Prologue

The wind grew fiercer, the distant sky darkening, with harsh red gleams flickering within the clouds. In no more than two hours, the sandstorm would completely engulf this place.

Zheng Nanfang pulled up his hood, wrapped his face with a coarse scarf, and strapped a battered pair of goggles over his eyes. Through the scratched lenses, he gazed at the man and woman lying on the ground.

The pair appeared agitated, thrashing violently, the chains binding them clanking loudly with every movement.

The man struggled with particular desperation, his wrists rubbed raw and bleeding, oblivious to the pain.

Zheng Nanfang crouched down and tore the tape from the man’s mouth; several teeth were stuck to the adhesive.

The rough motion seemed to aggravate the man, who coughed and spat blood, mumbling incoherently.

“I can’t understand you,” Zheng Nanfang shook his head, as if soothing a wounded animal, reaching out to ruffle the man’s striking mohawk. He spoke loudly, “The sandstorm is almost here and I have to go. I’ll be borrowing your vehicle. Thank you, goodbye.”

The man with the mohawk grew even more frenzied, thrashing about. The woman, bound to him, grew restless too; her long, athletic legs, clad in fishnet stockings, writhed ceaselessly, her boots gouging deep ruts in the yellow earth.

Zheng Nanfang grew uneasy—the sandstorm was closing in, visibility worsening by the second.

“Take me with you, I beg you.”

At last, the mohawk man managed to form a coherent plea. His eyes, rimmed with heavy eyeliner, brimmed with desperate hope for life—a stark change from the fierce arrogance they had displayed just ten minutes before.

“I don’t want to do this either.”

Zheng Nanfang’s face was hidden behind goggles and scarf, revealing no expression; only the slight hoarseness in his voice offered any hint of sincerity.

He scratched his head, dust swirling above. Pointing to the heavily modified ‘09 Tyrannosaurus’ motorcycle laden with supplies, he said awkwardly, “It only seats two. You two seem like a pair—leaving either one behind would be wrong. So you’d best stay together.”

“No, no, it’s not like that!” The mohawk man shook his head so forcefully that his crest toppled sideways, looking rather ridiculous.

He blurted, “I traded two liters of gasoline for her in Raw Meat Town. I was heading to the Orange Hall to swap for a gun… In short, we’re not a couple. Take the bike, the food, the water—just take me with you, drop me outside the sandstorm, I want nothing else!”

At the man’s words, the woman struggled even harder, her tears smearing her heavy makeup, which the wind and grit soon dried, leaving her face a riot of colors.

Zheng Nanfang nodded, tore the tape from the woman’s mouth. Her blonde hair whipped wildly around her head, and paired with the smeared makeup, it made for a striking picture.

“Are you from Raw Meat Town?” Zheng Nanfang ignored her sobbing and explanations, going straight to the point, “Are you familiar with that place?”

“I am! I’ve been there since I was twelve—back then it wasn’t even called Raw Meat Town—”

“Alright, that’s enough.” Zheng Nanfang cut her off, quickly binding her wrists and ankles with tape, then unfastened the chain and secured her to himself with a hemp rope.

The woman trembled all over. With her legs tied, she swayed with Zheng Nanfang’s movements, struggling to keep balance, pressing her chest tightly against his back in a desperate attempt to steady herself.

The mohawk man watched in dismay as Zheng Nanfang finished his preparations, muttering, “What about me?”

Zheng Nanfang flashed him an ‘okay’ sign, then sealed his mouth shut again with tape. Under the man’s terrified gaze, he fastened the chain around his body to the storage rack at the rear of the motorcycle.

“Sorry, but there’s just no room for three. You’ll have to make do,” Zheng Nanfang said.

He mounted the heavy bike and twisted the throttle. The engine roared, the headlight cutting a brief swath of brightness through the murky road ahead before being swallowed by the thickening sand.

The blonde woman glanced down at the hysterical man sprawled on the ground, then pressed her curvaceous body tightly against Zheng Nanfang and shouted into his ear, “Do you really have to go to Raw Meat Town? We just escaped from there! The road race is about to begin—it’s not safe!”

Zheng Nanfang turned his head, “I’m a racer. Why else would I bring him along?”

The woman’s pupils shrank and then widened again, her face turning ashen. She glanced back at the struggling mohawk man and stammered, “Human oil compound…”

Zheng Nanfang shot her a look of approval, though his thick goggles kept her from seeing it.

“Let’s go!”

With a wild cry, Zheng Nanfang kicked off, the motorcycle belching smoke as the engine howled. The chain at the rear whipped taut with a metallic snap, dragging the mohawk man as they hurtled straight into the approaching sandstorm, leaving behind a long, bloody trail on the ground.