The War Rig. The crown jewel in the Immortan Joe's great armada of War Boys. The stuff of legends to those who had never laid eyes on it, and the greatest, the deadliest beast in the Wasteland to those who had. And it truly was great. At two thousand horsepower, it possessed eighteen wheels, two colossal V8 engines, and enough armour and firepower to take on half the Wasteland, while the other half ran away in terror, trying to escape the living nightmare they had found. Pieced together over the years, it had many origins, and just as many secrets. However, one of these secrets was more obscure, more unknown than any other. Before belonging to the Citadel, the great tanker of the Rig had belonged to a simple man, a survivor of the Great Collapse of the World, who had sought for freedom and peace for himself and his family. To that end, he had built a secret compartment into the metal cylinder, to shield his loved ones from the worst that the Wasteland had to offer, sealed with a hatchway and nigh-invisible to outsiders. This story, sadly ends in tragedy, with the good man while seeking supplies for his family. After his death, the tanker sat immobile for many days and nights, until a pack of War Boys dragged it back to the three great rock pillars, to eventually join it with its new siblings. The hidden compartment had been discovered not long after, along with the grisly remains of its final occupants. Only two were aware of this undiscovered mystery, one an old man who died not long after, while the other, a young girl, one who would rise to command the mighty Rig, the symbol of the Citadel. And whose greatest secret, she put to great use, in a plan that would shake the Wasteland.
Toast groaned as she pulled herself through the small hatch in the floor, crawling out of the metal tube into the front of the Rig's secret living quarters. As she moved deeper into the hidden room, away from the exit, as well as the three women surrounding it, an overwhelming sensation of… something hit her. She had no idea what it was, only that it was powerful, taking over a large portion of her head and refusing to let go. Crawling into the far corner of the tanker, surrounded by warm metal and the low hum of the great engines, Toast closed her eyes and fell back into her mind. There was still time before they arrived at the canyon, at the crossroads of their journey. Better to use the time like this, calming her mind, rather than on panicking, worrying about things she had no control over, hidden away in her dark little box.
She was scared, she knew that much for certain. Every thought of what was going to happen, of what could happen, and everything in between inspired some measure of fear deep inside of her. Nothing like this had ever been attempted before, as far as Toast was aware. Nothing of this magnitude, this audacity, this… pure madness. The unknown element of the escape played havoc with her head, having grown used to uniformity and some semblance of structure, no matter how nightmarish. Even when the terror of the unpredictable could be put to rest, she still feared what could happen next. The dream of 'the Green Place' had sounded so beautiful, so fantastical when she and the other Wives were enslaved to the Citadel, to Joe's perverted desires, trapped among the pillars of rock. A chance of escape, of peace, of freedom had been more than enough for the women, something they were willing to commit their lives to, and damn the consequences. Easy words for a dream, less so for reality. Toast knew the dangers of the journey, they all did. The fear that arose was of whether they could overcome the dangers, or if they would fall trying. And even then, could the promised paradise, could anywhere, truly provide them with the freedom they so craved, could end the pursuit of what they were running so desperately from?
