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.

3. Chapter 2

13 Years Ago

The Girl wouldn't stop crying.

Her wail was like the shriek'a some hellspawn, sent t' inflict another torment upon the already accursed denizens of the Wasteland. The Girl's face was red and puffed up. Her little hands were balled into fists, swingin' through the air. From her tiny mouth came an unending cacophony of distress. Max's patience had reached its limit.

The black V8 was parked on the white sand bed of an ocean long gone. The land around them was a maze of twisted rocks and stubs'a coral, bleached white under the sun. Navigatin' the sea bed was tricky; it seemed like every second turn led to a dead end. For Max, it was the perfect place t' hide unseen. The brittle rock was filled with holes, some no smaller than your finger, others large enough for a car t' fit inside and still have room t' walk about. Max had thought it the ideal place t' lay low and recuperate. That was before The Girl had started t' cry.

Max paced back 'n' forth in the mouth'a the cave. His legs jerked as he beat the steps down inta the sand, one after the other, then a quick turn and back the other way he went. The car was parked in the middle of a wide cavern. The lip of the cave's entrance was only a few inches above his head, but as it opened up, the ceiling sloped upwards to a height that he wouldn't be able t' touch, even standin' on the roof of his car.

The Girl's wails echoed around the domed interior, only servin' t' add t' the din. She lay on her back on the hood'a the car, over the blanket he'd wrapped her in when he'd taken her from the wreckage the day before. Max had been keen t' put as much distance between them and the three trashed vehicles as possible. For the first night, The Girl hadn't been any trouble. Hadn't even fussed, jus' sat in the seat beside him lookin' around, gurglin' every once in a while. She'd curled up under the blanket and fallen asleep eventually. Max had still been in a daze about what he was doing, but so far things hadn't seemed so bad.

Then the crying had started.

The sun's first rays were creepin' over the white landscape, as The Girl raised her head from the seat and began t' sniff. Max was weaving the car through the rocky forest of the sea bed and he noticed it first as a soft mewling. It didn't stay soft for long. By the time he'd found an alcove discreet enough t' hide away in, The Girl was full blown bawlin'. He'd set her on the hood of the car and tried t' quieten her, but she'd proved inconsolable. That had been some time during the early morning hours. Now the sun was slowly makin' its way back down beneath the horizon. The Girl's crying was reverberatin' though Max' skull. He seemed t' feel it, rather than hear it. It was like a line'a metal pipes had been stuck in his head and some crazy was beatin' on them ceaselessly. He'd had enough.

Breakin' his repetitive stride, Max stalked over t' the car. The Girl didn't stop crying as he stood over her. She was too intent on squallin' her guts out.

Shut up.

Max was breathing quickly through his nose, his chest rapidly rising and falling. His head ached from the constant noise. His plan was t' hide in the maze of stone fer a few days t' rest up. He already hadn't slept since the night before last. And he'd never sleep with this racket.

Shut up.

Max felt a rough growl rising in his throat. The gravelly sound rose and fell in time with The Girl's wails. His mind was rapidly blockin' off everything else. There was only the ceaseless clamour of the brat before him, and the fuse rapidly burnin' out in his head.

Shutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutupshutup

When she didn't stop, Max snapped. A strangled yell burst from his lips and he slammed the palms of his hands down onto the car's bonnet on either side'a The Girl. The Girl jolted in alarm, but her screaming didn't break off. Max leant over her and began t' beat his hands against the metal bonnet, adding more to the echoing noise. Max screamed in frustration above her, but The Girl only wailed even louder. Max hadn't thought it possible, but her increased volume was the proof. The seconds crept by and on and on they yelled together.

With one final BANG, Max brought his hands down on the car before pushin' himself upright. He swallowed hard and tried t' focus his mind. His head still ached and his eyes were twitchin'. Max cracked his neck with one hand and took a deep breath.

This had been a mistake. He should have left The Girl t' die beside her mother. In a moment'a weakness he had given in t' the hope that he would be granted a reprieve from his past. This child was not the path to a release. There was no point 'n takin' her with him. She would only slow him down. It would be years before she could be of any use t' him and even then... he knew what would befall her if she stayed close to him. He had seen it happen. No, this ends now.

Willing himself t' shut the noise out, Max reached down and grabbed The Girl by the dirty shirt she wore. The Girl's cries were cut off as Max yanked her inta the air and carried her around the side'a the car. Max stopped beside the passenger's door and turned away from the car. The Girl squirmed in his grip, her sobs coming in broken bursts as she swung from his hand. Max stared blankly at the rocky wall straight ahead.

This is a better way, a kinder way. She isn't strong enough to survive.

Max stretched his arm out before him, closed his eyes, and let go.

Several unexpected things happened at once. His fingers released their hold on The Girl's shirt and he felt the cloth run over his skin as she fell towards the ground. At the same time, his arm was jerked downwards, pulled by somethin' grippin' his wrist. Most notably however, was the stillness that gripped the air. Silence. The Girl had stopped crying. Instead, a small, squeaking sound echoed faintly around the cave.

