Chapter I
The cracked pavement was hard and burning hot on my cheek. My eyes were heavy-lidded, my mouth was open, blood trickled from my nostrils, and sand viciously whipped at me from all sides. My goggles had gotten a thick web-like crack over each lens.
Through the stinging lashes of sand striking my skin, I felt a more intense burn around my ankles. My heartbeat quickened, and my eyes widened, opening fully as my survival instinct kicked in.
I heaved myself up from my belly onto my elbows, hyperventilating as I realized what was going on. They were tying my legs together.
"Be still, boy!" One of them yelled over the swirling waves of golden sand, crimson tunic making him stand out like a beacon in this sandstorm.
I reached for my voice, angered by these arrogant, violent men. I never really spoke much, unless I had something important to say. This situation was definitely one that required speech, however. "I'm not-"
A black-gloved hand clapped over my mouth, "Silence, grunt."
Wriggling, trying to break their hold on me, I screamed and bit the hand over my mouth as someone yanked my arms behind my back. The sharp burn returned as they tightened ropes around my wrists. I knew it. This was a slaving party. They would try to enlist me into their ranks, without a doubt. After all, I was young and stringy. Prime stock.
One of them jerked my head back, shoving a wadded-up red cloth inside my mouth. "Don't bother trying to spit it out." He laughed, and I felt him cut the strap of my goggles. They fell to the ground. His hand grasped at my hood, and I winced. If he found out what was under there, he'd kill me. Or, rather, he'd have to kill me, because some fates are worse than death.
Bang.
The Legionnaire slumped over, dead. Headless. Bloody.
Five more bangs, all in two seconds.
I groaned and spit the cloth out.
"The way these rats treat people, you'd think a homocidal robot gave birth to them. You okay, kiddo?"
Limply, I rolled over onto my back and squinted. Through the whirlwind of sand, the blurred shape of a man peering over some sort of rifle became visible as he walked toward me. A black bandana covered his mouth, and he had a paranoid look in his eyes, as if he feared I could have a hundred backup guys hiding nearby.
"Bleeding some," I muttered, feeling lightheaded.
His eyes widened as I sat up and my hood fell back. It wasn't that surprising, was it?
I felt a warm trickle run down my temple and realized my hair was damp.
"Jesus, hold still!" the man exclaimed. I panicked, my heart quickened, and my vision faded to black.