Silas

The new world begins with a dull headache and the flattened taste of last night’s gas station coffee lingering on your tongue. You drive one-handed, the other resting on the shifter as your Airstream eats up another mile of rutted, rain-choked road, the silver trailer lurching behind you like an overgrown silkworm.

The GPS mutinies an hour outside of cell range, so you navigate by sheer force of resentment and the little blue triangle frozen mid-glitch.