Though the buggy sounded and ran better, its suspension, or lack of one, still sent Raine flying out of his seat when it hit each rock and crevice.
The sun sat a full ten degrees above the horizon now, not quite in his eyes. Pair of sunglasses would be useful. He did have a hat that he found in the back of the buggy. Not much of a brim, but it might help a bit.
He opened… the compartment.
Gloves… as if!
He pulled out the map. Hand drawn, and rough; it had scribbled mounds indicating hills and mountains, arrows for passageways.
A jumble of lines crisscrossing was labeled “Outriggers.”
He looked at the ball compass in his buggy. His course looked fine.
All he needed was some music.
Instead he was left with his thoughts, like maybe if he brought back the supplies, people would accept him. Let him just be.
But then again, maybe not. Because there was that catch.
I’m not a Hagar.
He stuffed the map back. If he stayed in this direction, he should be fine. Nothing but clear open space between here and the Outriggers’ settlement.
He began to relax.
Which, if you had asked him, was always when things seemed to go… wrong. • • •
It was the slightest of sounds.
Competing with the wind-that steady whistle near his ears-the shooting spray of rock and rubble, and the still-loud engine.
Another noise.
He turned his head left and right as if he could aim his ears.
The sound… he slowly, finally, identified it.
Another engine. Then, more clear, two engines.
Behind him.
He looked at his compass. The open space ahead. And only then did he risk a look back.
To see the two vehicles racing toward him.
They had taken flanking positions behind him, one on either side. Still too far away for a good shot. From his glance back-and the rate they were gaining on him-Raine guessed that their vehicles were faster than his.
One had a classic jeep front. He couldn’t be sure, but it looked like a machine gun mounted on the hood.
So, maybe two bandits in there.
And then, on the other side, a Camaro from hell. The engine exposed, tinkered with so it couldn’t even fit under any normal car hood, and a rear end raised up that gave the whole thing the look of a projectile.
Least it didn’t have a gun mounted on its front.
And both were gaining on him.
How many seconds until they opened fire?
Raine looked ahead. Wide-open space to maneuver. Seemed to be their advantage, not his.
A crack. The first sound of gunfire.
No opportunity for a long debate.
He hit the brakes of the buggy hard.
The vehicle nearly went end over end with the force of the sudden stop.
Raine didn’t waste any time. He picked up his rifle.
Another crack, and the ping of a shot that hit the roll bar ran over the buggy’s seats.
He saw the bandits on the left-the ones in the jeep-edging closer to him. One of them was standing, aiming the mounted gun…
Raine watched a line of bullets begin racing across the sand, strafing its way toward his vehicle.
Shit.
But they were going so fast, and with their target no longer moving, the bandit at the mounted gun was turning the gun fast as well to try to compensate, his aim all over the place.
Not so for Raine. He was stopped.
And he’d had sniper training. Maybe the most useful thing he’d ever learned-at least at the moment. He fired and the bandit at the mounted gun kicked backward, right out of the car.
Raine turned hard to the other vehicle, the metal torpedo about to pass him. No front-mounted machine gun, but he still saw a passenger bandit taking aim with a rifle.
Raine noticed that his wound from yesterday didn’t scream out in agony with his sudden turn. Sure, it had been cleaned out, but this was something different… almost like it was completely healed.
Almost like he had never taken a bullet there at all.
Nanotrites. Not sure he knew how they worked or even what they even were. But he was mighty glad to have them coursing through his system.
A shot from the killer Camaro brought him out of his reverie, and he ducked as the vehicle on the right flew past.
He slid back down, knowing that both vehicles would now turn, showing him their broadsides.
Time to gun it.
He sat up and hit the accelerator. Whatever Loosum had done made his underpowered buggy leap forward as if it had been kicked in the rear.
He didn’t even bother holding the steering wheel. He let the car wobble left and right as he took aim at the two vehicles in front of him.
Where the hell are their gas tanks?
Finding it on the Camaro-type thing should be easy. He took his shot, just to the rear of the driver, and low.
Should have been just about where the tank was.
As if in answer, the bandit’s vehicle exploded into flame. The flash created a heat he could feel from all the way back where he was.
And the other car? The one with the dead shooter?
He saw it heading in a circle, trying to turn back on him.
Go on, Raine thought. Give it a shot.
Suddenly this was personal for him.
Never a bad thing, despite what they tell you at officers’ school. “Personal” used in a disciplined way could be terribly effective.
Better than adrenaline.
He saw the other driver curving around… and then begin to change direction again. He had probably changed his mind and decided that this was more fight than he wanted.
And that was a fatal mistake. Once you were in it, that was kind of it. No dodging, no running, no escape.
You had to finish it.
And now, as if it was an old-school dogfight, he was on the tail of the fleeing bandit. There was no remorse as he held the rifle and-while steering now-fired.
First shot-the guy kept going.
Then another, and the vehicle streamed off in a random direction, the driver hit. The car was slowing, heading nowhere until it came to a dead stop.
Raine wondered if he should stop, too, pick up anything useful from the surviving bandit car.
But that would take time. Time taken away from getting the supplies back to the settlement, and also time when more bandit friends might come around.
Seemed like in the Wasteland, bandits were like flies at a picnic. Leave something tempting around and they were all over it.
So, running at full speed, he checked his compass and left the dead bandits behind.
It took a few minutes of driving before he realized that-on some level-he had enjoyed that.
The Outrigger Settlement didn’t appear out of nowhere, like the Hagar Settlement resolving itself from the desert haze.
No, he could see it from miles away.
Huge tanks sat on the sides of the road, built into rocky ledges on either side, all linked with pipes.
Raine stopped his buggy.
Best to take all this in from a distance before he just drove into unfamiliar territory.
Hate to be mistaken for a bandit.
No flags in this world, no uniforms. Life seemed cheap.
No, life was cheap.
Even from out here he could see people walking around. Hard to tell if they were armed. From the looks of things, the Outriggers had a big fuel-processing gig going on here, and they probably would do anything to protect it.
It made the Hagar Settlement look like a rest stop.
Had they spotted him yet? Raine wondered. They must have radio signals so they could have been given advance notice if he had been spotted.
He decided to cruise on in, nice and slowly. Let them know he wasn’t making any mad dash for one of their big tanks.
He put the car in gear, and the buggy started moving forward again.