by Logan Jacobs
I took a deep steadying breath and flexed my fingers on the steering wheel.
“Hello, champions!” Chi-Cheshire’s voice boomed across the wasteland as his feline face appeared thirty feet tall in the purple sky above us. “Prepare yourself for the Passage of Pain. The first check-point on this multi-stage race across the harsh desert of Cruxia is three hundred miles ahead of you. Twelve teams shall start the race. The first ten to arrive at the check-point will advance to stage two. That is, if you all survive the dangers of the desert and each other, of course. Good luck, champions. Now… start your engines!”
I hit the ignition button, as did the aliens who drove the eleven other vehicles started at once.
Engines roared to life in a full throated growl from the very gates of high octane hades. Bright yellow flames belched from the exhaust of the dragster on my right. The double V-12 monsters under the hood of our own truck grumbled and shook us to the core. The truck rumbled, full of anger and held back acceleration. It was like it wanted to pounce. To devour the road ahead of us like some eighteen wheeled predator.
“On your mark,” Chi-Cheshire bellowed. “Get set. Race!”
The vehicles all around me sprang forward like full-metal cheetahs chasing a herd of howling hot-rods. Dust swirled. Rubber burned. Tires sent out rooster tails of sand and dirt.
My foot stayed well off the pedal.
“Um, Marc, sugar, it’s time to go,” Aurora drawled beside me, more than a bit confused.
“Just wait,” I said and smiled as I kept my gaze straight ahead. The pack of eleven vehicles were going hellbent for glory and soon they were easily two hundred yards in front of our still motionless truck as the dust began to clear.
I watched through the magnification of my Occuhancers with a satisfied grin as the pack began to turn on each other.
Vex, atop his muscled motorbike, pulled alongside the dragster, his arm extended as tiny crossbow arms popped out on his wrist. His fist clenched, and a seven inch steel bolt flew into the front tires of the speeding drag racer. The tire shredded as the tip of the car dug into the dirt. The speed had to go somewhere, and the engine portion at the rear smashed through its moorings, tumbled like a land bound meteor, and turned the passengers into pulp before the fuel cells sparked and the whole thing went up in a giant ball of yellow flame.
Vex swerved out of the way, twisted his accelerator, and sped off into the distance.
Two other vehicles got involved in “rubbing pain” as they crashed into each other as they jostled for position. One was a monster truck looking thing with giant, spiked wheels, and two crane arms that extended from the back that ended in spinning buzzsaws. The other was a half-track armored vehicle. I could just make it out as two aliens poked out of the top holding thick hoses that spat streams of blue flame. One of the buzzsaws sliced a hose in half, and a strawberry jelly substance sprayed everywhere, all over both vehicles. The other buzzsaw slammed into the vehicles armored plating throwing sparks everywhere. The jelly burst into blue flames that licked the air with eight foot tongues of burning death. I could hear the terrible screams from half a mile away and over the rumble of our truck’s engine.
The remaining vehicles spread out in a loose line, far away from each other, finally realizing that the crowd was dangerous before they disappeared over the horizon.
That’s when I reached up and pulled the chain that activated our air horn.
The first few notes of Survivor’s “Eye of the Tiger” blared from the trumpets mounted all across the roof of the cap.
“And the last known survivor stalks his prey in the night!” I yelled, shoved the truck into gear, and floored it.
The caged beast was finally free of its brake pad restraints, and we shot down the hard packed desert sand like a bullet from the barrel of a double carburator. Hell hath no fury like a Havak with a lead foot, baby.
We were soon flying along the desert at almost a hundred miles an hour. Speed like this on Earth would have me bouncing around the cab like a jumping bean, but the high-tech suspension and terrain adaptable wheels we’d put on the truck made the ride as smooth as silk stockings on a virgin’s thighs.
“Ha!” Nova exclaimed from behind me. “I see what you did there, Havak. Well played.”
