When he looked back over his shoulder, there was nothing except the shivering air coming up from the earth.
"Why are you here, Max?" Max froze dropping his hand to the security of the weapon at his hip. The sounded deafening against the stillness in the air. He swung his leg over the bike, crunching the scorched earth under his boot heel. All was clear, but for how long remained to be seen. If there were so much as an echo of a rumble, Max would be gone in seconds. He listened for the sound of approaching engines from the Mountain Tribe's two wheelers. The sounds of the world opened up to him, his ears keen to the dead air all around him. The muffled sound of a snap at his neck and he pulled the helmet free. It would have been fast, too fast to catch, if it hadn't been weighed down by the bounty of provisions afforded to him. Black and silver, pieced together from cars and other two wheelers. The hog was nothing more than a manufactured nightmare for those that stood in it's wake. "A bike and all you can carry." Those were her words and as the leader of the Citadel, they were law. Max killed the engine of the gifted two wheeler, Furiosa had given him back at the Citadel. A shame really, the black crude was worth a fortune and now it simple burned into a toxic black cloud wafting from the crumbled ravine that stretched out before him, the black rider. Hot and dry, the air choked with black smoke and the smell of burning diesel. Only white sky and orange earth as far as the eye could see. The open sky was bleached against the blinding heat from the sun.
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