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   Chapter 12 No.12

Prodigal Sun By Christina Engela Characters: 5696

Updated: 2018-07-04 19:01


For Tracey, it was a pleasant drive in the passenger seat of Peg's Jeepo along the bouncy dirt roads to where they joined the smooth tar highway that ran into Atro City. At least, it was much more pleasant than her cross-country hike earlier that morning.

"So where will I go to from here?" Tracy asked.

"At the station we'll fill out a report, and then if all goes well, I'll arrange a room for you at a motel and an emergency social security advance to cover your accommodation for a week." Peg replied. "After that, we'll take it from there."

"That's very nice of you." Tracy nodded. "I just don't know what I'll do after that."

"Well, you could ask friends or relatives to send you money for a ticket back to Aldus Prime – or wherever you want to go. Or you could stay here, in Atro City, get a job – or freelance. Whatever. I don't think Gary will mind the competition – that's Beck the Badfeller – the famous bounty hunter in these parts."

"Stay here?" Tracy pondered – and then repeated: "Atro City?"

"Yup." Said Peg, preoccupied with driving.

"You do realize that if you put it together, it makes 'atrocity'?" Tracey asked, thinking out loud.

"Fraid so. Of course, that's why we don't actually say it like that!"

Tracey was working this thing out in stages. It was possible. Even likely. She had no money with her – and no relatives to ask for money to get a ticket – and she had no friends either – and certainly none that would lend her money! Tracey strongly doubted she had enough left in her bank account to pay for one, and in any case, she had no idea where she should go or if she would actually be any better off anywhere else. Whatever way she was to turn next, sh

had been opened by a very irate Mr. Mc Goughan, and then subsequently downgraded to an accident report by Deputy Flint Hogan who had been on duty at the time. Well, that was obviously where Ms. Ferris had landed – right next door to the Grauffis ranch, which tallied with Ms. Ferris's statement.

Moving on, a report had been filed by a certain Mr. Albert McKintyre-Smythe, corroborated by – well, by virtually the entire Skegg's Valley Dynamite Fishing Club. It seemed they'd found a life pod in the Whatoosie River during the previous night. The report itself – made in varying degrees of excitement and with varying shades of embellishment, was – to be kind to the officer who had taken it all down (Deputy Flint Hogan) – something of a jumbled mess! Considering the source of the report, Peg couldn't rightly blame him, after all, there was more about dead cocka-snoek and suspected radiation-poisoning and anecdotes about wars and the sound of farting carrying over open water – in there than anything solid to actually go on! In fact, halfway through reading that entry, Peg gave up and had to read it from the beginning again!

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