Mad Max: The Long Road's End

by Lewibaton

An aging Max has spent his twilight years travelling with the perilous burden of an unlikely companion; a child. In the years they have spent together, the Wasteland veteran has molded The Girl into a Road Warrior in her own right. Now, as the pair continue their journey into the unfamiliar expanse of Dystopia, they'll face the very worst the Wasteland can throw at them, as one.

2. Chapter 1

1. 13 Years Later

My name is Max. My world is a long road of sand, dirt and asphalt, the never-ending roar of a V8 engine. In the Wasteland, my name is known. Wanderers speak of it in hushed voices around a tiny campfire, a beacon in the night for the lost. The crazies curse it while they hide in their dark lairs, vomiting insults in their garbled tongues. And the warriors that follow the road behind me bow their heads in respect, and shout it like a war cry.

Long after I'm gone, my name will be remembered. What will those who remain say of me? Was I a dead eyed killer, with a fast trigger finger? A driver, the likes of which these lands rarely see? A Road Warrior who always followed a righteous path? My name is Max, and my name will never be forgotten.

...

Black exhaust burst out from the line of pipes that ran under the car and curved upwards along it's side. The V8's engine whirred as it sent power coursing through the car in a monotonous flurry'a tiny, rapid motions.

Max Rockatansky sat at the wheel, both hands grasping it firmly, his boot pushed against the accelerator with measured pressure.

The barren landscape stretched out ahead of him as far as the eye could see under the midday sun. The expanse of rough, red dirt was only broken by the occasional tuft of dried grass or rocky outcrop. The path the car barrelled down was no true road, but one that had been beat'n into the dirt year after year by an immeasurable number of tyres. Max's eyes flitted briefly to the side mirror, chancin' a glance behind before quickly returning his gaze to the road ahead.

In the passenger seat on his left, sat The Girl. Max had removed the factory issued seat long ago and replaced it with a small, black plastic chair. It was the kind that small children used in classrooms at school, back when there still were schools. And children.

Despite her slender frame, the seat was too small fer The Girl t' sit comfortably. Rat skins sewn together served as the padding and it lacked any kind of head rest. It was positioned further forward than the driver's seat, preventin' The Girl from stretching her legs out. It sat lower too, the plastic base anchored where the passenger seat had once been. Her right hand lay in her lap while she rested the knuckles of her left against her jaw and leant her arm on the car door, a bored expression on her face. Her long, dark hair was pulled back in a ponytail tied at the base of her skull, leavin' a few loose strands t' frame the side of her face. A long strip of scarlet silk was wrapped around her head in a wide band, tucked in at the back. Over the silk, she wore an old-fashioned pair of aviation goggles with wide lenses, the elastic strip pulled tight as they were only jus' too big for her head.

From the behind the black muscle car, the sounds of the pursuing engines drew closer. The drivers of the three vehicles blasted their horns after the pair, while their passengers leant out'a the windows, hootin' and cheerin', revelling in the thrill of the chase.

The V8 could move like it was the wind given wheels, but it was better suited fer hard roads. The raiders' cars were modified fer off road driving and had the advantage on the rough, desert terrain. Two of the vehicles gained ahead of the third and moved t' either side'a the V8. A pick up truck with a faded yellow paint job and dinted panelling slowly pulled up on the car's left. The driver looked over at The Girl. Their gaze met and she could see the madness reflected in his eyes.

His skin was stained with dirt and grime, and his hair was matted with crude oil. His mouth opened in a manic grin to reveal a row of stubby teeth, brown and rott'n. He leaned out of the window and yelled somethin' indiscernible at her, his voice drowned out in the roar of the engines. The Girl regarded him coolly through half hooded eyes. A moment later, she slowly extended the middle finger of her left hand and laid it against her cheek. The driver gave a wild whoop of laughter and stuck his head back inside the cabin,sounding the ute's horn in a long, loud note. With a sigh, The Girl sat up in her seat and stared forward.

On the driver's side of the V8, another car was creepin' up on the right. Max watched it approach in the side mirror, and when the car drew level with his own, he glanced over at the occupants. The other car was a two seater buggy. Built light with a superb set of shocks, it was the perfect car for bouncing along the desert terrain. Basically a frame set on wheels, with an engine stuck on the back. It lacked doors and panelling and a leather tarp lashed over the top was the only cover from the sun's rays. Sacrificing any kind of defence, it's superior mobility made up fer the loss.

