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She was a tall girl. All arms and legs and not much else. She kept her knees tucked up on the dash as the truck drove on. It was a bumpy old road, one of the first earth paved after The Big Reunion, but the truck has good pre-Reunion tires made for the rough old deserts of the before-times.
Besides, old as this country was, the radio reception couldn't be better. The girl cranked it up as a song came on, tapping her dusty old boots as sang along.
"Ohhh Vash the Stampede,
Rolled into Fort Meade
Trying to run from his bounty
Vash the Stampede, was quick on his feet
But sure blew away the whole county-"
The old driver eyed her with a grin. As hitchhikers went, she was odd, but easy on the eyes. Lank blonde hair, clear blue eyes, and a beauty mark at the corner of her mouth. Her clothes said: fleet girl, city girl, first time off the ship. He'd offered her the lift for free. He's definitely lied about it.
"Now then," he said, humoring her for the time being. "Why would a pretty young thing like you be into an old tune like that?"
The girl blinked like a newborn lamb. "Old?" Then she laughed, like he'd told a great joke. She sure did have a voice like a bell. "Guess it is. But I sure do like it. It's one of my favorites. Even if it's not the most historically accurate, yanno?"
"Historically accurate?" The old man guffawed. She was awful cute for a lunatic. "Girl, that's just some crusty folk tune. A Reunion Era pulp song. Not everything you hear on the radio’s real."
"Is that what they say?" The girl touched her lip, considering. "Hm. Guess he'd like that."
"Wassat?"
"Ahahaha, nothing nothing–" the green and yellow scrub outside got taller and greener, and suddenly the girl's whole pipe cleaner lank was hanging out the open window. "Oh hey there– this looks about right. Are we close?"
Well. That was an opening if there ever was. The truck driver pulled over with an anticipatory grin.
"Sure are," he leered. He even meant it. He reached over, meaning to pat the girls leg, but somehow found himself patting the arm of the seat instead. "But hey. What's your rush. Why don't we discuss the fare, hm?"
"Fare?" The girl looked back at him. She saw him, his grin, and his flushed cheeks and understanding dawned. "Oh. You're trying to take advantage of me. Wow. That's… stupid. But really novel."
The man froze, dumbstruck. He'd already locked the door.
"Thanks for the lift," said the girl. "But uh. Sorry about your teeth. And the door."
"What?" That's all he had time to say before her boot connected with those teeth she'd just mentioned.
The girl ripped the truck door off the hinges and stepped out, beating the grit out of her long skirt.
"Um. Bye now," she said. "Maybe never ever try that again? Fleet’s definitely going to revoke your shipping license, by the way."
She left him knocked stupid over the wheel, humming as she went.
"The human typhoon
Shot down the fifth moon
With only his handy old rifle
The seven cities
Brought down to their knees
Yelled boy better run for your life ooooh–"
It really wasn't the most accurate song in the world. Catchy, though.
The girl pulled out her GPS tracker. She followed the wooden fence east. At least the ol’ perv had been right. She wasn't too far. The bushes and grass had become beautiful rows of knobby trees. The wind had grown cool and refreshing. The girl held up a hand to enjoy the fresh breeze.
It wasn't long before she found a group of kids, poking at a black cat on the fence. Their wide brimmed hats lay at their feet, stuffed full of half eaten fruit.
"Helloooo," she called. The cat cracked open one eye, shrieked and bolted. The kids looked up, hiding all their stolen fruit behind their backs. "Is this um… what's it called these days… Salvation Orchard?"
"Who's asking?" asked the leader, a snub nosed girl with scraped knuckles and a bandaid across her nose.
"No one who will rat you out," promised the girl. "If. You tell me if you've seen anyone else come this way. Old man maybe? About my height? Bushy hair? Red coat and an earring?"
They had actually seen a man like that. Weird old guy. He'd booked it east, towards the main grounds, with three pickup trucks after him.
"Oh yes that's definitely him!" The girl picked some fruit out of the higher branches for their trouble. "Thanks! Saves me some trouble!"
