CHAPTER THREE

DUST TRAILS AND DIRT BUGGIES

The pre-dawn air in the Outlands was crisp and biting, a stark contrast to the city's suffocating confines. Zephyr Knox, a true embodiment of Nomad resilience, stood ready outside his makeshift base camp, his eyes scanned the horizon with a deep solemnity taking in his surroundings. The aftermath of the night's storm had transformed the landscape, casting a thick layer of wasteland dust over everything, shrouding the scene in an eerie tranquillity. Remnants of the great collapse mark the skyline, silent witnesses to a turbulent past, now part of the haunting beauty of the Outlands.

As first light began to paint the sky, Zephyr methodically dismantled his camp. He folded the tarp with practised hands, each movement a ritual honed by years of nomadic life, and neatly stowed it in the back of his rugged buggy. The camp, which had been a protective cocoon against the harshness of the Outlands, was now efficiently packed into the confines of his trusted vehicle. While securing the last of his gear, a photograph fluttered from the bundle, landing softly on the dusty ground. It captured a moment frozen in time - a woman and child atop a towering building, gazing over the neon-lit expanse. Zephyr paused, his weathered fingers tenderly tracing the faces in the photograph, a flicker of deep emotion crossing his rugged face. With a heavy sigh, he carefully placed the photograph back into his chest pocket, a gesture that spoke volumes of its value to his heart.

Refocusing on the task at hand, Zephyr checked his pad. The screen displayed a forecast of clear weather, a rare and welcome prediction in the often unpredictable Outlands. The favourable conditions presented him with the opportunity for a straight run to Valerion, a journey he could complete in one stretch if the weather held. Climbing into the driver's seat, he brought the buggy's engine to life, Its engine hummed, a quiet testament to the power of the sun. Casting a final glance at his temporary haven, Zephyr set his gps to Valerion. With a determined push on the accelerator, the buggy sprang to life, kicking up a cloud of dust and debris in its wake. As it sped across the rugged terrain, Zephyr felt an unfamiliar surge of excitement. For the first time in years, the prospect of leaving the Outlands ignited a spark of anticipation in him.

The journey had been smooth so far, with Zephyr making good time. However, as he approached the decaying remains of an old war torn city, a sense of unease crept over him. The air felt charged, heavy with a stillness that his experience told him to caution. He steered his buggy cautiously through the disintegrating streets, where the ghosts of a forgotten era loomed large. Dilapidated buildings, their once-grand facades now marred by time, and pathways choked with wild overgrowth bore silent witness to a bygone war. Amidst this desolation, pockets of life clung resiliently — spots of greenery and small creatures that had found an unlikely sanctuary amidst the ruins, a stark contrast to the relentless fury of the Outland's storms.

It wasn't long before Zephyr realised he wasn't the only soul navigating the ruins. Ephemeral shadows danced between the decaying structures, and a prickling sensation at the back of his neck set his instincts ablaze with the awareness of being watched. His fingers clenched tighter around the steering wheel as he surveyed the scene, his gaze piercing through the lifeless, gaping windows of the buildings. As he manoeuvred through the maze of the forgotten city, he encountered an obstruction in the road. Such blockages were common in the ruins, but something about this one seemed deliberately placed, too fresh amid the decay. Zephyr’s mind raced with plans of retreat, but before he could act, a sudden, sharp crack resonated through the cabin, jolting him with its immediacy. "FUCK, Shadow Reapers," he cursed under his breath. The notorious bandits of the Outlands had found him, their ambush perfectly laid.

In a flash of decisiveness, he slammed the buggy into reverse, then spun it around in a tight arc, kicking up a storm of dust. The Reapers, caught off guard by his sudden move, scrambled to reposition themselves. Zephyr didn't hesitate. He pushed the accelerator to the floor, the buggy's engine whirring as it surged forward. As he darted through the ruins, buildings blurred and indistinct shapes on either side. The speed at which he manoeuvred the buggy turned the crumbling cityscape into a rapidly shifting maze. Zephyr's mind flashed back to lessons from his father on high-speed drone flying, repeating the mantra that now guided his escape: "Focus on an inch in the distance, and in a second, you'll be there." With this wisdom guiding him, Zephyr navigated the maze of streets, each turn swerving a dance between risk and survival, the Shadow Reapers trailing in his dust-filled trail.

The buggy strained under the relentless pace, its frame groaning and rattling as parts began to loosen and fall away. Zephyr noticed rivets loosening on the windscreen. His chest tightened, and his gaze narrowed as he skillfully navigated through the maze of obstacles, each turn a narrow escape from the clutches of the Shadow Reapers. Suddenly, a Reaper cart sprang from a side passage, attempting a daring manoeuvre to push Zephyr into the rubble. Seizing his chance, Zephyr spotted a dauntingly narrow passage ahead. With a moment of sheer determination, he steered the buggy towards the tight space, threading the vehicle through the slender gap. The buggy's sides scraped against the enclosing walls, as he saw an explosion of junk when the Reaper's cart crunched into the solid concrete. Emerging on the other side, Zephyr saw the bewildered Reapers forms disappearing in the cloud of dust and debris. "Thank you, old girl," he muttered affectionately to the buggy, his voice filled with gratitude for the vehicle that had just saved his life. Back on the open Outlands, Zephyr glanced at the sky, noting the ominous signs of an approaching storm. The encounter with the Reapers had cost him precious time, and now he was racing against the clock. He pressed the pedal down hard, pushing the buggy to its limits as it bounced and jolted over the rugged terrain. 

As the towering outer wall of Valerion loomed in the distance, a wave of relief swept over him. But his relief was short-lived as the buggy's engine, once vibrant and robust, began to falter, running on fumes. "Damn it," Zephyr cursed himself for pushing his lifeline so hard. The impending dust storm dimmed the sky, making the battery metre's faint red glow even more pronounced. "Not today," he muttered, turning off all systems and lighting before flooring the accelerator. The buggy surged forward with a final, desperate burst of energy, like a dying star's last brilliant flare. Approaching the gates of Valerion, Zephyr used the buggy's last reserves of power to send the Nomads' unique code to the watchtower, hoping against hope that his message would be received. As he neared the entrance, the gates opened, revealing the checkpoint. He had made it just in time; the gates closed behind him, with the storm's first gusts brushing against his heels. 

Safely within the outer wall, Zephyr finally allowed himself to breathe. The buggy's life ebbed away as a young man approached, eyes wide with excitement. "That was awesome!" he exclaimed. His enthusiasm was quickly tempered by his superior's stern rebuke: "Shut it, boy, he could have killed us all." Emerging from the buggy, Zephyr's mind was singularly focused on repairs. He approached the young admirer, seeking guidance. "Where can I get this fixed?" he asked, gesturing to the battered buggy. The young lad's eyes lit up with excitement. "You should see Echo in the Skirts," he suggested eagerly. "She's the best at fixing stuff like this. Finds all sorts of discarded tech and makes it work like magic." 

Zephyr, considering his options, turned towards the buggy, then looked back at the pair. "How much to leave this here for a few days?" he asked, tipping his head towards the battered vehicle. The older man, eyeing the buggy, grunted, "10 Stacks" It seemed like he was testing the waters for a higher price.

"9" Zephyr countered firmly, not one to be easily swayed.

"Deal," the young boy interjected excitedly, cutting off any further negotiation.

As Zephyr began to walk away, the huge doors leading to Valerions expansion grounds rumbled open. Behind him, the young boy watched in awe, while the older man grumbled to himself, yet content with the deal struck. Zephyr stepped through the threshold.