The car's driver and passenger was almost indistinguishable from each-other. Both were filthy and clad in rags with shaved heads. Graspin' the buggy's frame, the passenger stood up and leant on the edge of his seat. In his free hand he waved a long, metal pole with a jagged spike tied t' the end at Max, his mouth open and teeth bared.

Max looked away, his eyes returning to the road. The buggy's driver was no fool. The two cars might'a closed in on both sides, but the heavy V8 could end the buggy with one swipe. The driver kept it at a safe distance, wary of a surprise attack. Yet inch by inch, the gap on either side between the cars grew smaller. The rouge wasters just had t' keep the V8 hemmed in until the third member of their party caught up.

Bearin' down on Max and The Girl from behind, was another muscle car. The old V8 was painted a dusty red, the tyres worn and fraying. The cabin was packed full and the passengers banged their fists against the panelling as it crept closer. The car's bonnet had been removed and it's chromed engine glinted in the sun, the tiny parts moving in a blinding spectacle. As power coursed through it's being, the car roared it's challenge at it's black counterpart. Max could feel the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end at the sound of the other car, but it was it's bite, not it's bark, that held his attention.

Welded to the red V8's front was a steel jaw of death. Two solid metal bars ran along the front'a the vehicle, coming out and meeting in the middle like a plough. The ram's heavy frame was reinforced against the front of the car giving it the strength to smash an enemy to pieces like it was nothin'. Worse still, the engine had a nitrous tank hooked up, ready at the driver's whim. Once the distance was closed, the driver could flick the switch and the car would spring forward, catchin' the black V8 in the back and punching straight through.

Max calmly watched the pursuing car's approach in the side mirror for a few more seconds. He briefly brought his attention back to the road ahead, before looking over at The Girl. The Girl turned to face him and their eyes met. Several seconds passed as they held each-other's gaze.

Without a word, Max returned his focus to the road. The Girl twisted in her seat and reached around behind her. Bolted t' the inside'a the car on the passenger's left was a powerful spear gun. The Girl unhooked it from it's clamp and pulled the cap off the spear's sharp end. The spear was nothing special, only roughly forged iron, but it was the tip that made it deadly. It had a wide, flat head designed to pierce through an enemy's hide with ease yet hold firm when tugged on.

With practised precision, The Girl quickly loaded the spear gun and rested it against her shoulder. A short metal cable, only a few meters long, was attached t' the spear's other end. The Girl clipped the loose end to a metal loop attached t' the car's frame before opening the window.

The ute's driver looked over and his eyes widened in alarm at the sight. The Girl braced her knee against the car's door and leant out'a the window, lining the yellow pick up in her sights. The feral driver yelled something at his passenger and ducked his head down behind the door as The Girl pulled the trigger. With a sharp twang, the harpoon shot forwards and buried itself in the ute's frame, jus' behind the door. The driver glanced up cautiously before lookin' around at where the spear had pierced his ride. His confused expression was quickly replaced by one of amused scorn. Glancing over at The Girl, he pulled his lips back in an ugly sneer, thinking she'd missed the door, or even his head. The Girl didn't catch his reaction. She was already climbing over her miniature seat into the car's rear. A small smile played on her face. She'd hit her mark.

The metal cable secured to the inside of the black V8 rapidly wound out as the cars moved and became taut. Max felt it pull on the car as the line stretched out, but the spear head stayed firmly embedded in the ute. It's driver tensed, expecting Max to try to pull the ute off the road or into the encroaching V8's path. The driver watched him intently, but Max kept his gaze forward and stayed his car's course. The driver's expression changed to confusion once more and he looked back at the red V8's driver, as if waitin' on instructions.

As the pursuing V8 drew closer, The Girl moved t' the rear of the car's interior. The back seats had long since been removed, the rear now serving as a storage space. A large, round tank made'a hard plastic took up half the boot, it's bulk occupying the space where the rear window had once sat. The rest of the open boot space had been covered up by a few four-by-twos clipped together. The three boards sat with one end resting at the rear of the car against the boot's frame, secured to the floor by a metal hinge. Everyday items were strapped t' the boards on the outside; a metal bucket, a thick chain, a tool bag and the like, all covered in a heavy net t' keep them secure. The other end of the boards poked up and sat under the lip of the window space, rather than resting on top. A metal clip secured t' the roof's underside held the boards up with a heavy bolt.

