‘I am not in trouble,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m just looking for a ride.’

French laughed. Indeed, she laughed so much she had to stop eating.

‘If you came here looking for a ride, believe me, you are in trouble, young lady!’ She took a long pull on her Coke, indicating that Sofia should do the same. ‘You look like you need a little pick-me-up. And you don’t look old enough to drink coffee. Go on, you got about half a gallon of Coke Voltage in there, enough to keep you buzzing until sun-up. Take a drink.’

She did need something to wake her up, that was true. Her nap in the taxi was entirely too short, and she was finding it difficult to keep her eyes open here, even under the harsh fluorescents, with the music cranked up loud and the other diners roaring at each other. She was wrung out, all but destroyed by one of the worst days of her life. And she’d had some bad ones.

‘You said you needed a ride, hon. Where you headed?’

The girl found herself momentarily unable to answer. She had come looking for a lift down to Fort Hood, in central Texas, or at least in that direction. But she’d intended to seek out the transport herself, by approaching someone she thought looked trustworthy. She may well have approached this chicken-eating Cindy French had she seen her first.

‘I am going to Texas,’ she said in the end, deciding to run with a version of the truth.

‘Really? Going down to the Federal Mandate, are we?’ The truck driver pulled a drumstick out and tossed it onto the spare plate. ‘Go on. Eat up.’

She was almost tempted to lie and say, yes, she was headed for the Mandate, but she caught herself at the last moment. Anybody with a legitimate reason for travelling down to the Texas Federal Mandate would’ve had any number of legitimate means of getting there. The government did not expect settlers to make their own way through the badlands. Most people would know that, and somebody like French, who probably drove those routes all the time, would definitely know.

‘No,’ replied Sofia. ‘I need to get to Fort Hood.’ There – she had done it.

Cindy continued with her meal, but raised one eyebrow as if Sofia had played a particularly interesting hand in a game of cards. She steered a ball of mashed potato on the end of the fork and used it to mop up some gravy. The mouthful of food prevented her from speaking, but it was obvious she was giving some thought to what she would say next.