Moge Ko Novels & Stories

But why let a small detail like that stand in the way? An hour later, she stood in front of her mirror, admiring her makeshift disguise: baggy blue pants, a brown belt with a cobra buckle, a collared shirt tucked under a dark vest, black hat, a fake mustache, and boots that had seen better days. "Not bad," she mused. Her reflection was, at best, unconvincing, but desperate times called for questionable outfits.

Moe didn’t slow until we were at the truck. Moe pulled the Corolla to a stop beside the hulking, armored truck that had been our primary transport until its engine had given out. The contrast was almost comical. The truck was a beast of burden, a brute-force solution to a brute-force world. The Corolla was a pathetic, shivering mouse hiding in its shadow.