The ash-filled air has choked off any moisture from your mouth. Amidst the dust, wind and roar of engines is a small shack with a hand painted sign that reads “Water”. Have a seat ash-hole – grab a can and have a drink. That’s it, sit right here in Cain’s chair. You look road-tired and confused about what you see here. Let me give you some facts quick before the lack of knowing puts you in a warm way with the desert critters. So, ya never seen a gathering like this? Not surprising, since the end of days dropped on us, people tend to stick to themselves. Take a look out there, through the dust, and sweat and loss. What do ya see? I’ll tell ya what ya see. It is determination. Each one of those bands of hardened dirt vermin has its own reasons for ganging together, and it would serve you well to know who is good for what, and what will get you scraping your guts out of the sand. Now look there, roaring in from who knows where, flying their leather banners on their blackened vehicles. That there is Turbulence, a gang from what used to be Arizona. Not often do you see ‘em during the day, and when you see ‘em at night rumors say they glow with the gallons of caustic fuel they call booze that they pour down their throats constantly. Depending on who you talk to, some say they are shadowy saviors, swooping in at sunset to turn the downtrodden into a reveling army of drunks, while others say it is just a ploy to catch their victims off-guard. The one thing I do know, don’t go poking around their camp in the daytime. Not sure if it is the heat, the light, or just bad manners, but they are not much for sufferin’ through guests when there are no stars above. Anyway, they leave the masses numb with drink and entertainment. So, what casualties they cause along the way is a small price to pay for a laugh now a days. Who are their victims you ask? Ya know, I can’t honestly tell ya, but it seems that when their dust cloud is raging down the road, they leave fewer behind than were there when they arrived. Maybe they become part of the gang, slave labor, or food. Ha! It’s the mystery that keeps you one step ahead of the next scavenger looking to pull a quick one on the desperate wad. I’ll tell you what…you take that can there, and go make nice with ‘em, you might get a helping of fun unlike anything you have known, and when the dust settles friend, and you are nowhere to be found, the next lost traveler who stumbles in here can sit in a seat named after you, before they stagger out those doors looking to find the next big drink. - Words of a desert water merchant to a weary traveler