We’ve been lying low for a while, nursing wounds and making repairs before the push to Detroit. Ivy says we should make the festival on time, though she gets that tense look on her face that says it’ll be a lot of work. And not an easy run.
Chances are we might not have been able to make the blockade run at all, if it weren’t for a bit of backwards luck last week. Some raiders jumped on our tail; Ivy said she wouldn’t be able to out-drive them so we found a decent place to hole up and dig in. When they made their run, Kroni put a lucky shot right through one driver’s eye. He spun and crashed, and took one of the other pursuit rigs with him. We laid down enough harassing fire that the rest decided that maybe these fortune-tellers and performers weren’t as easy pickings as they expected, and left. It wasn’t easy. The house-rig took a lot of damage, and both Razor and Zairah took bullets. They’ll heal, but..well, it’s hard seeing your friends hurt like that. Could’ve been worse, but I’d rather it hadn’t happened at all.
Ivy waited till she was sure they were gone, and then she threw a strap around both wrecks and dragged them off. We rolled about sixty miles south, to get out of their territory, and found a beautiful little cove to hide in, overlooking a bend in the river, with room for all the rigs and a full camp. Looks like there was a building here before the Fall. I spent a day helping Ivy clear off a big concrete pad, so we’ve had a place to work and I can practice when she doesn’t need me. She’s been rebuilding the pursuit rig, using parts from the other one to fix what’s broken. Since Razor can drive, we have two drivers plus Miro on his bike, and Ivy thinks with those two running shooter for the house-rig we should be able to punch through to the Detroit wall and make it inside.
I admit I might miss this little cove when we leave, but we won’t be safe here forever. Besides, when I get to Detroit there’ll be a hot bath, and that’s a thing to look forward to.