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“You never told who we were waiting for and why,” Dylan reminded.
Initially, Faith planned to feed Horner information about Doyle’s task bit by bit, but now that Trevor had disappeared, it was no longer necessary to keep the information secret.
“Our goal is the main fortress of the Doomsday Brotherhood.”

Trevor infiltrated the ranks of these fanatics, and had to tell you how safely to penetrate the lair of these geeks unnoticed.
But since it is not here, you have to get out for yourself.
“Okay, that’s all clear.”
But as far as I know, the fortress of the Brotherhood is far from here.
Without transport.
“There will be transportation for you,” Faith Dylan assured.
Arriving at the head of the council, the governor of Vagrant, Faith showed him a stigma on her shoulder and demanded that they be given transport.
Realizing who he was dealing with, the head of the council wrote down the cost of transport at the expense of Billy Doyle, and gave Faith and Dylan an old motorcycle with a full tank of gasoline.
Having a little rummaged in a motorcycle, and having ascertained that the iron horse is still on the move, the couple hastily left Vagabond Shelter and continued on their way to the goal.
TO BE CONTINUED.
This story happened in my distant youth.
How old I was, I will not say, I will only say that I was then still a young beard.
My father and I went to visit his relatives in some tmutarakan.
We drove for three days on the train, got off at a small station.
The chairman of the collective farm in which my father’s relatives lived, sent his GAZ-69 with a chauffeur to meet us.

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The road went through the forest.
The driver Uncle Fedya confidently drove the car through the mud and potholes, trying not to move into a rut full of timber trucks.
The motor was buzzing, and suddenly stalled.
Uncle Fedya swore, got out of the car, opened the hood.
– Timer flew.
The lid cracked.
– No spare? – Dad asked.
– If.
– And what shall we do? This is now a mobile phone, you can call, call for help, and then.
– Didn’t you get a lot? – Dad asked.
– Kilometers fifteen.
Twilight was gathering, the night was near.
“That’s what,” Uncle Fedya said.
“It’s a kilometer away from here.”
The old woman lives there alone.
We spend the night with her.
And in the morning I run to the village for help.
We picked up the suitcases, and Uncle Fedya led us through the forest.
Soon we came to a clearing, on which stood a small squat hut and several courtyards.
Almost completely dark.
A light was burning in the window of the hut.
Uncle Fedya entered the hall and nodded for us.
From the entrance hall, we got into the room, the only one in the hut.
A kerosene lamp was hung from the ceiling, an elderly woman and a girl were sitting at the table.
– Healthy, bab Nyur! – blurted out our guide.
– Hello, Fedya.
Why are you looking at night? – The car broke down.
Will you spend the night? – three of you? – Yeah.
“But where will I put you?” Granddaughter, won, came to the mine to visit.
And there are two beds at the mine.
– Nothing.
Nikolay and I (that was my father’s name) in the hayloft will lie down.
Anyway, I’ll go to the village with the dawn.
And so lad pristroy somehow.
– Okay.
Sit down at the table, now we will have dinner.
Baba Nyura put on a table a cast iron pot with a potato in her uniform, a sour cream bowl and a jug of milk.
Dad took from his baggage a half-liter and a can of canned food.
The adults drank, and the girl was also poured, while she secretly showed me the tongue.
Actually, at first, in the dim light of a kerosene lamp, I took her for a girl, and

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looking closer, I realized that this was already a girl of about nineteen. Skype sex girls online.

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