Dudley crashed the Pit track and steered into traffic. The screens pointing behind him showed the stampede still following him. Some of them hit the racers on the track. That crushed the smaller vehicles as the cows ran them down, or fell on top of them.

He waved at the closest Pit driver as he told the truck to pour full power into the jets. He had to get off the track before the racers got organized and decided to gang up on him before putting down the fiery cows in their midst.

Someone decided to open fire on the truck. He told the truck to return fire on anyone shooting at him. He didn't want to fight them all, but he could disrupt attacks if the racers blew up in his wake.

And the giant cows of burning death was helping him more than he had thought they would. Every racer they crushed was a racer he didn't have to worry about shooting at him.

There were more than enough racers still on the track that the cows weren't stomping to make things uncomfortable for him. He needed to get off the track himself and leave the racers and cows to settle things on which group now owned the Pit.

“Look for an exit and get us out of here,” Dudley told the truck.

The truck slid across five lanes, pushing smaller racers into the wall. It took a curve and headed down a road leading out of the racing arena. Racers followed with weapons working. Countermeasures and return fire met the assault.

Dudley could see the cows slowing from their panicked run. The walls of the Pitt seemed to have calmed them after the collateral damage had been done. He didn't envy anyone having to move them back out where they belonged.

Too bad the racers weren't doing the same.

“The racers are chasing us,” said Dudley. “I'm hoping they'll turn around at the Salt.”

“What if they don't?,” said Joel.

“Then we're fighting them all the way across the desert, or until they give up, or we are wrecked,” said Dudley. “Whichever comes first.”

“I vote for not wrecking,” said Joel.

“Who doesn't,” said Dudley. “If I lose the cargo, I effectively won't be able to drive a rig again. This is my whole existence. I don't want to lose it to some guys thinking they can match their hot rods against my truck.”

“So what's the plan?,” asked Joel. “How do we lose them?”

“We need to give them a broadside,” said Dudley. “It might not wreck all of them, but it might cause enough of them to blow up that the rest go home.”

“All right,” said Joel. “How do we do that?”

“First, we need to tell the machinery to pick targets,” said Dudley. He fed in what he wanted into the computer brain of the truck. Weapons shifted so they no longer fired directly behind the truck at their pursuing enemies. He gave the truck a distance to drive before turning so the passenger side of the trailer was pointing at the racers.

When the truck reached the mark, it turned as sharply as it could given its size and lack of grace. All the weapons locked on the racers trailing behind the transport. There was a moment pause in time before the world shook with a volley of mixed energy and solid projectiles. The targets vanished in balls of fire from the destructive force unleashed.

Dudley turned the truck so that it was on course back to the drop off point. The desert kicked up a cloud of dust behind them as the transport roared along on its jets.

“I can't hear,” said Joel. “I think that last thing messed me up.”

“We cleared the racers off our trail,” said Dudley. “We're heading across the desert.”

“I can't hear you,” said Joel. “It might take a bit for my hearing to come back.”

Dudley shook his head. At least they wouldn't need the hitchhiker's hearing in the desert. Nothing lived on the Salt. Water from storms racing across the landscape vanished as soon as it hit the ground.

Dudley wondered if he should stop and inspect the load. He didn't like the fact that he was being chased across the Dreamland for his cargo. He expected a normal round of hijacking. That was why he had so many weapons built into the transport. This was bordering on a concerted effort by more than one group to take his cargo.

That said he was hauling something so valuable that no one should even know he had the thing in the first place. So how had the bad guys found out he was hauling something out of the ordinary.

Where did Joel fit in? It was suspicious that he happened to show up and give good advice when they were under attack the first time. Maybe he was in on it for one of the factions wanting the cargo.

Maybe he was what he presented himself as. Dreamers had a lot of personal power when they wanted. Too many were caught up in what their minds told them was going on, they never saw the bigger picture. If Joel had run into something that had changed that, it would explain how he was aware of the things behind things.

Dudley didn't know what he could do about things at the moment. He needed to ride things through to the end. As long as he had ammo and batteries, he should be able to outfight anyone trying to take the cargo from him.

On the other hand, there were things out in the Dream Lands that could take his truck and break it in two while he tried to get away from them.

All he had to do was get to the Highway, and he would have a straight shot to the delivery address. Then he could dump the cargo and head back to the Depot. He wasn't going to take Joel anywhere if he was some kind of undercover traitor.

On the other hand, he might be worrying for nothing. He might have left the last of his trouble behind him in fire and smoke.

“I can hear again,” said Joel. “I must still be on the fritz. All I hear is some chanting.”

“What kind of chanting?,” asked Dudley. He couldn't hear anything. He also wasn't a blind dreamer sensing the world on a mental level.

“I don't know,” said Joel. “It just sounds like a lot of people saying the same thing over and over.”

An indicator for the Highway popped up on one of Dudley's screens. If they could get back on that black ribbon, they would be that much safer. It was hard to shape the road into something dangerous.

“They're shouting now,” said Joel. “They're saying Fotal over and over.”

The salt shifted behind the truck. A shape started pouring itself upward.

“I don't like the sound of that,” said Joel.

“Be glad you can't see it,” said Dudley.

The salt from the desert had decided to walk like a man. It reached for the truck with a wide hand. Once it had caught its prey, it would separate the cab from the trailer and get rid of the motor part of the assembly.

If the driver wound up dead when that happened, that would be too bad for him.

Dudley told the cab to give the jets everything it could to pull away from the giant stomping after him. The Highway was right there. If they could make it on the blacktop, they could power away from this new problem.

Traffic on the Highway ground to a stop as he roared across the salt flats. He noted that no one was powering up weapons to get involved. He and Joel were on their own.

He shook his head. Of course no one was going to give him cover fire. No one wanted to tangle with a giant made of salt stomping toward them. He was surprised none of them had hit the pedal and jetted out of there.

The vehicles started unshipping weapons. Dudley hoped they weren't going to start shooting at him. One of the cars became a giant robot with a giant sidearm. He told the cab to veer and head for a hill to get back on the Highway without running down to an exit.

If he could hop the guardrail, he was still in business.

If he couldn't, he would have to drive down until he hit a sidestreet that he could use to get to an on ramp and keep going.

The motorists unloaded on the salt giant as he rushed the Highway. Concentrated fire ripped it apart before it could get close to the road. It tried to pull itself together but someone had brought a nullifier to the firefight and wiped away the spell motivating the monster.

“It looks like we're in the clear,” said Dudley. “Guys on the Highway took care of the salt monster.”

“What are you hauling, Dudley?,” asked Joel. “A bunch of people seem to want it.”

“I don't have any idea,” said Dudley. “There wasn't anything on the manifest.”

“So they turned you loose with a cargo, and didn't tell you what it is,” said Joel. “Is that usual?”

“No,” said Dudley. “Nothing about this has been usual. You expect some hijacking, but this has moved into open war.”

“For what's in the box?,” said Joel. “How far away from the delivery point are we?”

“About five straight miles,” said Dudley. “We'll be back on the road in a bit, and the driving will be smoother.”

“It will also be easier to hijack us,” said Joel. “That's the other side of things, isn't it?”

“I won't lie,” said the driver. “The road gives anyone who can camp on it a chance to take us on.”

“So we still have fight on our hands,” said Joel. “And overwhelming force can wreck us before we get away from them.”

“You could be a little more positive,” said Dudley.

“You could quit eating nachos, but I don't see that happening either,” said Joel.