"What do you want with a weirdo like that?"
"Hey now," said the girl. "That weirdo’s my big little brother!"
"What the what now?"
"Hahaha haha bye now!"
And she walked before the kids could untangle what the hell that was supposed to mean.
When she reached the orchard entrance she put her arms behind her head and hummed consideringly.
“Salvation Orchard,” she murmured. “Little on the nose. But guess it’s fitting.”
A fleet patrol was parked outside, a circle of white cruisers. There were the pick-up trucks the kids had mentioned. One was overturned in a ditch, and the other two had crashed into one another. All of them were riddled with bullets. A posse of true frontier outlaws were all trussed up against the fence. The fleet officers were having the damnedest time taking witness testimony from the orchard staff.
“...dunno how he did it but boy could that old guy move…”
“What old guy?”
“Didn’t you see him?”
The girl strolled by the mess, whistling as nonchalantly as she could. It didn’t work. The thing about being a six foot blonde is it was hard to not be a six foot blonde.
“Miss, um–”
“Hi,” said the girl, waving awkwardly to the nearest officer: a large, friendly woman who looked straight from earth. “Did someone say something about an old man?”
The fleet officer smiled apologetically. They were from the public safety committee, from the uniforms. Good. That meant they cared about collateral. “Sorry, miss. It’s an active investigation back there. If you want to go to the orchard…”
“So you did see him,” said the girl. “Oh, um. If you need my credentials…”
She reached into the front of her blouse, and pulled out a little tablet, flashing it as officially as he could. The officer stared at it for a few seconds, then back at the girl.
“You? You’re a–”
But the girl had already jumped over the hood of one of the crashed cars.
“Excuse me, miss,” called the officer after her “Wait just a second, I have questions–”
She jumped over the hood of one of the crashed vehicles.
“Miss! Miss!”
The girl ducked and vanished in a blur before anyone could be sure she was really there.
She found him where she expected to – under the oldest tree in the orchard. It was a big, stately tree, its branches shaded the well preserved original house, little more than a shack, where the orchard's proud father-son founders got their start. The girl knew that because she grabbed a program off the old front door.
“‘Founded in 15 A.B.R after years of careful cultivation, Salvation Orchards has always existed to feed those in need.’” The girl stopped reading. She peered over the program at the old man, stretched out in the roots of the tree, snacking on a freshly picked apple. “That’s pretty neat. But did you really have to make me come all the way out here? It’s kind of a schlep!”
The old man looked up at her. His eyes crinkled fondly. “Sorry,” he said. “Had to do one last run, yanno? At my age, it’s hard to get out.”
“Do you have to say it like that?” The girl crouched across from him. The old man handed her his apple. She turned it over in her hands, thoughtfully. “Any chance I can talk you into coming back with me?”
“Nope.”
“Anything I can do to bribe you shamelessly?”
The old man thought about it. “You know,” he said, with a crooked smile, “the cider donuts here are really good. How about you get me some of those, and I’ll come quietly.”
“No complaints here. But I’m taking one for my troubles,” grinned the girl, standing up with a swing of her lanky arms. Of course. That’d do the trick, but as she stood up, she wasn’t sure if it was the buzzing of the bugs in the trees or the smell of the apples that made her stop and hesitate. It felt like another set of eyes were on her, but when she turned, there was no one there.
“Oh,” she said, her eyes hurt. They did that sometimes, she wasn’t sure why. “It… is real nice here.”
“Sure is,” said the old man, stretching out again under the tree. He looked comfortable. He looked like he wasn’t planning to get up any time soon. She frowned, and nudged him with her boot.
“Hey,” she said. “Heey.”
“Oh, hey, got my donuts?”
“I haven’t gone anywhere yet,” she said. “But um. Mind telling me why we’re here? You stil haven’t said”
“...there was an old father son pair who used to own this place. Nice guys. Nice place,” he said. “And peaceful. Took a lot. To get places like this in this world. Maybe I just like being able to stop and enjoy them, from time to time.”
