November 3rd, 1977
The crisp evening air smelt of dying dreams and gasoline. Although fall had long
cast it?s hand in the yearly cycle of life, Nevada?s days where still long and hot. However,
once the sun began to set, the winds quickly cooled the desert?s sparse landscape. The
pump dinged off gallon after gallon of high octane Axxon gasoline into my Picard
Piranha?s fuel tank. It had only been a little over a year since I had ran from my life, my
first life of this lifetime. In New Jersey, another life was lived, a life with friendship, trust,
and peace. That person no longer existed, no longer breathed, he was dead and buried
deep inside my tattered memories. No sooner then I arrived here, then did death and
destruction haunt my every waking moment. Recently, even sleep was becoming filled
with nightmares. Hopefully the medication the AVA?s physicians had prescribed would
help me sleep and calm my nerves. There was still some enjoyment to ths new life. New
friends, new quests, if you want to call it that. Every moment you felt alive, maybe that is
way deathed dogged vigilanties, it could smell the overwhelming offensive oder of us
mocking his designs.
?Sorry Anubis, you?ll have to wait until you can orate my death rights.? I joked out loud,
my thoughts wandering over a brief self-refresh of old religious ideology.
A little overflow of gasoline swished out the lip of the gas tank. I removed the
nozzle and placed it back on the pump?s handle. A glance at the read out numbers told me
I would be down thirty dollars for this fill up. It was still hard for me to believe how high
the gas prices had been sky rocketing. Once in awhile they would stabilize, but not for
more then a week, then they would rise another penny or two a gallon.
As I dug my wallet out from the front pocket on my blue jeans, the gas station
attendant came strolling lazily up. He was a short older man, wearing a tattered Axxon
hat, a oily rag hung limply from his pant?s pocket as he leaned against the pump.
?Thats a mighty nice car you have their friend,? he said with a friendly smile. ?Ya Redline
Fox arn?t ya??
With a slight bit of apprehension I replied, ?Yes sir..?
Still with a smile on his face, he said ?Ahh don?t be shy now son; I?ve aint got much to do
out here cept listen to my ol scanner. Could prob identify half the creeper and vigilantes in
the Southwest if I do declare.?
Although I was refreshed by his good natured disposition, it was never good to stay out in
the open for to long. I pulled a collection of bills equaling thirty bucks out of my wallet,
but the old timer held up his hand in protest.
?Now now..? He said, ?If it wasn?t for people like ya, I prob would have lost my business
by now, or even worse. Ya just hang on to that for some food and such things.?
I thanked him, and with a wink he went back inside his little office/garage.
Opening the car door, I was about to slide in when I heard the dull droning of approaching
engines. My radar had been turned off, so I did not have advanced warning. As the sound
grew closer, I could tell that it was more then just one car approaching. My fear?s where
confirmed as a line of armed auto?s came barreling down the highway. They all slowed
and pulled into the gas station?s parking lot one after another. The lead car was a jet-black
70?Dover Lightning with a pair of Aim-Nein missiles on its roof. It pulled right up to the
direct opposite side of the pumps from me. Behind it a white 70 or so Potomac Phoenix
with no visible weapons, then a faded orange Jefferson Sovereign toting a pair of roof
mounted mortars, and finally a flame thrower armed silver Pheadra Palomino with the
word ?Metal? written real big on the hood with a hand giving the devil sign.
If they meant any ill-will, then trying to fight off all four of them would be almost
impossible, so I stood leaning on my car?s door, waiting for the drivers to get out. The
sun?s glare made it difficult to see into the window of the Lightning next to me.