Bridger’s History Book
The old van still serves us, it offers us shelter in the rear cargo area and precious shade. We take turns on the roof with the binoculars, keeping watch for vehicles. Near midday, a sand cloud appeared in the distance, the tell-tale sign of an approaching vehicle, maybe more than one.
Everyone got low on the rocks so we could see and not be seen by whoever might approach.
We could hear the powerful engines before they were in range, motorcycles, five of them. From the armour and the markings, they were Legion members. They never knew we were there as they passed.
They disappeared into the distance in a dust cloud thrown up by their fast moving bikes.
“That was a patrol.” Three Finger said as she stood up from her place on the rocks.
“Acceptable.” Adept agreed, “Nightrider on the Highway.”
“They might be an advance party for another group,” I suggested, “maybe even a Legion convoy.”
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