“You’re serious.” Not a question. I’d heard about the south already. The Southerners held on to instinct and there were so many Sniffers that an alien invasion didn’t stand a snowball’s chance in hell in the South. Plus the fact that most were armed to the gills, ready in a moments notice for any sort of invasion; so, heading South made perfect sense to me.

I shrugged and settled back against the cold plastic of the back seat. Waiting for the pills to explode in digestion. Tracker, ever the conversationalist, “So, Dude, what do we call you?” I was impressed that he didn’t exactly ask my name. I couldn’t help but grin back. “You can just call me, Dude. Seems to fit. And I’ll answer to it.” He laughed, “Oh, I get it. I see where this is going. It’s all good. You got it, Dude. And it does fit. Dude.” He shrugged. “So, I get the credit.” He paused, and looked me in the eyes.

“How good are you?” I knew it was a serious question. This was a no bullshit guy, goodnatured as he was, business was business.