All manner of tools and weapons were strapped t' the interior of the car's walls and roof. As The Girl quickly moved t' crouch next t' the boards blockin' the rear window space, she drew a bright orange flare gun from a holster nailed t' the wall. The flare gun at the ready, she reached up and grasped the metal bolt holding the boards up, waiting.

Seconds crawled by as Max watched the red V8 close the last few meters it needed t' catch them in it's trap. The Girl breathed in through her nose and out through her mouth calmly. Timing was everythin'.

'Now!' Max roared.

The Girl let out a grunt and pulled hard on the metal bolt, releasin' the clip that held the boards up. Swinging down on the hinge nailed at the base, the four-by-twos landed with a loud bang flat on the car's floor, leavin' a half-foot by half again opening in the rear window beside the tank. The Girl moved t' the space and raised the flare gun. She caught a brief glimpse of the V8 driver's surprised expression before she pulled the trigger and fired point blank.

The flare hit the windscreen dead on and exploded into a cloud of red smoke completely obscurin' the driver's vision. Panicked, the raider hit the nitrous and the car shot forwards towards Max and the Girl. Just as she'd fired the flare, Max yanked the steering wheel down to the right as hard as he could, flingin' them towards the buggy. The driver saw him comin', but reacted too slow at the black V8's sudden change'a direction. The buggy couldn't turn away quick enough and the heavy muscle car clipped the front wheel as it went by, sending it spinning out'a control. The passenger went flying as the buggy began to roll rapidly along the ground, the driver just barely hanging on. Before the ute's driver could pull the other way, the metal cable tying the car's together dragged the pick up truck into the centre of the road... right into the path'a the charging ram.

The Girl lunged forward over her seat and pressed the release on the loop securin' the line. The metal cable flew out the windowjust in time, as the the red muscle car struck the pick up.

With an ear-splittin' screech of metal against metal, the V8 smashed into the off course ute, catchin' it in the side. The force'a the impact warped the yellow car's shape like it was made'a rubber and bent it completely around the muscle car's front. The V8's window exploded outward in a shower of glass as the passenger went flying to land face first on the road. The ram's charge dragged the two fused cars over earthen ground before they slowed to a halt.

The Girl climbed back into her seat and yanked a home-made machete out of a slot set into the passenger's door. Max hit the brakes and the car's tyres whirred loudly over the red dirt as they slowed t' stop near the wreckage of the two cars.

Max drew his shotgun and jumped out'a the car, movin' towards the eight cylinder battering ram.

'The buggy!' He called unnecessarily to The Girl. She was already moving around the black car and runnin' back towards where the buggy lay in a heap by the side of the road. As she hurried down the track, a high-pitched wail came from behind, followed quickly by a wet squelch.

The sun beat down from above and The Girl's breathing quickened as she ran. She reached up t' wipe the sweat from her forehead on the sleeve of her shirt, a long-sleeved, black cott'n tee. Over this, she wore a red flannel, all but the top two buttons down up with the sleeves rolled up just below her elbows. The top layer she wore was a heavy kevlar vest.

Max had salvaged it from a wreck and but had found it was too small for him. Rather than tradin' it, he had passed it on to The Girl. Once she had grown a bit more, it turned out t' be a sure fit. The right shoulder guard was missing, but it was otherwise intact, the perfect protection for life on the road. In addition t' the strong kevlar weave, a hard ceramic plate was sewn into the back. It was coloured a dusty camo, a light mix of yellows and browns. The collar of The Girl's flannel was popped above the vest's neck line, and tied around her neck was a black cott'n scarf, tucked into her shirt front.

The Girl's left hand, the hand that held the machete, was protected by a child's skating wrist guard. It was made for the right hand, but she wore it inverted on her left so the black plastic guard protected the back of her hand. From the same protective gear set, The Girl wore an elbow guard over her right arm. Her right hand was covered by a leather motorcycle glove. It's lining had been removed and the fingers cut off to give her hand greater freedom. The glove ended abruptly at the base of her hand and an elastic strap had been stitched on the inside t' keep the fit snug.

Her pants were black leather, sleek, smooth and tight, but strong and well crafted. A cap made'a two pieces of grey scrap was stitched over her left knee and joined together by a minute hinge, providin' protection, while allowing her leg to move normally.

A Glock 19 sat snugly against The Girl's chest in a holster she wore over her armour. The holster's straps ran over her left shoulder and around her back to keep it secure and within easy reach. The gun was already loaded with a round in the chamber. Max had taught her t' care for the weapon and he made sure she cleaned and oiled it regularly. The Girl drew the pistol and held it ready in her free hand as she approached the buggy.