The Immortan Joe. Toast's mind spat out the name venomously, the thought alone filling her throat with bile and her veins with red hot fire. That creature, for there was no possible way of him being identifiable of anything resembling a human being anymore, was the personification, in her mind, of every single evil, twisted, and downright wrong thing in the burning Wasteland of humanity. An empire built on the broken bodies and shattered dreams of the innocent, an army filled with brainwashed zealots ready to sacrifice everything, even their lives, for a false god. Twisting hundreds of starving, exhausted and dying people around his finger, turning a source of life, once so pure and beautiful, into a perverted tool of control over his suffering, crippled subjects. And that was without mentioning the cruelty of the old monster and his command, the vile, uncaring attitude towards his most obedient and loyal followers, and the unspeakable things, unforgiveable crimes her had inflicted on the Wives, his most precious of treasures. Toast couldn't bear to think about the horrors she had been through, the merest reminder causing stinging tears and a blinding anguish, the pain she had suffered weighing heavy on her soul. Glancing at the others, Toast knew they felt the same. They had all been through the deepest pits of Hell, had endured more than their fair share. But, she thought, forcing the pain and the fear away, they were free. Free and heading towards salvation, thanks to the great Imperator Furiosa. And the young road warrior…
Toast's brow furrowed as thoughts of this man began to fill her head, bringing with them a tidal wave of strange questions, ideas and emotions. Confusion was the most prominent amongst them, hand in hand with curiosity. The man had come from seemingly nowhere, appearing out of the sands to offer his support. The confused her. From what she could remember of her time in the Wasteland, nobody offered support, or anything else, without wanting something back in return. But this man did. Toast had initially thought that he was playing some sort of game, that he had a plan in mind to use the group for his own ends, and then just abandon them, take the Rig and leave them to the mercy of the desert. Or, worse still, that he would hand them over to Joe, in exchange for some reward. But this idea had been thoroughly shattered, first by Angharad's feedback of their conversation, and then by his actions against the feral, an eventual failure though they were. The man, Cayden, she had learnt from the pregnant woman, had promised to help them in their escape, removing any suspicions of abandoning them, and had then fought against a threat to their lives, ignoring his chance at escape and instead risking his life to defend theirs. Toast had seen his wounds, had heard his pained grunts, and knew that, had he continued to fight for much longer, the chances of the fight spelling his death were very high. The man was selfless, brave and, if his actions were any indication, loyal to a fault. These attributes, coupled with his role as a hardened road warrior, this the woman had no doubt about, only served to twist Toast's thoughts up in knots, until she had no idea what to think, what image to paint.
What had happened after the fight only solidified this jumble. His thanks had sent her for a spin. She had done only the simplest of things, things which most others would have barely acknowledged, or would have taken for granted. But he had shown genuine gratitude for her actions, even allowing her into his car as a way to pay her back. That brief moment, the handful of seconds they had driven, was still fresh in her mind. The comforting warmth of the car, the roar of the engine in her ears, the sensation of the blood pumping through her body at such a great speed. The exhilaration she had felt, the breathless wonder, was so new to her that she felt like she would never forget it. This didn't help her maelstrom of a mind, only adding new mysteries and feelings to the already tangled network taking over her head. Toast resolved, then and there, hidden in the stomach of the most legendary vehicle of the Wasteland, to fill in the missing gaps. The man was the greatest mystery she had ever come across, his heart out of place with his body and looking to be completely unique in all of the desert. She would learn, she would piece together, and maybe, just maybe, she would come to know more about the strange warrior who had helped make their freedom possible.
The Rig gave a sudden jolt and, as Toast began to move across the small room over to the other women, she felt, rather than heard, the slight rumbling of the metal surface die out. They had stopped moving and that could mean only one thing. They had arrived at the canyon.
Toast knelt with the three other women, huddled around the opening in the floor to try and gain some idea of what was going on outside of the metal shell. Peering through the hatch, the young woman could just about see the start of a pale leg, and she sighed. Angharad. When the Wives had been sent back through the tunnel, something none of them had ever wanted to do again, Angharad had remained behind, forced to stay with the feral in the cabin, as a sort of hostage to prevent Furiosa from giving him up. Toast growled under her breath at that, the animalistic sound perfectly matching her thoughts. Muzzled or not, that man was truly a feral at heart, a survivor with no care for others and seemingly no remorse for what he had done, or who he had hurt. She understood why he behaved as he did, the Wasteland had a tendency to chew people up and spit them out again, but this man definitely took it to an extreme. Taking a deep breath to settle her thoughts, Toast focused her attention back onto events taking place outside. Thanks to the heavily armoured body of the tanker, the words being exchanged were lost to her. All she could hear was empty noises, a loud one belonging to Furiosa and a much quieter one being presumably whoever it was she was talking to from the biker gang. Toast knew the plan: gasoline for safe passage and blocking the canyon behind them, a fair trade for any Wastelander. All she could do was wait, feeling the tension of the Wives, her sisters, next to her grow with every passing moment. Just a bit longer, a few more seconds, and they'd be free.
