"Eat sand, eat sand, eating sand~"
Karl hummed softly to himself, his voice echoing inside the cramped vehicle cabin with a note of helplessness and sarcasm.
Outside the window, the world had been swallowed by sand. Sky and earth seemed to melt into one endless blur of grayish yellow. Sand particles, whipped by fierce winds, pelted the vehicle like countless tiny bullets, creating a continuous crack crack crack against the metal shell, as if trying to consume the lonely vehicle whole.
"What the hell are you humming, Karl?"
V's voice came from the driver's seat, tinged with fatigue and confusion. Both hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. Even though the car had long stopped moving, his posture remained tense, ready to respond at a moment's notice.
"Nothing much. Just thinking about our lovely environment," Karl shrugged, still staring out the window.
His gaze cut through the dust-blurred glass, trying to make out the scene outside. But there was nothing—only rolling waves of sand. Occasionally, a larger grain struck the window with a sharp thunk, as if reminding them that this storm was far from over.
"We came out here to find the lost Basilisk, and now we're the ones stuck in a sandstorm."
Karl sighed. "Open the door and you get a mouthful of sand. The Badlands are really so welcoming."
As he spoke, he reached out and wiped at the fine sand piling up along the window edge, only for new grains to quickly cover it again.
"No one saw this coming," came Jack's low voice from the back seat. His words were partially swallowed by the wind, making them sound distant.
He leaned against his seat, listening to the shhh-shhh of grit blowing against the windows—like countless tiny fingers tapping at the glass. He sighed and added, "We even checked the so-called weather forecast. Should've known. Feels like we're cursed with bad weather—every time we need clear skies, we get the opposite."
"I've got a phrase for that," Karl turned to Jack, smirking, "It's called nature's revenge—the planet's payback for all the damage we've done."
For a moment, the cabin fell into silence, broken only by the howling wind and sand pelting the vehicle.
Karl withdrew his gaze and glanced down at the monowire in his hand. One end was still connected to the onboard comm system. After a brief pause, he shook his head and disconnected it.
"No good. Can't reach Saul's crew. We were all scattered out across this zone looking for the Basilisk, and now this damn storm hits. Comm channels are just static now—I've got no idea what's going on with the others."
"Can we drive?" Jack asked from the back. He stared out at the thickening sand with a furrowed brow. "If this keeps up, we'll be buried in here. Maybe that's what happened to the truck carrying the Basilisk—it got swallowed by the storm. That's... not a fun thought."
"No way. We can't start the engine right now," V replied, more experienced in the Badlands than city-born Jack.
He shook his head. "If we run it now, sand's gonna get into everything—mechanical failure, engine damage, maybe worse. And even if we could move, we'd have no idea where to go. Visibility's shot. We'd probably break down somewhere worse and have to wait for the Aldecaldos to dig us out."
"So we're really stuck."
Karl rubbed his eyes. "No idea how long this storm'll last. If it goes on for a day or two, we'll be digging our way out—and probably starving by then."
"You don't have to worry about that, Karl."
V opened the glovebox in front of Karl.
"I came prepared. Energy bars. Water. Enough for a few days."
Karl picked up one of the bars that had rolled out. His expression grew hesitant.
"This brand... isn't this the one that tastes like octopus pancake? Can you even eat this stuff?"
"It's great. I highly recommend it."
"Yeah, well, I don't trust a nomad's taste buds."
Karl grumbled, but still tore open the wrapper and followed the instructions to squeeze the paste-like substance into his mouth.
Based on what Karl had learned in the past, unless the geography was extreme, sandstorms rarely lasted more than a few hours.
But the environment now wasn't what it used to be.
They'd already been trapped for three hours, and judging by the outside, the storm was far from over. Karl's stomach was already growling, and to keep their strength up, they had to eat.
The octopus pancake-flavored bar slid into his mouth without chewing—like toothpaste.
His expression froze, then contorted into a complex grimace.
Jack, somehow, instantly understood that face.
It was the look of someone about to gag on something horrible—but too late to spit it out as it dissolved across his tongue.
But to Karl's credit, he'd come a long way since first arriving in Night City.
Even though the taste was awful, he clenched his jaw and finished the whole thing in one go.
The only side effect was that his face now looked like it had been twisted by a cyberware malfunction.
"Damn... I knew I shouldn't have trusted your palate, V."
After choking it down, Karl stared at the stash of energy bars still in the glovebox, eyes filled with despair.
"If this goes on too long... we're actually gonna have to live on these?"
"They're not that bad. I like them."
V took two more, tossed one to Jack in the back, and peeled open the other to eat himself—completely unfazed. He really did enjoy them.
Jack caught the one tossed to him, but seeing Karl's contorted face made him hesitate.
That's when he heard it.
Even through the storm, a deep engine roar reached his ears.
Jack looked up and saw lights.
Blurred by sand but unmistakable, a pair of headlights pierced through the dust—headed straight for them.
And those lights… were coming fast.
A vehicle?
The thought flashed through Jack's mind—
but then something felt wrong.
That light was... way too big.
If those headlights belonged to a normal car—
Jack's pupils dilated.
"A truck! A big damn truck!"
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🔥🦾 CYBERPUNK: THE RELENTLESS 🦾🔥
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