Fallout (Crank 3)

“No offense, mi amor. But I smell

a hell of a lot better than you.”

Guess you’re right. Definitely bath

time. You up for Mammoth?

WITH LUCK

We’ll be there tonight. Sooner

is better than later. The trail mix

is stale, the jerky gone. A hot meal

is my idea of heaven right now.

I dig in my backpack, count every

penny. “Sixty-six fifty-two.

Think we could get McDonald’s?”

I hate McDonald’s. But I hate

stale trail mix even more.

Kyle exits his shell of silence.

I think we can do better. I’ve

still got a few bucks myself.

“Enough for a room, too?

Just think … a hot shower.

Soft, warm bed. Reality TV.”

He laughs. We’re living reality

TV. But yeah, we’ll find a cheap

room somewhere. Looks like

winter has arrived up there.

The resort will open soon.

I’ll put in an application.

I turn on the radio. Not much

available out here, despite

Kyle’s monstrous antenna.

Don’t use “seek,” he instructs.