the smuggler’s bible

Fiona

Fiona wakes up with her forehead stuck against the steering wheel with dried blood from a cut over her eye. The dune they plowed into has swallowed the hood. All she can see through the spiderweb cracks in the windshield is sand and blue sky.

The cat is mewling in the back seat. She scoops it into a bag with rations and ammo, then crawls through a window and starts walking.

After an hour she finds three skulls nailed to a wooden spike beside the road.

“Great,” Fiona says, trudging past with the sun hot against her back. “A faction.”