The desert stretched for miles and miles in every direction like a vast gash of red dust with cacti and twisted, jagged vehicles reduced to scrap metal clinging to the wound.
Owen was in a truck that sped along the old broken road but he knew if he stood still out in the desert and scanned the horizon there’d be no sight of life or movement as far as the eye could see. The best one could hope for was a hot breath of wind that would swirl dust around. Nothing to indicate life except an eddy of dust. The only sign the world still lived.
Darcy navigated the truck northward along the highway waiting for a sign from Owen as to where he should turn off. They were in pursuit of a job they’d heard about with the infamous Sierra Madre gang. Owen knew how to find them so he withheld the information forcing Darcy to drive while he drank himself into a barely cognizant stupor.
Every now and again he would nod off to sleep and Darcy would slap him across the chest with the back of his hand to wake him up.
It was the dust. It was the dust that drove Owen to near madness. Dust drifting about the windows. Dust filtering through the buff he kept bunched around his mouth and nose. The sky red with dust, smoke from campfires were a bloody billowing. Always dust down in the creases of his skin. Irritating his feet, eyes, hands, mouth, nose, ears.
The land was shifting from sand dunes to something harder and more rocky, but no less dusty. The landscape was dotted with plateaus. Once upon a time billions, or was it millions, of years ago this valley was filled with water. When the tectonic plates crashed together mountains formed jutting above crystalline waters. During the ice age, monstrous icebergs and glaciers migrated and sheared the tops of the mountains clean off leaving them with flat tops.
Owen liked the plateaus, he imagined at least three times a week scaling one and jumping off. Taking a one-way plunge thru the dust once and for all. For him it was either throw his fucking self off a plateau or burn in the sun. For now he burned.
They were getting close. It was the skull that dangled, winding and unwinding in gusts of wind, tied to an old Pepsi billboard Refreshing! that told him the turn off was soon. Owen sat up. He peered through his binoculars scanning the horizon for the point. It would be easy to miss.
“There.” He slapped at Darcy’s arm with a black leather gloved hand that was almost rubbery from the alcohol consumption. His muscles slack and useless. His other hand pointed firm. Made of metallic alloys and cybernetics, it wouldn't matter how drunk he got, it wouldn’t go slack when his BAC increased. Having been assaulted numerous times over the mechanics and hardware in that damn arm he kept it covered at all times and did his best to ensure nobody felt the metal beneath his sleeve and glove.
How many men had he killed for getting that strange glint in their eyes when they’d discovered that arm? Well if he threw himself off a plateau they could certainly have it.
“There. See the grill of that old Ford. Turn right after that. Follow through the plateaus there and we should see ‘em.”
Sierra Madre. He hoped they weren’t killed on sight or stripped of their gear. He rather liked their old truck. The thing was a veritable tank, spiked tires, extra grill on the front made of criss crossing rebars for ramming things, and his favorite part: the alligator skull they’d fastened as a hood ornament. It gave a little je ne sais quois kind of aesthetic. Plus the extended bed in the back held their two dirt bikes, weapons and other gear, and was suitable enough to sleep in.
Nah, he would die before he let someone take their truck. He imagined Darcy would too.
The truck crept towards a camp that grew from a speck into something sprawling. It was larger than even expected and more intricate.
Owen rolled the window down and found himself leaning out of the truck and yelling, “JULIANNA. HEY JULIANNAAAAAA.”
He didn’t even know this woman, the gang leader, but that wouldn’t stop him from calling for her like an annoyed boyfriend trying to get his girl to open the door to the room she’d locked him out of.
“Well lookee here!” Owen stumbled out of the truck before it even came to a halt on the edge of the camp. “You boys got yourself something going on.” He was really addressing anyone who would listen. He pulled his leather jacket back into place after stumbling over himself and kicked at the dusty ground with his worn out boots. His swagger was part because he couldn’t help but not walk that way and part from the alcohol and part from the long drive. He had his thumbs tucked down into the front pockets of his tight dark jeans stained with red dust.
“Say, Julianna around? Gotta have a word with that girl.”
Owen was in a truck that sped along the old broken road but he knew if he stood still out in the desert and scanned the horizon there’d be no sight of life or movement as far as the eye could see. The best one could hope for was a hot breath of wind that would swirl dust around. Nothing to indicate life except an eddy of dust. The only sign the world still lived.
Darcy navigated the truck northward along the highway waiting for a sign from Owen as to where he should turn off. They were in pursuit of a job they’d heard about with the infamous Sierra Madre gang. Owen knew how to find them so he withheld the information forcing Darcy to drive while he drank himself into a barely cognizant stupor.
Every now and again he would nod off to sleep and Darcy would slap him across the chest with the back of his hand to wake him up.
It was the dust. It was the dust that drove Owen to near madness. Dust drifting about the windows. Dust filtering through the buff he kept bunched around his mouth and nose. The sky red with dust, smoke from campfires were a bloody billowing. Always dust down in the creases of his skin. Irritating his feet, eyes, hands, mouth, nose, ears.
