August 17th, 2279
The sky was cloudless and the sun was burning bright. A light breeze was blowing from the east. It was just turning the middle of the afternoon when the heat was becoming the most unbearable. The man heard shouts of anger behind him, but he could not discern what was being spoken. He had been running for the last ten minutes as fast as his legs could muster. Sweat was trickling down his face and neck; he knew he could not keep this pace forever. He kept scanning the ground as he ran so he would not stumble on any obstacles. It would cost him his life if he did. He could feel the shoulder bag he was wearing as it banged his side with every stride he took. He quickly glanced back and saw he was being pursued by three people, two men and one woman, all of which were branding weapons. The woman was the fastest of the three and had quickly gained distance to the man in the lead, but he kept running all the same. The man saw the entrance to the canyon less than a quarter mile from where he was. He knew he could lose them if he was able to make it into that maze of dust and rock. With the prospect of freedom so close, more adrenaline kicked in and allowed him his second wind.
The man was nearing the entrance to the canyon, he was so close, and the fear was starting to dissipate from his mind. He knew he could make it even though his lungs were burning from running so long. All of a sudden a sharp pain filled him from his left leg, which shot up through his body. The woman had been faster than him and had been able to hit his leg with the two foot pipe that she was toting. The man went tumbling down getting cuts and scrapes on his arms, legs and face. He finally came to rest laying face up. The woman was already standing over him when he realized what had occurred. He reached down quickly for his knife he wore on his belt. The woman instantly brought the pipe down in an arc on his right arm, breaking it in the process. The man cried out in agony, and held his now broken arm with his remaining good one. He looked up at the woman and glared at her with hatred. She just stared at him without emotion. She shook her head once as if saying, don't try anything else. The man recognized this woman, but couldn't place her name. It was Sarah, or maybe Gina. Her hair was medium length, blonde, and blowing slightly in the breeze that was still present. She had a strange beauty to her; even with the long scar that ran from the bottom of her left ear down do her right collarbone. Whatever attack that had caused this prevented her from being able to speak, permanently. He knew she was one of the higher ups of the raider's leader, Max. She was one of his loyal lieutenants.
A few moments later, which seemed like an eternity to the man laying on the ground cradling his broken arm, Max and the other man that had been pursuing him had come into his view. Max was built big with dark skin and had a shaved head. Burns and scars covered his body as if he had never seen a day without some sort of violence involved. Max came closer to him, kicking him once in the side of his stomach and then in the side of his face. The man on the ground made a grunt with each kick. He then turned his head to one side coughed once, and spit out blood along with two teeth. Max reached down and pulled the shoulder bag off the man on the ground. He opened it and peered inside. He smiled, took a couple of steps and tossed the bag to the other male raider, who then crossed it over his own shoulder, and stood silently. Max came back into the view of the man on the dirt.
"Your brother Jake was a good man. He was strong, fierce, and always obeyed me. You could have been as great as him, but, you decided to try to fuck us over and steal from us. Your job was simple and yet you messed it up. Just think of what your brother would say."
"You killed my brother you ugly shit head!" The injured man on the ground said as he spat more blood.
"No, no, no." Max responded smiling. "I sent him on a task, and he got himself shot and captured. Then he was hung by those townsfolk. I had nothing to do with that."
"You lie! You knew that everyone was looking to him as a new leader, and you sent him to do something that you knew couldn't be done. You were just too jealous of Jake and too much of a coward to challenge him yourself. You knew he wouldn't make it back!"
Max gave a small shrug, waved his hand non-caringly and proceeded to change the subject. "And just what were you planning on doing with all this jet that you decided to steal? Sell it in our territory? Or just shoot it up yourself? I didn't take you for a junkie."
"I was going to head to Essett, sell it, and then use the money to place a bounty for your head on a pike! Least then Jake could lay in peace." The man looked up grinning, and then coughed a couple of times. A fly landed on his face and was crawling around, but the man was in to much pain to bother swatting at it.
Max shook his head sadly a few times. He reached to the waist of his pants and withdrew a .32 pistol and held it at his side tapping it against his leg. "You could have made it big in our group man, but this has to be done. Give my regards to Jake." Max angled the pistol towards the wounded man's head, and pulled the trigger.
A/N: The first few chapters are a little slow and very descriptive, but the story gets better after that, I promise. :D