Desert Bound

6: Piran

6: Piran

Piran

The buckle pressed against Piran’s chest, and the straps dug into his shoulders. Bloody thing was made for midgets. And he still slid in the seat whenever Brice spun them around a corner.

When did the i***t learn to pilot a trike anyway? Yeah, he’d been reading up on all the manuals they could find, but theory wasn’t everything, was it? This rate, they wouldn’t have to wait for the guards to catch them.

“Watch it!” he yelled. He gripped the seat. Bloody flimsy plastic! And was it really only held on by a couple of bolts?

“Going to die,” he muttered to himself.

“Hold on,” Brice said.

Piran cursed, gripped tighter. The trike’s engine screeched, and smoke rose from the wheels as Brice slid them into an alley.

“Think I’m going to throw!”

“Not on me, you’re not,” Deva shouted. In the darkness her teeth flashed as she smiled. How the hell could she be enjoying this?

Had her arms around Brice, though. Like that wouldn’t distract him.

“Brice? You know what you’re doing?”

“Saving your skin again.”

Buildings whipped past, all cold stone and small windows. And Piran realised why that felt wrong.

“Keelin’s out in the desert,” he said. “Need to turn round.”

Brice shook his head. “Easier to lose the tails in town.”

He threw the trike sharp left, and for a moment Piran faced back the way they’d come. The enforcers’ buggies bounced after them, lights dancing. Engines whined as they slammed on the brakes to follow. Something flashed, just above one of the lights, and air whistled past Piran.

“They’re shooting at us!”

“That’s their job,” Brice said.

“But I’m at the back.”

“Good of you to protect Deva.”

Piran muttered under his breath, words he hoped Deva didn’t hear.

The psycho spun the trike again, and the buildings loomed closer. The trike mounted a walkway, the bump jarring Piran’s spine, and someone yelled as they jumped out of the way.

“Watch it!”

“Relax,” Deva said. “Enforcers’ll be more cautious if there’s others around.”

“Yeah?” There was a crack from the left, shouts and running feet. “You sure about that?”

“Just hold tight. Brice’ll get us out of this.”

Far too much confidence in her voice. Sure, she was good with that screwdriver, knew her way around anything mechanical. But she wasn’t the brightest, was she?

Couldn’t be, when she had a thing for that moody psycho.

Brice sent the trike off the walkway, into an alley. The buildings on either side were close enough to touch.

Piran tried not to think about that. He looked over his shoulder.

“Still following us.”

The wall to Piran’s left splintered, rock fragments peppering his face.

“And they’re still shooting!”

“Got an idea,” Brice said as they tore from the alley, tilted to the right.

“This thing’s got three wheels for a reason!”

The trike righted itself with a thump, tilted again as Brice sent them into another track, or alley, or whatever these little routes were called.

The night sky disappeared. The engine echoed. Piran glanced up, saw stone blurring past.

“We in a tunnel?” he asked.

“Under some building,” Deva said. And Piran remembered how so many buildings were carved out of the rock round here, how the streets rose and fell even though the overall landscape was flat.

“Is that sensible? What if they block the end? What if they drop something on us? What if‌…‌what if Brice loses control?”

“Not going to happen,” Brice said. “Deva, take over.”

“What? No way! Deva, stay where you are. He’s lost his bloody mind!”

But she was already moving, wriggling around Brice, half hanging off the trike. And Brice shifted in the opposite direction.

“Doing well,” Brice said. “Rest on my knee, swing your leg across. Got it? Here,” and he lifted one arm off the yoke, let Deva duck underneath. “Comfortable?”

Piran whimpered. Light danced over the scene in front. “Think they’re closer!” he yelled.

“Hope so,” Brice said. “Deva, grab the yoke. Got it? Keep us steady. Not too bad now‌—‌alley widens up ahead. See? Okay, throttle. Going to move my right foot. Need you to replace it, fast as you can. Don’t press too hard. I’ll cover the brake with my left. Count of three.”

Piran counted along in his head, and braced as the engine noise fell and the straps dug into his shoulders again. Then the noise picked up, as did the trike’s speed.

“Nice,” Brice said. “Cover the brake yourself now. You’ve got this. Keep us in a straight line, but ease off the throttle. Just a touch.”

Had Piran heard that right? “No! Deva, speed up! They’ll catch us!”

Brice turned, and his eyes were wild, his lips a straight line. And Piran was suddenly very afraid.

“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Piran said.

“So do I.” Brice shuffled back. He crouched on the trike’s bodywork, close enough that Piran could see the dark patches under his arms. Bloody i***t didn’t even have a jacket on.

Light from the following buggies flickered over Brice, and his eyes shone. He flashed his teeth at Piran, then turned to Deva.

“Slower. Need the buggies closer. You’ll know when to speed up again.”

The roar of the engine dropped. And Piran realised what the lunatic was going to do.

“You’re a bloody maniac,” he said.

Brice nodded. And then, as the light from behind flooded the alley, forcing Piran’s eyes half-shut and bathing Brice in an unearthly halo, the bloody maniac jumped.