"We're screwed now..."
"You said we'd be back within two hours. At this rate, we might not even make it back by tomorrow morning!"
"Uncle, I think the front of the truck is going to punish you again..."
"She's been acting all weird lately. She hates us sneaking out to search the wasteland whenever we get the chance. If we still haven't returned by tomorrow morning and delay the convoy, with her temper these days, do you think she'll castrate you outright? Just to warn everyone..."
"Damn you, stop muttering here. You're scaring me..."
"Uncle, you're my uncle. Isn't my great-uncle your own older brother?"
"..."
Beneath the Crimson Moon, the stranded truck sat by the roadside, its quiet headlights shining into the distance.
The uncle and nephew sat in the cab, cold sweat beading on their foreheads as they flipped through the map again and again, arguing all the while.
The small sections of the map were covered with line after line they had drawn.
One line in particular stood out.
It marked the path they had taken down from the main road, along with the various villages they had passed through.
In theory, if they followed this line back, they should have been able to return to their previous camp.
But they were certain they had not taken a wrong turn. They had tried several times, yet somehow remained trapped in this wasteland.
It felt as though the roads around them had suddenly stopped making sense.
They had clearly followed the map. They had clearly traveled this route before. Yet somehow, something always went wrong.
"This is getting troublesome..."
The middle-aged man studied the map for a while, then let out a deep breath and covered his nose again.
The smell inside the cab really was too strong.