“You’re learning,” Tule told him, as she took a sharp right turn onto South Congress Avenue.

“Learning what?”

“Learning that the world’s too fucked to take on with a clear head.” She passed the blunt back. Manny took it, and handed off the flask.

“When I first came to Rolling Fuck,” she started, “I didn’t get why everyone was so damn wasted all the time. I’d been an activist back in Albuquerque, y’know. I thought having a clear head would help me fight.”

She laughed, took a deep belt of liquor and then continued.

“It turned out my clear head and my hard work didn’t stop home from going to shit. After a couple weeks with Marigold, Topaz, and Skullfucker Mike, I realized something.”

“What?” Manny asked, already kind of sure he knew the answer.

“The world’s gonna be more-or-less exactly as fucked up, no matter how serious I take it. So I might as well enjoy the shitshow.”

Manny nodded. He gulped down more of the liquor, took another hit from the blunt, and stared off into the sun, which had started to set over the Colorado River. It was a beautiful day. He thought it was fitting that this would be his last day in the city of his birth. It was like Austin had dressed up to say goodbye to him.

“I never really thought I could fix the world,” Manny said, “but I thought I might be able to fix my own life, you know? Be clever enough, good enough, to escape to somewhere better.”

“Yeah?” Tule grinned. “Did you give up on that? Or did you decide Rolling Fuck is ‘somewhere better’?”

“I dunno,” Manny said, “but it’s definitely somewhere different. I think right now, that’s enough.”

Rolling Fuck had moved south since the battle, to Georgetown. Tule pulled onto Highway 35, waved her way through a handful of checkpoints, and tore ass until they reached the outskirts of the camp. By then the flask was long empty, and the blunt burnt down. That was fine, though. Manny was a bit of a lightweight, and he felt pretty wasted as they pulled up to the greeter’s station. Skullfucker Mike and Topaz were waiting for them.

“Welcome home, pal,” Mike said, and wrapped him in a rib-crushing embrace. Topaz kissed his cheek and gave him a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She was still fucked up, he knew, over Marigold’s death, and over whatever had happened with Roland. So was Manny, for that matter.