Highway Blossoms: Episode of Mariah - Chapter 1- The Girl in the Pink Bandanna

Hey everyone, Syon here. I'm very happy to announce that starting today we're diving (or driving) back into the world of Highway Blossoms! But this isn't a story about Amber and Marina. Oh no, not by a long shot...

For the next several months, we'll be uploading chapters of a Mariah novella! With her hot-blooded passion and penchant for destruction, I think we can all agree that Mariah is one of the most memorable members of the cast, but I think there's much more to her -- more than even she realizes...

So strap on in for a different kind of road trip, because this multi-chapter novella event is going to take you places you never realized Highway Blossoms could go. 

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“Well, this is the last of it. Do you have anything to say for yourself, Mariah?”

“Yeah, that enchilada was ass. I could have slapped chili on a piece of toast and it’d have been more ‘authentic.’”

Mariah, Joseph, and Tess sat circled around a tin can. All the spare change they had left to their soiled names lay heads up at the bottom, facing the three of them as they hovered over it.

“Only an enchilada this time. That’s progress, maybe,” Tess said.

“Not sure I’d go as far as to say ‘progress,’ but yeah, it could’ve been worse. It could’ve been another treasure map drawn on a paper towel.” 

“Small blessings.” 

Joe’s stomach and Tess’ small tummy gurgled in unison as they looked to Mariah, then sighed.

“Drama queens, the both of ya.” Scoffing, Mariah dragged herself to the beanbag and flopped down. “We’re no worse off than yesterday. Just use the card to get us out of this.” She dug around beneath her until she found a nail file. Too bad. She was hoping for the stereo remote to drown out their whining. 

“That card isn’t magic. Everything comes straight out of our account. An account we’ll have to pay a fee for if it goes any lower. With how grim things are looking, I’m not even sure we can afford that.” 

She stopped filing her nails and looked up. “It’s not credit?”

“Mare, I wouldn’t trust myself with a credit card. How do you think you’d handle it?”

“Like a pro, because I am one.”

“You’re a pro at something, alright.” Joe rose off the floor and peeked through the window blinds. The afternoon light had been swallowed by an orange haze, and reflected back at him as a silver car carefully crawled down the highway. When it passed, he was greeted by the rough, jagged terrain.

Mariah scowled out the window. “Where the hell are we, anyway?”

“Little ways outside Reno. I’m starting to think Nevada has a magnetic field.” 

“Reno?” Mariah scrunched her nose. “Then we’ll be fine. Just pull into town and set us up somewhere. It’ll give us time to scrape up some cash and refill the tank.”

“That’s the thing, we don’t even have enough for gas. I’d rather the RV just stay where it is until we figure something out.”

“So what are you gonna do about it?” Mariah yawned.

“I’m gonna take it easy.” He staggered to the couch and collapsed. “It’ll work itself out eventually.”

Mariah jumped to her feet. “‘Eventually’ isn’t good enough! Figure something out now, or I’ll move the RV myself.”

“All things considering, you’re being very demanding. It hurts me, really.” Joe reached into his breast pocket, then dangled the RV keys. Mariah lunged for them, but his hand snapped back.

“Fine. You want money? We have money. Tess! Get over here!” Mariah yelled out, despite her sister sitting directly beside her. “Go dig up that piggy bank. I know you’re holding out on us.” 

Tess somersaulted to her feet and brought out a plastic baggie from a drawer. In it, were the discarded remains of a green, porcelain dinosaur. Shards of the former piggy bank spiked through the plastic.

“You killed Rexy last week.”

“Oh.” The dinosaur’s remaining eye fixated on Mariah through the wrinkled bag, its name scribbled on it with a faded marker. “He must’ve done something to piss me off.”

“You called it an honorable sacrifice.” 

“See that, slacker? Even the dead dinosaur can pull its weight!”

“First of all--you’re a monster. Secondly--it’s not like we’re gonna be stuck here forever. The only immediate danger we’re in is starving, and even that takes a while.”

“As leader, I command you to get off your lazy ass and fix this.”

“I respectfully decline. Just have to let some things work themselves out.” He pulled down his bandanna. “Feel free to guide us through this mess though, leader. Maybe you can fix it.”