Max opened his eyes. Just as he'd let The Girl fall, she had reached up and grabbed hold of his sleeve. She was swinging from his outstretched arm, her legs kickin' the air above the ground, the leather cuff held in a tight grip. Her tiny cheeks were still wet and puffy, but her eyes were wide open. As she swung from his wrist, she turned towards the mouth of the cave and the sun caught her eyes, it's light reflected in them. Her small mouth had twisted into a grin that spread across her face. The sound was coming from her. A breathless squeak. What was that? And then it hit him.

Laughter. The Girl was laughin'. For the first time in who knows how long, children's laughter was heard in the Wasteland. Max Rockatansky was standin' alone with the only laughin' child in the land. Her amusement washed over Max and was too much for him. A short, breathy cough escaped from between his lips. Then another, and another. By the time Max realised that he was chucklin' alongside The Girl, he couldn't stop.

What fresh madness is this? Two people laughing to themselves without any care. Is this the first genuine laugh someone has had since the world ended?

At the sound of his laugh, The Girl looked up at Max. Her eyes seemed t' study him, as she hung from his cuff.

Black eyes.

Not black like the soft touch of leather, nor the worn paint that blanketed his car. Black like the night sky, the blackest black, yet in such darkness, a twinkle. A light.

Bright eyes.

In those eyes he saw a light, and a will. Max had been wrong. This would be the mistake.

Max reached around with his free hand and lifted The Girl up. He held her in front of his face, watchin' the way her eyes moved, studying her. She was still giggling, a smile playin' on her face. Max breathed in and out through his nose. Maybe, just maybe. And it was in that moment, that Max decided he would keep The Girl. He would raise her, but never care for her. Guard her, but never rescue her. Fight with her, but never die for her. Her death wouldn't be on his conscious. He couldn't, wouldn't, let that happen again. He-

'Having trouble with your runt, friend?'

Max spun around towards the sound, tightenin' his grip on The Girl. Five men were standing just inside the mouth'a the cave. Their clothes were light and hung loosely over their lean frames. On their dirty feet they wore leather sandals. All five wore floppy hats, with a wide brim t' shield themselves from the harsh sun. Each had a scarf wrapped around the lower half of his face. A variety of sunglasses were worn by the men, a different style fer each. Except fer a couple'a knives, none were armed. The man who stood in the middle of the group reached up and pulled his scarf down under his chin.

'Having some trouble, friend?' he asked again, his voice markin' him out as the one who had spoken before.

Max held The Girl close to his chest and didn't respond. Not a group drifters like him. Locals. People that lived in the empty seabed weedin' out an existence. As he stared at the group before him, The Girl mewled softly in his grip, threatenin' t' burst into tears again.

Not waiting for Max's answer, the man in the middle told him, 'I've been saying t' the lads all day, "Goodness me! Someone, somewhere out here is causin' quite a ruckus!"

'And here you are! Doesn't look like ya havin' an easy time there mate. We'd be happy t' take her off your hands' he added with a crooked smile.

Max moved carefully, walkin' sideways around t' the car's front, the group of men watchin' him hungrily. Twistin' one arm around behind him, Max placed The Girl back on the bonnet whilst he kept his gaze fixed forward. The Girl let out a weak sob, but Max didn't care about that now. Straightening his shoulders, Max licked his lips and managed t' find his voice.

'...Not for sale.'

The middle man took off his sunnies, a pair of highway patrolman glasses with wide frames. He looked down and rubbed the hem of his dusty poncho over the glass lenses. For a few, moments he didn't respond, however once he had slipped the shades over his eyes once more, he looked back up at Max and let out a soft sigh.

'Afraid we'll be takin' her anyway,' he said, almost sadly.

At a jerk from the middle man's head, two of the others stepped forward. One wore a pair of sunglasses with round, dark lenses so small, they barely covered his eyes. The other wore a pair of flashy sports shades with a single, wide, rectangular lens. Max tensed, his right hand hovering over the grip of his shotgun. One bullet against five men. Bad odds.

Sports drew a shiv made from a jagged piece'a broken metal from the inside of his jacket, but Boho Shades merely raised his fists. The pair walked towards him slowly, but confidently. Max bent his knees and watched them approach.

Just two, the other three are hanging back, for now anyway. He'll feint with his knife to open me up while the other tries to get me in a hold so he can gut me easy.

