Say hello to a new character! I hope you all like him!
Whatever I Draw
by Eliza May
The Pencils in the car burst into wild cheering and laughing, filled with unbelieving relief as they left their pursuers behind in the dust. Only Tullier remained quiet. One of the Pencils, the one who had first joined him in the car, noticed Tullier’s silence. “What’s wrong?” he asked with a huge smile. “You saved all of our lives!”
Tullier glanced at the Pencil briefly and then turned his eyes back to the widely stretching Wastelands. Finally, after his questioner had begun to think that there would be no answer, Tullier murmured, “Yeah. I saved all of your lives. But there’s a whole lot back there who didn’t make it. The seat that I’m sitting in now, why is it me sitting here? I mean, I could’ve given this seat to someone else, and saved that person’s life.”
Surprised at this answer, the man was quiet for a moment, and then replied, “Well, it was either you or someone else. Either way, a life was saved.”
“Yeah, I guess so…. But I would have been able to make it. I could’ve drawn something. And even if I didn’t… I don’t have much to live for in the first place.”
That effectively killed the little conversation. Tullier continued to drive, though at a slower speed than he had originally been travelling. They passed several refugees on foot, and picked up as many as they could, until the car was packed to the utmost limit. Tullier was forced to draw several more vehicles, and there was soon a motorcade travelling through the desert, stirring up a gigantic cloud of thick dust.
“Where are we going?” asked one of the passengers.
Tullier just shrugged. “No idea. I’m just heading straight.”
The dust nearly obscured the sun, and it was only by the watches of some of the car’s occupants that they riders were able to judge the time. They drove for hours, headlights barely making a dent in the thick cloud.
Finally, Tullier stopped the car.
“What’s wrong?” demanded the usual spokesperson. “We have to keep driving. The Pens are sure to be still following us, and they’ve probably found–or made–vehicles of their own!”
“I’m exhausted. I literally can barely keep my eyes open. Someone else has got to drive.”
“I will,” the man instantly volunteered.
Tullier smiled tiredly. “Thanks, Mr….”
“Jaxon. James Jaxon. You can call me whatever you want: J.J., James, Jax–”
Tullier interrupted him with a wave of his hand and a yawn. “Whatever, man. I just gotta sleep.”
“Oh. Right. Sorry.”
Tullier reached for the handle of the door to get out so that the two could switch places, but one of the passengers called out from the backseat, “No!” Tullier paused, and the speaker, a young woman, explained, “You’ll let in the dust if you do that.”
Heavily, Tullier sighed, and for the next five minutes a rather difficult struggle transpired. Several people were kicked or elbowed in the face, and multiple fingers were stepped upon. However, the end result was that Tullier and Jaxon switched places, and the drive continued.