It has now been three days since they've robbed us, promising to reconnect. Antonio and I have been silently existing beside one another, unable to speak after what he had told me. The poor child.
"Let's go for a drive." Antonio speaks, voice deep and manly as he exits the tent and marches for the truck. He doesn't look back, checking to make sure I'm following, no, he expects me to follow, refuses to stay here for too long after the conversation we just had. The memories now piercing his consciousness and leaking his sanity.
The sun is high, glaring down upon us like we're all treacherous peasants, tanning our bodies and overflowing our internal supply of vitamin d. Together, we hop into the truck, escaping the sea of crimson, rusted, and golden sand and we're off in an instant. The town behind us grows small as we speed through hills and take flight over pits. The wind laughing and whistling past our ears, like lively cheers as I grip onto my seat, slowly looking over and finding Antonio as he clutches the wheel, body rigid, breathing steady and rhythmic.
Antonio.
His first time using magic was gruesome and truly darker than any task I've taken on.
Encircled.
Tortured.
Used.
Drained to an inch of his life.
But the people who caused it? It's impossible to believe, it must've been another group of people wearing their faces.
"Antonio-" His trance breaks, and finally since we last spoke, he moves like a living being. "Why are we out here?"
He gazes at our vast surroundings, occasionally we spot tents and vehicles off in the distance, rowdy teenagers or drugged up adults, all wild, all going for joyrides, all existing as though this is their best lives. Are they unaware of how they'll likely live better lives elsewhere? Why do they choose to stay here, in this desert? They can build human shredding machines that can survive the harsh climate, so why not use them to travel elsewhere? Why do they stay?
Why did I choose to stay in Sareanin for so long? Perhaps I'd be happiest in Ulea or Sortirid, so then why did I choose the harsh farming nation, filled with droughts and floods and nonstop starvation? Why would I choose that for myself? I can't possibly use money as an excuse, I lived on the border of Sareanin, I could've just—walked. I'm an assassin, nobody would've been able to take me down whilst I work on reestablishing myself.
But that doesn't matter now, I'm here, contemplating why these people don't leave their nation just like how I hadn't left my nation until I had to for a job, fully intending to return upon completion.
"Shit. Shit. Shit!" Antonio glances behind us uneasily, and when I do the same, I find a group of people hanging off the sides of a monster truck, about five times larger than our vehicle, barreling towards us as they scream and shout wildly. "Psychos!"
It has a toe line on the back and claws on the front, the windows are drenched in dust and reinforced with metal, the tires have spikes sticking out of them and to top it all off, there's a flamethrower underneath the entire thing that appears to be on a rotating contraption, able to shoot in every direction.
I squint, taking a closer look at the individuals, they're sweaty, drenched even, far more than any of the other locals I've seen.
"They're drugged up, keep your head low, I'll try to lose them!" I duck just as he says, my head slamming forwards as he hits the gas, the truck purrs to life, like our travel so far has been nothing more than a leisurely stroll. The shouts of the monster truck grow dim, allowing a sense of hope to rise within me, but then, something rams into us, leading to my head banging against the hard metal once more, a pulsing headache now blooming.
I sit up, fire burning within me as I search behind us for the perpetrators, along with the monster truck, we are now being hunted down by an older-looking car. Its roof had been torn off with a massive crossbow built into it. The vehicle itself appears to only seat two people as it's on the smaller end, and the driver itself, too, is sweaty. What's even more shocking though, he isn't wearing any sort of face covering, instead, his frenzied smile is on full display, reaching me like a warning to escape. To search for any way out of this situation, even if it means death, as he'll likely hunt me down until he can end me himself.
Once again, he rams us, blue now spitting out from the back of his car as the monster truck of people work to keep up. Except this time I'm prepared, now holding on tightly to my seat, breathing deeply.
I eye the switch on my side, I'd need to make sure that Antonio is set up for it, otherwise we'll risk spinning out and crashing.
He rams us once again and Antonio swerves, his curses dying in the air as he struggles to resteady us. Sand begins to slice at our clothes as we spiral, drifting on the unsteady Earth. We're hit on the side, and my joints crack, bile builds in my throat, and cries escape me, the world dizzying.
I close my eyes, holding on for dear life, my organs twisting around one another, suffocating me.
Until the spinning stops, and all there is is wind blowing through my hair and the nearby sounds of motors and screams. Opening my eyes, I find ourselves back on track, Antonio focused straight ahead, gunning the gas pedal and I don't hesitate to take my chance; I slam my fist onto the switch, immediately activating the nitro, holding onto Antonio in hopes of us not splitting apart. My face peels back, the clothing covering me sticking to my lips and teeth, I'm blinded as my eyeballs are being scratched at by the itchy fabric, my lungs fail to take in air, shutting themselves off from the rest of the world, forcing me to stick with what little oxygen I once had until I begin to choke.
I maintain myself as I suffocate, feeling the breeze and listening to the world as I'm blinded. Then, the moment the lightheadedness kicks in, I hit the switch once again, the speed doesn't slow down instantly, but over time my lungs begin to breathe, my clothing desticks, and my eyes open—the vast, colourful desert visible once again.
Immediately, I shift to look behind us, Antonio carefully doing the same as he continues to drive forward. They're gone. We've lost them. But now, a fire builds within the space we had just escaped.
Mutually and wordlessly, we turn back around, heading in the direction we had just come, returning to the growing fire and whatever rests within it.
The scene before us is gruesome to say the least, bodies scorched, vehicles demolished, heads and limbs severed, with an explosive firepit in the center of it all and harsh blue flames turning to tracks of burnt sand escaping from the site. Not all is destroyed though, a portion of the monster truck, though scorched, possesses food and supplies, I suspect it was all contained within a high-resistent trunk, but other than hunks of melting metal, I have no proof. The food is nothing major, just a bunch of cacti and some water bottles that smell like piss.
"Come check this out," Antonio calls out to me, and I rush over in an instant, find him standing by a chunky soup of what I assume is three different bodies. "They were definitely all on drugs." I scan through them, finding people with yellow skin, red, dilated eyes, and scale-like flesh, foam soaking into the sand as it leaks from their many holes. "I've been seeing earlier signs of things like this, in the more populated areas."
"Do you think it's connected to our targets?" I ask softly, taking a mental note of the side effects of whatever drug this may be.
"Possibly, though it doesn't help that we were given a laundry list of signs to look out for," He grimaces, finally turning away from the abhorrent freak and finding the collection of cacti and piss. "Let's take some of that with us." He nods towards the pile and I hesitantly move to grab both the cacti and rancid bottles until he stops me just short. "Just the cacti."
I pick up a good armful of the vegetable and immediately notice why he suggested it. There's a thick, blue liquid oozing from its cuts, its scent pleasant yet powerful. There's something odd about this secretion, something that does indeed need to be studied.
"Do you recognize it at all?" Antonio asks curiously, eyes covered yet focused deeply on me.
"No, I have no clue what this could be." I respond genuinely, unblinking as I squint at the cacti as though looking closely enough will just make the answer appear.
"Good to know," He nods, absolutely neutral as he crosses his arms, now staring down at the ground, unreadable.