The Wasted West

Speed (Pt 2)

A letter from Hera Sumi to her mentor, Hal Morgan

Well, I’m back. Obviously, since you’re reading these. Assuming the postman made it to you, of course. We successfully got the semi, the bomb, and ourselves back to Junkyard in more or less the same condition as when we left Carson City. The head of Junkyard wasn’t exactly excited when we pulled into town with an unexploded GR bomb, but he did let us back in and the bomb is now under lock and key while the techies are dismantling it.

Funny story, we were seriously worried that we might explode for a bit on the way back. Turns out the doomsayers had stuck a timer on the bomb, and it started making awful noises. I drove as carefully as I could while Phee fiddled around with it in the back with Bo’s assistance (I wasn’t kidding when I said I wouldn’t let him behind a wheel again). Unfortunately in her rush to fix it she cut a wrong wire or something and the beeping got worse. Fortunately, we didn’t explode. Turns out the holy bomb that dropped on Carson and has been worshipped ever since for sparing their fair city was faulty.

That’s about it for now. Bo’s off drawing up designs for his shiny new still with the copper pipes he haggled (I don’t think he actually knows anything about distillery, but he can confuse you enough with words to sound convincing if you ask him about it), and Rosa’s amusing herself during her recovery (she’s a little confused about what transpired over the past couple days, but that could be for the best) by watching Phee paint flames on the truck that we stole (you have no idea how gleeful Phee is to finally have her own set of wheels to tinker with – we may be the only rusty old semi in 1,000 miles to sport a fresh coat of painted flames).

Hera

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Xphile Shaldis

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