“Yeah, I figured, this is going to be a long ass race,” I said as I shifted into another gear, and the truck lurched ahead even faster. “Why get bent out of shape, literally, in the first few minutes. Let the over eager beavers take each other out. Now, even if we reach the checkpoint dead last, which we won’t, we are guaranteed to make the next leg.”
“You are more than just a pretty face, Havak,” Tempest said in my ear through our comm-link. As long as we were within a mile radius of the truck, we could communicate with each other through our wireless network. If we got closer to one of the city states that were spread out across the barren expanse of wastelands then we’d also be able to communicate with Artemis back at the gym. For now, though, we’d have to wait until the waypoint to check in with her.
We soon passed the smoldering wreckage of the dragster. Black smoke slithered up into the purple sky like an acrid anaconda.
“Hmm,” I muttered, “I bet that is going to attract some attention.”
“Yeah, Marc,” PoLarr said in my ear, “Artie said the Cruxian Biker Boys were going to be out en force, especially during the first few legs of the race.”
“Keep an eye out for them, you two,” I replied.
“You want me to take a hop up into the wild purple yonder?” PoLarr asked.
“Nah, not now,” I answered. “Let’s save that for when we really need it.
“Copy that,” she said.
A few moments later we passed by the mangled, melted, magma that had once been the monster truck and armored halftrack. Whatever the strawberry colored jelly had been it was like napalm on steroids. It had burned so hot that the sand around the wreckage had been turned into glass.
We blew past it on our way to a hundred and twenty miles per hour and left it in our carbon monoxide dust. A range of stunted, dark brown, low mountains grew in front of us on the horizon. I caught sight of dirt clouds far off on our right that I assumed were a few other vehicles.
“Looks like they are gonna try to skirt those mountains,” I said into the comm-link.
“That is going to waste a lot of time,” Tempest replied.
“I have no clue if there is a pass through those cliffs,” I mentioned. “I guess if there isn’t we just follow them.”
“Worth a shot, sugar,” Aurora affirmed my idea.
“Okay, straight on till morning then,” I said.
“I hope we do not have to drive that long,” Nova grumbled as she shifted in her seat and stretched her legs. “I do not do well on extended trips. We should have put a bathroom in here.”
“Now you tell me,” I shot back at her. “Not sure there are any highway rest stops out here in the desert.”
“Don’t worry,” Nova reassured, “I can hold it.”
The desert played hell with distance because the mountains grew very slowly in front of us as the doldrum of driving set it. It was something I’d been very used to back on Earth, but after several months of constant excitement, it was hard to take now. I found myself, and my alliance mates, getting antsy after another two hours of driving.
“This is boring, Marc,” PoLarr finally said to break the silence we’d found ourselves in. “Can’t even play ‘Slug Bug’ or ‘I Spy’.”
“Slug Tumbleweed?” I queried.
“What are you both talking about?” Nova yawned. “I was almost asleep.”
“Me too, sugar,” Aurora said. Her head lolled to the side and rested against the door frame.
I should have known it was too good to last, and maybe I was happy it hadn’t, because I watched as two patches of dirt up ahead of us turned into black holes and about twenty motorcycles streamed out of them like angry ants.
It was the Cruxian Biker Boy
s. They were a blood thirsty band of post-apocalyptic marauders clad in leather, pelts, and spikes. The suped up motor-bikes they rode were fast, maneuverable, and had a variety of weapons attached to them. With a quick glance I took note of harpoons, shotguns, some small cannons, and all kinds of home improvement tools modified to maim and kill.
They formed up on the road about a hundred yards in front of us and then split into three factions. Two of the groups flanked us at a safe distance while the other faction made a long wide arc around us until they disappeared from my field of vision.
“Heads up everyone,” I said into the comm-link. “Looks like our boredom just got broken.”
“That last group just moved in behind us, Marc,” PoLarr said anxiously.
