Dustland Requiem (A Bard's Folktale) (Volume 2)
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Sigurd Martinez is a simple boy with a single goal: taking care of his family. But in the heat of the desert sun, the violence and corruption of gangland Mexico make it harder and harder to tell what’s worth fighting for, and how much is worth sacrificing to get it. Back in the comfort of the suburbs, Charisma Roberts is readjusting to her life after a rough summer full of mayhem and madness. With the help of a spoony bard and an old friend, she’s determined to fix the mess she’s created. Though these two idealistic youths have never met, they’re about to find they have much more in common than just a bad poet.
to you—life is v-very much a-about one’s own p-priorities. For e-example, who do you think sent K-kody to your room that night?” “What?” Cris turned to Glenn, furrowing her brow. “You were involved in that? So you know about…” she trailed off. “Alma t-told me, b-before she disappeared. We all have roles to p-play. I h-helped facilitate your situation, and in return, h-helped myself.” Cris stood up, looking over Glenn to make sure she could still see Bixby, who was rolling around in the grass.
way.” “You know, for a pep talk, that kind of sucked.” “Wasn’t s’posed to make ya’ feel better, sugarplum. Just get your head outta those pretty clouds you’re so fond of. This is life, not your own personal dustland fairytale.” Cris changed the song and lifted her head, observing a tumbleweed drift by in the distance. Looking past that, she stared into the explosive tapestry of stars illuminating the early evening just beyond the mountain ridge. She reclined her seat, getting a better view of
sit down. “And there’s G, who for some reason spends as much time with us as he probably does at his own home. Somehow I manage.” Tabby nodded toward G. “But what about you, Cris?” “I have my sister, who pretty much insists on being my best friend, mentor, life coach, and therapist. And you guys, of course.” Tabby smiled, getting up to check on food in the kitchen. She came back and leaned down behind Cris, placing her hands on Cris’s shoulders. “I know I’m his mom, but that doesn’t mean I
looking around and needing a moment to remember where he was. “What? Oh, sorry. Still haven’t gotten used to the food.” “Yeah huh. Mini K’s doin’ well, just so ya’ know. Her b-day party went off without a hitch. Picked up a stuffed kitty for her, just like ya’ asked.” Geroge reclined his seat, throwing his boots up onto the dashboard. “But on to other news. Tell me brother man—what’s the deal with you and the lady gorgeous? Don’t see much lovin’ goin’ on.” Geroge glanced through the
coyotes. By the time Weezer’s nostalgic guitar tune “Unspoken” had ended, he reached the outskirts of a slightly larger town unscathed. He parked the truck outside of a small inn, inconspicuously heading inside. Kody’s Spanish was improvisational at best, but Siggy had taught him enough of the basics to get by. Kody did his best to speak with one of the clerks. Unfortunately, he lacked enough points in diplomacy to get it done. With a generous donation to the clerk’s private acquisitions fund