“Oh,” she said. “This is a Big Fall thing, isn’t it?”
“Yeah. it is.”
He always got misty, thinking about that. The girl crouched back by his side. She wasn’t sure why, but she leaned over and put her arms around his neck, the way she did when she was a little kid. She’d caught up to him in height ages ago, and he was too old now to even hope to pick her up anymore, even with his prosthetic arm.
“Hey,” he said, as she squeezed him tight. “Napping.”
“Hey,” she said. “I’ll be back soon.”
“I know. You’re good like that. Better than your ol’ man.”
She laughed. “You’re not my old man,” she said, but she didn’t let him go. “Will you be okay here, out here alone?”
He laughed, in that weird reedy way he did when he wanted to avoid an uncomfortable subject. “I’m not alone.”
Which sure was a cryptic thing to say, but he wanted to be cool about it. So the girl unwound her arms from around his neck and hopped back to her feet.
“Hey,” he said.
“Mm?”
“You happy?”
The girl looked over her shoulder. “You always ask me that,” she said. “I always say yes. And it’s always true. Even if you do make me leg it out to a place like this.”
The man settled back down, with a cheeky little grin. “Good. Get me my donuts, ya punk.”
She set out, singing again:
“Ohhh, Vash the Stampede
Crossed the sand seas
To escape the long arm of the churchmen~
But he found god’s man, out in the sand
Who said, ‘Ah, it’s for you I’ve been searchin’”
“And find a better song!” he shouted after her.
“Can’t! It’s catchy!” called back the girl, with a cheerful wave.
She went to the main shopfront, to get his donuts. It was a long line. The Orchard was popular, out here. It was one of the oldest, best terraformed spots on the planet. More brochures and plaques talked about its history – how two angels fell here granting upon the land a generous bounty, where once there was nothing but barren desert and desperation.
“Oh, boy,” she said, staring at that. “That’s old-old school.”
She got a box and went back to the old tree, but the old man was gone. He’d left his coat. It flapped in the wind, empty. The half eaten apple lay in front of it.
The girl dropped the box. She fell to her knees. She clutched at her mouth, and tried not to break down right then and there.
“Vash, you jerk,” she cried. “You didn’t just–”
Then the coat began to writhe and twist. A pair of reedy, high wails came from its general direction.
“Eh?”
She blinked. She leaned forward, very slowly. The coat moved. Then it squirmed. The girl unfolded it and gasped.
A pair of red, slippery babies were tucked into the old tattered jacket, still barely attached to the tree by a few narrow filaments. They raised their fists and bawled, and bawled, and bawled.
They each had a mole under their eyes.
The girl gathered them up, staring in wonder at their screwed up, flushed little faces. The wind was cool, she had to hold them close, where they jockeyed to curl nearer to her, but it calmed them down, listening to her heartbeat.
“Mm,” she said, sniffing after a bit. “Well, guess this is how it should’ve been from the start.”
She threw the coat over her shoulders, and tucked the loose ends around them both.
“Tesla,” called a voice in her ear. “Tesla, do you read me?”
She’d been ignoring the ping for a while. The girl yelped and straightened. She shushed the two babies, shifting them into the crook of her arm. She touched the silver cuff in her left ear, laughing sheepishly by way of a greeting.
“Um, yes Auntie Domina?”
“Don’t call me auntie! Where are you? The fleet is looking for you. Your leave’s been up ages ago!”
“Oh, uh, sorry about that. I’m on my way back now?”
“Good,” said Domina. “See you soon.”
“See ya.”
Tesla cut communication, and looked down at the two babies. Slowly, very slowly, the young plant gave a crooked grin.
“Gonna take the scenic route, though,” she said. “It’s what you two liked, right? Let big big sis handle this for now.”
And, because she was a girl of her word, Tesla set out on foot, children in her arms, coat swishing behind her, singing a song she thought the little ones might like:
"Ohhh Vash the Stampede,
Took the very last SEED, and set out to face his old rival
Across the red sky, to the long lost July
To fight for No Man Land’s revival–”
It really was a silly old song.