Reca finally caught up to Deca ten minutes past the edge of the acid storm. Deca had, of course, been reluctant to go too fast- Reca had stubby little legs, after all, and could hardly keep up with her 350-Horsepower engine. It was nice to get out of the danger zone regardless.
In the past, Deca had trudged into what was now known as the Andistronican Quarter on six legs, haggard, hungry, and fleshy. Back then things were different. Andistronica was high-tech and low-luxury, a community of facilities in shanties and shacks outfitted with solar generators, radio broadcasters and receivers, rudimentary television, and electric fences. It was the techno-survivalist's oasis. It was the last hope for the newly-inaugurated Andistronicans, who at first lived largely out of camper vans.
The fences had kept her out at first, but at night she enjoyed watching the lights of the ramshackle settlement turn off from afar.
Then the breakdowns started.
It took many years. Technology began to fail. The Andistronicans established a junkyard past the fence. It was a hole, at first, where the people threw their junk. Then it turned into a flat dumping ground. Then it turned into a hill.
There was no way to fix any of the tech that broke, and so the wonderful, chaotic wasteland settlement devolved into a threadbare shanty-town of lost hope. The people there were educated, and perhaps that counted for something, as they taught the few children they had about the sciences- everything from astrophysics to zoology. Deca saw it happen, and occasionally she would even manage to catch a few words of the informal lessons. She was never one for complex things like that.
When Andistronicans died, their bodies were buried in shallow graves near the junkyard. No one ever made sure they were still there, and so Deca managed to survive. She no longer needed that kind of sustenance anymore- not with her solar panels and fuel tank- but she was grateful, in a sort of twisted way, that she had managed to peacefully coexist with the people of a civilized settlement.
It was many years ago- how long, exactly? Deca wasn't sure- but it was many years ago. The final camper van, that which belonged to the son of the old Settlement Leader, had broken down. In a makeshift funeral procession, the townspeople had gathered together, hands on the front grill and on the trunk handle, and rolled it all the way to the junkyard. The psychedelic patterns on its shell were brighter then. It held sentimental value, and so it was decided that it wouldn't be dismantled as the other vans had been. It only gathered dust for a few days...
Until Deca found it.
Back then, she didn't have a name, only a purpose.
She got her name- her self, as far as she was concerned- several more years after that, when a curious girl with unusual purple skin and yellow hair wandered into the junkyard late at night. Under the stars, which shone brilliantly in the clear air, Deca had revealed herself to an Andistronican for the first time, and they forged an unusual friendship that had never faded since, not even slightly. Reca gave Deca her name. That was all someone like Deca could hope for. A name, a self, a friend. Wasn't it all anyone could want in a ruined world like the one the two of them lived in?
Back in the present, Deca stopped momentarily to let Reca climb back up onto her roof. That position was originally something Reca did to make Deca comfortable- after all, Deca couldn't feel anything that happened inside her inner shell. Nowadays it seemed that Reca preferred the so-called rooftop seat to the actual driver's seat, perhaps because years of friendship hadn't made Reca tall enough to see past the wheel. It didn't matter either way- Deca was the one in control. She had a feeling that things might be different this time, given the unusual circumstances, and so she unlocked her side doors just in case. Sure enough, a few minutes of driving later, Reca piped up.
"Hey- do you know where we're going?"
It wasn't the question Deca was expecting, but it was along the same lines. Deca considered for a second how to best get her message across, and eventually settled on turning on the internal lights, illuminating the old map that still sat, untouched, on the dashboard. Reca understood immediately and scampered down into the seat. The map, upon closer inspection, was professional- probably published pre-Andistronica, given that the territory, labeled ADSNCN Quarter, had been hastily marked off by someone with a marker after the fact. It was flanked on the south by a river (marked 'Hell River') that meandered off the edges of the map and on the north by a minor mountain range. Past the mountains was a vast, geometric cluster of shapes marked 'NukeCorp (NLA)'. Certain seemingly random spots outside of the Quarter had been circled in marker- there was no rhyme or reason to them that Reca could make out.
Settlements dotted the landscape, growing more frequent nearer to the river. Would those enclaves even be there anymore? It had been many years since the map was published, after all. No one in Andistronica had ever left to make a new map. This one was the only resource Reca and Deca had... almost. Deca's memories included effervescent flashes of areas outside of the Quarter. Still, Deca could only communicate with her companion through flashing lights, and Reca didn't know any morse code. Come to think of it, neither did Deca.
Evening fell and the scenery grew darker. Every once in a while, Reca and Deca came across a bush or a cluster of grass, resilient symbols of life as it existed after death. Deca hadn't told Reca (partially because she had no way to communicate it properly), but she had hoped to see others like her. Perhaps she was the only one left.
Reca wondered what her goal was and what she was hoping to find outside of the Andistronican Quarter. She became less cognizant as the night fell and the fog settled among the foothills, lending a dreary, dreamy atmosphere to life in transit.
Slowly, though, something red and faded, buried in at least a year's worth of layered sand, appeared on the near horizon. Deca slowed as she approached. This was the first- anything- of note since the duo had escaped the storm, and so it seemed only right to give it due diligence- Reca dismounted and began to brush the sand away. By the time the nature of the red object became clear, night had fallen, and all color vanished from the environment.
It was an old red car, windows open, seats packed full of sand by time. Reca had never seen anything like it in person. There were pictures, though, of similar cars, that she'd come across in what remained of the Andistronica Library, a shack with a meager selection of seven books. There had been more in the past, but they had all become so worn that they were thrown into the junkyard with the rest of the colony's irreparable trash. Reca had tried to find them years ago, but was unable to decipher the pictures.
A forlorn, listless expression seemed to come over Deca's front grill. She approached the hood of the car and turned on her lights, hoping simultaneously that Reca would get the hint and that Reca would leave it alone.
She got the hint.
As Reca pried open the hood, Deca felt what remained of her skin wrinkle and writhe. Inside, where the engine should have been, was near-rotten flesh, partially dried, filling each nook and cranny of the cavity just as any Occupant ought to. Deca nearly felt the pain of its last moments. It had taken over the car, driven towards Andistronica, and then broken down, lost without a fuel source, in the center of the desolate nothingness.
If Reca understood the significance of the carcass, she said nothing of it.
The hood was shut. Deca spun some sand over the car again. It was the least she could do.
Most of the other Occupants had been hunted. This one hadn't, but which fate was truly worse? Deca had avoided both fates due to what she viewed as tremendously good luck. Still, here she was, nearly alone, perhaps- she considered- the last of her kind. She couldn't do anything but keep living.
Reca climbed onto the roof again and the two of them drove eastward into the cold night.