Free Post Apocalyptic Ponies: Revolutions Per Mile, Book 1 by E.E. Isherwood

happy to have helped with whatever she
was doing, but I had to keep my eye on the prize. “So, partner,
we make a good team. Still need a co-pilot up north?” I didn't
want to go back to doing the milk run, not after all the excitement
and time behind the wheel of “Penn.”
    “I gotta be honest with you Perth. It's really dangerous up
there. More dangerous than this.” She swooshed her arm around
the room and out the window. “And, I was more looking for
someone with more experience for something I gotta do up there. You
got a lot going on down here. You've got your cherry pick of cars
though, huh?”
    I looked outside. “You mean, I can have one of those?”
The afternoon sun glistened off the black paint, beckoning me.
    “Well, I'll take one and you take other one. That's how we
trade up, right? The girls can return in my car.”
    My eyes swirled. Owning a top tier car fresh out of pony runs was
unheard of. I'd be a rock star.
    I listened for my father's rebuke. Braced for it.
    Nothing.
    While I was turned around talking, a piercing scream came from
behind. Jo raised her weapon, slowly since it was so heavy, and I
spun myself around with my hands as my only defense.
    I couldn't believe it. The young girls all had steak knives and
poked them repeatedly into the already-injured professor. Her neck
was already open and shooting blood onto the floor. She flailed her
arms weakly. I took a step to help her—
    “No, you can't. It has to be this way.”
    I couldn't look at anything else. The girls were thorough and
worked with hatred. Anyone who stuffed little girls into cars of men
who were—on paper—there to protect them, deserved to die.
    “You know, anymore, this is how things have to be. Courts.
The Law. It's all pretty much gone. The only rules that matter are
the ones plastered on the walls of garages.”
    She tapped me so I would look back at her rather than the bloody
death of the professor. Her screams had become a gurgle, then a
hissing.
    “Bring back the car. Bring back the parts. Bring back the driver . These kids are drivers, or will be. We did a good
thing by bringing them back. Marjorie was breaking rule 3. Death was
always going to be her fate if she was caught.”
    No one gets banished anymore. We all knew it. Too many came back.
It only took a few dead ponies at the hands of banished and
revenge-minded criminals to establish that.
    A switch turned off inside me. The interstate wasn't an exciting
and adventurous place. It was dangerous and hard work. Jo handled
herself better than I ever could, and we weren't even up on the big
highway. I knew what I was heading for if I tried to jump ahead.
    I made a decision I knew my dad would appreciate.

Show
me the way
    When I woke up that day I never would have guessed how much my
life was going to change. I went from zero-to-one-hundred. I started
my routes as a pony and ended it in ownership of a true thoroughbred
racehorse. I could have been a superstar.
    But the silence of my father made me understand the gravity of the
situation. If he had been there counseling me to avoid jumping right
to the big leagues, I admit, I probably would have done it. It would
have been childish and stupid, but he's my dad!
    Instead, he left it up to me. I hope I made the right choice,
because I'd hitched my wagon to the brightest star I'd ever seen in
those dusty pastures. I discussed everything with Jo. She'd take me
on as her co-pilot, teach me the ropes, run a few routes together,
and practice under her watchful eye driving the same model of car
that I had waiting for me when I was ready.
    By the rules of New World, the house became vacant when Marjorie
died. I claimed it so I could park my evil-looking Mustang there, but
I offered the place to the girls, too. It's kind of small, but no one
would bother them.
    We found a cache of weapons from the cars we inherited; we gave
most of them to the girls so they could defend themselves. Jo and I
both took a couple for ourselves.