(Looking back, Toast probably should have seen it coming. After all, when had a plan ever gone perfectly for anyone?)
A cry tore through the still air. Toast stared through the opening with a mixture of sympathy and dread. The noise had come from Angharad, the pregnant woman lying in a shallow tunnel in the metal monolith. Her belly had been growing steadily for weeks, months even, and so none of the women were overly surprised at the recognisable noise. The last thing a woman in her situation needed was an excess of undue stress, something she was obviously experiencing, lying next to a man with a gun trained on her. Another similar cry was released, and Toast felt her heart sink. There was no way possible that those outside the Rig hadn't heard the woman's screams, and, considering the very specific agreement Furiosa had made, there was only one possible outcome. Toast sighed as she heard the blank noise start to rise in volume and intensity.
Pregnancy really did have the worst timing.
For the first time since they'd stopped, Toast was able to hear something being said from outside. A loud, authoritative cry of "Fool!" wrenched through the air, and the sound of movement came from the tunnel almost instantly. The code word, the word that meant all hell was about to break loose, and that they needed to get out of there. The familiar rumble of the engines sounded, and the Rig jerked forwards, the women all thrown back from the sudden movement. Picking herself up from the ground, Toast heard the faint pinging sounds from all around them, recognising that the bikers had started firing at them. For a few moments, she didn't move, simply feeling the Rig roll forward, and listening to the tingling sound of the bullet impacts, soaking in the sounds of battle and mentally preparing herself. When she left the hidden compartment, she would be heading into the middle of a warzone. Being unprepared would soon see her dead. At the calming sound of Angharad's voice filtering through the hatch, she moved. Crouching down she lowered herself into the tunnel, beginning her crawl through the darkness, light splashing on her face from the tunnel's exit.
Poking her head out into the sunlight, Toast pulled back almost instantly, as the air was ripped apart in front of her face, bullets flying through the air mere inches from her. Looking to the direction they came from, she spotted a biker, gun arm raised as they prepared to fire again. Another gunshot from ahead of her sounded, coming from the Rig's cabin, and the man collapsed, dragging down his bike into a tangled mass as blood erupted from his chest. Silently thanking whoever had saved her, Toast sprang forward, almost flying across the gap between the two tunnels as she moved towards the cabin. More gunfire sounded, and she felt the wind on the back of her legs, but kept moving, rushing through the tunnel and heaving herself up onto the cabin's back seats. Checking herself over, Toast found that the last few bullets had barely missed her, tearing several ragged holes into the loose skirt around her lower half. Moving her eyes away from the material, as well as squashing the burst of exhilaration she had felt at the danger, she turned to help the remaining women up onto the seats, assisting Angharad in the task before sinking into the corner, trying to avoid the bullets flying through the air, and the painful consequences of getting in their way.
From behind them came a great booming sound, and Toast glanced carefully into the cracked wing mirror, eager to see what had caused the noise. A wall of black smoke met her eyes, rising up into the sky with flames licking out from its concealed centre. She saw giant rocks crashing to the ground, and realised that the bikers must have blown the canyon entrance, sealing it up and preventing any of the three massive War Parties from entering. Toast couldn't stop the small grin that formed on her face. With the canyon closed, Joe would either give up, try and skirt the mountains, or try to clear a path to continue. No matter what he did, he wouldn't be able to catch up with the Rig for a very long time, if at all, every second bringing with it more distance from the sickly husk of a man. The greatest threat to their freedom was dealt with, for now. All that remained was surviving the journey, and, more immediately, the gun-wielding collection of angry bikers that were swarming around the Rig.
