“It’s meant to look menacing. It’s a bloody war wagon,” Jessica laughed and slammed the massive rig into a higher gear, even though we were going dangerously fast on the dirt road.

I’d forgotten how rough Jessica could be, but the hard tone in her voice, though amused was hardly disarming. The cancer had taken her reproductive organs, but I think the testosterone in her systems had always been the dominant hormone. The Death Express was a manifestation of that disposition.

In the sky billowing dark clouds roiled. Thunder rolled somewhere in the distance and the air was perfumed with Ozone and the potential for grass fires.

“She’s got four, 25 mm M242 chain guns top mounted, four more 7.62 mm coaxial M240C machine guns on two per side, and a multi-launch Anti-Tank Missile system above the cab. And if they get in close, I have some more little surprises for those scruffy turd nuggets,” Jessica let out a little, “Whooah,” while I braced myself for a sharp bend in the road.

“I think you make Gunny look tame,” I responded, and tried to focus on the drone surveillance monitor on the dash rather than the suicidal pace we were keeping. The growing storm was interfering with our surveillance capabilities, but I had practice working in bad conditions.

“I’m a real pussycat, at least until I get in my element," Jessica said.

"Gunny knows when to lead, follow or get the bloody hell of out my way. Besides, he doesn’t know about all this, and you aren’t going to tell him,” in that moment, with the storm in the distance, the hellish roar of the engine, and the flash of her ocular guidance system behind her left eyes Satan himself, couldn't have been more intense. I wasn’t about to do anything but nod in agreement.

On the screen I could see through the eyes of the fast-moving hunter seeker drone she’d deployed and thank god for the set of eyes above us. Having a drone up in the area was a force multiplier, one any smart operator used if they could. It was how I got my job, and it clearly reminded me of my previous failure. I should have had a drone up before our convoy was ambushed. It was by luck alone that Dizzy and her team survived, and more so that I did.

“You are worried about the storm, or are you wasting time thinking about your dead?” Jessica said after a few moments, and I realized I hadn’t really seen anything as the miles rolled away under our wheels.

“Sorry, I guess I haven’t really had time to think until now. I thought I was ready to come back out, but I fucked up,” I said, and shook my head like I was trying to clear the cob-webs.

“I’ve known you a long time, Abby. You’ve never been the front action kind of soldier, but you are damn good at command and control, and drone coordination. I know you won’t want to hear it, but Kane didn’t do you any bloody favors pushing you out into field work. You need to remember who you are and get all that crap out of your head,” Jessica said with a forced casualness that made me smile.

“Everyone needs to cross the train. It’s how every operator works. I know your job, you know mine, and if anyone goes down, we can still carry on the mission, its standard procedure,” I said turning my head to look out the window at the high desert, sagebrush and dirt like it was worth staring at.

“And you modify those procedures to adjust for the strengths and weaknesses of your team. Kane didn’t care if you were best suited for front action work, he just wanted to keep you close. Keep you controlled,” Jessica said.

"Darling you aren't much different that that storm out there. Right now it's distant and looming but we know what inside the storm isn't gonna be pretty. Rooker, is an asshole, and con artist, but he does care about you. He knows you're going to have to learn to ride that whirl wind when it comes or it will destroy you." She sighed again, but then sighed and I knew she was done trying to get through to me. Her next words confirmed it.

“Tire House is dead ahead, watch for entry signals,” She cautioned and for a moment I was confused. Then, ahead of us, the formation of a long line of what I took to be basalt rock became clear and I realized it was actually a wall made of old tires, perhaps twenty feet tall, and just as thick.

“We should get a,” Jessica broke off and pointed to a space off to the right where a small reflection shown for a moment, the vanished, “there, we go. We got permission to enter, thank god,” she shot me a smile and I realized she had harbored a little doubt until she saw the signal.

It was then I saw the gun pods, hundreds of them barely noticeable from the cab of The Death Express, but clear from an aerial drone view. Most of them were merely places for combatants with guns could lie in, but somewhere clearly large weapons bunkers.

“Chain Guns, coaxial fifty cals, secondary to the 120mm main guns, it’s as bad as The Death Express, but rooted in vulcanized rubber,” I said in disbelief.

“Not even close,” Jessica lifted her pointed chin at the top of the gate as it came into view. “They have a THADD Mk IV- Terminal High Altitude Area Defense system that can take down fast moving drones up to Mach 9.3 with a 1300-kilometer range. If these guys get hit, it better be a mega-corp, or proper military,” she grinned.

“We have to be going 100 KPH, what would have happened if we hadn’t gotten the signal?” I asked.