“Yeah, I figured as much,” I said and downshifted. The big truck slowed to under a hundred.
“Um, Havak, why are you slowing down?” Tempest asked.
“We get a blowout or I oversteer at that speed, and we turn into a tumbling fun house ride of severed limbs and crushed bones,” I answered and brought the metal beast down to eighty miles per hour.
“Fair point,” she admitted.
“Don’t even try to shoot until they are well within range,” I added.
“Duh,” Tempest chuckled. “What do you think I am? New?”
“You are new on the team,” I corrected as I watched as the two flanks of bikes began to close in.
“Ahh, good point.”
“Nova,” I said over my shoulder. “Take a position behind me with your gun. Aurora, do you have enough life force stored up to give us some shielding?”
“Not while we are moving,” she said as purple-black dark matter coalesced around her hands. “Get me a midday snack and maybe. I can throw some blasts at them though.”
“Okay, that will have to do,” I sighed, more than a touch disappointed. “You and Nova make sure they don’t get too close to the wheels. We can run with a few flats, but if they take out more than four tires, my ability to steer will start to really suck.”
“Here they come, Marc,” PoLarr barked and an explosion rocked the truck. “Fuck! They have mortars.”
The bikes swerved in from either side as explosions blew dirt and rocks just in front of the truck. They were trying to catch us in a pincer move. I heard the heavy machine gun from Tempest’s position and saw the bullets stitch the sand in the middle of the group to my left. She caught three of the bikes in her stream of hot lead, and they went down like human pinwheels.
While she was concentrated on the left side, the right was open to move in, and they did with a vengeance. The air crackled with dark matter as Aurora began to hurl balls of the purple energy at the approaching marauders like grenades.
I slowed even further and then jerked the wheel hard to the right. Metal screeched, and the back tires bounced as the truck rolled over several of the bikers.
“Nice one, Marc,” Tempest yelled in my ear. “That got about half of them on that side.”
More explosions rocked the back of the trailer, and PoLarr yelped in the comm-link as Nova’s heavy gun began to chuga-chug in the close quarters of the truck’s cab. It was louder than the inside of a bass-drum, and cordite filled my nostrils.
“You okay, PoLarr?” I asked as I swung the truck from side to side in an effort to keep the bikers at bay.
“Yeah, fine,” she panted. “One of those explosions almost sent me flying from the truck.”
Through the comm-link I heard the sharp staccato crack of her Equalizers and knew that every shot would find its mark. The gun based martial art known as Ar’Gwyn flowed through both our veins, and PoLarr was the fucking Bruce Lee of bullets.
“Ah, fuck,” she exclaimed. “The ones coming up on the rear are concentrating their fire on my position. I’m pinned down back here.”
“Hold on,” I said, shifted, and hit the accelerator. The truck lurched forward with a burst of twin V-12 speed. I looked in the side view mirrors that were adjusted so that I could get an angle that let me see the back side of the truck. The group of bikers gunned their machines to catch up to us. I waited until they were almost on top of the trailer then I hit the brakes.
There was a loud whoosh from the compressed air braking system, and the tires squealed. A sound like tin cans being crushed filled the air and then I slammed on the gas again, my right hand shifted frantically to build up speed again.
“Thanks, Marc,” PoLarr said after a second. “That took care of the ones back here.”
“Yeah, but it let a few of the others hitch a ride,” Tempest added.
Before I could respond, a mangled alien face appeared in my side window. He growled at me and his rotten meat breath washed over me and almost made me vomit. He shoved a battered pistol in through the window and pulled the trigger.
I let go of the wheel and pinned his hand against the window frame so the round went into the roof of the cab. My right hand shot down, grabbed the molded grip of my Equalizer, and pulled the gun from the well-worn leather holster. I kept it close to my chest, aimed it up at the mangled alien’s head and pulled the trigger.
