arm.
• • •
The choke hold closed his windpipe. Another hand ripped off his helmet, exposing his head and throat.
Then before him, the face of a monster blotted out the sun. All he could see were eyes.
A monster, except that he now saw that it actually was someone wrapped in ragged cloth, like a mummy, all the way up to their eyes. Colored splotches like tattoos on the skin. Dark, narrow eyes looking right at his.
Raine tried to free himself from the man behind him, wondering how many were attacking.
But his muscles were too slow, too weak to respond, and the man in front of him—he now knew that the thing in front of him wasn’t a monster, but a human—held a knife that caught the shimmering brilliant sun like a deadly jewel.
The man shifted the knife in his hands, enjoying the moment. His eyes on Raine’s, the life slowly draining out of them. He brought the knife to Raine’s neck.
Didn’t last long, Raine thought.
Not much more than the others, all dead, inside.
The blade tip touched skin. Right above the choke hold, under the chin, tip pointing up. Was this a ritual or simply something being enjoyed? The suffocation started kicking in.
Not long now.
“Die, Ark man.”
Words. From a human. The first he had heard in such a long time.
One last attempt by Raine to wriggle free, a bit of a kick with one leg. But whoever held him was big, the hold powerful.
Then—a crack.
And instead of the knife slicing up, the man in front of him bloomed a red hole in his forehead.
Another crack, and Raine felt the choke hold magically release as if he were sprung from a trap.
The attacker in front fell forward, coming to kneel in front of Raine. The one in back just stumbled away before falling backward.
Shots, Raine registered.
Someone shot them. Then the sound of an engine, and from the distance—from behind a rocky outcrop, a jagged triangular piece of stone stories high—he saw a car.
Well, not exactly a car.
The thing was open, exposed, and looked more like a cannibalized version of a dozen vehicles than any car Raine could recognize. A pair of metal roll bars were the only protection on the top. It was the strangest thing with wheels he had ever seen.
And yet, driving it, coming straight at him, was someone who looked almost normal.
At least he wasn’t wrapped in tattered pieces of cloth from top to bottom. No face painting.
He drove with one hand. His other held a rifle, barrel pointing straight up.
The vehicle sent a spume of dust flying behind it.
Raine waited.
The vehicle screamed to a dusty stop in front of him.
“Better get in, stranger. Unless you want to play with more of them.”
Raine looked at the man. Scars. Skin a dark bronze, as if toasted by the brutal sun. He didn’t let go of the gun.
“In? Why? Where will we—”
“You got questions. I got answers. Some, at least. But with those two dead, a lot more bandits will be heading here. We got to move. Now.”
Raine looked down at the bodies, registering that the man in the crazed vehicle was his savior.
“Get in my damn buggy.”
Buggy. That what he calls this thing? This mutated version of what was once a car?
“Right.”
Raine stepped into the vehicle, which pulled away the moment his right foot left the ground.
“Hold on. And take this.”
The man handed him a rifle. “I’m guessing you know how to use it.”
“Yeah.” Raine had to shout over the sound of the uncovered, unmuffled engine, animalistic in its deep roar.
“Keep your eyes peeled. Left, right. You see them, take a shot.”
The buggy raced over the ground, bouncing crazily with each indentation or pile of rocks it hit, sending Raine shooting up and down.
He felt his stomach tighten, nauseous. An aftereffect of his cryo sleep?
He licked his lips. Thirsty. And maybe, despite the stomach-churning ride, hungry? He didn’t know.
“ ’Kay, stranger. We got to go through there. That ravine. Quickest way back to my settlement. And I’m
• • •
The choke hold closed his windpipe. Another hand ripped off his helmet, exposing his head and throat.
Then before him, the face of a monster blotted out the sun. All he could see were eyes.
A monster, except that he now saw that it actually was someone wrapped in ragged cloth, like a mummy, all the way up to their eyes. Colored splotches like tattoos on the skin. Dark, narrow eyes looking right at his.
Raine tried to free himself from the man behind him, wondering how many were attacking.
But his muscles were too slow, too weak to respond, and the man in front of him—he now knew that the thing in front of him wasn’t a monster, but a human—held a knife that caught the shimmering brilliant sun like a deadly jewel.
The man shifted the knife in his hands, enjoying the moment. His eyes on Raine’s, the life slowly draining out of them. He brought the knife to Raine’s neck.
Didn’t last long, Raine thought.
Not much more than the others, all dead, inside.
The blade tip touched skin. Right above the choke hold, under the chin, tip pointing up. Was this a ritual or simply something being enjoyed? The suffocation started kicking in.
Not long now.
“Die, Ark man.”
Words. From a human. The first he had heard in such a long time.
One last attempt by Raine to wriggle free, a bit of a kick with one leg. But whoever held him was big, the hold powerful.
Then—a crack.
And instead of the knife slicing up, the man in front of him bloomed a red hole in his forehead.
Another crack, and Raine felt the choke hold magically release as if he were sprung from a trap.
The attacker in front fell forward, coming to kneel in front of Raine. The one in back just stumbled away before falling backward.
Shots, Raine registered.
Someone shot them. Then the sound of an engine, and from the distance—from behind a rocky outcrop, a jagged triangular piece of stone stories high—he saw a car.
Well, not exactly a car.
The thing was open, exposed, and looked more like a cannibalized version of a dozen vehicles than any car Raine could recognize. A pair of metal roll bars were the only protection on the top. It was the strangest thing with wheels he had ever seen.
And yet, driving it, coming straight at him, was someone who looked almost normal.
At least he wasn’t wrapped in tattered pieces of cloth from top to bottom. No face painting.
He drove with one hand. His other held a rifle, barrel pointing straight up.
The vehicle sent a spume of dust flying behind it.
Raine waited.
The vehicle screamed to a dusty stop in front of him.
“Better get in, stranger. Unless you want to play with more of them.”
Raine looked at the man. Scars. Skin a dark bronze, as if toasted by the brutal sun. He didn’t let go of the gun.
“In? Why? Where will we—”
“You got questions. I got answers. Some, at least. But with those two dead, a lot more bandits will be heading here. We got to move. Now.”
Raine looked down at the bodies, registering that the man in the crazed vehicle was his savior.
“Get in my damn buggy.”
Buggy. That what he calls this thing? This mutated version of what was once a car?
“Right.”
Raine stepped into the vehicle, which pulled away the moment his right foot left the ground.
“Hold on. And take this.”
The man handed him a rifle. “I’m guessing you know how to use it.”
“Yeah.” Raine had to shout over the sound of the uncovered, unmuffled engine, animalistic in its deep roar.
“Keep your eyes peeled. Left, right. You see them, take a shot.”
The buggy raced over the ground, bouncing crazily with each indentation or pile of rocks it hit, sending Raine shooting up and down.
He felt his stomach tighten, nauseous. An aftereffect of his cryo sleep?
He licked his lips. Thirsty. And maybe, despite the stomach-churning ride, hungry? He didn’t know.
“ ’Kay, stranger. We got to go through there. That ravine. Quickest way back to my settlement. And I’m
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