Mariah growled and tried to repeatedly stab Joe with a piercing stare. He couldn’t see it, but he could sure feel it. Though, it didn’t particularly bother him. She thought of all the ways she could force him up. The old jumper cable threat, maybe. But she needed Joe’s lower body working if he was going to drive. Ultimately, she decided any severe bodily harm would be liable to keep them there longer.

“You know what? Sure. I don’t need either of you to get us out of this. I’ll go out there and make us richer than kitchen grease. Then I’ll get an enchilada that doesn’t suck! Ya hear me?”

“There’s a small town not too far from here. Good luck.” 

Mariah marched for the door, kicking the tin can over along the way.

“Nothing illegal!” Joe added.

“Most treasure hunting breaks multiple laws,” Tess said.

“Nothing too illegal!”

The door swung open and shook the RV, but didn’t shut. Spare change rolled from the can and across the floor, settling underneath the table. In spurts, Tess watched her sister walk away as the door bounced against the RV, until it finally drifted half-shut.

XXX

Mariah grumbled as she passed the first building into town, leaving the emptiness of the desert behind her. Hardly even a town, it was a small strip of a settlement, commercialized mostly by diners, bars, and gas stations with faded logos. A place any traveler could refuel and spend money at before heading into Reno and spending even more money. Existing only because of its census designation, anyone who actually lived here did so on the bare outskirts, and not the five or so city blocks the businesses occupied.

All that made it stand out was the ancient railroad that she had followed to get here. The rails and metal had been pounded into the ground. It tore through the middle of the road, off to the wastelands of Nevada. It was as if the entire town had been built around it. Once upon a time, there may have even been a station. But that would have been a long time ago, and now the town was only for passing through.

The fact that this dump existed a few miles up the road and that slacker still didn’t want to move the goddamn motorhome irritated Mariah even more. As she walked by a hardware store, she imagined all the things inside she could chuck at his lazy head. Then, she noticed a single wheelbarrow sat rusting away outside it.

I’m gonna get us so much cash, I’ll need that thing to carry it all, she thought. Then I’ll get a real enchilada. One that doesn’t suck. And those two can starve while I eat it. 

Despite these thoughts, Mariah hadn’t the faintest idea of where to begin. Gambling, maybe. There had to be slots somewhere in this town. But she could already hear Joe’s smug voice in the back of her head. You need money for that. Money we don’t really have right now. Besides, remember the last time time you tried gambling?

“I’d gamble you away, if I could,” she whispered. 

Mariah was still in the shallow end of town when frustration began to seep in. Her mind fogged into a blank, and she was as low on ideas and schemes as her pockets were on funds. So when she saw a particular building, it felt as if the universe acknowledged her plight, was giving her permission to recharge her weary thoughts. That building was a bar -- Paco di Arena. 

Her direction immediately slanted towards it and she burst through the door, heading straight for the bar. The place was dim and dead, with only four other patrons. Mostly rough, exhausted looking men. Except the fourth one. A frail girl with a pink bandanna, who was sipping at a glass of water. A huge hiking backpack, almost as big as the girl, sat next to her, jampacked with so much stuff that it stood stiff and straight. 

Mariah planted herself on a stool and looked the bartender straight in his moustache. “Whiskey.” 

“Si,” he answered in a thick Italian accent. 

“And don’t rip me off by watering it down!” she called out as he went to fetch the bottle. 

Mariah searched herself for cash, but there still wasn’t any. Groaning, she rested her hot cheek on the cool countertop and decided to worry about it later. 

“Sounds like someone has had a long day,” one of the men chuckled. Dealing cards to the man across from him, he adjusted his fishing cap, then straightened his greying beard in thought.

“Yeah, and it’s only about to get longer.” The bartender returned with her glass, and Mariah swirled it around before downing the first gulp. 

“Chavez!” the man called out to his stocky friend sitting in the corner, playing the bar’s lone slot machine. “How are things going over there?” 

Chavez pulled the lever. The slots spun, and he waited, then they stopped. First slot: seven. Second slot: seven. Third slot: skull. The machine blasted out a mocking buzz. He leaned back and squished his cigarette in the ashtray, but the smoke lifted into the air as it kept burning.

“Nothing yet, Boss.”

The man dealing the cards turned to Mariah. “Well look at that, darling. Seems like both our days just got a little longer.” He had a calm voice that was both homely and respectful, pronouncing each word with eloquent precision. But underneath the apparent politeness, there was a smug tone. As if everything he said was a sharp blade, if only because he had thought about it beforehand. 

