“There is another Patrol. Stay down.”

  Yael and John hide behind a dune. Watching from afar as five Chariots each holding a full compliment of Knights ride across the sands. They are several miles away. The updraft from their vehicles gave them away even from this far. John and Yael have had to travel by daylight to keep this one advantage and remain unseen.

  “That’s the fourth in three hours. They are coming more often and closer each time.”

  “Their Finding Stones have limited range. Beyond that they must rely on Far Sight Stones. Far less accurate. For two on the move, as we are, it is not efficient. However, they do know we are out here somewhere.”

  “We can’t outrun them forever. And we almost died when we tried to fight them. There has to be something we can do.”

  Yael peers off into the distance. With his sharper eyes, he sees the Patrol split off into five different directions. One, and only one, heading directly their way.

  “There just might be. Come this way.”

  Yael leads John as they crawl across the sand. Constantly checking the distance between them and the Chariot as it rapidly approaches. Before long, things align in such a way that Yael is satisfied with his plot.

  “Remove your excess weight. I need you as light as possible.”

  John drops his bags and places his rifle down.

  “John, do you trust me?”

  “Do you want an honest answer?”

  “Do you desire to live?”

  “Very much. Yes.”

  “Then you will trust me. Remember to flip the blue switch.”

  Before any questions can be asked, Yael grabs John by his waist. With the full power of his whole body Yael lifts John up in one hand, takes several long steps forward and throws John as if a javelin at the Olympics.

  “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA”

  John had never flown before. He was not enjoying the experience. Despite the flailing and panic, Yael’s aim was true. John’s body was angled such as to land directly within the cramped carriage of the Chariot. A hapless Knight only sees the incoming body a single second before being knocked off to tumble in the dunes and left behind. Despite grasping to the rails, John orientates himself just in time to take a punch to the face.

  Not wanting to get into another melee with one of these mutant Knights, John aims to end things quickly. He swings wide, taking advantage of the small amount of space between them and the lack of places to run. The Knight tries to block. If it were anyone else but John that might have worked. His strength was simply too immense. The Knight smashed into the railing which snapped, both falling from the Chariot and into the ground below. Suddenly, the Chariot jolted hard to the left. Pushing John towards the now nonexistent rail. Desperately, he grabs hold of the broken metal, embedding the sharp edge into his palm. Back and forth the Chariot rocked, attempting to throw John off. A swift blow to the back of the driver's head stops that. John tosses the unconscious, or possibly dead, he was in no position to check or care, out of the seat. John was now alone on a runaway Chariot flying off in a random direction.

  “What was I supposed to do again? Blue something. Uhhhh… button. Blue button.”

  John presses a blue button on the Chariots control panel. Suddenly, the Chariot comes to an abrupt stop.

  “Oh thank God.”

  Slowly, the Chariot starts to move again. Now in the opposite direction.

  “Wait, no. That was supposed to make you stop. Stop moving!”

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  Ignoring his words, the Chariot gains momentum. Quickly reaching top speed again as it careens backwards. A Knight that had previously been ejected from the Chariot sees it returning to him and charges into its path. As the Chariot is only a hundred feet away, he raises his hand demanding it stop.

  It did not.

  John and the Chariot continue to fly backwards, now with a heavy dent in the rear.

  “Switch! He said switch!”

  John flips the blue switch. Bringing the Chariot to a gentle stop. John hops off and lays back on the sands. His head is spinning and stomach aching. The sky seems to spin on its own as he looks upward. Worst ride of his whole life.

