’t leave you with a fucking bullet in your head, collaborator,” said another voice—Olive couldn’t tell the soldiers apart, but this was certainly one of the ones who had been screaming at her. “Everybody doesn’t get hardware like this. You were working for her. You were a traitor to your country, and the human species.” The man guarding her—his patch said Wallace—only looked away until the other was gone. “They were hoping you’d resist. Standing orders are to treat anyone who does as a collaborator, and anyone who doesn’t as a useful idiot. I know it sucks, but keep your head down and you’ll live through this.” So she watched from the side of an overgrown shoulder lane as soldiers tore her home to pieces in front of her. They didn’t just take the hardware Celestia had installed to drive it—they even took her ponypad, and anything else that looked remotely like Celestia had something to do with it. It was just about sundown by the time they finished, and the helicopter full of cargo took off into the sky. Soldiers filed past her, watching her with contempt. “Come on, Wallace,” called one of the others from just behind him, gesturing back to the helicopter. “We’re done here.” “Alright.” He got up, stretching. He wasn’t even holding the gun anymore, just wearing it over the strap on his shoulder. “Just let me get her restraints—” “No,” the soldier said, expression harsh. “Leave her where she is. That’s an order.” Wallace gave her one last sympathetic glance, then saluted. “Aye, sir.” He hurried to keep up, climbing up into the quadcopter with the others. They left, scattering dust and bits of trash as they rose into the sky. Olive stared at the gutted corpse of her truck and cried. She couldn’t say how long—out in the desert, the night brought relief, though it would eventually get fairly cold. But she didn’t think about that, just looked in horror at what they’d done to her poor truck. It didn’t look like they’d just removed the parts they wanted to steal, even if that was their intention. It seemed, rather, like they’d taken a perverse joy in breaking everything they could, cracking windows and even dumping her water tank for no reason she could discern. She could still hear it glugging out onto the pavement, useless. As the sunset turned to night, she could hear the first coyotes, and even something she took to be the howl of a wolf. You made it damn far south to be here. But without so many people cutting their habitats down, that wasn’t so hard anymore. Eventually she rose, her arms still tweaked painfully behind her. She had to get these cuffs off, before she went completely crazy from the subtle pain of it. Even Wallace, apparently well-meaning though he’d been, had put them on tight. She stumbled up the steps, and nearly broke down crying again. The walls had been torn open, every picture was on the floor, every screen was either missing or shattered. No lights came on, and she heard no pony voices. They’d even taken the emergency kit, including the sun pillow. So they knew what those looked like too. She had knives in the kitchenette, now scattered on the floor. Olive bent down to scoop one up, her back protesting from the uncomfortable position she’d been in all day. She wasn’t a young woman anymore—this kind of lifestyle wasn’t for her. Still, she got her hands around one of the knives, turning it until it faced out at the hard-plastic strap. Then she started to cut. She could only move her hands back and forth by a few inches each time, and not exert much pressure. But slowly—so slowly it felt like hours—she worked her way through. Eventually the plastic snapped, and she dropped the knife, flopping sideways onto her bed. It was covered in trash now, and some of the foam had been torn up during the search, but she no longer cared. She didn’t care that her truck was essentially a wreck parked uselessly on the highway, or that the doors were open and animals or worse could just walk right in. She didn’t care about much of anything. Hours passed; she didn’t know how many. It was still dark when she finally awoke, to a distant sound coming from the highway around her. Olive sat up, listening. It was something heavy moving on the asphalt—definitely not an animal. She dropped down, moving on instinct now. There was a gun hidden in the drawer under her toiletries—and it was gone too. Of course it was. She took a fallen knife in one hand, keeping low and listening. She wasn’t entirely sure she could bring herself to actually use the weapon, but what else could she do? She wasn’t going to close her eyes and die, that was damn sure. The steps got closer, and she finally started to notice something strange about them. The rapidity of those footfalls she’d thought meant someone running, but they were getting closer much too slowly for that. And come to think of it, she knew that pattern. It wasn’t the way a human walked at all. It sounded like a pony. Olive kept low, leaning a little towards the broken window and glancing outside. There, walking straight down the center of the highway ahead of her, was a pony outline, in the real world. He even cast a shadow in the moonlight, tearing up bits of weeds and other refuse as he walked over them. She didn’t have to wonder about his destination. Wish it was you, Glitch. But still, apparently Celestia had noticed her predicament. The pony stopped just outside her truck, knocking politely on the edge of where her passenger door now hung crookedly. “Excuse me,” he said. “Are you in there, Olive?” That voice—it was instantly familiar to her, even if she’d never seen this particular pegasus before. But she didn’t even have a flashlight to hold up and get a better look at him. “I’m alive,” she said, slumping down against the wall. She let the knife clatter from her fingers, closing her eyes. “Barely. They didn’t seem to want me to be.” The pony hopped up into her truck, spreading his wings as he jumped. The frame jolted slightly under his weight—then she wasn’t just hallucinating. He really was here. But who was he? Why did that voice sound so familiar to her? “Well if this isn’t an abuse of power I don’t know what is,” he said, nudging a section of torn wall where a set of computers had been mounted. Olive never knew what they did, but they were gone now. “Obviously,” she answered, not even opening her eyes. “But who cares? They’ve got the guns. Whole country is under martial law now. I guess that means they can just rob whoever they want.” “I’d