Mariah took an instant dislike for him.

“Heh. I’d say our entire lives have gotten a lil’ longer after these past few months, heh. Wouldn’t you, Rick? Heh.” The pale man across from him twitched. There wasn’t a moment where he didn’t seem to twitch, constantly interrupting his high-pitched voice with sniffs and giggles.

“Jase, Jase, Jase,” Rick twiddled his thumbs and thought. “That’s an unhealthy way to think about it. Not finding the gold was a setback, but plans can be… redrawn.” He smiled. “Our profession is unreliable. That’s why we keep optimism in our arsenal. That, and logic, of course.” 

Mariah lifted her head at the mention of ‘gold.’

“I’ve been thinking, Boss. What if the gold was a sham? A miner’s old journal being found, just like that? Now all these other rumors about treasures popping up? Seems like a load of mierda.” Chavez pulled down on the lever again. No luck.

“Heh heh. Prospector Rick’s been doing this longer than us heh. No doubt he’d tell us if it was, heh, rubbish. He ain’t lyin’ to us.”

“Not calling Boss a liar. Just saying he could have been wrong. You’re too trusting.”

Jase pounded his shaking fist on the wood. Cards scattered across the table. “S-S-S’cuse me, bloke?” 

“Now now, boys. No use fighting amongst ourselves. Maybe the gold was real, maybe it was a hoax. We don’t even know who found it -- if  they found it. Either way, these rumors are good. A few them are bound to lead somewhere. But Chavez is right, Jase. We have to use our minds to separate the truths from the untruths.” 

Jase looked down at his drink in shame. “Sorry, Prospector.” 

“Um, I heard it was two girls.” The entire bar looked to the girl in the pink bandanna. She cowered at the attention, but found the courage to keep going. “That found the treasure, I mean…” 

Mariah took two long, painful swallows of her whiskey and waved the bartender back over.

“I heard rumblings about that. Amateurs, from what I gathered.” Rick gathered the cards and shuffled them. “I find that hard to believe, however. Even if we assumed two inexperienced girls somehow managed to find the locations, they’d need the proper equipment. That doesn’t come cheap, believe me.” He grinned at the girl and winked. “It’s a nice story, though.”

The girl pouted and went back to her drink, blowing bubbles in the water as she sulked.

“No wonder you clowns didn’t find the treasure,” Mariah finally said. “You can’t even settle on whether the damn thing exists.” 

This time, the entire bar turned to Mariah. Chavez and Jase scowled at her and Mariah scowled back just as hard, while the girl’s eyes lifted up from her water. 

Rick kept calm though, and rested his hands on his belly. “Oh, so you’re familiar with it? I take it you had better luck than us, darling?”

“Pffft. Luck has nothing to do with it. I spent my entire life tracking down that gold. Took dedication, skill, and an ass-load of mental fortitude.”

“Mental fortitude, huh? That’s something we have in common. Glad we both appreciate sharpening our minds. But let me ask you this, darling. If you spent all that time devoted to the treasure, then where is it?” 

Mariah gritted her teeth and turned away. The question stung, sizzling against wounds that hadn’t even begun to heal.

“Well?”

“Someone else got it,” she spit out. “I was this close, though! Even nabbed half of it for a couple minutes! But those thieves…”

“Sure thing, chica.” Chavez lit another cigarette. His words seem to dangle with the smoke. “Did those thieves steal your clothes, too?”  

“Heh heh. We didn’t even come close to sniffin’ the stuff. You ‘spect us to believe some barfly banshee found it? Callin’ bullocks on that one heh.”

“Shut your traps! I’m an elite, badass treasure hunter. Not some broad. I got proof back at my base, but you idiots aren’t ever gonna see it.”

“Just like you’re never going to see that gold, right darling?” 

Another question, but this one stung even harder. It was dirty, and Rick knew it. Mariah couldn’t answer. Her anger went from a simple simmer, to a complex bubble of emotions. If she could admit to the idea of crying, then tears may have even edged in her eyes. But only for a second.

“I’m sorry, did I strike a nerve?” He paused, and let the bitterness dig itself deeper into Mariah. “Those are some very tall tales you’re engaging us with. But even if all that is true, you don’t seem to be any better off than us. Heck, if it’s still eating at you, then maybe even worse. I suggest you take some time to reflect, darling.” 