When less than a meter of distance was between them, Sports jumped forward, the knife stretched out before him. Max lunged t' meet him, but his instincts had been right. Sports stopped himself short before he and Max could meet, but Max had already moved aside towards the other man instead. Boho swung his arms wide, ready t' tackle Max, but the Road Warrior moved in faster than he could react. Max's fist shot out and connected hard with a sickening crunch against Boho's nose. Boho stumbled back, screaming in pain, his watery eyes screwed up and blood pumpin' from his broken nose. At the sound of the man's yell, The Girl began t' wail once more. Max whipped around as Sports plunged the knife towards his flank, but Max was too quick. He moved to the side towards Sports, moving in past the killer's reach. Max grabbed his wrist and held the knife away from him, while he brought his other arm up and jabbed his elbow into the man's throat. Sports' eyes widened from behind his sunglasses, spittle flying from his mouth as he gasped for breath. Max's elbow struck out again, this time catchin' Sports in the bridge of his nose and breaking his sunglasses against his face. Still holdin' onta his wrist with one hand, Max twisted his body side on against the waster's and threw him over his hip. He knelt one knee against Sports' back and with one quick pull, broke the man's arm. Max snatched up the waster's knife just as the other three ran t' join the fray.

The group's leader slashed his knife at Max's side but wasn't able t' penetrate the strong leather. Max jabbed the shiv at the man's face, but the leader had already jumped back out'a reach, his face twisted in fury. He'd done this before. Max turned t' face the next attacker, a man wearing sunglasses with lenses so wide he resembled some sort of insect, but he was too slow. Bug Eyes raked his shiv along Max's chest and he felt it catch on his shirt. Max moved around to the man's side, tryin' to put some distance between them. He could feel the hot air on his chest from the slice in his shirt, but didn't think the strike had cut his skin open. The third man rushed head on at Max, his hands empty, and Max saw his chance.

Max twisted sideways against the man's bull rush and got behind him. Knowing his back would be briefly exposed t' the other two, Max quickly wrapped his arm around the man's throat cutting off the air, and spun him around back towards the remaining wasters. The stolen shiv flashed downwards and Max buried it in the man's neck. He quickly released his grip as Bug Eyes rushed at them. Max kicked the man in the small of his back, pushing him forward. He fell crashing onto Bug Eyes and the two'a them went down together.

The leader jabbed at Max again, but this time he was ready for it. Max moved forward, caught hold of his wrist in one hand, and drew his own knife. The waster tried t' pull back, but Max yanked his arm straight up. Before the leader could make a move t' stop him, Max plunged his knife into the man's exposed armpit, pushing the steel down to the hilt. Max felt the man's body shudder against his hand and warm blood began t' spill out from the wound. When he pushed the group's leader away, he fell back onto the sand and didn't move.

Max drew his shotgun and walked over t' where Bug Eyes had fallen. The waster was still trying t' pull himself out from beneath his friend's immobile corpse. Max smashed the shotgun's stock into Bug Eyes temple once, twice, three times, enough to stop his strugglin'.

Max straightened up again, his chest movin' up and down as he took deep, ragged breaths. His eyes drifted over the bodies around him. Somethin' wasn't right. Where was Boho Shades?

Behind him, the pitch of The Girl's screams changed suddenly, and Max whipped around. Boho had her with one hand by her shirt. Max's shotgun was still in his hand.

'No!' he cried, springin' towards them.

At the sound of his voice, both Boho and The Girl turned t' look at Max. Boho's face was red with anger. The scarf that covered his skin had fallen away. The waster opened his mouth t' tell Max t' 'Stop', but Max was already bringin' his shotgun up. The gun's barrel clipped the waster's chin and drew level with his eyes. In the split second before he pulled trigger, Max's eyes flicked over t' The Girl. In an enclosed space like this, what would a gunshot do t' her hearing? Max would have shaken his head at his indecision, but there was no time. Instead of firing the shot, Max shoved the metal barrel into Boho's open mouth.

The waster gave a muffled cry as the gun was pushed in, breaking his teeth as it went. Max forced it further back towards his throat. Boho let go of The Girl and grabbed onto Max's wrists, gaggin' on the barrel as he tried t' push him off. The Girl hit the ground and began to cry harder. Max saw red. He released his grip on the shotgun's stock and kicked Boho's legs out from under him. The waster's head hit the ground with a smack and a moment later, Max brought his boot down upon Boho's skull. Max moved his leg up and down in a series of squelching crunches. He continued t' stomp on the waster's head long after he stopped moving, reducin' his skull to a pile of red mush.

It was The Girl's crying that brought him back to his senses. He looked around at where she'd fallen after Boho had dropped her. She was sitting up, her mouth open in a wail and tears streamin' down her cheeks. Max moved t' pick her up and almost fell on top of her, his foot sliding on the waster's ruined mess of brain.

Max lifted The Girl up under her arms and sat her on the bonnet once more. He tried consoling her, but his head was still spinning from the fight.

Max blinked, trying t' focus on The Girl's face.

'Shh... 's alright,' he finally managed to say.

He brushed his large thumb along her cheek t' wipe the tears away. His hand left a smear'a red on The Girl's face.

Blood.

