her , he reasoned.
They continued to speed along the highway, the air stiflingly hot. Leon wiped the dust from his goggles, the girl coming into view again, a pinpoint in the distance until she disappeared again over the brow of an approaching hill. As they neared the brow, Leon noticed that the dusty, orange sky looked darker, greyer. The pungent smell of oil began to saturate the air. He motioned to Warren to hold back, and as they neared the summit of the hill, they slowed and stopped. Murky, black plumes of smoke were rising into the air, mixing with the orange haze to produce a muddy looking sky. There were several columns in fact, dark and thick, like smoke from burning oil.
“Christ, who the fuck can afford to burn oil!” Leon said in astonishment.
“Looks like an oil refinery,” Warren replied with awe. Leon noticed a few other vehicles ahead had joined the buggy. They were all stationary for several minutes as if a discussion was taking place. Then the automobiles slowly set out in their direction, the buggy staying put awhile until finally speeding off in the opposite direction, towards the plumes of smoke.
“For some, this is where the hunter becomes the hunted,” Leon said without fear, “but not us,” as he lifted a grenade launcher from the side of his bike, aiming it at the approaching convoy. Through the magnification of its sight, he could see them clearly. They were cruising, and in no particular hurry. He guessed they could not see him or his grenade launcher yet, as they had not stopped or turned. He thought their bikes could easily outrun them unless they pulled a little trick like the girl. He fired anyway; it was in his nature he felt as he watched the missile fly elegantly towards the convoy, leaving a neat contrail of white smoke in its wake. So beautiful looking, he contemplated, listening intently as it cut through the air with a mighty roar, exploding violently as it hit the leading vehicle. A fireball spread out in all directions, engulfing many of the vehicles. Leon felt a wave of calmness wash over him as he observed the chaos before him.
“I love the smell of burning diesel,” he said with a grin, making Warren grin also.
His sullen eyes looked across at the commotion, past the shaft of the pump as it swung upwards with a groan. The smell of oil filled his lungs as it sloshed up from the well.
More flies to swat. Poverty breed s mindless idiots, he scowled. Who are these retards? He looked to the horizon to see the bikes turn and drive away, disappearing over the hill. Don’t worry; today, tomorrow, it doesn’t matter when. We will find you, and when we do… He sighed as he watched his vehicles burn, running his finger down the scars on his face, from his forehead to his chin. It felt coarse and ugly. He did not want to see it, anybody to see it as he pulled his hood back over his head and walked past the well back to the camp.
Arbitrary Detention
Aveline awoke. She was immediately aware that her mouth had a cloth tied tightly around it, her arms and legs bound to the bed she was laying on. There was pain in her back, and her muscles ached. The room was dark, but Sunlight poured in through openings where the roof lay on top of the walls. She could make out that she was in a small, stuffy room. The taste and feel of blood in her mouth that had dried and congealed made her want to vomit. She was incredibly thirsty, finding it difficult to swallow. People outside were chatting, mixed with the sound of kids playing, and there was the sound of muffled engines as if she was in some town or marketplace. The room was not decorated; the walls were bare, made from uncut stones cemented together. There was a small clunk as someone opened the door. Aveline raised her head to look. A woman entered the room looking across at her. It was the blonde woman who had pulled
They continued to speed along the highway, the air stiflingly hot. Leon wiped the dust from his goggles, the girl coming into view again, a pinpoint in the distance until she disappeared again over the brow of an approaching hill. As they neared the brow, Leon noticed that the dusty, orange sky looked darker, greyer. The pungent smell of oil began to saturate the air. He motioned to Warren to hold back, and as they neared the summit of the hill, they slowed and stopped. Murky, black plumes of smoke were rising into the air, mixing with the orange haze to produce a muddy looking sky. There were several columns in fact, dark and thick, like smoke from burning oil.
“Christ, who the fuck can afford to burn oil!” Leon said in astonishment.
“Looks like an oil refinery,” Warren replied with awe. Leon noticed a few other vehicles ahead had joined the buggy. They were all stationary for several minutes as if a discussion was taking place. Then the automobiles slowly set out in their direction, the buggy staying put awhile until finally speeding off in the opposite direction, towards the plumes of smoke.
“For some, this is where the hunter becomes the hunted,” Leon said without fear, “but not us,” as he lifted a grenade launcher from the side of his bike, aiming it at the approaching convoy. Through the magnification of its sight, he could see them clearly. They were cruising, and in no particular hurry. He guessed they could not see him or his grenade launcher yet, as they had not stopped or turned. He thought their bikes could easily outrun them unless they pulled a little trick like the girl. He fired anyway; it was in his nature he felt as he watched the missile fly elegantly towards the convoy, leaving a neat contrail of white smoke in its wake. So beautiful looking, he contemplated, listening intently as it cut through the air with a mighty roar, exploding violently as it hit the leading vehicle. A fireball spread out in all directions, engulfing many of the vehicles. Leon felt a wave of calmness wash over him as he observed the chaos before him.
“I love the smell of burning diesel,” he said with a grin, making Warren grin also.
His sullen eyes looked across at the commotion, past the shaft of the pump as it swung upwards with a groan. The smell of oil filled his lungs as it sloshed up from the well.
More flies to swat. Poverty breed s mindless idiots, he scowled. Who are these retards? He looked to the horizon to see the bikes turn and drive away, disappearing over the hill. Don’t worry; today, tomorrow, it doesn’t matter when. We will find you, and when we do… He sighed as he watched his vehicles burn, running his finger down the scars on his face, from his forehead to his chin. It felt coarse and ugly. He did not want to see it, anybody to see it as he pulled his hood back over his head and walked past the well back to the camp.
Arbitrary Detention
Aveline awoke. She was immediately aware that her mouth had a cloth tied tightly around it, her arms and legs bound to the bed she was laying on. There was pain in her back, and her muscles ached. The room was dark, but Sunlight poured in through openings where the roof lay on top of the walls. She could make out that she was in a small, stuffy room. The taste and feel of blood in her mouth that had dried and congealed made her want to vomit. She was incredibly thirsty, finding it difficult to swallow. People outside were chatting, mixed with the sound of kids playing, and there was the sound of muffled engines as if she was in some town or marketplace. The room was not decorated; the walls were bare, made from uncut stones cemented together. There was a small clunk as someone opened the door. Aveline raised her head to look. A woman entered the room looking across at her. It was the blonde woman who had pulled
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