The lightly built vehicle lay ruined beside the dirt road. Black smoke was pouring out from the small engine at the rear. The Girl moved slowly around the back of the car towards the driver's seat, gun raised. As she came up on the car's right, she caught sight of the driver still seated in the car and tensed up.

He lay unmoving at the wheel with his head back. Blood ran in red tendrils across his face from an ugly wound to his temple. The Girl stopped before the waster, watching him cautiously. Other than the steady drip, drip, drip of the blood runnin' down his arm t' fall from his fingers to the ground below, he didn't move. The Girl reached out with her left arm and jabbed him hard in the shoulder with the machete, before jumpin' back out'a reach, the pistol aimed at his face. The once-crazed raider didn't react. The Girl frowned, leant in and smacked him hard on the head with the flat of the blade. Still nothing.

The Girl quickly shoved her pistol back into it's holster and grabbed the man by the front'a his filthy shirt. She pulled him out'a the car where he landed face down in the dirt. The Girl kept the machete raised, but the man lay in a still heap at her feet. Somethin' moved in the corner of her eye and The Girl glanced back over her shoulder. The buggy's passenger had sat up and was slowly gettin' to his feet from where he'd landed after being flung from inside the car.

The Girl turned away and bent t' check under the driver's seat fer anything valuable. The injured waster was nothing to be concerned about. Even if he did manage t' stand up, she'd be long gone before he reached her. In the shape he was in, there was no way he'd catch-

The Girl jumped and smacked her head on the buggy's frame as she felt something grab hold of her ankle. Her heart beating fast, she ducked back out of the buggy and looked down. The buggy's driver had latched onto her left foot with one hand. Without hesitatin', The Girl swung the machete down into his wrist with a fierce yell. The sharp blade bit through the cloth wrappings the waster wore and sunk halfway into the man's arm. The driver didn't move but his grip was just as strong.

No reaction. Was that just a reflex?

The Girl tried to pull her foot up, but the raider was holdin' onto her heel like a vice and he'd managed to twist his fingers up with the laces of her boot. The Girl let out a frustrated scream through her teeth and kicked the man in the head with her other foot, but he remained stubbornly still, his fingers not slackin' in the slightest. Growling deep in her throat, The Girl bent to retrieve the machete. The home-made weapon was no real blade, only a rectangular shaped piece of scrap metal that had been honed until it held an edge. It didn't move when she pulled up. It was stuck fast in the driver's arm.

Oh, you've gotta be...

Panic began t' set in and The Girl looked back at the buggy's passenger behind her. He'd pulled himself to his feet and had begun t' stumble towards her. In one hand, the man dragged the metal spear over the dirt behind him. His going was slow, he wasn't putting weight on his left leg, but as she watched, his expression changed and he was spurred on by the sight of her caught and trapped. The Girl bit her lip. She didn't want to have t' waste a bullet on a man with, literally, one foot in the dirt.

Forcin' herself t' breath evenly, The Girl turned away from the raider slowly breakin' the distance between them. She ducked her head back inside the buggy and began t' quickly shift through the items inside, ignorin' the pressure on her ankle. She reached under the driver's seat once more and pulled out a tattered pillow case, weighed down by it's heavy contents. The Girl picked it up by the corners and up-ended the sack onto the car's floor. Out tumbled a couple'a tin cans, unopened and rust free, a pistol missing the barrel slide, a wooden die painted white and several knuckle bones. The Girl grabbed the tins and dropped them on the ground beside her, aimin' fer the driver's head as they fell. She left the pistol where it lay and ignored the knuckle bones. Goodness knows what, or who, they had once belonged to.

A small, plastic tool box had been nailed under the steering wheel to serve as a makeshift glove box. The Girl chanced a look back t' check the waster's approach as she stuck her hand inside. He was gaining fast, using the pole t' push himself forward. Despite his injuries, his eyes glittered with a manic light and he let out a high-pitched bark of laughter.

As The Girl watched the reaver, her fingers grasped something hard in the tool box. Another die. Useless. Discarding the die, she reached back in and pulled out a string of teeth hung on a leather strap to be worn like a necklace. That's just sick.She threw the teeth over her shoulder while her other hand closed around something round, squishy and wet. Upon further inspection, it proved to be a human toe. Why!

