"Oh, sorry."
"Yeah, no problem," the man I bumped into says. He goes back to yelling on his cell about stocks, or futures, or some other money thing. I ignore him, more concerned about the wallet I just lifted from his pocket.
Turning the corner, I start digging through it. The id is useless, he doesn't look a thing like me. Credit cards are worthless too. Guy like this would certainly have some kind of fraud protection on his cards. He'll notice his wallet's gone in a few minutes, and have called into the credit card companies within the hour. If I used them, I'd be lucky to get five blocks before the cops rolled up.
So I just go for the good stuff. Cold, hard cash. Three, four, four thirty, four-thirty-one. Not bad. Not bad at all. I toss the wallet in a trash bin, and stick the money in a pocket. More than enough to get out of Reno. Yeah, I'm actually in Reno. I guess the Fat Man thought the desert would be a good place to hide a secret base. Well, he was right. It took me over a day of walking before someone drove by and I could catch a lift. And almost half that day was spent trying to avoid the whoevers that attacked the base. So I'm tired, and thirsty, and hungry, and want to get the hell out of this town before they figure out I'm not dead and where I am.
But, first order of business, some new clothes. These things I stole out of the locker room back on the base are way too tight for comfort. And I refuse to wear plaid. Ever. So, a quick stop in the local thrift store, and I find some things that are more...me.
Yeah, that's more like it.
Second order of business is the food. But I can't stick around here too long. So I decide to buy a backpack at the thrift shop and start walking towards the store down the street. I pass by a newspaper stall, and double back. I bend down and stare at the date.
...and stare.
...and stare.
Fourteen months...Fourteen months...I stand up and just keep repeating it over in over in my head. I figured six, maybe eight or nine on the outside. But
fourteen?!
"Happy birthday to me..." I mutter to myself, five months late.
I numbly walk into the store and load up my backpack with food and water. I vaguely remember overpaying at the register, but not caring. I'm not hungry or thirsty anymore. I'm not even angry. I just...feel nothing. I catch a cab and head down to the bus stop.
"What can I do you for?" the old guy behind the screen says.
"How far will three hundred get me?"
"East or west, son?"
"East."
"Hmm...how about Chicago?"
"Yeah, that's fine." I hand him my cash, and he spends a minute or two doing various things, the ticket prints out, and I'm ready to go. "Number 53. She'll be leaving in twenty-three minutes."
"53 in twenty-three, got it."
I pickup my stuff and start walking towards the buses.
Chicago. Well, that's a good first step towards Lost Haven...
