Peter was in the midst of helping Roadkill out with the semi-truck when the woman burst out screaming. His head involuntarily whipped around to see what the commotion was about, but things began to calm very quickly before he could really stop what he was doing and move that way.

He radioed Trask, "Trask, you okay there? Found a non-hostile survivor?"

In reply to Peter Firecrow (msg # 176):

Trask replies to the radio message.

"Yes it would seem so, just getting details now. Looks to have been another group that caused this mess and they have just left."

-

In reply to Brother Edgar (msg # 174):

The woman, with dark hair streaked with a little grey and brown eyes, calmed down and introduced herself. She looked to be in her thirties or early forties.

"I'm Marcela. I don't really know what happened here. It all started late last night at the roadhouse. Somethin' happened, some kind of fight.Jerry went out to join the posse formed by the town Marshall, Itson. I went down in the bomb shelter out back with our kids and the neighbor kids. I don't know what happened after that, there was a lot of shootin' and yellin', it lasted all night. Me and the oldest, Bobby Lee, we got the other kids out through the fence and into the forest. I came back to help Jerry out. This was about an hour ago.

"I managed to get into the jail through the back door. I looked out at the square. I seen five, maybe six cars. Real nice, must have cost a lot before the war! Never seen them before. Plus a semi, probably one from out at the Roadhouse. There was maybe a half dozen of them, men and women, all in leather and soldier gear. They had Jerry and another guy, some biker, and Jerry. They were both on their knees. There was a woman, I think she was the leader. She says to them they'd see if the biker, named "Cargo", I think, see if he  or Jerry were good enough to "join their ranks" by the time they got to the river, whatever that means. The Cargo dude was meaner but she said Jerry was cuter. The loser would get "eaten". All the others, they laughed.

"Then they all got back in their cars. The biker got on his hoverbike. Jerry went in the woman's car. They took off, going south. But from what they said I think they were actually heading to the Mississippi."

Brother Edgar listened attentively to the woman's story, making it quite plain that she had his full attention and was being taken seriously.  Upon the completion of said tale, he offered, "I think we may be able to help you.  We were, in fact, looking for this biker.  But, our rig is needing some quick repairs before we can move out.  You mentioned there were children hiding in the forest?"

Trask moved forward and checked the Humvee while waiting for an answer. He was looking for weapons or ammunition and to see whether a support weapon was mounted to the gun ring.

-

In reply to Brother Edgar (msg # 179):

"I checked and they're ok. The kids, I mean. It's just my husbad I'm worried about Jerry. If you need to fix something, please hurry!"

The Humvee was a police vehicle so in addition to a light bar there was an empty shotgun bracket on the dash board and a lock-box in the trunk. There were also what looked to be first aid equipment in the trunk.

In reply to Marcela (msg # 181):

With some desperate work, the semi was cleared of debris from the fence and gate.

As they waited, an impatient-seeming Marcela called to "Bobby Lee" out in the forest, convincing him it was ok to come out.. A young man in his late teens  led about a dozen children out of hiding.

"One last thing. Your biker friend, the one it looked like that gang was trying to recruit? He said they needed to head south towards the coast. I don't think there's much there anymore. But that's where I think they'll head.

"Now, let's get moving!"

Her son, Bobby Lee, didn't seem to sure about being left alone with a dozen children to take care of. But it was his dad that was missing. "I guess I understand, if they got dad and all. Good luck!"

Brother Edgar waited patiently by Marcela while the truck was being fixed, though he did suggest to Trask at one point, "Perhaps you could perform another scan or survey of the town for....anything else that we might be leaving behind?"

After the children arrived, the radpriest gave them a quick visual inspection for any obvious hurts or pressing health issues.  He asked Marcela, "The police station seemed to secure you through the night, perhaps we could set the children up there until we return?"

"Lets take the humvee, I can probably fit and there is a lock box in here that may have some weapons and ammo."

OOC: Not sure if this is the pickup or soft top version.

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In reply to Increase Trask (msg # 184):

Searching the dozen buildings in the town proper would take time.

Meanwhile, Marcela seemed to think the police station was a good idea and got the children organised to hide there fore safekeeping for now. It was fortified as a kind of redoubt and so was probably as safe as anyplace.

She said, "I don't know about you but I'm takin' the Humvee. I got the keys! I am going to get my husband, then we're going to leave here. Go to where I know some family, about a day's drive west in Texas.

"If we're going, let's go."

Brother Edgar gave a quick nod to both Trask and then Marcela, "Of course.  Would you mind if I rode with you?"  He didn't really wait for the answer; confident that he could guess it.  He stepped over to the passenger door and opened it, then glanced in the back...then slowly back over to the power-armored soldier, "I'm....  uncertain this is the best vehicle to carry you."  He looked to Crichton, "Perhaps you could ride with us?"  Even as he asked, the Doomsayer was already climbing into the "shotgun" seat of the Humvee.

"Yes, I'll get back on board the rig." Trask makes his way back to his previous position.

-

In reply to Increase Trask (msg # 187):

It took 20 minutes to get the rig free without additional damage. This was with Smoker and Crichton's help, as they were expert mechanics. Although Marcela was impatient she recognised the importance of having more than her along. Plus now her remaining family was safer.

"Sure... Padre? You can come with me." Marcela got in the driver's side door and put her shotgun back in the bracket. She put the key in the ignition. "Let's go?"