“We would have slammed on the brakes, then gotten shot to shit if we didn’t stop in time,” She replied.

“Why approach so fast?”

“Look dear, I know you are used to coming out this way with Rooker and Professional Tactical, but the rest of us have to expect an attack at any time. The recent Outsider attacks have been increasing and even known elements have to be careful who they let in. I guess I just got lucky,” She grinned, but we both knew it was something else. She’d been expected.

“It’s nothing like I remember. What happened to the simple settlement and trading post?” I asked, truly surprised at the growth and defenses.

Ahead of us the rows of tires suddenly broken open like as we rapidly reduced speed. It was like a false wall had been exposed, but instead of opening into a courtyard, it opened into a maze of tires and gun ports.

The tires came in all shapes and sizes, like boulders hewed to fit the wall instead of placed with deliberate construction, except for massive heavy construction tires that line the based. Each one was taller than a two people standing atop each other, but whether studded or grooved each was filled with heavy sand.

As we rolled into the gate, figures moved around on the walls ignoring the rain that started to fall. Meanwhile more people were inside the walls, like ants laying in wait for a misdirected beetle that had stumbled into the wrong territory.

“It’s a safety corridor. We can’t go fast, or these punks will cut us to ribbons and if we try to fight, darling” She motioned to the walls around us and various gun ports, “we have nowhere to run. Pretty smart, really,” she said and shot me another knowing grin.

“You came up with this plan, didn’t you?” I asked, but Jessica merely rolled her eyes and shook her head. “It’s pretty common practice in Forward Observation Posts if they have the room. They just took it to extremes here.”

The maze took several corners and turns, many of which I was sure The Death Express wouldn’t be able to fit through. Jessica navigated it like she was running a remote-control toy through a hallway.

What struck me as odd was the holographic promotional material that was all over the rough surfaces of the tires. “Pippen’s Meat Pies! We stuff them with hot meat, you just lay back and moan with delight at how amazing our service is!” one boasted but the food wasn’t what was on display in the image, instead it was a what appeared to be a pretzel with legs dancing in a circle.

“What the hell?” I asked as I marveled, but Jessica was already laughing.

“They are scavengers darling. Pippen most likely found it in the city trash and just reprogrammed what she could. Look over there,” She said and I followed her gaze to where a hotdog and a Twinkie did a tango, while the ad clearly announced, “Trotter’s: Tire Repair and Replacement. It might not be new, but our repairs are as good as Pippen’s pie!”

“Need a Truck? Get a augment! That’s right folks, when you visit West Semco Used Hatchie Trucks, you get your choice of ocular or auditory implants totally free! [surgical implantation not available at this site].”

Most of the others weren’t so innocent, prostitution, gaming, even fight pits where eagerly displayed, but Jessica waved them off as, “Side shows for the mercenaries and warlords, my dear,” she said.

“Scavenger’s trade what the find in the wild here, and city people sent representatives to purchase it, while Corpo representatives bring out food-stocks to sell to the common settlers,” she again pointed her chin and with a glance I could see kids, young ones scurrying around on top of the walls, each peering down at The Death Express, with wonder.

“There are kids living out here. That’s insane,” I muttered, but Jessica was busy pulling through the last turn.

“Outlanders normally use their kids as thieves or labor, but some end up orphaned or here. When that happens, they become essentially street kids, though Mark has employed them for construction or repair when he can,” Jessica’s voice took on a sad tone as she spoke, but also a hint of pride.

“I thought James Murphy ran this place,” I turned in my seat to face Jessica, but once more she was motioning with her chin as we rolled out of the maze and into the main settlement.

“James might own it, but his grandson, Mark, runs the Tire House. He’s the one most responsible for the renovations, and new accommodations my dear. I’m not sure James would like it much, but it is what it is, darling,” she said with a dismissive wave.

Ahead of us a man dressed in desert pattern overalls stood with his hands upraised, a brightly colored bracelet glowing red on each wrist, visible despite the gloom. Directing us with both hands, he motioned twice toward a road that lead off to our right. On the dirt to his right another light pulsed blue, and chevron of directional arrows popped up on The Death Express’s HUD view screen.

“Welcome to the Tire House, Abby darling, now lets get this thing parked and off loaded, then I’ll buy you lunch,” she grinned and reached into a bag by her side and pull out a hot pink hard re-breather mask and pushed it onto her head.

“We need supplemental O2 here?” asked and pointed to the mask, amused by the feline features that included black whiskers and perky ears.

“No, but like I said, Gunny doesn’t know I’m out here and neither does anyone else. I plan to keep it that way,” she turned her head back to the screen and deftly maneuvered the massive war wagon into an unloading dock.