Trucksong by Andrew Macrae

Author:Andrew Macrae
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Published: 2013-11-24T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12

Coming out of the ranges there was a body twisting in the branches of a tree as we ran for the pass between the mountains and the sea of the east. Sign of the dead man’s hand on the road to the gigacity and the secrets that were buried there. And the scrub was a blur of grey and green and the road was a line of black light out in front of us. The sun shined high in the sky and the far off white clouds were whispers of fine hair on the head of an old woman looking down on the earth below with grief in her yeller eyes.

We were moving fast through the last of the mountains’ small feet before the flat in front of the coast, dust clouded up behind us. Truck action blipped on the screen. It came up faster and faster behind as we rolled. I tossed through the freeks looking for a tag but there was none. I thought: brumby for sure, running dark. It brought a smile to me face because it meant we were on the right track. And Sinnerman reckonised it too, there was a hearty thump in the system as the truck felt the loss of its partner and a rush of vengance flushed through the IV into me arm and pulled me tight and alert and ready for the chase. A spurt of blood and a spinning head through the link as me and Sinner both saw the shapes of the Brumby King and its Left Tenant looming in the glooming dust behind us in the viewscreen. The Brumby King, a hulking black monster of dusty dented panels and scratched paintwork, next to its Left Tenant, a white bastard with blue trim and a toothy grin in its grill. The Left Tenant was lighter and fast, it didn’t carry no load and so it come up sweet and fast right behind us. The King following at a distance. I hit Sinnerman with some more juice through the link and it picked up the pace, swaying a bit on the road as I blinked the patch home to its truckstream.

Them two brumbies were testing us out, and Sinnerman was showing off as well. The Left Tenant matched speeds and they peacocked their flashy decals and painted glyphs to each other. The Left’s grinning chrome grill was up in the rear viewscreen. It was proud as, kicking up a dust storm behind and coming on up beside us then, out gunning Sinnerman for sure in pure speed. Sinnerman’s paintwork glowed blinding white and sharp red in the sun. The pair of them sped up and slowed down, and in the shadow of the Brumby King, they did the dance of the highway driving rig, one following the other in front, and pretty soon they wanted to take things to the next level. So with Sinnerman leading, they slowed up and pulled in to a flat spot where they could move to the rocking stage.

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