The boom was deafening, but by now, my hearing was already reduced to nothing from the sounds of the engine, the whine of the motorcycles and the constant roar of gunfire from all around. The alien flew off the truck as his face exploded like an overripe melon hit with a hammer. Dark green blood and white bone chunks sprayed everywhere.
“Ah, gross,” I muttered and wiped his brain goop from my face as I slid the Equalizer, it's barrel still smoking, back into the holster.
“Um, Marc,” Tempest said in my ear. “You are watching the road, right?”
“Huh?” I uttered as I got the last of the green grossness out of my eyes. “Ah, shit!”
The mountains had finally gotten closer in the chaos of the chase. There was a small opening through the rocks ahead of us approaching fast. It was going to be like threading the eye of a needle.
The bikers got desperate and started to throw everything they had at us. Flames splashed across the hood of the truck as makeshift molotov cocktails smashed on the paint.
“Fuck this,” I muttered, shifted, and floored the accelerator.
The mountain filled the windshield like a sped up movie with jumped frames. It looked like we were going to crash right into the rocks but then, we shot through the opening into a wide ravine.
Behind us explosions filled the air as the biker boys crashed into the cliffs.
“Ha ha!” I cried out in triumph. “Suck on that, douche bikers!”
Then the ground in front of us dropped away, and we descended into the mouth of a deep, dark, cavern.
Chapter Nine
I flipped a switch, and the trucks lights ignited. In addition to the four headlights there were two spotlights mounted just above each door of the cab so that a solid wall of brilliant white light extended out ahead of us three hundred feet. I downshifted as fast as I could, running through the top ten gears out of eighteen, in record time to slow our speed as we hurtled down a steep decline. I didn’t want to stop us completely, but hurtling down an underground tunnel at eighty miles an hour probably wasn’t the smartest idea.
“Tempest? PoLarr? You guys okay up there?” I asked into the comm-link. I really couldn’t tell how much head room we had in the cave tunnel.
“It’s a little cramped up here,” Tempest answered.
“But we’re okay for the moment, Marc,” PoLarr added.
“Okay,” I said, relieved. “Keep your heads down. Hopefully we’ll be out of here soon.”
The steep descent we’d been on evened out, and we came out of the tunnel into a huge, aircraft hanger-sized cavern that was full of Cruxian Biker Boys gathered around a veritable fleet of hodge-podge vehicles. There were probably two dozen motor-bikes in some stage of disrepair or disassembly, some dune buggy like vehicles, and a couple of rusted car chassis.
My foot instinctively laid off the gas and the truck slowed to a complete stop. W
e looked at the Cruxian Biker Boys, and they looked at us. Everyone had kind of a dumbfounded expression.
I smiled really big and waved.
The closest Biker Boy smiled and waved back.
“Tempest,” I whispered into the comm-link. “Light’em up.”
She responded by letting loose a long burst from her machine gun. It sputtered a stream of blazing hot death that cut a swath of the Biker Boys in half. Literally.
I shifted and floored the truck. It lurched forward as if launched from the deck of an aircraft carrier catapult system. There was a line of bikes and dune buggies directly in my path. Too bad for the bikes and buggies. I shifted through the first several gears all the while with the pedal to the metal. My left leg kicked the clutch like stomping a back beat rock rhythm.
Nova leaned out the side window and added to the fray. Her heavy machine gun rattled deadlier than any desert snake. We hit the bikes and buggies, and they went flying in all directions like bowling pins at the Brunswick championship.
The Biker Boys had managed to recover from the shock and began to return fire. It was mostly small arms and some projectile weapons but I caught a glimpse of several who sprinted toward something covered with a huge tarp. They whipped the tarp away and desperately manned the controls of a double machine gun.
The gun whirred to life, and they fired wildly in front of us. Chunks of stone flew like shrapnel from where the large caliber bullets tore into the ground and walls of the cavern. If they got it under control and zeroed in on the truck, I doubted our armor could withstand it for long.
