All that was left behind was a crater of great magnitude. And the tracks of my truck, though those are quickly covered by the winds.
I speed along, not looking back as I race for our meeting location; about a day away from the borders of Qorboon, there is a cave, manmade of course, the cave is about twenty feet deep and only wide enough to fit both of us side to side. We'll hide out there for a day, ensuring our vehicles are far enough from any signs of life, before heading out in only one car. We should be across the border by daybreak the following day.
I don't stop or slow, people attempt to chase me many times but eventually get bored and go to bother a slower target. The winds are high this day, the sand blinding my view and dragging my wheels close behind me. If it weren't for the distant yipping and chattering and explosives, I'd honestly find this escape relaxing. The coordinates of our meeting location weren't precisely discussed, but as long as we're not followed, the remainder of our mission should go on without a hitch.
I continue speeding along, the hot air flowing through my knotted, blood hardened hair. There have been cars speeding along every so often, but a majority of the time, the desert is deserted. Plenty of cacti, plenty of craters, plenty of skeletons and abandoned tents. But not so many living, breathing people all the way out here, it's like they choose to stay in those overcrowded towns rather than live out in the middle of nowhere.
The wind whistles, ringing in my ears as I come across yet another abandoned tent, this one torn clean in half and stained red. Stopping the car, I hop out and go to inspect it, something within it calling out to me. There's some trash by the front of it, empty cans, broken knives, bunches of screws and other metal bits, by the entrance, the toes of two boots are peeking out, steel toe but clearly cut up. The fabric of the tent is hot and dry, like it's sucking all the moisture out from my fingers as I pull them back. There's a man inside, wearing nothing but the boots. His chest bloodied and scarred, his face twisted and frozen in agony. A message written within the scarring.
"I can kill any assassin.
Disappear and never return."
A message, one clearly meant for myself. We're being watched, more importantly, I'm being watched. I can't meet up with Antonio and risk whoever this is being able to take us both out at the same time. No. I'll need to lay low, trust Antonio will be able to handle things on his own for a while until I can trust that we're no longer under any threat.
Clearly I've pissed off the wrong people with this mission.
Tires screech in the distance, echoing into the sky, and I run for the car, my heart pounding.
I'm so sorry, Antonio.
I'm so, so fucking sorry.
But this is for our own good.