There was blood on The Girl. Why was there blood? Where did it come from? Max glanced around, panicked. He looked down and saw that his hands were wet with it. Blood from piercin' the scavenger's neck, blood from stickin' the leader in the side. There was blood all over his hands, soaking into The Girl's shirt as he held her, along her arms and now her face. The Girl looked up at him, her expression fearful. She was too young t' understand what had happened, but the noise of the fight, the yelling, and now the blood. Small wonder she was afraid.

'No. No, no, no,' Max said in a small voice, shaking his head, 'nononononono!'

He gently held The Girl's face and shook his head again, unable t' find the words, his hands spreadin' more blood over her skin. Max's gaze drifted down t' The Girl's hands. They were stained red.

No...

His hands were wet, but the blood on The Girl's hands was dry.

How... When...

Then Max realised where it had come from. The blood on The Girl's hands was her mother's.

2. Max and The Girl

Time has little meanin' in the Wasteland. Out here, it's measured in marks on a wall, or in the case of Max and The Girl; 'days past since'; 'Three days past since we made that stop', 'Eight days past since we took that prize' and so on until enough days had passed that their number could no longer be recalled. Then they'd come across someone new, or make a pit-stop in another place, and the count would begin again.

The sun was setting on the second day since the pair had been set upon by the wasters on the desert road. The path Max led the V8 down was still the same dusty trail. The Girl sat in the passenger seat and looked out at the land as it passed them by. An unbroken flat of arid expanse stretched out t' the horizon. Red earth hadn't yet given way t' white sand or cracked asphalt. As the sun slipped closer t' the horizon, the sky behind them was painted a burnin' shade'a red. It's last rays peeked through the gaps in the boarded up rear window and flashed off the car's mirrors. Ahead, night was creepin' t'wards them, changin' the sky gradually from blue, t' navy, and finally black.

Max slowed the car as darkness fell over the land, but didn't stop. Too exposed t' rest here, and he had at least another night in 'im. He kept the car movin', staring ahead, determined t' keep his head from drooping forward. The Girl didn't move from her seat beside Max. Above them, the moon was risin' into the sky, floodin' the dark desert in its soft light.

The Girl fell in 'n' out of a doze as the night wore on. Every hour or so, the car would drive over a bump or a dip 'n the road and she'd be jolted awake t' spend a half hour blinkin' sleepily at the shrouded land around them, before slidin' down in her seat and fallin' asleep once more.

Dawn had broken when The Girl woke from her doze fer the last time that night. She stretched and sat up, blinkin' into the day's first rays. Stifling a yawn, she rubbed the pain in her belly. The ache that sat twisting inside was, along with Max, her constant companion. She'd known hunger her whole life and was used to it. The las' time she'd eaten had been the day before the group of raiders had attacked them, and Max had gone without for longer still. Yet sooner or later, they would need to eat.

The Girl looked over at Max. The aged wanderer's eyelids were puffy and half closed, but he gripped the steering wheel firmly with both hands. He hadn't stopped the car once during the night. The Girl coughed once and cleared her throat.

'I'm hungry, Max', she told him, her voice hoarse from disuse.

'Not today,' he replied simply. And that was that.

The Girl turned back t' face forward once more. She wore a large, round canteen in a pouch on her right thigh. The rule was that anything in her canteen, was hers t' have at any time, but Max had impressed upon her the need to abstain and drink only as necessary years ago. She unscrewed the cap and took a swallow, but it did little t' sooth the ache in her stomach.

...

They passed the day in silence. The sun rose above them t' heat the metal roof of the car, makin' it stifling inside. They rolled the windows down, but otherwise sat still, watchin' the land go by, the V8's engine the only noise t' be heard for miles around. It wasn't until the sun had passed over their heads and was beatin' down on the car's tail end in the late afternoon, did The Girl stir. She crossed her arms and breathed out in a bored sigh. Max kept his gaze forward. Rolling her head onto her shoulder, The Girl looked at him. She stuck out her jaw and exhaled heavily, blowing the air up into her face. Max's mouth tightened slightly, but otherwise ignored her. He was content t' pass day after day on the road in silence. The Girl had grown up fast under Max's protection, but at no stage in the time they had travelled together had she let him forget that she was still a child.

Eliciting no response from her companion, the young girl looked away and sighed heavily, as if the weight'a the world rested on her shoulders. A short pause, then The Girl uncrossed her arms, twisted her body and climbed into the back seat. A small mattress was spread out on the car floor. It sat in the space between the front seats and the large tank of guzzeline secured into the boot, with just enough room for someone t' curl up on. An old and threadbare blanket was spread out over the mattress. It was so aged that the ends were fraying, but The Girl refused t' get rid of it and Max had stopped pressing her on the issue a long time ago.

