Turbinio

Dried Stinkhorns

Any apprehension you had about race organizers was allayed in a single conversation with Stephen Steel and an exchange of a simple smile with his wife, Lucy Steel. Although it was a brief and satisfactory negotiation, the wife decided to accompany her husband back to the richest spectators of the race. However, before they left, you interrupted them with a simple question.

''When does the third stage begin?''

They looked at you a little pityingly, but Lucy Steel answered respectfully.

''There was no stop. The runners didn't plan to stop at any checkpoints after the terrorist attack on the last stage. They went straight to Canon City.''

You exclaimed a loud, clear, disbelieving ''What?!''

Your hopes of finding Gyro and Johnny were beginning to be dashed. Why did all these idiots decide not to stop for a rest? Without a checkpoint, the horses will be exhausted and many riders will get hurt.

At that moment, a thought occurred to you. Gyro said that the horses needed to rest. He was a jerk, but not stupid. He was sure to take some breaks to catch his breath. But luck was not on your side, as you remembered the type of ground you would be dealing with. The mountains are rugged and very dangerous, not only for Cadichon but also for the frame of your wagon. A small slip on the sharp rocks and your stuff would be broken.

In Monument Valley, you rested for a while, but not long enough to take a shower or do much selling. You studied the route map at your leisure and were relieved to see that the runners' course skirted the mountains. With some shock absorbers on the wheels, you might be able to pass this place easily.

During your time there, you overheard a few side conversations from other people nearby while you were petting Cadichon. One, in particular, caught your attention when they mentioned the presence of the President of the United States. You knew a little about the politics of this place, and you also knew who the president was - you'd been through many smaller countries in conflict with the U.S. military, and you'd seen enough to know the political character of this country well.

You didn't necessarily believe that such an important person was there, but people undoubtedly concluded that they were surrounding the train that was supposedly the leader of the country. You decided to ignore all the turmoil and head toward Canon City.

Although the runners' route was safe, you chose to take shortcuts through the forest and avoid elevation changes as much as possible until you finally reached the Rocky Mountains and inevitably had to switch to the main route. Cadichon was very stressed and the rags you had tied to the wheels of the wagon didn't soothe the shocks very well.

The place you were in was quite unusual, the roads were full of bones and other kinds of fossil material. A faint trail of blood could be seen in the distance and you quickly braked the wagon and climbed down with your bag. You approached cautiously, keeping an eye out for casualties and regretting a little that you had not brought your rifle, just in case. You always tend to forget that you're a woman traveling alone in the middle of nowhere.

Fortunately for you, and only you, the injured person wasn't strange. You recognized his hat lying on the ground. Dio. What a pretentious nickname, right?

''Diego?'' You called him couldn't help giggling and joking. ''I don't usually believe in karma, but I think you should have taken that glass of water!''

He didn't answer. Your smile ceased immediately.

''Hey... Diego...'' You approached and lightly kicked his leg to make sure he was still alive.

You knelt and put your hand on his face. It was full of blood and small wounds. His horse was grazing a few meters away.

''Shit... Excuse me.'' You muttered as you laid your head lightly on his chest. His heart, if it was beating, was so weak that you couldn't hear it. You placed the backs of your hands under his mouth and nose to feel the slightest sign of his breathing, then tried to take his pulse.