- Extract -
“So… we right direction?”
Jerald's statement was more accusation than question. The 'accused' watched him with eyes like black ice. The other three circled them, still a loose-knit group after six days in close company. The women were Nye and Kismet. The men: Jerald, Thomas, and Olain.
In the murderous fahrenheit of an endless summer, it was Kismet who stood toe to toe, if not eye to eye, with Jerald. Since they had come together on this journey there’d been no love lost between the two.
Nye stepped in, cooing mediation. “Please. Our quest is almost over.”
They were five strangers whose paths had crossed on the way to Syti, the place where Earth's population converged as one corporate laboratory. All had left their villages to travel. Four had left behind the braying scorn of their people.
One had left a pile of unbleached bones.