Mariah stood up. The stool slid back and slammed into the bar. “You call me ‘darling’ one more time and I’ll scalp that beard off your redneck face.” 

“You wanna say that again, bitch?” Jase tossed his chair. The sudden air scattered playing cards all across the floor. “No one talks to the Prospector that way.”

“Looks like I just did.” 

Chavez turned around in his seat, one knee straightened out and ready. He reached for his side and felt the awkward lump attached to his belt, hidden beneath his baggy shirt. From the corner of his eye, the bartender watched as he scrubbed a glass.

“That will do. Now settle down.” Rick eased himself up, sticking out both hands to calm his men. 

Jase and Chavez glanced at each other, then obeyed. But Jase kept a constant glare on Mariah as he returned to his seat. 

“My boys aren’t going to do anything. I can also admit when I’ve gone a little too far. However…” His eyes narrowed onto Mariah. “I’d say you’ve gone a little too far yourself. Another snip like that, and, well…” He laughed a little. “I’m not my boys.” 

Mariah smirked and puffed her shoulders back “You either really like that nasty beard, or…” She took a step forward. “You really hate being an inbred yocal.”

Rick smiled and looked around. He chuckled, not really at anything in particular. Then he frowned. He launched his bearish body forward. Mariah grabbed hold of the bar stool. She hoisted it up, ready for the clash. 

But before either one could hit, a squeaking voice shrieked through the air. 

“HOLD IT!” The girl in the pink bandanna sprung up between the two. Rick came to an instant stop, rediscovering composure. Mariah’s momentum carried her forward, stopping only inches from crashing the stool over the girl’s face. Both seemed frozen in time, bewildered at her entrance. “Please…” she said, nervous at the new attention.

Mariah brought the stool back, but didn’t loosen her death grip.

“I know things got a little intense, but there’s no reason to go this far! And what about Mr. Bartender? Do you think he wants to deal with this?”

Mr. Bartender continued scrubbing the glass. In truth, he didn’t care very much. 

“Besides, it’s not really becoming of either of you… and stuff.” Her moment of courage evaporated, and when the girl realized just exactly what she had done, her eyes made a quick dart for her shuffling feet. 

Even an interruption as timid as that was enough for Rick to subside, though. He breathed in and patted out the ruffles on his shirt. With a dignified cough, he extended a paw to Mariah. “Girly here is right. I’m a big enough man to admit we both got carried away. How about it?” 

Mariah stared at fuzz poking out of the liver spots on his leather hand. She briefly considered answering him by biting the damn thing, but instead she just snarled. 

“Whatever.”

She placed the stool down and sat back at the bar, ignoring his token of equality. Insulted, Rick grumbled back to the table as he signaled for Jase to start reshuffling the deck.

Beneath the sweat, the girl struggled to wheeze out a sigh of relief, but somehow managed. The bar settled into an uneasy peace, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. So with a gulp, the girl smacked her bony cheeks, heaved up her backpack, and marched to the bar. 

The backpack thudded down next to Mariah’s drink, shaking the ice. It was so big it spilled into the bartender’s side, and the girl tried to hide her gelatin arms behind it. Mariah peered over. The girl smiled.

“Hi!”

Mariah signaled the bartender for another drink.

“I-I’m Clara!”

Mariah rolled her eyes at her, wasting no time to start on the fresh whiskey.

“That sure was crazy, huh? Things got really tense. It made me super nervous! You could have gotten hurt bad. Or, I don’t know... “ She gave a small laugh to soothe herself. It didn’t work. “Maybe he could have.” 

Mariah didn’t even bother acknowledging her this time. Hardly any good ever came of strangers. Especially the sociable kind. This wasn’t going to deter Clara, though. Not now. 

“What’s your name?” 

Mariah growled and twisted her head. What was wrong with this chick? She just stopped her from showing some smug hillbilly what for, and now she wanted to make friendsies? Hell no. 

But before Mariah could take the opportunity to tell her off, something about Clara struck her. Her shrunken frame. A thin face, with sunken eyes that looked even darker because of the shadow the bandanna cast. Bones poking against her skin like tree branches. 

With a sigh, the urge of war left Mariah. “Name’s Mariah,” she finally said. “What do you want, Sticks?” 

