The Face of Your Father [BWNN]

[Eighteen]

It was called the Endless Dunes for a reason. There were dunes as far as the eye could see. Although some would say that dunes of ice were a possible thing, out here, they were as dry and hot as the deepest pits of hell. If one wasn't careful they would find themselves becoming wrinkled husks of their former selves in the glare of the sun above. The inhabitants of this realm were prepared, or rather, had adapted to the harsh climate. Some had stumbled into the wasteland with curiosity brimming from their eyes, others had simply become a part of this place. While those who entered, often times became trapped, those who were created knew no better.

That's where Caret came in. There was only the sunset and the sunrise in her world. The glow of the sand was the very best thing. When night came over the world it was dark, and cold, and a lifeless place. This was when she usually slipped away and tinkered and fiddled with bobs and ends. The daytime was when she enjoyed the heat and the endless hills that went until the end of the world. It wasn't just the sand, though, that made her eyes blaze like little bulbs in her head. It was what they held.

Within the dunes lived a trove of treasure, well, treasure in her eyes. She scavenged the landscape for hours, or days, looking for scraps of metal and forgotten technologies. It was never a disappointment, even if all she could find was copper wire. “This stuff is not easy to get!” she would boast whilst sauntering through Shepherd's home. Mostly he would stare incredulously at the girl, but she was something of a gift in this world of sand and sun. Sometimes the things she brought back were not so useless.

Caret came back with a little more than usual from her last trip. She'd been minding her own business in the norther quarters, avoiding the Town With No Name as she was wont to do. Anyone who knew better would have avoided the sounds that erupted in the distance, surprisingly, away from the town. Not her, though. Where there was a fight, there was something worth salvaging.

Normally she left the dead to dying, and when the victors scattered...she stayed like a vulture. Waiting, and waiting, and finally claiming the spoils that were so easy to obtain. With goggles on her head, she jumped over piles of sand and cooling brittle glass to inspect the beautiful treasure that was the big ass truck left behind.

“Oh, you poor thing,” she exclaimed as she paid no mind to the bleeding corpse a few meters away. “Someone has run you ragged. Well, I can fix that.” Her gloved hands felt no heat from the metal as she pried up the hood. It was like Christmas in there, and her little mind swirled, until she was interrupted by the sound of the living.

If it hadn't been for sticking around with Shepherd, she would have left the bandit in the sun. She wouldn't have had a second thought. Her hands easily could have fiddled with wires and had that engine running. Caret didn't need keys. However, she heard his voice in the back of her head. The same voice she'd been hearing for Omni knows how long. So, reluctantly, and with trepidation, she salvaged one truck and one living person.

Rubbing at one raccoon eye, the tired techie walked into the old fashioned house with a little yawn. It was a quiet day, and she'd been working all night on that engine. It was a beautiful thing, and not often found, which made her so eager to sacrifice sleep for pleasure. She hadn't even noticed the time slipping away...but, such was her life.

Naturally she sought out the grey haired man, but stopped when a female voice fell into the hallway, “So you're another person without a name. I thought that all primes had a name?”

The youth heard Shepherd's retort, and then the gruesome silence that followed. Even out in the hallway she could feel the tension. Last she'd heard, the bandit was a hot mess on her way to the graveyard. It would appear that the old man was just as useful as always.

Heavy boots clunked onto wooden floorboards, and the door to the room opened. Young Caret strolled in with a toothy smile, and goggles nestled like they lived in her messy copper hair. Pig tails fell to both sides, and a smattering of freckles kissed at her cheeks. For a girl that loved the dunes, she didn't have much of a tan. It helped to have heavy gear to cover her from the vicious elements.

At home, however, she wore high leggings just past her knees with heavy boots that looked way too big for her. Thigh length, skin tight shorts with red trim matched her tank top which buttoned up along her slim boyish figure. Both of the occupants of the room looked in her direction, to which she gave a hearty reply.

“Hi,” with one hand scratching the back of her head and the other giving something of a wave, Caret looked all kinds of strange in this world of bandits and cowboys. “Er,” she began, smile faltering. Her maroon coloured eyes looked to Shepherd for assistance.

“Ah, yes, here is someone with a name I can offer,” he turned in his seat and gestured toward the girl. “This is Caret. She's the resident engineer, and she's the one that found you."

“Oh, yes,” she clasped her hands together in slight excitement. “It's been forever since I'd gotten my hands on a truck like that. How old is it? Did you build it? What fuel were you using?” the questions came faster than her breathing, and she had to stop to catch her breath. Which was fine, because Shepherd was standing up and gesturing for her to stop before she could start again.

“Our friend needs her rest, she isn't well enough for your questions today.”

Caret's lips pursed and pulled to the side in confusion, showing the beginnings of a pout. To her, the bandit looked well enough to answer. What did it matter if she was sweating, or bleeding, or whatever else there was going on? There were important things she needed answered, like how much mileage the truck had and how efficient it was on fuel.