"It's all over...let's go!" The harsh, gruff voice carried down from the top of the cliff to where Max lay propped up behind a boulder, a few feet from where what was left of his Interceptor burned. The next second brought the growl of engines as the marauders drove away, back to the siege of the compound. Finally safe, Max fought the excruciating pain that wracked his battered body as he crawled from his hiding place.
It was all gone now. His vehicle, his guzzaline which he had fought to win...and Dog. Tenderly, Max reached out and stroked the hair on the now cold body of the animal that had been his only companion during those dark years in the Wasteland. His thoughts went back in time to the day he found the puppy whimpering in a box in the wrecked car by the road, his owners murdered a few miles behind. The thugs who had stolen him and driven the car were dead, thanks to Max, and now it was just him and this small, innocent life. As cold as he already had been back then, some spark of compassion had moved him, as well as perhaps some faint urge to relieve himself of some of the lonliness surrounding him since he lost Jessie and Sprog, and so he had taken the puppy to his car. Fed it, nurtured it, grown close to it.
In all the years, Max had never bothered to give the mutt a proper name; he had just been Dog. Loyal and dependable in a world where a person could die or go insane trying to find those virtues. Now he had given his life to defend his master. Good old Dog. Max grabbed the crossbow bolt protruding through the carcass, twisted it and pulled it loose, tossing it away to clatter amidst the stones. He grit his teeth against the pain and forced himself to stay conscious as he slowly heaved himself across the rocky ground away from his burning car and dead friend. He didn't have the strength or time to give Dog a proper burial. Even that small dignity was denied out here. What mattered to him had been taken, again. And once again, one way or another, those responsible would pay.