The wasteland Sun blazed overhead. She checked the gauge and sighed. Her truck still had half an hour left to charge.
On the horizon, a cloud of dust said that she was about to have company. She pulled out her scope and confirmed the worst: raiders, and they’d get to the station well before she was done. She reached into the truck’s bed and pulled out her shotgun. There was a trick to appearing to tough to be worth bothering with, but not so strong as to seem a threat.
She cursed herself for buying electric just before society collapsed.
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