FoA S3 Chapter 6

Everything was left behind, including Joey’s phone. No food, no water. Joey isn’t wearing shoes either. You ran blind, so you are properly lost now. Your only survival gear is skimpy shorts and thin tank tops that are more like crop tops for you and Vicky.

It’s bad.

“Z, um…” Joey’s **** to talk, but she’s starting to realize that Vicky will not hesitate to **** the living shit out of her if she doesn’t. “Z sells a lot of **** in Beibstown.”

“And?” you prompt.

“And I needed some money, so I was, you know. Doing my thing. And she asked me to move some,” Joey replies, avoiding eye contact.

“And?” Vicky snaps.

“And I was like… that’s a lot of weed,” Joey says.

“You didn’t think they’d miss it?” you snarl. Joey wasn’t in the swamp for the joys of nature. She was on the run from these people.

Great. Now you’ve pissed off a Virgin County deputy and some **** dealers from Beibstown. The **** dealers probably can’t ID you. Connell… you aren’t so sure about. She has to know about Free Gurls, and Vicky has priors. Wait. So do you now. Your mug shots will be easy for her to get.

But that’s a problem for later.

Joey’s in a situation almost as bad as you and Vicky. Her phone, her money, and her stolen weed is all gone. She has nothing. A cop out there wants you and Vicky in cuffs, and this Z person wants Joey dead.

Joey help you out last night. You and Vicky helped her this morning. You’re even.

“Look, I ran this way,” Joey says, closing her eyes and gesturing, trying to visualize. “And my sleeping bag was pointed at the road. So…” She points. “This way to get to the road. We can… try to hitchhike or something.”

“Yeah? What if it’s your **** dealers in the car?” Vicky asks.

“Then we’re fucked, aren’t we?” Joey snaps.

There are probably ways to make that work, but you need to find the road first.

“Let’s go,” you say, taking the lead. They follow.

It’s a slog through the swamp, and thirst and growling stomachs become an issue quickly.

“I told you my shit. Who are you guys?” Joey asks. These shorts leave nothing to the imagination, so she’s having to work extra hard not to stare at your bulges.

“Doesn’t matter,” Vicky tells her.

“You’re good at fighting,” she says. “You don’t seem that surprised by what I did. You guys don’t work at Pizza Hut. Do you?”

Vicky sighs. “No. We don’t.”

“Well, where do you work?”

“Can you shut up?” you ask Joey, who reluctantly does so. Telling her that you’re with Free Gurls has no upside. It’s better not to mention it.

You find a road… kind of. It’s gravel, but you follow it and you’re in luck: there’s something here.

It’s a faded, dilapidated brown camper. Beside it is a black pickup truck. Before you can think about what to do, the creaky screen door opens and a man comes out. He goes straight to the truck and climbs in.

“Hey!” Vicky calls out, waving, but the sound of the engine starting drowns her out. He doesn’t see her as he pulls out and drives off.

“Shit,” you say as the taillights disappear into the swamp.

“Maybe there’s something to eat in there,” Joey suggests.