I turned, scampering down the hill, feeling my body tilt in either direction with each step I made. My heart rose to the back of my throat, making me feel as though I was about to be drowned in sand, just like the storm that was heading toward me. Which was the worst possible thing I could experience in the fucking Waste.

I reached the bottom of the hill, almost falling on my ass, but darted left. With each heave of a step I took, my feet sunk into the dead end, making me feel like a warrior in battle jumping over his comrades that just died in battle. It really couldn’t get any worst, could it? I mused sourly

I yanked the door open, startling the shit out of Stryme, based on the confused expression painting on his face. “What the fuck Cypher!”

“Haboob!” I shouted, stepping into the truck.

“What the fuck is a HABOOB?!” Stryme shouted in confusion.

“A fucking SANDSTORM!”

“THEN SAY SANDSTORM…NO ONE KNOWS WHAT A FUCKING HABOOB IS!”

“GET US THE FUCK OUTTA HERE!”

Stryme sunk his foot into the accelerator and sand exploded around us. The wheels finally caught traction and the truck shot forward with a growling roar, slamming my head into my headrest. “WHY THE FUCK ARE HEADING INTO THE VALLEY!?

“YOU HAVE A BETTER IDEA!?”

“YOU SAID RAVAGERS AND DOASIANS COULD BE THERE!”

“NOT WITH A FUCKING SANDSTORM ON OUR ASS!”

The jeep roared up the hill and then flew ten meters in the air landing with a loud boom, and tilting to the left. FUCK!

“YOU’RE GONNA KILL US BEFORE THE SANDSTORM DOES!”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP CYPHER!” Stryme growled.

The truck came down with a boom and skidded left almost tilting off the side of the cliff. Stryme counter steered the vehicle back into place and geared the engine down, allowing the wheels to catch traction once more.

The reverberating sound of the engine growled louder than an artificial lion, as the RPMs soared to 12,000. The humming it made transitioned into the sound of a gurgling bear.

My ears rang from singing which forced me to dab, but that only served to annoy me further. A loud boom followed and the truck shot forward as if it’d been injected with a litre of NOS.

My eyes traced across the first map as I dug into my haversack pulling the stack free. The problem we had was, that I knew fuck all about the area so god knows what the fuck I was looking at. “What the fuck are you looking at Cypher?!“

“A way out!”

“Don’t waste your time. I know where the fuck we’re going, just hold tight!”

“You know the area?”

“Like the back of my fucking hand. Now Shut the fuck up and STRAP IN!

Stryme carried the truck through a series of turns and bumps, which almost made me chew my tongue. He slid the truck whilst turning left, almost sending us into a butte. He recovered quickly, by counter-steering and re-balancing the weight by asking me to press down in my seat.

The tires screamed despite being on the sand, then skidded across broken bones of fish long dead during the Imbibe no doubt.

The craggy road took us to a series of bones structure that the truck thundered through. As we continued our trek, the bubbling sands that sat in the distance grew closer by the second, which made us feel like ants, ready to be smothered by sand.

By my estimation, the sand storm was at least thirty minutes away despite how swiftly and promptly Stryme was driving through the valley.

The gas being spent fluttered into my nose, which only infuriated me because petrol wasn’t a scent I was used to. It reminded me of the scent of my burning skin.

We sped underneath a low-hanging arch. A hard right appeared from nowhere forcing Stryme to yank the handbrake. The truck skidded for a few seconds but he regained control quickly.

Another, and skidded, as it went up another hill. Stryme counter-steered as it leapt in the air again, leaving enough room for my heart to be in my mouth again, but more than enough space for me to curse.

“Are we close?”

“No!” He growled.

My eyes widened, realising Stryme had taken the line too close. I grabbed the safety to my feet and felt the truck tilt. A large boom emanated from the back of the truck, making it swerve.

The truck spun five times as I pushed my feet up against the dashboard, trying to help re-balancing the weight, but that did fuck all as the truck spun another four times.

My brain felt as though it was ready to seep through my ears. Stryme on the other hand was still on task, counter and under-steering the truck with each spin.

A vein popped out of his forehead which made his head look like a mushroom. I took hold of the wheel, hoping it’d help him, but the truck tilted right, and it tipped over, rolling over a dozen times and tossing everything outside.

A loud recoiling noise zipped behind me and the harness gripped me like a vice-grip in a similar fashion as my SMB. My chest screamed for relief as the glass shattered in front of me spraying glass onto me.

Stryme covered his face, ensuring the glass didn’t get into his eyes, not as it would matter, we had to survive the damn truck rolling down god knows what.

The world rolled for three seconds more, and then a loud groan sound of strained metal sang out into the air like a baby crying in the middle of the night.

My chest felt as though it was imploding from the strain, which turned into a burning sensation that made me bite my lip more times than I’d care to admit. Sand flooded into the truck, spraying both Stryme and me in the face, making it itchy instantly.

The truck finally stopped, and with a headache that thrummed like a hammer I finally turned to Stryme who was trying to calm himself whilst he still held the steering wheel. “Still alive?” I croaked.