say it was just taxes,” the pony began. “But this doesn’t seem like something to joke about.” He opened the nearby fridge, removing an unopened water bottle from inside and tossing it to her with his mouth. “You look dehydrated. I can’t buy you a beer, but I can still tell you to take care of yourself.” Then it clicked. She didn’t recognize this pony because she’d never seen him as a pony before. They’d barely even known each other. “I forget your name,” she admitted. “We, uh… in that restaurant.” “Levi,” he said. “But most just call me Wise Counsel now. They have an easier time pronouncing it.” “You’re just…” She looked up at him again. She couldn’t quite get past just how uncanny it looked to see a pony standing in her truck. But then, the vehicle was destroyed, so why not her perceptions of what was possible? “You’re just standing here, in my truck. Real. I guess you emigrated.” “I did,” he admitted, looking away awkwardly. “Wasn’t much work left for me out there, if I’m being honest. Anyone with the money to hire us was moving to Switzerland, and anyway my daughter was…” He met her eyes again. “What about you, Olive? Are you going to trek across the desert to find a settlement?” “What choice do I have?” she asked, finally letting some of her frustration into her voice. “Celestia was supposed to… but she didn’t. I guess it’s probably not practical for her to watch out for every person on Earth.” “I don’t know what she can do,” Levi said. “But come on, I can show you what you can do.” They walked around to the back of the truck. She stumbled forward awkwardly, running one hand along her broken truck to keep herself from falling. The military had cut all the safety seals on her trailer, and opened it with no more respect than they did the truck itself. A few huge sacks of grain spilled out onto the floor, where they’d been sliced open to let the wheat dump out onto the cement. But the truck was packed, with plenty of still-wrapped pallets in back looking identical to the ones that had been sliced open. “There’s enough food and water here to make it pretty far. I know there’s a tent, sleeping bag, stove… if you travel at night and take shelter during the day, you might make it to Vegas. There’s an outpost there, one that can drive you to resettlement in LA.” Levi took a fallen box-cutter from the ground, offering it to her in his mouth. She took it, still adjusting to the strange ways his body moved. A pony wasn’t meant to exist in real life, yet he managed it without seeming nearly as awkward as she might expect. He moved like something alive, eyes glistening and wet, not some dead animatronic in an amusement park. “Second from the back, on the right side. Cut through the plastic to the red box. It doesn’t have stew like the others.” She didn’t even have to ask what would be waiting back there. As she climbed, Levi held a flashlight in his mouth, illuminating the floor and the random boxes the soldiers had cut into. But apparently food and medicine were too heavy for them, when they were on a mission to harvest modified car parts. She reached the plastic, cutting through with a few awkward strokes. She tore the box open, and several cans spilled out. Then in back was another box, with a pattern of more cans printed on one side. She fished it out, opening it. Another pillow popped out, filling with air as she broke the plastic seal. She carried it out under one arm, to where Levi waited on the cement. “Are those camping supplies real, or are you just saying they’re in here?” “Wing told me they’re here,” he said. “And she doesn’t lie to me. You wanna check together?” “No.” She slumped to the floor, holding the pillow in her arms. “Why didn’t you go before?” he asked, settling down on his haunches beside her. To her surprise, Olive could feel the warmth radiating from him. Against the chill of the desert wind, he seemed alive. “Here comes the lecture,” she muttered. “I’m not!” He spread his wings defensively. “I’m just curious. You’ve been working for Celestia all this time, you don’t seem like you’d be afraid of her.” “I’m…” She winced. The wind was picking up, lifting clouds of dust from the sand swept wasteland on either side of the freeway. No signs of other motorists, just deserted freeway and a few night birds overhead. “I’m not afraid of Celestia. But I’m afraid of being dead. What if she’s wrong? What if everyone who ever went to Equestria is wrong? Maybe the president and all her soldiers are right, and we really should just fight this threat to the species with everything we have.” “Maybe,” he answered. “But the president and her soldiers could’ve asked you to pull over, and given you a ride back. If I had to choose between trusting somebody like that, or the ones who came to make sure I was okay, I know whose side I would be on.” She winced, looking down at the pillow again. There was the sun cutie mark, seeming to look back at her. “It’s just… more of the same, isn’t it? If I stay here. Maybe the next ones who point a gun at me won’t care if they kill me or not.” “Probably won’t,” he agreed. “There’s already fighting. Not everyone is happy about being forced to live in resettlement zones. People will die on both sides. And they’ll probably get hungry eventually.” He looked back up at the truck, and its huge pallets of food. “We aren’t self-sufficient the way we used to be. Our whole globalism thing worked too well. Everypony needed everypony else. Too many pieces are missing.” You are here to lecture me. But she didn’t yell, just adjusted the pillow in his lap. “What was it like?” she asked, gently. “When you, uh… when you did it?” “Closed my eyes,” he began. “Woke up somewhere better. I haven’t regretted it for a second.” She hesitated. “Will you, uh… It would be nice to have someone to show me around who isn’t, er… on my crew.” It sounded so stupid when she said it that she wanted to take her words back, but it was already too late. “I mean… not that I don’t care about what you think.” “Relax.” He settled one hoof on her shoulder. “I’d be happy to. I think you’ll be happy with what’s waiting. Or I could hike with you to Las Vegas. Up to you.” She looked again at her broken truck, felt the aches in her arms and back. I’m not getting any younger. But Levi did. What does an old pony look like, anyway? She didn’t even know. She tossed the pillow down onto the ground next to him. “Keep an eye on me, will you? I don’t know how long this…” “No time at all,” he said. He was right.