Secured t' the interior walls and roof all around her was an impressive collection of different tools and weapons. Either tied down with leather straps or sittin' safe in a snug pouch, everything from a full set of spanners, t' knives of every shape and length imaginable. Running the length'a the car, in the middle of the roof, was a long, narrow drawstring pouch. A bolt action rifle was kept in the protective bag, and the pouch stayed secure by two sets'a leathers straps nailed t' the roof. Another plastic tank was fixed t' the rear at the back'a the cabin, just under where the tank that held their spare guzzeline jutted inside from the boot. The second was smaller than the one that sat in the boot and, rather than cylindrical, it was shaped like a rectangular prism with rounded corners. The smaller tank was filled with water instead of guzzeline. They'd had a streak of good fortune recently and water hadn't been hard t' find. A stub of cloth was stuffed into the black spigot t' prevent even a drop from being wasted.

The Girl sat cross legged on the blanket, reached under the driver's seat and pulled out an old-fashioned doctor's bag. Made'a brown leather, its contents rattled as The Girl lifted it onto the mattress. She flicked the clasp up, pulled it open and upended the inside onto the blanket. Out tumbled a plethora of firearm ammunition, as varied as it was numerous. The Girl placed the leather bag in front'a her, spread the bullets out, and began t' sort them together, countin' as she went.

All of them had been scavenged over the course'a years from burnt out wrecks or derelict buildings and make shift shelters. A few they had even found hidden in the shoes of would-be killers, after they'd cut the soles open. They came in all shapes and sizes, every kind imaginable. Some they just had a few of each, others The Girl could fill her hands and watch them slip between her fingers like grains'a sand. A while back, they'd raided a lean-to whose resident hadn't hidden it well enough in the gorge they'd been exploring. Among the other possessions taken, they'd found over thirty .22 rounds, no bigger than the last digit of The Girl's pinky finger. Others they'd collected included a handful of large 5.56 cartridges, a few .45 ACP, .357 and .44 a dozen apiece and a battered old box'a 20 gauge shells. The pair kept ammunition they could use on them at all times. Any 12 gauge shells they found or traded for, Max kept t' feed his shotgun. The Girl's pistol was full and she had another spare clip stocked with 9mm rounds. A good supply for now, but they needed more for the rifle. It took .308 and they only had four shots left.

Max glanced up at the rear vision mirror. With the rear window blocked up, it was useless if you wanted t' look back behind the car. Max kept it positioned on an angle so he could keep an eye on The Girl in the back space.

As she shifted through the various bullets, he told her, not for the first time, 'No matter how many times you count them, the number won't change.'

'I know,' she replied flatly, dropping a pair of 10mm rounds into the bag.

Max returned his gaze t' the road, a small smile on his face, as The Girl held up the largest bullet in their collection. It was a .50 calibre cartridge, longer than The Girl's middle finger, enormous compared t' the small arms ammunition. Max called it a 'NATO' round, but the name meant nothing t' The Girl. The pointed tip on the end told her everythin' she needed t' know.

The Girl dropped the .50 calibre round along with everythin' else back into the bag before snappin' it shut and shoving it back under the driver's seat. She leant back on her elbow and sucked her bottom lip, lookin' around at the car's interior. After a few moments, she sat up on her knees and climbed back into the front seat. With nothing else t' do, she pulled the spare clip for her pistol out of one'a the small pockets sewn into her armoured vest and counted the bullets stored inside. She was still two shy of a full magazine. The Girl yawned loudly as she pushed the clip back into its holster. Beside her, Max strained t' keep his mouth shut, a yawn of his own threatening to escape. With one last look at the landscape surrounding them, The Girl climbed into the back once more.

She sat on the mattress and popped the plastic clips on either side of her vest. Loosenin' the straps that secured her pistol's holster, she pulled the vest together with the gun over her head and dropped them onto the car's floor beside her. She unlaced her lone boot and kicked it off, before curlin' up in a tight ball on the mattress under the old blanket. Lastly, The Girl removed her goggles and pushed them into her boot for safe-keeping. She yawned again, closed her eyes, and held the blanket tightly around her. She couldn't remember where it had come from. It was old and thin, but there was somethin' comforting about it. Maybe a smell, but whatever scent that had originally lingered had long since been replaced with the strong stench'a sweat and grease. If The Girl had to put it into words, she would say it was the smell, or at least the echo of how it had once smelt, that she liked.

Once more, the sun began t' dye the sky a blood red. The Girl was asleep within minutes. Max drove onwards, headin' t'wards the bluish-black line in the distance.

...

In what felt like no time at all, Max was shakin' The Girl awake. She blinked sleepily and sat up, runnin' a hand over her face. Dawn was a way off. The sky above was still dark.

'Your turn,' Max said as he stepped out of the driver's seat and walked around to the passenger side.