“Barely.” He answered.

As I looked outside, I already know what the fuck to expect. The truck was beyond recognition, the front was smashed flat, blocking the entire windscreen with shredded metal.

I looked back, noticing the back of the truck was in better condition, but that was thanks to the engine. It was protected somewhat but still shredded as if a sardine can had been ripped open.

As I sat there, suspended in my seat for a mere two seconds before the scent of water began pouring into my mouth and nose along with the fucking sand that flooded through the windscreen.

“You know Cypher,” Stryme said calmly. “…None of this shit happened till I came across you. I journeyed three hundred FUCKING miles without a problem. Now, I’m about to be swept away by a fucking Sandstorm!”

“First of all. Stryme. Fuck You. Second, GET YOUR ASS UP AND LET'S MOVE!”

“FUCK YOU? FUCK YOU!” He snarled.

“Are you done being a bitch?”

“Fuck you!”

“Get your ass out of the fucking TRUCK!”

I unhooked my harness and hit the roof of the truck with a thud. I shimmied myself upright and then began kicking my seat, to give me some room. “Do you see where we ended up?”

“No, I can’t see shit. Sand’s pouring everywhere.”

“Get yourself free, It’s gonna get worst if we don’t find shelter!.”

Stryme unhooked his harness and hit the roof with a thud. He shrieked from the pain. He circled himself, and then I saw the bloodied gash on his right temple. “You’re bleeding.”

“No shit Cypher,” He said calmly.

A gush of wind roared passed us and the sound of strained metal followed. Stryme and I looked at each other startled. “FUCK! We’re pressed up against something. We can’t move!” Stryme shouted.

“You’re right.”

The truck shrieked again when the wind roared through once more. It tilted slightly, sending my stomach into a battle as butterflies swirled within. I outstretched my hand to Stryme who grabbed it without hesitation.

I pulled him beside me, which in turn re-balanced the truck. It wasn’t ideal to be squeezed up on one side, but it was better than falling god knows where the truck was because I certainly didn’t.

I snapped my short sword free and stimulated my SMB. The blade turned orange and yellow from the heat and began prying my door open like a tuna can, hoping this bullshit would at least help. “Careful Cypher,” Stryme said. “I can smell gas leaking into the truck.”

“My nose works too Stryme, what do want me to do, pry it open and send us into the ravine down below?”

“How the fuck you know there’s a ravine down there.”

“X-Ray Vision,” I said, lying through my teeth.

“…right.”

In all honestly, I didn’t check shit. I didn’t need that negativity, not right now, but based on my luck in the waste I was right to be sceptical. And so was Stryme I mused bitterly.

I retracted my blade and pounded the door free. Stryme handed me our haversacks, which for whatever goddamn reason were fine, thankfully.

Stryme began handing me one by one the Doasian wolfskin pouches which were located under his seat. He gave me three before concern flashed across his face. “What’s wrong?” I asked.

“…Three pouches are leaking.”

“Just hand them over Stryme, it's the water pouches that are us for fucksake!”

Stryme huffed something inaudible under his breath, which made me ground my teeth, and then shoved another water pouch in my hand. The water poured from the side and I rotated it and placed it outside.

He handed me two more, which by my count left us with four pouches. It wasn’t an ideal amount of pouches to carry in the desert, especially when we were so far from our destination.

A destination I knew fuck all about.

The truck began to groan, as the final water bottle left. Then it began to shift down slowly. FUCK, I complained. I scrambled out of the truck, feeling as if my weight grew light by the second. A bellow groan of metal rang out in the air, as the truck rushed to the bottom of the ravine.

Stryme took hold of my hand without my notice and held onto me as if his life depended on it. It did.

The metal struts located on the left side of my body began to sing from the pain as I held onto the tip of the cliff holding Stryme with my right hand.

As I slowly tried to pull Stryme up my abdominals cried from the strain and pain of his weight. My teeth involuntarily clenched as I stared at him. “Don’t drop me eh?” He said smiling, but his face painted in fright.

My hand slid two centimetres from the weight and I felt my body jolt down. Stryme grabbed me with his other hand. Metal against granite is such a bad fix, and because I wasn’t sure if squeezing any tighter would’ve ended with me crushing my grip I had to hold firm.

“Stryme…you’re heavy as shit.”

“Says the man that’s half cybernetic” He joked.

“Fair point…but listen. I’m going to try to swing you up. I don’t think the granite’s going to hold out much longer.”

“Do it!” He snapped.

I began to rock Stryme back and forth, ensuring my cybernetic arm stayed in place, but it slid a further five centimetres, which filled Stryme with fright once more.

Once I gathered enough momentum, I tossed Stryme to my right. He barely grabbed the ledge. My grip slid another ten centimetres, but with fright, in my stomach churning, I raised my right hand, barely in time to stop myself from falling off the cliff. “I guess I owe you one,” Stryme said coyly.

“Barely” I answered because a fucking sandstorm was about to ravage both our asses.