As she turned her head to look out the front of the cabin, Toast cried out, along with the other Wives, as the path ahead was suddenly engulfed in flames. When the orange and red had cleared, the last tongues licking at the metal body, she saw that the fire had come from a biker in front of the Rig, having dropped some kind of explosive into the sand. Great, Toast huffed, now they had firebombs. As the Rig kept moving, similar explosions could be heard hammering against the cabin and tanker, with more flames visible through the window and mirror. Toast stared out at the engine. Several more bombs had found their mark there, with the orange fire licking at the glass and metal incessantly, seeking a way inside to the Rig's inner workings. Furiosa pulled on a lever beside the driver's seat, and Toast heard a low thud, the ram attached to the front of the Rig dropping into the sand, raising a great cloud of dust in its wake. Toast and the other Wives pushed their hands in front of their faces, eyes squeezed tightly shut as the sand made its way inside, stinging their arms and making breathing without choking next to impossible.
When the dust finally cleared, Toast lowered her arms, blinking the stray particles of sand out of her eyes, as she watched the battle begin anew. She watched in awe, her eyes still watering, as the feral and Furiosa moved. If she hadn't seen the pair fight earlier, witnessed the two try to tear each other's throats out, she could have thought that they were a natural team, the pair working in tandem against the bikers. From passing each other fresh loaded weapons to covering the other's blind spots, they fought like legends, with shouts and crashes sailing through the wind with every squeeze of the trigger.
Toast was shaken out of her reverie by Furiosa ducking into the cabin.
"Reload!" she shouted, thrusting the gun into Angharad and Capable's arms before continuing the battle with a pistol. The two Wives looked at the weapon and each other, confusion clear on their faces. Toast quickly grabbed the gun from their hands, pulling it into her lap and beginning the process of reloading. As much as she cared about the women sitting beside her, they were completely hopeless when it came to anything involving Wasteland survival. As she worked, sliding bullets into the ammo clip, her fingers began to shake, slipping across the weapon and accidentally dropping a few pieces of precious ammo onto the floor. She knew what she was doing, but the adrenaline she had experienced earlier seemed to be wearing off, her body protesting the loss and making her clumsy.
As she finished filling the clip, Toast heard a thud from behind her, followed by the sound of a motor from… above her? Confused, she twisted in her seat, looking out through the back of the cabin to the top of the tanker. One of the bikers was on top of the Rig, staring down at them and drawing its gun. Her head whipped back around as Furiosa appeared in front of her, grabbing desperately at the rifle.
"It's not loaded yet!" Toast screamed, trying frantically to load the clip and ready the weapon, something her shaking hands seemed to refuse to do. The biker behind her shouted something, although her ears didn't pick up the words, her head too filled with terror to care. The sound of close gunfire shook the fear from her mind. The biker was firing, and the dull thudding impact of bullets on metal was far too close to Toast's head. She ducked down along with the others, eyes darting to the feral. The man had begun to turn, his arm rising to aim a pistol at the attacker, before he suddenly paused, eyes widening slightly in surprise. Toast tried to figure out the reason for this, before the roar of a familiar engine met her ears and she grinned, spinning in her seat to find the noise's origin. For a brief second, she saw the black car, lifted off the ground as if it were flying, headed straight for the biker. The man screamed, raising his arms in a futile attempt to shield himself, before the sleek vehicle slammed into him, sending both man and machine flying as the car continued its airborne journey. As the cabin shook from a sudden impact, one the car's rear wheels had crashed into the metal, Toast stared out of the window… and let out a scream.
The black car had crashed, the impact against the Rig having sent it spinning wildly to the ground where it landed with a thunderous bang. It lay rolling in the sand as flames began to creep out from under the bonnet. Her eyes flashed desperately over the vehicle, searching for any sign of Cayden and whether or not he had survived. Before she could find him, however, a massive explosion engulfed the metal demon, the body disappearing amidst the fire as smoke began to rise, turning the once beautiful car into a blackened tomb. Tears pricking at her eyes, Toast stared at the mangled ruin, before catching on something else, coming up behind and alongside the Rig. A flash of sunlight on silver steel, and she felt her heart plummet in her chest, any remnants of hope fleeing her body.
It was the Gigahorse. The Immortan Joe was here.
Ooh, a cliffhanger! Wonder what will happen next?