The Mojave was about the same as Del remembered it. Hot, dry, and filled with some of a shittiest critters he'd ever seen in his life. Hell, the cazadors alone were enough to make a man want to turn to drink. It was a hell of a departure from The Delta, granted in some ways in a better sense, but for the most part he prefer the Bayou. Or at least somewhere with those lovely things called [i]seasons[/i]. It was still better than Caliente, at least. The loonies that called that town home were worse than the White Legs some days.

[i]"Real shame ol' Stella kicked de bucke'. Dat dere was a gal dat knew her way 'roun' a rifle."[/i] He'd heard she bit it in Zion a few years ago, back when Happy Trails was trying expand into Utah. He'd heard that expedition had gone....poorly. Happy Trails came out on top in the end at least, and since then they'd gotten him some decent work, but he still missed that redhead. He shrugged it off and shifted his pack around into a more comfortable position. He should be ariving in Westside soon. Not his first choice in stops for the day, but it was the closest, and he wasn't in the mood to waste shells on what was left of the Fiends. There weren't that many, but every couple days or so there were some of those old junkies that got nostalgic, slapped on the old helmets and went out to fuck up everyone's day. They were usualy stopped quick enough, but someone would end up shot or stabbed before it was over. Del didn't mean to be that somebody today.

It took around a half-hour to reach the gate of Westside, and another twenty to get himself a room over at the ruined motel. Carlos was still running things, big surprise, and to even less of one, he was still letting Pretty Sarah run her hooking out of the place. Contrary to what Sarah herself said, Del didn't think she looked all that bad. She kept the burns hidden under some heavy clothes, but he'd seen enough of those in his time not to be too squimish. And her face was still nice enough to look at, so there was that.

But he liked the gal enough not to pester her about it, much as he'd have liked to have her to warm up his bed. He didn't even stop to ask about her merchandice for now, just giving her a short little nod and starting up the stairs. He was too beat to treat a girl right tonight anyway. He just wanted some shut eye and a decent breakfeast in the morning...