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You swallow the third or fourth suppressed heart attack of the day and sit down. Just hazing out for two hours seems doable.
Wade signals he took you up on the offer when he turns on the car's radio to full blast and then drives off, making the engine roar louder than you thought a taxi could be capable of. You can hear it even through the turnstiles... I guess that's what making a custom gets you. The music and screeching tires fade into the background, but you can still hear faint gunfire and inconsistent explosions. The fight with the 'terrorist' is still ongoing. That guy kept fighting long enough for you to almost take a dirt nap and kept going... But he's got to run out of ammo eventually, right? There are never any happy endings these days, unless you pay extra.
Looking at the watch to take your mind off of things, it's only <span class="mu-s">22:41.</span> You've got a little over an hour until the bus finally arrives and you get your chance to leave this hellhole.
West seems like a better place to be: They have actual civilization, you hear. Not much gas to go around, but a lot of solar and apparently nuclear. Worst comes to worst, you can try and shack up with a laborer. Being a mother is never really something that's crossed your mind- you figured that you were sterile because of cloning. You don't really care either way, but that might affect a would-be partner's decision. You certainly can't cook worth a damn.
The silence of the abandoned station causes you to just sit there and appreciate living- despite the pain in your neck, you feel free in a way that's pretty novel for you. It's nice. You smoke one of the cigarettes you have left over, using it to help provide light to the dank area.
...Hey, what was in that delivery, anyway?