  After a minute of grounding, John looks out to the horizon. Far off is the tall, dark silhouette of Yael running towards him. John figures he has a few more minutes before Yael catches up. He decides to occupy himself by searching through some containers across the Chariot’s side. Ah, looting the enemy. That’s familiar. The Chariot has two large, rectangular containers. One on each side. The first was spare parts. Strange metal bits and bobs and some odd looking tools to keep the ride running smooth. The other had what actually mattered to John. Food. A large metal container with around a gallon of fresh water, an assortment of crackers and what appeared to be a container of grey gruel. Dry rations were getting rather tiring. John opens the top and sticks his finger into the gruel, bringing a little taste to his lips. Mushy, bland and with a medicinal after taste. Made plain oatmeal seem luxurious by comparison. Oh well, beggars cannot be choosers.

  Yael finally arrives, hunching over and breathing deeply to catch his breath.

  “You, you could have backed up a bit more.”

  “I don’t know how to do that. Or anything about this contraption.”

  “Well, you are going to have to learn on the run. The rest of the Patrol should be on their way. Get on.”

  John took the front seat. It was a tight fit. Yael takes out the container of gruel and tosses it into the sand to make room for the packs.

  “Hey, why’d you waste that?”

  “We have no need for armor grease.”

  Taking the tail whip, Yael tightly binds the makeshift Crimson shield to the back. He then crawls into the back. A fit both tight and awkward for his long legs. A spare Spear is procured and aimed.

  “Flip the blue switch back up and press the yellow button.”

  John follows suit and the Chariot starts to move forward. A handle, which reminds John of his old bike, allows movement left or right.

  “This isn’t so bad. I think I’m getting the hang of-”

  “Hard right!”

  A light tap on the handle causes a sharp turn, just in time to avoid a direct hit from an energy bolt. The extreme heat turned a bathtub's worth of sand into a glass sculpture of a mangled squid.

  “They have turned up the spear power! Press the Red button and flip the green switch. We need to lose them!”

  The moment after both actions are done, the Chariot doubles its speed and continues going. Pour balance and worse driving makes this a bumpy ride. No matter what John does, the Crimson Knights still gain on them.

  “Hold her steady! I need to take them down!”

  Yael aims his spear. Four Chariots in standard formation. A large target. He fires three bolts in rapid succession before the extreme heat causes the spear prongs to glow red hot. One bolt grazes the far right Chariot, causing it to explode. Another lands on the chest of the lead Chariot's left passenger, launching him back as if hit by a cannonball.

  The remaining pursuers change formation. They zig and zag all across the dunes. Rotating, charging before bulling back, performing organized disorder to dazzle and confuse. Neither Yael nor John see the enemy Chariot coming when it rams against their side. A spear is thrust forward to stab Yael’s chest. He manages to catch it just in time to stop the fatal blow, only to get a second spear stabbed into his leg.

  “You impudent Cur!”

  Yeal stabs his own spear into the hostile Chariot, then fires. Flames and shrapnel erupt, disintegrating the Chariot below the Knight’s feet. John and Yale’s own Chariot flips in the air from an overpowering shockwave. Causing it to spin out of control. After what felt like a thousand rotations, but was actually four, the Chariot buries itself deep into the sand. John crawls out, trying not to puke again. That made the Scrambler at the Fair feel like the Tunnel of Love. Yael is doing little better. Probably because his head and upper body are currently buried under the grains.

  Two remaining Crimson Chariots come to a stop. Three spears are pointed directly at the discombobulated duo. No place left to escape.

  “Outlaws. Apprehend. Take to-”

  Multiple spiked tails blast out from the ground. Stabbing into the thin spots between Crimson armor. Every remaining Knight falls dead from excessive poisoning. From their hiding places come three large Night Fiends. Surrounding their next prey. Yael manages to free himself from the sands.

  “Oh, great. These ones.”

  “Yael, you told me Night Fiends never come out at day.”

  “They do not. Unless they belong to someone that can force them to.”

  From their place above the Fiends, three figures stand to look down upon their odd catch. Each is insectoid. Dark Brown chiton cover their bodies with two long, thin legs and two larger, longer arms and four smaller ones across their chests. Antennae top their oval heads with large, black eyes and a complex mandible making up their faces.

  “Termitents.”