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 188):

While searching the town, Jane checked out the bad guys' escape route.

"We know they didn't go east to the Interstate because that's where we were. If they are going towards the ruins of New Orleans they won't have gone north. I checked the south and east perimeter. I mean, west perimeter. Looks like they took a western route out of town. There's kind of a rear gate there that looks like it sees a lot of use. It goes into the forest. Kind of a jungle, really."
This message was last edited by the GM at 07:52, Sun 16 Sept 2018.

In reply to Jane Guin (msg # 189):

Marcela replied, "oh yeah, there's a speedway out on that road. Folks around here like to race. It's about a mile down the road."

  After the rig was cleared Chricton goes to the Humvee and climbs into the back. "Gods this takes me back." is all he says as he lets the memories both good and bad wash over him for a moment.

Peter helped out with the rig as much as he could. He listened to what the various people had to say when they returned (as he hadn't been near enough to hear Marcela's story) and raised one eyebrow at the humvee being loaded up. He gave a nod to Brother Edgar as the radiation priest boarded the humvee instead.

He looked at Jane directly when made her 'report' and frowned. "We need to catch up to them before they get to the river apparently so no one gets...eaten." He mounted back up in the technical and, when everyone was ready, started heading out after the...whoever this group was that had taken Cargo and Jerry.

Smoker finished clearing up and scrambled back up to his usual perch.

In reply to Smoker Nix (msg # 193):

They saddled up, eager to head out in pursuit of Kargo and the fiends that destroyed the waster town. It seemed possible that their meeting here was deliberate and not accidental, that Kargo had arranged to meet them here. But why?

The Humvee with Marcela acting as guide was in the lead, followed by the technical and then the rig. The road out the west gate turned to head southwest through the deep forest. Kudzu-smothered and Spanish moss-draped trees and lush bushes crowded the crumbling roadway, overgrowing the soft shoulder.

After a mile or so they passed a sign that announmced:




Soon they came to a wide open area where space for a large-ish oval racetrack of red dirt surrounded by safety fencing sat next to a small lake. There were some small portable style prefab buildings lining the pit area. Beside that sat a small uncovered grandstand. Ads for long-gone auto-related products and businesses (STP, PENNZOIL, HELLSTROMME MOTORSPORTS, BIG TEXAS AUTO PARTS, THRUSH FILTERS, etc.) were plastered to most surfaces. This had been a real rural racetrack where backwoods racers with high-octane fuel in their veins battled it out on dirt tracks for purses not worth much more than a few months rent. Aside from adverts for hover racing every Thursday this track probably hadn't changed much in a hundred years.

Unlike the countless burned-out ruins they had passed this seemed to be relatively well-maintained. While the buildings could use a coat of paint they were free of the clutches of the relentless Kudzu vines and Spanish moss that festooned everything in Louisiana that remained motionless for more than a week. Vandals, salvagers and looters had not stripped the place and then set it on fire as often happened to abandoned postwar structures.

The parking lot between the road and track was more red dirt, and strewn across it in a line were several well-maintained looking muscle and racing cars, nose-to-tail.

In reply to The Marshall (msg # 194):

Looking over at the track as they came up to it, Marcela said, "I think this track's been here for a long time. People here still could race because there's fuel and lubricant from the oil wells.

"That's odd... those cars, those belong to Big Frank. Used to, I think he's dead now. I saw them yesterday. They were on a transporter being hauled by Big Frank's rig. Looks like someone stole the rig, dumped the cars. But why would they need a transporter and rig, and not the cars?"

They remembered how back in town a little while ago they heard a rig start up, masked by the unnatural fog. This could have been it.

"There's a fuel tank for ghost rock, one for diesel and one for petrol. Let's stop and top up. I've only got a quarter tank left and no telling how long we are going to be running!"

  "Guide says we should probably top off the tanks guys." Chricton radios as he gets out of the Hummvee. "Got the works on fuel. Seems they dumped the cars but kept the rig. Weird."

Brother Edgar eyed the place warily.  Too clean.  Too neat.  Too easy.  Nothing in his experiences across this blasted wasteland West was ever so...pristine.  As Chrichton radioed, the Doomsayer asked Marcela, "Have you gotten fuel here before?  Who maintains this place?"

In reply to Brother Edgar (msg # 197):

"The owner was Big Frank. He was partners with a couple other people in town. I guess some people just like to race, and the oil wells in town gave them the opportunity. I've never fueled up here before because I ain't a racer."

She got out and began fueling up the Humvee.

Trask will provide cover from the rig while they investigate. As they arrive near the track he will make a scan of their surroundings to see if they are alone. And due to his nature he keeps and eye out for a nice truck amongst the supped up cars.


-

Peter was wondering what was going on, what the game was - and it DID feel like a game, like a setup to him. He wasn't sure who was behind it, but something felt off and very wrong. And then there was a speedway, one that was like in pristine condition, not looted or destroyed, and NOT covered with the fucking plant life that was everywhere else. His hackles were up.

He heard the radio chatter from Crichton and hesitated. "Keep your eyes peeled. This feels strange. Could be a trap." Unsaid was 'or worse'. "I will wait until she is done fueling before I go in." Yes, he was being paranoid, and they were probably just losing time to his over-cautiousness, but he didn't care.