The land was shifting from sand dunes to something harder and more rocky, but no less dusty. The landscape was dotted with plateaus. Once upon a time billions, or was it millions, of years ago this valley was filled with water. When the tectonic plates crashed together mountains formed jutting above crystalline waters. During the ice age, monstrous icebergs and glaciers migrated and sheared the tops of the mountains clean off leaving them with flat tops.
Owen liked the plateaus, he imagined at least three times a week scaling one and jumping off. Taking a one-way plunge thru the dust once and for all. For him it was either throw his fucking self off a plateau or burn in the sun. For now he burned.
They were getting close. It was the skull that dangled, winding and unwinding in gusts of wind, tied to an old Pepsi billboard Refreshing! that told him the turn off was soon. Owen sat up. He peered through his binoculars scanning the horizon for the point. It would be easy to miss.
“There.” He slapped at Darcy’s arm with a black leather gloved hand that was almost rubbery from the alcohol consumption. His muscles slack and useless. His other hand pointed firm. Made of metallic alloys and cybernetics, it wouldn't matter how drunk he got, it wouldn’t go slack when his BAC increased. Having been assaulted numerous times over the mechanics and hardware in that damn arm he kept it covered at all times and did his best to ensure nobody felt the metal beneath his sleeve and glove.
How many men had he killed for getting that strange glint in their eyes when they’d discovered that arm? Well if he threw himself off a plateau they could certainly have it.
“There. See the grill of that old Ford. Turn right after that. Follow through the plateaus there and we should see ‘em.”
Sierra Madre. He hoped they weren’t killed on sight or stripped of their gear. He rather liked their old truck. The thing was a veritable tank, spiked tires, extra grill on the front made of criss crossing rebars for ramming things, and his favorite part: the alligator skull they’d fastened as a hood ornament. It gave a little je ne sais quois kind of aesthetic. Plus the extended bed in the back held their two dirt bikes, weapons and other gear, and was suitable enough to sleep in.
Nah, he would die before he let someone take their truck. He imagined Darcy would too.
The truck crept towards a camp that grew from a speck into something sprawling. It was larger than even expected and more intricate.
Owen rolled the window down and found himself leaning out of the truck and yelling, “JULIANNA. HEY JULIANNAAAAAA.”
He didn’t even know this woman, the gang leader, but that wouldn’t stop him from calling for her like an annoyed boyfriend trying to get his girl to open the door to the room she’d locked him out of.
“Well lookee here!” Owen stumbled out of the truck before it even came to a halt on the edge of the camp. “You boys got yourself something going on.” He was really addressing anyone who would listen. He pulled his leather jacket back into place after stumbling over himself and kicked at the dusty ground with his worn out boots. His swagger was part because he couldn’t help but not walk that way and part from the alcohol and part from the long drive. He had his thumbs tucked down into the front pockets of his tight dark jeans stained with red dust.
“Say, Julianna around? Gotta have a word with that girl.”
Bitch, I'm limited edition.
The following 1 user Likes saronym's post: megs
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Burnt Umber [Closed] - by megs - 05-12-2017, 03:13 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by saronym - 05-13-2017, 01:13 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by megs - 05-13-2017, 01:59 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by saronym - 05-13-2017, 08:56 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by megs - 05-15-2017, 02:24 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by saronym - 05-16-2017, 01:20 AM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by megs - 05-18-2017, 08:42 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by saronym - 05-22-2017, 08:32 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by megs - 05-24-2017, 08:17 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by saronym - 05-30-2017, 11:40 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by megs - 06-04-2017, 01:02 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by saronym - 06-05-2017, 02:45 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by megs - 06-11-2017, 12:14 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by saronym - 06-17-2017, 10:55 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by megs - 06-21-2017, 10:06 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by saronym - 06-22-2017, 03:05 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by megs - 06-22-2017, 07:31 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by saronym - 06-23-2017, 12:45 AM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by megs - 06-23-2017, 01:39 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by saronym - 06-23-2017, 07:26 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by megs - 06-23-2017, 08:23 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by saronym - 06-25-2017, 02:56 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by megs - 06-27-2017, 09:14 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by saronym - 06-28-2017, 09:48 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by megs - 06-30-2017, 09:20 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by saronym - 07-12-2017, 06:12 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by megs - 07-14-2017, 07:00 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by saronym - 07-25-2017, 11:10 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by megs - 08-08-2017, 06:04 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by saronym - 08-10-2017, 08:09 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by megs - 08-10-2017, 08:35 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by saronym - 08-14-2017, 11:54 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by megs - 10-09-2017, 07:22 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by saronym - 10-30-2017, 03:50 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by megs - 11-06-2017, 05:06 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by saronym - 11-16-2017, 11:16 AM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by megs - 01-05-2018, 06:11 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by saronym - 01-07-2018, 03:09 AM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by megs - 05-30-2018, 02:34 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by saronym - 06-11-2018, 07:38 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by saronym - 11-28-2018, 09:19 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by megs - 11-18-2018, 04:30 PM
RE: Burnt Umber [Closed] - by megs - 08-24-2019, 09:04 AM