Yeager Chronicles: After Extinction

22: Cade

The hours seemed to fade into each other, dull and long, with little reward for anyone. There was an ache that traveled up along Cade's lower spine, reminding him once again that he was getting older. Lovely, he thought with a cough.

Crosshairs turned down the radio, something that helped Cade phase-out, he zoned back into the real world. "Something up?"

"You tell me. You've started to cough a lot recently." Cade thought about it, the time of year, his unfortunate affinity to get sick in the months October and November. "It's a once a year thing," he supplied. "Last year I got sick then too. It happens."

"Yeah, a'ight. That doesn' change that you've started hackin' in my cab. I don't wan' carry a dead or a sick man," chided Crosshairs. The seat that Cade was in began to heat up, comfortable against his sore back. Cade did not reply at first and only marveled at how just the slight temperature change had helped ever so precisely.

"Cross, you make it sound like you're afraid to get sick from me."

"Not exactly," he countered quietly, barely heard over the loud draw of his engines as he pulled away from Hound. The reply left Cade more than a little confused. Was Crosshairs just against those who were ill and steered clear? Did he have a thing against death? Well, the latter would be much less likely. He likes to shoot things too much to have that one option truly considered. "We don't sick like that Cade. It i'nt really that simple."

Cade hummed as shifted his legs, shifting his feet that were starting to get tingly without movement. "Explain it to me then." Crosshairs had a strange roll to his engines for a moment, something that made Cade a little uncomfortable while they were going at just shy of 80 MPG.

"I ain't a medic, the closest thing we got to a medic is Hound 'nd he barely knows scrap," he sounded sarcastic but deep in the back of his mind, Crosshairs was sick and tired of having to rely upon Hound for technical help. He was a warrior, a sniper, he could handle anything that anyone could throw at him. Hound was only a Wrecker, and a former one at that. He hadn't been trained except for the things that he had experienced himself. They all were scarcely prepared for anything that could occur.

"We get viruses, bugs, but nothin' like your flus. We glitch. That's as far as my know-how is," he supplied. Some of it made sense to Cade, working with computers and other hardware and software allowed for that kind of understanding. However, more questions unfurled themselves, showing a deeper curiosity. He already had come to figure out that mecha, Cybertronians, had a kind of sex drive, so what stopped them from having other systemic responses from the environment?

"It gets complicated," Crosshairs added, trying to assure himself that Cade would not ask anymore medical questions that he would be unable to answer. He would be able to answer Cade, however, he would not be so sure about how accurate the information would be. Soldiers were meant to fight which meant that they did not have the time, software or the appropriate chassis to carry about medical equipment while in the field.

It worked for a time. Cade still sat quietly against a warm seat, almost lulled to sleep. But his mind kept him awake, wondering, even daydreaming about what awaited them at their destination. More Decepticons? More Autobots? Optimus?

Every time he thought about that mech he swore that butterflies had somehow managed to find their way into his stomach, making him queasy and irritable and excited all in a roaring flash of mere seconds. He was an old man now, wife gone from the living, daughter off and about doing God knows what. Lucky Charms did not seem to bother him so much now. He had matured too, keeping his Irish accent about him as well.

What is she doing now? Cade wondered hopelessly. He hadn't spoken to her, seen her since the outburst maybe two months prior. He missed her but she needed to apologize, not only the mecha he now also called family but to him. He still did not understand why she acted so out of character. Tessa was a smart woman but her tongue seemed to get her into more trouble than it was really worth. He wanted to see her, make things better between them.

"Cade," Crosshairs cut through the man's train of thought. "We're about 18 miles away. Be ready to ditch." It was quiet a moment. "You've got that gun thing, yeah?"

"It's sticking out of my bag."

"Good. You may need it," Crosshairs uttered. His radio picked up a station that was coming out of New Mexico, it was far from clear but it sounded like kind of like mariachi. Cade didn't care for it but did not oppose it.

"Hey Crosshairs." The car hummed. "What do you think we're going up against?"

"With luck, nothin' too bad. But haven' had good luck fo' awhile now," he sighed. "What do you think?" It shouldn't have some as a surprise to have been asked the question in return. All except it was like his words were choking him. If he told the truth on the matter, he was sure he'd puke. So, he settled for something. "I know what I want, but I have a feeling it's the exact opposite." Crosshairs growled, shifting into another gear.

Bumblebee slipped from the lead to be parallel to Drift, a slight change than when they started on their journey. He stayed the same speed, not bothered by how dangerously close their chassis' were. They stayed like that. It was kind of freaked Cade out but he kept that quiet.

The sun was above the horizon to their backs, if cars had backs. It blinded Cade a couple of times when he slipped too far to the side, light bouncing from the rear view mirror and slapping him.

The silence took over again, the radio off; the only sounds to be heard were the roaring engines of the mechanisms surrounding the human. Cade watched the side of the road, how the grass had shivered away to a dirt-dry landscape. Although he was surrounded by dirt and everything looked half dead, there was building pit that grew in his stomach as they approached the landing site. It made him feel giddy and afraid all at the same time, something he'd felt a lot as time had gone on.

"We're here," Crosshairs rumbled, tires dragged against the asphalt. Was it foolish to hope that this was Optimus? Yes, simply put. Was it foolish to have hope? No. So Cade would have hope, even with the trembling belief that in these brief moments, Optimus had returned.

Note: Guys, it's me again! OMP I'm just gonna thank you! :3