Vertin: Before we left, TTT was telling me an urban myth about Texas.
Lilya: Hah. Sounds about right. What's the story about?
The story starts off in the typical way.
A man was driving down a long Texas road when he saw a girl hitch-hiking.
He offered her a lift and a piece of chocolate.
The man dropped the girl off at a cemetery and drove on. It was late at night, so he was hoping to reach his destination quickly.
Soon after, he saw a funeral procession going down the road.
The photo of the dead seemed familiar.
Curiosity came over him, and he followed them to the cemetery.
Look, a piece of chocolate.
A sudden beeping interrupts her story.
Vertin: Give me a moment. I have to take this. It's from the Foundation.
The voice on the other side is as calm as ever.
Communicator: Timekeeper, this is an emergency notice. The Zeno Base in Texas, USA, has conducted a large-scale evacuation.
Communicator: Zeno has not yet responded regarding their actions.
Communicator: Should you encounter any difficulties on your trip there, please contact headquarters immediately.
Vertin: Understood.
Communicator: Despite these developments, your mission remains the same.
Communicator: Contact UTTU editor Barbara, who was last seen near Route 77 collecting information, and find Urd's current whereabouts through her.
Communicator: Since UTTU editors use a special communication channel, her current location is still unknown. We'll be in touch as soon as there's any new information.
Communicator: Any questions, Timekeeper?
Vertin: No. Thank you.
Communicator: All the best, then.
The communication ends. Lilya looks thoughtful.
Lilya: What did they say?
Vertin: There was a mass evacuation at the Zeno base in Texas.
Lilya: Tsk. What's that all about?
Lilya: They called me two days ago, saying that Red 38 was still under routine maintenance in their armament factory.
Lilya: But now, all of a sudden, they're gone? How am I going to get my Red 38 back now, huh?
Lilya: If they hadn't taken her away for inspection, we wouldn't be traveling in this little car, wasting all day on the road.
Vertin: The operator only mentioned an evacuation. It's still possible that some of them have stayed behind to keep the factory running.
Vertin: If you're worried about Red 38, we can take a detour there. It's in Chisos. The town isn't far from here.
Lilya squirms in her seat.
Lilya: Hey, mister, can you take us to the Chisos? It's just a little detour.
Driver: Hmm.
He taps his fingers rhythmically on the steering wheel.
Driver: Girls, I don't know why y'all are here. But whether it's just for a bit of adventure or for business, I gotta tell you. Something ain't right in that town.
Driver: We've all heard the stories—scratching sounds on car roofs, animal bits stuck to car grilles, and those people in black robes running around. It's all too weird for me.
Lilya: Ah, give the ghost stories a rest.
Lilya: Look, if you're trying to negotiate a higher price, at least be a little smart about it instead of trying to spook us with a few tall tales.
Driver: You got me all wrong. Who in their right mind would throw away the cash in their hand unless they were forced to?
Driver: Benjamins are good and all, but they ain't worth my life. Ain't no way I'm taking you there, no matter how much cash you throw at me.
Lilya: Why? Were you the driver in that ghost story?
Driver: N-No.
Lilya: Have you seen these things happen yourself?
Driver: ...
Lilya: Come on, it's just a little detour! It won't even cost you much fuel!
Driver: ...
He clenches his hands tightly around the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white from the pressure.
Vertin: Sir?
Driver: You see that? It's fogging up.
Thick, milky fog envelopes the car.
The driver pulls over.
Driver: Ain't no way this fog is natural. We shouldn't go any further. I'm stopping right here.
Lilya: Ugh, fine, I'll drive. Swap seats with me.
Driver: No. Nobody get out of the car.
Lilya: Why?
Driver: Are you kidding me?! You haven't heard the stories, have you? Then what in the hell are you even doing here?!
Driver: When the fog rolls in on Route 77, you should always stay in the car. All kinds of terrible things hide in the fog. Some folks say they saw giant white crocodiles; others say they saw dead bodies hanging from trees.
Driver: Ain't nobody leaving this car. Not until the fog's gone.
*screech*
He's interrupted by a drawn-out scraping sound on the roof of the car.
Driver: ...!
Driver: Is that ... Is that ...?
Lilya: Oh, come on! Don't tell me you're scared of this stuff!
No response.
Vertin: He's fainted.
A strange atmosphere spreads inside the car as they sit and listen to the scraping on the roof. But this is nothing compared to what happened at Green Lake Campsite.
Finally, the scraping stops, and a few black-and-white figures dart past the windows.
Vertin: I see. This looks like the work of a Mummus. It's a critter commonly seen in the southern US. When they're frightened, they produce a fog-like gas from their respiratory trumpet.
Lilya: So that sound is just some critter scratching along on the roof.
Lilya opens the door.
Lilya: At this rate, I won't get my Red 38 back for another month!
Lilya: Well, I've always wanted to try this. Help me move this guy! And you'll have to give up your passenger seat, Captain.
Vertin: I know what you're thinking. But do you have a US driver's license? Or any driver's license at all, for that matter?
Lilya: What do I need that for? I can fly a broom and even do all those maneuvers. That takes more skill than driving a car, don't you think?
Lilya: Ha, compared to flying, driving a car is child's play. Just look at the number of drivers compared to pilots in the world.
Vertin: ...
Following the pilot's plan, they adjust positions.
Lilya: Now, where do we start?
She glances at the dashboard in front of her.
This doesn't look like the interior of an Su-01ве. A minor issue.
She thinks back to her training.
Lilya: Start both engines. Keep the tachometer at 70%.
Lilya: Here's the nose wheel steering, the position indicator for the joystick, the throttle lever ... ah, and these are for the flaps.
Lilya: No, no! That's not right! We're in a car, not a flying machine!
Vertin: ...
*click*
The rear-seat passenger quietly fastens her seatbelt.
Lilya: Let's just get out, Captain. Can't wrap my head around this hunk of metal.
Vertin: Good decision.
Lilya: If these critters are responsible for this fog, our solution is simple. We drive them away.
Lilya: Let's go.
She opens the door, and the thick fog outside rushes in like a tide.
