The dead, broken land stretched out forever until it met the darkening sky. The night was still, its silence broken only by the sounds coming from the compound, and the trudge of footsteps approaching from behind. He waited for whomever it was to declare themself. His thumb was tucked into his beltline, while the other hand fondled his revolver. With the weight of the sun on him he cast an impressive figure – his leathers burned with the dying summer, against a beckoning darkness. A mirthless smile spread across his face as the footsteps came to a halt. “Mad Dog.” He breathed before answering. “You smell that, Sheik?” The younger man didn’t reply, waiting for his leader to continue. “The smell of freedom – boundless – it’s out there.” “We finished searching the building.” “Good. What did you find?” “Few hundred liters of petroleum in jerries, the vehicle bay’s all stocked up with oils and fluids, but that’s it.
What do You think about As I Walk These Broken Roads?