Just as she was about t' leave the buggy and have another go and freeing her foot, her knuckles brushed against something hard. The Girl gasped in surprise. Her body trembled in excitement as she pulled her arm out of the car's interior and opened her fingers to gaze at her prize. Sittin' in the palm of her hand was a small, flat tin. The Girl closed her eyes, her mouth open slightly, and clasped the tin to her chest with both hands before tuckin' it into one of her vest pockets.

Please be fish.

Ignoring the spear-wielder's fast approach, The Girl crouched down t' free herself from the driver's post-mortem grip. Over her right foot she wore a motorcycle boot made of thick leather with a hard sole. The boot ran up her leg to her knee where it flared out into three leather flaps. A line of stitching ran up the back of the leg to keep it tight. The Girl loved to run her hands over the smooth, brown leather. Her other shoe was an unremarkable hiking boot, riddled with holes and a base that was almost worn through. Given the choice, she knew which of the two she'd be willing t' lose.

A long bowie knife was secured t' the outside of her right shin, the sheath's straps wrapped around the high boot. The Girl drew the knife and began t' cut the laces of her hiking boot apart. Under Max's instruction, she kept the knife sharp and ready to use, but she didn't have a second t' waste slicing first through the driver's sleeve and then through the tendons in his wrist.

Once she'd cut the laces down the length of her shoe, The Girl stood and strained against the driver's grip. Cutting open the boot gave her foot just enough slack t' slip through and The Girl jumped back a moment later, arms wavin' through the air as she tried t' steady herself, finally free.

Darting forward, The Girl grabbed the two tins she'd found then took hold'a the machete's leather wrapped hilt. She clenched her teeth, pulled hard and managed to wrench it out. The buggy's passenger cried out in anger and frustration and clumsily threw the spear towards her, but The Girl had already skipped away around the buggy. Leavin' her discarded boot in the dead waster's grip, she ran back down the road towards the black muscle car, hopping forward every time her bare foot touched the hot ground.

Max stood next t' the wreckage o' the red muscle car, soakin' a rag hung on the end of a crowbar in gasoline from a small can. He'd pried the petrol valve of the V8 open a moment before and salvaged as much as he could. A couple of the car's occupants, those who'd managed t' survive the crash, lay unmoving on the ground around him amongst the dirt and broken glass. At his feet were several useful items he'd managed to salvage from the red car; A coil of rope, a half full canteen and a couple'a lighters that still had a thimble-full of fluid left. The ute had been too bent out'a shape to get inside. He looked up from his work as The Girl ran up to him.

Max's heavy face had deep lines across his forehead and the corners of his eyelids were as crinkled as the pick up's panelling. His hair was cropped short, The Girl was gettin' better at cutting it each time. Dark, except for a streak'a silver on either side. The Girl had once joked that even his hair was chromed. At the time, he'd only grunted in response, but he hadn't quite been able to ever forgive her for the remark.

As he looked down at her, The Girl held out the two tins. Her face broke into a wide smile, her white teeth a stark contrast to her tanned skin. Max pursed his lips together from behind his salt-and-pepper beard and raised one eyebrow as his gaze drifted down to her bare foot. The Girl shrugged, still grinning.

Max turned back t' the V8 and poked the sodden rag down into the petrol valve as The Girl bent down and quickly gathered up the items he'd found. She slung the rope over her shoulder, stuck the canteen under one arm, pocketed one of the lighters before straightenin' back up. Max passed her the can'a guzzeline and she swapped him the second lighter in return. Turning on her heel, The Girl quickly ran back to their own car, dumpin' the loot carelessly into the back. She stretched over t' the driver's side and reached for the keys in the ignition.

Max held the small flame of the lighter up t' the rag and it light up immediately. Sliding the crowbar into a loop on his belt, he jogged over t' the driver's side of the black V8 as The Girl awakened the machine once more. Max slid inside and shifted the car into first, as The Girl settled back in her own seat.

The car moved quickly down the road away from the crash. As it gained speed, a few seconds passed where the only sound was the whir of it's fierce engine. Then suddenly, a loud and violent roar sounded behind them and a red fire ball exploded upwards from the wreckage the pair had left in their wake. The two cars were consumed behind a screen of black smoke and dancin', orange flame. The Girl watched the burning crash site grow smaller and smaller in the side mirror, but Max kept his eyes on the road ahead.

He'd seen it before.

The wheels of the V8 kicked up a cloud'a dust as it flew down the dirt road, but the swirl of red couldn't quite obscure the car's number plate. Hand written in white and painted over black tar it read:

NEXTV8