Die Organic - Chapter 1
If it hadn’t been for the bright green signs calling out the exits for the city of Holliday, Trace Butler might have driven right past what appeared to her as an endless black prairie with hardly enough evercrete and glass to reflect the bright moon hanging overhead. Driving west out of Wichita Falls had been like watching the brightness go out on a display, until the only lights left were those in the sky and the occasional set of headlights coming at her in the opposite direction.
The radio was playing a crackling mix of Outlaw Country and the so-called Bro-country that had been so popular in the 20s. Trace tapped along with the beat of drums and belted out the familiar lyrics anytime there was a key change. The music streamed from the car directly into her ears, allowing her to keep all the windows rolled down. The roar of the passing wind drowned out her own voice, which to her eternal dismay, had never been able to carry a tune.
Trace pulled off the highway shortly after midnight, and as she waited at a stoplight, she eyed the wrinkled HEB bag on the passenger side floor. The white plastic had been wrapped tightly around a rectangular box that deserved a fancier vessel. But then, had she been stopped, an ornate box of brushed titanium with the words here be treasure etched on its lid might have garnered some attention.
