Owl and the Japanese Circus

Chapter 1: Egg Hunt (Part 1)

 8:45 pm, Interstate 15, somewhere in Nevada

I hate potholes. I hate desert highways too, about as much as I hate wearing high heels.

My Winnebago jolted over a bad pothole before I could swerve around it. I scrambled to keep the wheel straight and grabbed for my water bottle before it toppled and spilled across my laptop keyboard.

Too late. 

I tried to mop the water up with my map before it seeped through to the motherboard. Captain howled from the back.

"Yeah, I hate Nevada too," I said.

That's one thing that sucks about these nighttime desert stretches of highway. No lights and no cars. You don't see anything until it's right there in front of your barreling Winnebago.

I checked my watch. 8:50 pm. The Byzantine Thief was due online in forty minutes. Damn it, where the hell was that truck stop? I peered at the road for the telltale green sign. I couldn’t have missed the exit yet, could I? Served me right for trusting directions from a waitress wearing fishnets and a pair of bunny ears. If there's one thing I've learned in my line of work over the last two years, it’s to look up the chain of command for advice, not down.  

"Hey Captain, I've got forty minutes to find that truck stop and get supplies. Pull off to the side of the road and log on, or keep looking?"

The blanket rustled and Captain stuck his seal point head out. He sniffed the air before disappearing into the back. I heard metal clank and water splash as he upended his food and water bowls.

I took that for, Keep going, I'm hungry.

I chewed my lower lip as I peered through the windshield down the highway. Now where the hell was that turnoff?

"Would it kill anyone to have more lights out here?" I said.

Captain mewed. I should have taken the gig in Puerto Rico instead. Can't get lost on an island.

My laptop beeped twice. I took my eyes off the road for a second to check the message. One of my teammates, Carpe Diem, was already online.

You’re late, Thief. Get your ass online.

Goddamn it. I completely forgot I was supposed to meet Carpe ten minutes early so we could swap gear. Double shit. This was the second time this month I'd blanked on a pre-game meeting.

"Remind me to start writing my appointments on sticky notes," I said. Captain hopped up onto my front seat and chirped before curling up in a ball on my keyboard.

I rolled my eyes. "Thanks, I appreciate your enthusiasm."

You know your sanity is in question when you find yourself in a two-way conversation with a cat. Yet another reason my social life is restricted to an online game. Well, that and my paranoia. But I can't talk to sane people about that anyways. They'd just lock me up with a lot of meds, and I know I'm not crazy, so it’s not like it’d do me any good.

If anything, my weekends in World Quest anchor me to reality. For a few hours I can curl up with a beer and forget I live in a Winnebago, running from, well…

Let's just say my line of work doesn't allow for sincere in-person social interactions.

I pulled the wet map up to check for the exit when I caught reflective white on green in my floodlights up ahead. Bingo, exit 15. I could even see the lamp posts in the distance. I steered onto the gravel road and pulled up to an old truck stop that reminded me of something out of a 1950’s teen movie. It had the prerequisite convenience store and gas pump, which was all I cared about.