A sudden crash woke Mark up in the middle of the night. He sat up in bed, confused. As more screams and explosions erupted in the distance, he struggled to his feet. This must have been what the Elder had been talking about. Thank goodness he'd already packed everything up.

Opening the rusted metal door to the driver's cabin, Mark rushed inside and pulled on a large, heavy lever. He watched as shiny balls of metal dropped from the top of his wagon and unfurled, turning into small iron horses. Through the windshield, he saw a steady stream of carriages already moving out of the area. Some were being pulled by real horses and more were being carried by the blessed. Others were revving away, belching smoke from their exhaust pipes. He was about to join the evacuation when he heard a shout not far away.

Rushing to the back of the wagon he pressed the red button that opened the doors. Mark stared, horrified at the burning wrecks of the carriages that hadn't made it out in time. He had no idea what kind of monster was creating the debris-filled graveyard, but he knew that if he didn't get out fast, he was going to become its newest member.

He turned around to head back into the driver's seat, but a slippery hand grabbed his ankle. Screaming, Mark shook his leg violently, trying to escape its bloody grasp.

"Mark! Mark! It's me!" It was Alice.

She was soaking wet, her silver hair plastered to her forehead and the sleeves of her pajamas sticking to her forearm like an extra layer of skin. Reaching down, Alice heaved an unconscious Nora off the ground. Blood was flowing freely from several fresh cuts on her body, and something about her right arm didn't look quite right. He stared in shock.

"Mark! Mark! Focus! Get her inside!"

He wrenched his eyes away and placed his arms under the limp body. His knees almost buckled from the weight, but gritting his teeth, he carried her into the room and lowered her into his bed. He dashed to the cabin and started up the horses as the iron doors closed behind him.

Safely among the other carriages, Mark sighed. That had been close. Looking into the side mirror, he saw the Elder's wagon, pulled along by 2 white horses, following closely behind them. Alice had made it out as well. Now with the crisis averted, he felt his adrenaline fade away. Mark groaned as his arms and legs started aching. Trying to distract himself, he turned his attention to the strange wheel in front of him and the buttons beside it.

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He had never really cared enough to find out what they did. When he had first found the truck, he'd just pulled out the broken machine parts inside to finish his other projects. Now, he found himself wondering what purpose they might have served back when they were functional. Stroking the soft, brown, leather wheel with his fingers, Mark sat back and relaxed. His eyelids felt like they weighed a ton each, and he wanted nothing more than to sleep.

Getting up, he walked to the back of his carriage where his bed was, and found the whole room filled with green light. He'd forgotten all about Nora. Looking at the girl, he briefly considered throwing her off the wagon and feigning ignorance. After all, she'd confessed to wanting to do the same thing. But he then remembered Alice had been there when he'd picked her up, and the clan always checked to made sure no one was left behind. He was stuck with her. Mark looked at the lifeless heap on his bed and found himself staring, mesmerized, at the blazing scars on her body. He'd seen the ones on her right wrist and her chin before, but he now realized there were more all over her back, one on the inside of her right thigh, and one on the back of her left calf. Such unusual places for scars to be. Mark walked toward her to get her off his bed - it wasn't like he was going to let her stay there forever - and found it drenched in blood and sweat. He'd forgotten all about the injuries as well. Cursing, he raced back to the cabin and came back with a first aid kit. After moving Nora to the floor with shaking arms and covering the bed with white towels, he set her back on it and plopped down next to her, panting.

Mark looked down at Nora and decided that she looked less intimidating in her sleep. The fierce frown she'd constantly worn around him for as long as he could remember was nowhere to be seen, and she looked younger and less stressed out than her usual conscious self. Using the remaining towels, he rubbed the blood and wet sand off of her skin. Patting her dry and picking up a large roll of bandages, he wrapped them around her wounds. Mark wanted to lay back and relax, but there was one more thing to take care of. He picked up Nora's broken arm and shuddered at the sight of the mangled limb. Thankfully, tending to broken limbs was one of the first things he had learned, at least in theory, for obvious reasons. As he finished up with the fiberglass wrappings, he started to notice the glare of Nora's scars was getting less and less harsh. Mark watched, surprised, as her scars slowly grew dimmer, and finally turned a purple-pink. He cocked his head, confused as to how exactly they worked. But that was a problem for another day. Now sitting in complete darkness, it wasn't long before sleep overtook Mark, plunging him into a dreamless sleep. His head fell onto what seemed like a shoulder, although he couldn't quite remember who's.

As the battered wagons trundled slowly across the desert, a red sun signalled the beginning of a new day as rose to scorch the world once more.