‘Sticks’ timid eyes popped up. “Oh, uh, th-thank you! Sorry if I’m bothering you, Mariah.” She scrambled to lean in, and Mariah grimaced as she tightened the grip on her drink. “I just need to know something -- were you telling the truth? About the miner’s gold! You almost found it, right?” 

“There’s no almost to it, sister! I did! Someone else just kept beating me to it.”

“You promise?” Clara leapt into Mariah’s personal space and popped that all-important invisible bubble. “Cross your heart? Hope to die?” 

“Get any closer and someone’s gonna get a needle in the eye, and it ain’t gonna be me. But yeah, it’s true. All of it.” 

“Sorry, sorry.” She backed away, but now a cheerful smile stayed with her. “It’s just that I think you might be exactly the type of person I’ve been looking for.” She dug into her backpack, shifting through banging metal, opening and closing jingling zippers. “Here. What does this look like to you?” She handed Mariah a photo with torn jagged, edges, like it had been ripped in half.

It was of a single man. His hair was greased and slicked back, with a five o'clock shadow growing from his cheek down to the end of his neck. In one hand, he held a mug of beer. His other arm was stretched out, but the picture had been split. There was no way to tell what he was doing past the unbuttoned cuff.

“A scuzz?” Mariah said.

“Huh? Oh!” Clara flipped the photo around. “Wrong side, sorry! I meant this!” Her voice was rushed and out-of-breath.

Now, instead of a picture, there was writing, hastily scribbled and blotched in pen.

A set of numbers, and underneath them, the words, My greatest score!

“These look like coordinates. Pretty specific, too,” Mariah decided after some inspection. This was a rare moment, one where she actually surprised herself. Joe pestering her to brush up on geography and geology and all that garbage before they left home had finally come in handy. 

“Uh-huh! That’s right!” She gave a bouncing nod. “Or at least… I think they are.” 

“Do they mean anything?” 

“Maybe. If I’m right. I think…” She clenched her fists. “I think my dad hid treasure there.” 

Clara’s eyes had climbed from timid to a sharpened confidence. It electrocuted Mariah’s mild curiosity. Any mention of treasure was bound to. But as single-minded as she often was, Mariah knew herself too well. Despite the pulling urge telling her to wiggle her way into another expedition, she stood up. 

“I know where this is going, and the answer’s no.” She began making her way to the door. “I got my own crap to worry about. Probably just another stupid scam anyway.”

The thrashing voice in Mariah’s head told her it wasn’t. Then again, it always told her it wasn’t. But she needed to find cash -- quick. Her mind was already going numb at the idea of Joe scolding her for taking off. 

Clara jumped up. “Please!” Mariah stopped. “I’m not trying to trick you! You can have half-- No-- All of it, if it’s real! Everything in my wallet, too! I just need to know it exists! Please. I don’t have a lot of time, and--” A wet, uncontrollable cough rasped out of her. She blocked it with her hand, and when the fit was over, she opened it back up and cringed. For a moment, Mariah thought she could see red seeping from her palm, but Clara shoved her hand into her pocket.

There wasn’t much of a defense barrier past that, and that electric curiosity gnawed at Mariah’s brain. How could she turn down an offer like that? She needed quick cash, right? Well this was the answer. Joe could wait a few hours. That slacker would be kissing her feet later. And so, with that in mind, and not much afterthought, Mariah flashed back over and stuck out her hand.

“Now you’re speaking my language. Happy to be in your employment, Sticks.”

“Oh my gosh, thank you!” With big, grateful waves, Clara used her clean hand to shake Mariah’s. “I’ll keep my word, I promise! Pinkie promise! No no no! Pinkie, ring, middle, pointer, AND thumb promise!”

“That’s what I like to hear.” Mariah grinned through the misery of direct contact, but kept an eye on Rick, Chavez, and Jase. The three had been quiet through all of this, occasionally making glances over. In other words: eavesdropping. “Hey, why don’t we yack about the rest of the details outside?”

“Sure! Sounds good!”

“Great, great.” Again, Mariah made her way to the door. “Now be a good employer and pick up the tab for me, will ya?” 

Mariah tossed a wave to the bartender. Clara turned, and he held out the glass, now filled with a receipt, not whiskey.

“H-Huh?”