The highway ran straight under a fixed noon sun and the truck that Sera and her horde were in was chasing the sunset.
Heat shivered above the lanes making them blurry the longer you looked at them.
The mirrors stayed full of bikes and trucks no matter where Zubair looked.
He kept the truck in the right lane, steady and centered.
He didn't bother to weave back and forth; there were no panic to be seen in his movements.
The riders pressed close on both flanks, engines droning like a wall.
The speedometer needle held where he wanted it, just pushing fast enough to stay ahead, but still be conscious about the amount of gas he burned.
The gas gauge hung low, kissing the red line like it was a long lost lover, but they weren't moving on gasoline; they were burning Sera's jet blend.
The engine ran hotter on it and gave a different smell, sharp and chemical, but it pushed hard when he asked.
