‘What was it called?’ Ah yes, Trixie, back to the game afoot.
‘What was what called?’
‘The town. The town they buried with water.’ Hell. I didn’t even know. Don’t know if anybody did anymore. Then a voice from all the way up front. That shrill voice. Sucked helium nails on a chalkboard. Yeah, the son of a b***h was apparently a damn bus driver, my bus driver, and had been all the way from Mobile like he was assigned to get me back to my sad Tricker life. Guess he was in it for the long haul, thinkin’ it was quite the comedy that I had ignored his weird a*s and decided to make the trek home to my leanin’ Airstream and, maybe even, god forbid, my apron and spatula at the grill.
‘You ask what that town was called, Miss?’ Beady eyes looked up into the wide and narrow rear view mirror.
‘Yes
