whatever it was, it was heading straight towards their camp.
“Stop staring, go go go!” Raven screamed. Everyone had frozen momentarily to look at the flares, but quickly returned to packing. When he was done, Red ran over to his bike, which was parked right next to Butz’s. Linx was right behind them, howling wildly at the sky. Together, Butz and Red placed their palms down to activate their bikes, gripping tightly as if the pressure would speed the process up. Both of their bikes turned on simultaneously and lit up the space ahead of them. The next moment though, they both choked with a combination of fright and bewilderment.
There was someone there, standing candidly in the darkness. It was a man, but no ordinary man. He was a gaunt figure with no eyes, just skin where there should’ve been eyes, and a lifeless smile composed of sharp yellow teeth. He had a thin, sickly body with patches of bone sticking out. But his most stunning feature was his right hand, or what should’ve been his right hand. In its place was an enormous blade, larger than his own body, that throbbed with veins and looked like it had a life of its own. At the center of the massive weapon was a single eye, an unsettling organ that darted around with a maddening gaze. Oddly, Red felt a strange sense of familiarity, like deja vu, upon seeing the blade — as if he had known this moment was coming all along, but had forgotten about it.
Both Butz and Red continued to stand there in perfect stillness. Red could hear the sound of rustling behind him, and then a sudden quietness, as everyone seemed to notice the man. The gaunt figure lifted his giant arm in a heavy manner, and bought it down in a devastating blow. Red reflexively stepped back from the danger, but failed to avoid it entirely.
He felt only the violent sensation of being shocked, like lightning had just struck him and his body was imploding to avoid the danger. There was no pain, but he knew he had been hit somewhere. Everything around him seemed to recede to a distance, contract inwards, and then recede back to a distance, in a continuous cycle every second. Barely aware of what was going on, he noted that fighting had started, that he had been thrown on someone’s bike, and that someone else had covered his hand with a kapcha, a thick white net made out of a gooey substance that was used to stop bleeding from heavy injuries. After that, he felt only the sensation of rushing down the desert, a hysterical ringing noise in his ears, and the sound of voices screaming all over his intercom.
He closed his eyes to try and regain consciousness and piece together what had happened.
My hand, my hand is gone, he thought to himself.
Fighting to open his eyes, he saw the stump of white. He heard vague expressions, someone trying to yell at him, but couldn’t make out the words. He wanted to tell the person he couldn’t understand them, but his voice came out as an inaudible scream.
He turned around behind him and squinted into the distance. Focus he thought to himself. He needed to become aware of what was going on, he was in danger. There were bikes behind them, and something like a black meteor hurtling down the desert.
“Red, can you hear me?”
He heard Raven’s calm voice, and finally understood that he was right behind her, on her bike. The voices in the intercom were Butz, Magnus, and S — but he couldn’t understand them through their simultaneous talking.
“Yeah,” he replied. The word came out as a faint noise, despite the fact that he intended to scream it.
“You need to stay conscious, Red. Don’t faint. We’re being chased. You’re being chased. We’re in danger, you need to think clearly. What is that thing Red? Why is it chasing you? It’s ignoring everyone else.”
He began to understand what was going on, and nodded. His senses crawled back to him, and he suddenly felt swept by an acute depression.
“My hand…he
“Stop staring, go go go!” Raven screamed. Everyone had frozen momentarily to look at the flares, but quickly returned to packing. When he was done, Red ran over to his bike, which was parked right next to Butz’s. Linx was right behind them, howling wildly at the sky. Together, Butz and Red placed their palms down to activate their bikes, gripping tightly as if the pressure would speed the process up. Both of their bikes turned on simultaneously and lit up the space ahead of them. The next moment though, they both choked with a combination of fright and bewilderment.
There was someone there, standing candidly in the darkness. It was a man, but no ordinary man. He was a gaunt figure with no eyes, just skin where there should’ve been eyes, and a lifeless smile composed of sharp yellow teeth. He had a thin, sickly body with patches of bone sticking out. But his most stunning feature was his right hand, or what should’ve been his right hand. In its place was an enormous blade, larger than his own body, that throbbed with veins and looked like it had a life of its own. At the center of the massive weapon was a single eye, an unsettling organ that darted around with a maddening gaze. Oddly, Red felt a strange sense of familiarity, like deja vu, upon seeing the blade — as if he had known this moment was coming all along, but had forgotten about it.
Both Butz and Red continued to stand there in perfect stillness. Red could hear the sound of rustling behind him, and then a sudden quietness, as everyone seemed to notice the man. The gaunt figure lifted his giant arm in a heavy manner, and bought it down in a devastating blow. Red reflexively stepped back from the danger, but failed to avoid it entirely.
He felt only the violent sensation of being shocked, like lightning had just struck him and his body was imploding to avoid the danger. There was no pain, but he knew he had been hit somewhere. Everything around him seemed to recede to a distance, contract inwards, and then recede back to a distance, in a continuous cycle every second. Barely aware of what was going on, he noted that fighting had started, that he had been thrown on someone’s bike, and that someone else had covered his hand with a kapcha, a thick white net made out of a gooey substance that was used to stop bleeding from heavy injuries. After that, he felt only the sensation of rushing down the desert, a hysterical ringing noise in his ears, and the sound of voices screaming all over his intercom.
He closed his eyes to try and regain consciousness and piece together what had happened.
My hand, my hand is gone, he thought to himself.
Fighting to open his eyes, he saw the stump of white. He heard vague expressions, someone trying to yell at him, but couldn’t make out the words. He wanted to tell the person he couldn’t understand them, but his voice came out as an inaudible scream.
He turned around behind him and squinted into the distance. Focus he thought to himself. He needed to become aware of what was going on, he was in danger. There were bikes behind them, and something like a black meteor hurtling down the desert.
“Red, can you hear me?”
He heard Raven’s calm voice, and finally understood that he was right behind her, on her bike. The voices in the intercom were Butz, Magnus, and S — but he couldn’t understand them through their simultaneous talking.
“Yeah,” he replied. The word came out as a faint noise, despite the fact that he intended to scream it.
“You need to stay conscious, Red. Don’t faint. We’re being chased. You’re being chased. We’re in danger, you need to think clearly. What is that thing Red? Why is it chasing you? It’s ignoring everyone else.”
He began to understand what was going on, and nodded. His senses crawled back to him, and he suddenly felt swept by an acute depression.
“My hand…he
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