Stifling a yawn behind one hand, The Girl groped around for her boot. She pulled her goggles out and slipped it on, making sure her knife was secure against her shin. With another wide yawn, she climbed into the front seat and stepped out'a car. The Girl dumped her pistol and vest onto the car's bonnet and reached back inside t' switch the car's headlights on. She pulled off her scarf and shook it out as she took in their surroundings. By the yellow light from the car, she saw that the dusty trail had been replaced by sealed asphalt. Orange dunes rose high on either side'a the road. The sand trickled down t' the road's edge, but stopped short where the ground changed t' asphalt. It seemed this stretch'a road saw more traffic.

The Girl pulled the Kevlar vest over her head before tyin' the cotton scarf around her neck once more. She slung her pistol over one arm and turned back t' the car. Taking the seat behind the wheel, The Girl glanced over at Max before flickin' the lights off. He was sittin' slumped in the passenger seat, his knees bent and his head lolled t' one side with his hands crossed in his lap. Max never slept in the back'a the car. If they came across anything while The Girl was driving, whatever it was, he wanted them t' be able t' swap places as quickly as possible.

The Girl turned the key in the ignition and the engine chugged awake. She grinned, relishing the moment. The sound of the engine whirring in neutral, the steering wheel vibrations runnin' through her hands, and the strong smell'a the leather seat; all of felt surreal. It was one thing t' ride passenger in this car. It was somethin' else entirely t' be the one t' drive it. The Girl pushed her bare foot down on the clutch and shifted inta first.

As they moved down the old highway, she wound her window down t' let the cool night air blow in on her face. She shifted inta top gear and moved her left hand to hold the wheel, restin' her right arm on the windowsill. The only time she was allowed t' drive was when it was Max's turn t' sleep. He slept less often than she did, so when he did, he would sleep for at least half a day.

Not nearly enough time.

It wasn't as if The Girl couldn't drive. Max had taught her from a very young age. As tough as he was, eventually he'd need t' sleep, but they needed t' keep moving. Even if she drove at a slow crawl, it was enough for Max t' catch up on some much needed sleep. Never stop, never pause. If they were in the car, they were movin'. The only exception would be if they could find a place t' hide that Max felt was safe enough t' stay. Even then, they would sleep in shifts, and stay no longer than a day.

Though he might not say it, Max knew The Girl was a damn good driver. If he raided a camp solo he would rely on her t' guard the car while she waited for him t' return, or rush t' pick him up if he was discovered and had t' retreat quickly. He knew that she would wake him if she spotted any sign'a danger. In the rare instances when they had been attacked on the road and didn't have time t' swap positions, she'd proven that she could hold her own behind the wheel. The Girl had a keen instinct fer combat and quick reflexes made her a force t' be reckoned with on the road. Credit must be given here t' Max, as she couldn't've wished fer a bett'r teacher. When it came down to it though, it was Max's car. The veteran was a peerless driver and he preferred t' be the one behind the wheel, while The Girl provided him support. Long ago he'd told her, only half jokin', that she would be free t' drive as much as she liked once his corpse was cold. The Girl never complained. Complaints were pointless with Max. Instead, she took what she could get, when she could get it, and always savoured it until it was time t' hand the keys back.

As far as she could tell, nothing but sand lay in every direction. The light of the moon was enough t' drive by and they didn't use the headlights anyway, not unless it was absolutely necessary. When Max did sleep, it was always at night. He'd never admit it, but The Girl knew her night eyes were better than his. The moon was waning in the sky and, while it might be enough for The Girl, it had forced Max t' trade places and rest until the sun rose. The Girl smiled. For the next week or so, until the moon began its cycle again, she'd be at the helm most nights.

Unless he starts driving with the headlights on...

She snorted at the notion. Max was getting, if possible, even more paranoid as he got older.

...

The sun had already risen and midday was fast approachin' when Max finally stirred and lifted his head from his shoulder. With the path ahead clear by the light'a day, The Girl was steerin' the car at top speed. Max stretched, rolled his shoulders and wound his window down, lettin' the breeze blow through the car. He looked around in every direction, checkin' their surroundings.

The sand around the car had flattened, giving an unobstructed view around them. Rolling dunes of orange sand stretched t' the horizon. The sky was clear above them, a vibrant blue that met the ground in a stark contrast of colour.

'See anything in the night?' Max asked her.

'Nothing,' The Girl replied, 'no cars, no camps.'

Almost to herself, she added, 'We are alone.'

Max grunted and looked away. Several minutes passed before he spoke again.

'This is a bad land to linger in,' he told her, 'nothing around for days except sand. Best to keep moving and pass through. But first-'

He pointed to a raised dune about five hundred meters away on The Girl's right.

'-make for that hill.'

Almost in response t' Max's direction, The Girl's stomach grumbled loudly. She grinned, pressed gently on the brake and pulled the wheel down t' the right, steerin' them onto the sand. The tyres whirred loudly as they searched fer a grip. A moment later, The Girl righted the car and the hill began t' grow rapidly closer.

