***

Machine gun fire blasted behind the truck’s armor-plated siding. Its protection wasn’t going to last much longer. The back window was so shattered and riddled with cracks that Alex couldn’t see how many sentries were in pursuit. Both of his side mirrors had been blown off, and he could feel the engine straining to keep up the hurried pace. Alex kept his foot floored on the accelerator. They were so close to the woods.

“This was a bad idea,” Meeko said, trying to keep himself from falling out of his seat from the swerving, jerking ride, even with his seatbelt on.

“Oh, and would you have liked me to just leave you there?”

“You didn’t have to hit me so hard.”

“And you don’t have to be so ungrateful, punk.”

An explosion of shattered glass signaled the final blow to the rear window, sending some of the shards over the backs of both Alex and Meeko as they ducked. With their back side now exposed, the bullets started peppering the truck’s back row of seats.

“Yeah!” Meeko said. “This is SO much better than the farm camp!”

Alex swerved left and right, giving the sentries a moving target. The front windshield was cracked, but through the broken lines, Alex could see the cluster of dead trees.

“We’re almost there!” Alex yelled.

The boom of gunshots echoed louder now that the rear window was gone, and when another volley of bullets came speeding their way, Alex felt a hot, singeing pain strike his right shoulder. His entire right arm went slack, and before Meeko could scream, the wheel slipped out of Alex’s left hand, and the truck barrel-rolled. It toppled end over end, spraying dirt and glass into the air. Pieces of metal and bits of the undercarriage flung wildly into the sky. The high speed rolled the truck half a dozen times before it finally came to a stop upside down.

The seatbelt drew tight across Alex’s waist as he hung in midair. His right arm was slick with blood that flowed in random patterns down to his fingertips then dripped onto the truck’s ceiling below him. His head throbbed. “Meeko?” He gathered his bearings and finally managed to get a good look at Meeko in the seat next to him. The boy was out of his seatbelt, lying sprawled out on the truck’s ceiling. “Meeko!” Alex couldn’t tell if the boy was breathing or not. His arms and legs were cut up pretty badly, and there was no telling whose blood was whose.

Outside the flipped truck, tires skidded to a halt, and the shouts accompanying the harsh voices snapped Alex back to the situation at hand. The AR-15 he kept was nestled next to Meeko’s lifeless body. He reached for it, his fingertips barely close enough to grab the strap. But by the time he had a good grip on the rifle, the sentries had cracked the door open with a crowbar and yanked him out of the truck.

Alex’s body hit the dirt with a thud, and he could feel the warm, sticky liquid mixing with the dirt and clumping along his body. He tried pushing himself up, but his limp shoulder wouldn’t allow him. His fingers grabbed at the dirt around him, attempting to find anything solid to hold on to, to give him strength. But the dead earth around him offered no such gift.