The ATV screamed down the flat highway. Empty fields blurred on either side. Behind them, the pickup's engine growled louder, closing in.
Headlights glared through the mirrors, throwing long beams across the cracked asphalt.
Malcolm swerved hard, dodging potholes and rusted carcasses of cars left half on the shoulder. Gravel spat out from under the tires.
Iyisha clung tighter, knuckles white. Every jolt hammered through her sore body, and every turn sent fear shooting through her chest.
She looked back. The truck was gaining. Her stomach flipped.
None of this would have happened if she had hit the tires.
They stopped. Malcolm jumped down, eyes sharp.
"Drive," he ordered.
She scooted forward onto the seat, heart pounding, cursing under her breath because she was terrified to take the controls. Malcolm climbed onto the back, pistol raised. The ATV roared again.
"Faster!" Malcolm shouted as the truck closed in.
The road wasn't empty for long. An abandoned sedan sat sideways up ahead.
She yanked the bars, ATV skidding past by inches. Iyisha felt the tilt, almost tipping. The raiders roared behind, shouting and laughing.
She heard Malcolm's shot and then the hiss of air bursting out as a tire blew, rubber flapping against the road with a sharp thump thump.
She looked back just in time to see the truck swerving on its blown tire. In that instant she missed a bump in the road and the ATV tilted hard.
Malcolm shoved her forward, grabbing the bars to steady it.
The machine dropped hard, her head smacking against the frame.
"Damn it," Malcolm cursed as the engine sputtered and died. "Old gas, I knew it."
The truck halted just two meters away, men piling out on foot, shouting.
Malcolm yanked her arm, dragging her toward the skeletons of cars rusting on the roadside.
"Shoot anything that moves," he ordered, voice sharp.
They peeked and saw six men coming toward their direction. Three carried guns. Some looked pissed while others grinned, almost enjoying the moment.
"Shoot!" he barked.
Iyisha lifted the Glock. Her hands shook as she fired.
One raider crumpled with a scream.
Almost at the same time, Malcolm's shot cracked sharp and another man dropped in the dirt. He yanked her down quick as gunfire ripped back in their direction.
Bullets cracked back at them. One zipped past her ear. Another smashed sparks from the car.
Voices rose over the gunfire.
"This is the end! Surrender!" one raider shouted.
"He's gonna kill us all, damn it! Three down already!" another snarled, voice ragged with anger.
Iyisha prayed under her breath, clutching the Glock tighter, stealing glances at Malcolm. He peeked out with his jaw clenched, stone-hard focus written across his face.
His eyes cut across the field, measuring the danger.
There are still 3 men with guns and two with blades.
He squeezed the trigger once, the shot cracking sharp. The rifleman jerked back, while the others ducked fast.
Each shot was deliberate, no wasted bullets. Every pull of the trigger counted.
"Move," he hissed, dragging her with him to the cover of a rusted car.
The raiders cursed, their rhythm breaking.
He leaned out from a new angle, lifted his gun, and fired a single sharp shot.
One gunman dropped clean.
Another lifted his weapon, but Malcolm's two quick shots hit before the man could fire.
"Fuck! He's a sniper!" one screamed.
"Keep him pinned!" another shouted, panic breaking his voice.
Malcolm didn't answer. He stayed cold, each squeeze of the trigger measured. The silence around him was worse than any threat.
Movement caught her eye.
One raider picked up a gun and slipped through the ditch, angling toward her side near the back of the car while Malcolm was up by the front seat part.
His weapon lifted, aimed at Malcolm's side.
"Malcolm!" she screamed and lunged.
The crack split the air. For a second she didn't know it was her. Then fire ripped through her shoulder, white-hot and blinding. Her knees gave out before she even hit the dirt.
She crumpled, haze clouding her vision, a single thought cutting through the pain: thank God Malcolm was safe.
Malcolm spun fast, his pistol barking once. The raider's head snapped back, body falling limp. Too late for her. The pain was already burning deep.
Malcolm dragged her close, pressing down hard on the wound.
His voice was fierce, steady. "Stay with me."