She parked them atop the dune's crest. Barely a second after she had killed the engine, Max jumped out, a pair of binoculars in his hands. The Girl knew it was best t' go along with him. As unlikely as it would be t' run into somebody on this particular dune, Max didn't leave it t' chance. Still, healthy paranoia never hurt anybody. Unless it involved shootin' someone just to be certain they weren't about t' do the same. The Girl climbed into the back'a the car and reached fer the straps securing the rifle t' the roof. Holding it with one hand, she undid the leather strap and climbed out'a the car.

The Girl moved t' stand next t' Max. She opened the bag and pulled the rifle out, dropping the satchel onto the bonnet as she walked 'round the car. Max was frowning behind the binoculars lenses. He turned on the spot as he scanned the land around them, checkin' every direction. The Girl flicked the lens cap off the rifle's scope with a soft pop, resisted imitatin' the noise, and stood beside Max, the rifle at the ready. A long minute passed before he was finally satisfied the area was deserted.

'Alright,' he said in a low voice, 'keep an eye out.'

The Girl pursed her lips, biting back a retort and managed t' keep her eyes from rolling. They'd been doing this together for a long time. She knew the drill. Max passed her the binoculars and she handed over the rifle in exchange. The Girl turned back t' the front'a the car and leant against the bonnet, the binoculars in her hands.

Slinging the rifle over one shoulder, Max walked around t' the rear of the car. He pulled the net off the items secured t' the boards in the boot and began t' rummage around for what he needed, glancin' over his shoulder every few seconds as he did. He gathered up several pieces'a bleached deadwood, along with a small saucepan and a three legged, metal grate. Moving around t' the driver's side, Max arranged the items on the ground t' make a small campfire, before reaching over the driver's seat and into the back to retrieve the small gasoline can and a single tin of canned food.

While Max busied himself with the fire, The Girl looked out at the land around them. Nothing. Only sand and sun. Max was right; it was a bad place t' linger. It would be near impossible t' traverse without a vehicle. The Girl's skin itched and she ran a finger underneath the collar of her shirt. The stench of her sweat filled her nose and she suddenly became hot under her clothes, their weight more than she could bear. She turned and walked over t' the passenger's side and leant through the car's window. From the space in the back she grabbed an old pillow case and shook it out as she moved back t' the front'a the car. She pulled her pistol over her head and carefully placed it in the centre of the bonnet before quickly pulling off her scarf, vest and the shirts underneath. The Girl breathed a deep sigh of relief and stood facin' the sun, eyes shut and arms stretched out, lettin' it's rays wash over her bare chest.

Indulging herself for a few more moments, The Girl turned back t' the car. She placed her elbow and wrist guards atop of her vest and moved the pile next to her pistol. Holding the pillowcase with one hand, she shook out her scarf, shirts and the red strip of silk she wore around her head, before stuffing all of the items inside the cloth sack. She knelt down on the ground, the warm sand pushing out from between her bare toes, and scooped handfuls of orange sand into the pillowcase. Standing upright, she held the opening tightly shut in her fist and began t' shake it as hard as she could, eyes screwed shut and her head turned away.

Max caught the movement in the corner of his eye and looked around.

'I told you to keep watch!' he said loudly.

'I am keeping watch,' The Girl replied, not opening her eyes.

Max glanced around behind him, suppressing the frustration he felt at The Girl's nonchalant attitude. She had never taken survival as seriously as he did. He needed her t' stay sharp, wished she would listen. Her eyes were better than his, otherwise he'd be the one looking out while she prepared the meal. Max turned back t' the simmering saucepan in front of him while the skin on the back of his neck crawled. He breathed deeply and tried t' focus his attention on the task at hand.

The fire moved in a gentle breeze as Max stirred the saucepan's content. He tried the soup before placing the lid over the top. Still cold, however he wouldn't let it get hot enough t' boil. He'd added as much water as they could spare t' the can's condensed ingredients, but would watch it carefully t' make sure no water was wasted as it changed into steam.

The Girl dropped the pillowcase onto the ground beside her and undid the leather strand that held her ponytail back. She pulled the tie loose and shook her hair out, sighing again as she did. She bent down and grabbed two handfuls'a sand and began t' rub it into her scalp.

A couple'a years back, The Girl had finally put her foot down on the subject of her hair. Max had always cut it himself, but he was more concerned for her safety than her appearance. She knew it was a liability and Max said she was asking for some waster to grab her head once she grew her hair out, but she was sick to death of lookin' like some irradiated, half-life child. So she'd let it grow, Max be dammed.

Once she'd finished running her sandy hands through its strands, and was satisfied it was as clean as she could get it usin' sand alone, The Girl leaned forward and rubbed her hands vigorously over her head, getting rid of as much loose sand as possible and tryin' to avoid any slipping into her pants.

Max looked around at her again, before quickly averting his gaze and shakin' his head in frustration and disbelief.

