The desert sprawled infinitely ahead of them, the horizon glimmering like an illusion under the blazing sun. Dust spiraled into the atmosphere as Zane tightened his bandana more securely over his mouth, his motorcycle growling beneath him like a trapped beast. The world had perished five years prior, or at least that’s what the survivors claimed. The former governments had fallen, the cities had burned, and now, only the strongest persisted.
And in this barren land, one legend dominated them all—the Snake.
No one knew his true name, only that he rode a massive black motorcycle, as swift as a bullet and silent as death itself. He was the most dreaded and revered rider in the remnants of civilization. People murmured tales about him in soft voices, recounting how he had once sped straight through the storm barriers of the Eastern Raiders and emerged unscathed. They said he had outpaced the devil himself. And most crucially, they said he held the key to Haven—the final refuge remaining on Earth.
Zane had devoted the past year to tracking down the Snake.
He tightened his hold on the handlebars as he surged down the fractured remnants of an ancient highway. The road was strewn with the carcasses of vehicles, their metal shells corroded and shattered, partially buried in the sand. He realized he was being pursued—three riders, rapidly closing in.
Raiders.
He twisted the throttle, the engine howling as he pushed his speed to the utmost limit. Yet the raiders were adept, their bikes agile, their engines voracious. One of them—a massive brute with a rusted machete fastened to his back—pulled alongside him, raising a sawed-off shotgun.
Zane swerved just as the weapon fired, the explosion ripping through his side mirror. He had no arms, no help—only his instincts and his machine. He yanked the handlebars, veering off the road and into the dunes, his bike skidding over the loose sand.
The raiders pursued, their tires kicking up plumes of dust. Zane could sense the weight of death pressing against his back. And then, in the expanse, he spotted him.
The Snake.
He stood solitary on a rocky outcrop, his black bike humming beneath him, his long coat billowing in the wind. His helmet was featureless, a smooth, reflective visor concealing his eyes. He didn’t move. He merely waited.
Zane didn’t falter. He twisted the throttle, charging straight for the legend.
The Snake’s motorcycle roared to life, advancing like a shadow against the sun. He propelled forward, a blur of velocity, weaving between the raiders like a specter. Before they could respond, he was among them.
A blade gleamed.
The initial raider fell, his motorcycle spinning out of control, resulting in a fiery explosion. The subsequent raider reached for his weapon, but the Snake was quicker. He kicked out, propelling the man into the sand. The final raider, the one armed with the shotgun, attempted to escape—but the Snake pursued him, his motorcycle moving with an almost supernatural elegance. A single gunshot echoed.
Quiet.
Zane came to an abrupt halt, his breath uneven. The Snake redirected his motorcycle toward him, tilting his head as though inspecting him.
“Do you wish to ride with the Snake? ” The voice came through the helmet, distorted yet steady.
Zane gulped. “I need to locate Haven. ”
The Snake was quiet for a brief moment. Then, deliberately, he offered a hand.
“Then ride. ”
Zane paused for only an instant before grasping the extended hand. The world became a blur around him, the wind screeching in his ears.
And then, he rode with the Snake.
No one ever saw him again.
