Twenty-seven hours after the package from his sister had arrived, Chris Shaw was at last able to test its contents. It had taken a long day of archaic tools, dirty hands and oil-stained overalls to restructure the interior of the Lady Diablo – a long day filled with strenuous repetition and exercise. That effort, and the long sleep that followed, made this moment all the more rewarding.

Lance was once again bopping along to electrance, the open-mouthed smile of an ignoramus a permanent fixture as he watched the world flash by. It was like having one of those pets Chris had read about in books – dogs, or something – big and hairy and dumb, always willing to follow their master’s orders without question. He just hoped Lance wouldn’t drool over the seats.

TURN BACK IF YOU WANT TO LIVE.

Another amateur sign blurred past but Chris kept his foot pressed on the accelerator. Few risked travelling the wastelands surrounding the pockets of civilisation, but only the bravest of Vagrants dared to enter the Nowhereland beyond the mountains.

“Dude, look up there,” cried Lance over the music, jabbing his finger on the windscreen in the direction of a dark shape against the sky, “That’s not an airship, it’s got WINGS!”

Chris flicked the volume to mute. “Must be one of those god-damned giant bats,” he said, squinting in the direction of the shape flapping its wings in the morning blue, “They come out at dawn to feed on whatever died the night before – usually people stupid enough to wander into the Nowherelands,”

“That’s crazy,” replied Lance, giggling away, “You think I could tame one? Then I could fly around on its back. I could be some kind of BAT-MAN!”

Chris grimaced and focused an external camera on the beast, then projected the image on the windscreen. “See those wings?” he said, putting on his deepest voice, “They say that those wings are big enough to envelop a grown man, and that once you’ve been caught you never escape. What you can’t see is its face – eight eyes, like glistening orbs of onyx forged in the fires of Hell, weep tears of black pus over pincer-like mandibles and rows of razor-sharp teeth,”

He paused, relishing the look on Lance’s face as his usual giddy smile melted into a terrified frown, then added: “I hear they make nice burgers though…”

Lance snapped back to his trademark dopey grin. “Dude, BATBURGERS? That’s crazy!”

Chris shook his head. Another sign swept past – ‘HUMANITY ENDS HERE’ – and the cleft slicing the line of man-made mountains in two was almost upon them. This was the closest Chris had come to the earthen barriers designed to deter the apocalyptic ecosystem of the Nowherelands from invading human settlements, and although they were dwarfed by the titanic Malkuth in size, Chris still found himself admiring the technology. For all anyone knew, these mountains were as natural and ancient as any kicked up by the earth itself.

He swerved the Lady down the right fork as they came to a crossroads, keeping him on the dusty road that cut through the Nowherelands for the benefit of wandering tribes. The other road – the nice smooth road with clear markings – ran deep underground for a hundred miles, only returning to the surface beyond the far borders.

Chapter 60
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