Exhaling loudly, The Girl gathered up more sand and rubbed it over her body scrubbing the sweat and grime away. Down her arms, in her armpits, across her shoulders and along the back of her neck. Once she was done, she shook as much off as she could. She grimaced as her belly twinged and gurgled loudly. Max was still squattin' by the fire. She would only have t' wait a few more minutes for the meal to be ready, but it felt like an eternity. The Girl leant back against the bonnet once more, idly fiddling with one of the belt loops of her pants.

A sudden thought occurred to her and a broad grin spread over The Girl's face as she remembered what she'd found in the wreck of the buggy. She jogged over to the passenger's side'a the car, leant through the window and began t' rummage in the car door's compartment. Her hand closed around the small, round tin she'd found in the buggy's glove box. Grabbing a scratched and bent, metal fork, she climbed onto the car's bonnet and scooted back t' lean against the windshield. The heat radiated outwards from the glass into her back, but it felt good. Anyway, she was too excited t' care. She pressed the small can to her chest between her hands and closed her eyes.

Please be fish, please be fish, please be fish.

Holding the fork between her teeth, The Girl pushed the small ring up and looped her finger through. Takin' a deep breath through her nose, she pulled the lid up. The stench that assaulted her senses was immediately recognisable. It wasn't fish, far from it. The Girl's shoulders slumped. She felt like crying, but cryin' never helped anyone. Instead, she took a deep breath, wrinkled her nose and speared a chunk'a the foul smelling meat with her fork. Max glanced over from beside the fire.

'Fish?' he asked quietly.

'Cat,' The Girl replied miserably, swallowin' the meat quickly with a grimace.

Max nodded and turned back t' the fire without another word. Years ago he'd found a tin of salmon in an old bunker, half buried beneath the sands of a desert. Meat from the Old World was rare, and Max had given the tin t' The Girl all for herself. Every time they took a prize she would look for another tin. Cans of meat were rare enough, but fish was damn near impossible t' find. Any meat that did come in a can used to be for animal consumption only. That can'a salmon had just about been the best thing The Girl had ever tasted and they hadn't found another since.

Max lifted the lid off the saucepan and gave the soup another stir. They were in luck. The tin had been one of the two they'd taken from the buggy and it had been a can'a minestrone. Just the thing t' fill their empty stomachs. Max lifted the spoon to his mouth and took a small swallow.

'Put a shirt on,' he told The Girl, glancing sideways at her, 'and grab two cups.'

The Girl scraped the last'a the tin's contents out of a groove in the metal before flinging it away. Swinging her legs off the car, she dropped the fork onto the passenger's seat before walkin' over to where she'd left the pillowcase. She pulled her black t-shirt out and beat the sand off, before turning the shirt right side out and pullin' it down over her head. Max lifted the saucepan off the metal rack and held it out, as The Girl retrieved two metal mugs from the car's interior and knelt beside him.

'Careful, it's hot,' Max warned, as The Girl walked away.

The Girl ate it quickly anyway, eager t' wash the taste of the canned food away. She took her mug around t' the other side of the car and sat in the passenger's seat, her mouth full of minestrone, tryin' t' savour the taste. Max stood beside the fire, takin' slow sips from his own cup. He looked out over the desert and pulled a rag from one of his jacket pockets t' wipe the sweat away from his forehead. Between the midday sun, and the heat'a the fire, he was sweltering. Max squinted his eyes against the sun's glare and brought his free hand up t' shade his face as he watched their surroundings. He'd journeyed through many lands in his time. Now that he had a chance t' look around he couldn't decide if they'd passed through this land before.

Years and years ago, when he first began his journey with The Girl, they'd travelled East. When that path became too treacherous, they turned North for a time, before heading West instead. Until recently, they'd turned South before journeying East once more. Max might have come this way before, decades ago, but he couldn't be sure if The Girl had been with him.

Max shook his head, clearin' the thoughts away. Whatever they found, they'd be ready for it, and if not, they'd simply change their course and go another way. Maybe even further South. Max picked up the empty saucepan and ran his finger around the inside. He didn't offer the pot to The Girl as he sucked soup off his finger. She'd had the tinned food, after all.

'We've lingered here long enough,' Max announced, stowing the saucepan and metal stand at the rear of the car, 'we're leaving.'

The Girl jumped up out'a her seat and quickly moved to collect her belongings at the front'a the car. She shook the sand out of the pillowcase and dressed quickly, as Max kicked sand over the fire. He picked the rifle up and slid it back into its protective pouch, before securin' it to the underside of the car's roof. The Girl closed her vests clasps shut with a click and pulled her gun's harness over her head, makin' sure the pistol was sittin' snugly between her breasts. She'd grabbed her scarf, headband and goggles and hurried back t' the passenger's seat, just as Max turned the key in the ignition.

Max carefully turned the car around t' face the road, before hitting the accelerator hard, sendin' them speeding towards the strip'a black asphalt. He led them down the dune and back onto the road, headin' East. On they went, well rested with full bellies and high spirits.