Poly Track 6x //top\\ -

Or a trap.

The woman smiled. "Welcome to the real poly track, driver. The one they don't want anyone to know about." poly track 6x

Standing at the edge of the track, right where the old switchyard split into three rusted spurs. A woman, young, wearing a soaked lab coat over something that might have been a dress. No umbrella. No bag. Just standing there, one hand raised, palm out. Or a trap

The rain dripped off her chin. She didn't shiver. The one they don't want anyone to know about

My hauler, Junker Jane , groaned as I eased her onto the polycarbonate ribs of the track. The wheels locked into the grooves with a familiar click-click-hiss . Automated navigation lights blinked to life along the edges, casting the cracked pavement in sickly amber. I lit a cigarette and let the autopilot take over for the first quarter-mile.