There's something strangely reassuring about the dreg rider snarling back at her. It makes her feel more like she's on a run back home, locked in combat with a Buzzard or some random party of scavs with heavy weapons. That, and she has to give the schlanger credit for staying on target even with her shooting at him.
He's a good driver. She's going to kill him anyway, if she can, but he's good.
She barks a laugh, once, and keeps her metal arm held at the ready. He's close enough to stab her if he tries, and that might send the bike out of control and kill him, but a War Boy would do it. She's been punctured on a run like this before and is not eager for a repeat.
And as if she's conjured it from that very thought, the stump looms up ahead of them. Later she'll swear she almost thought she heard Joe's voice Angharad! Look out!
God help them if the trailer hitch isn't solid, she thinks, and sinks as low as she can, pulling hard at the steering. As much as she'd like to scrape off the biker locked with her, the trailer is a concern; she'd rather dodge altogether than risk losing their cargo. But the dreg is pulling her, too. Her best efforts to go wide of the stump still mean they're hurtling close, close, too close.
She brakes and turns hard at the same time; there's a shower of splintered wood and metal and ice. The snowmobile rocks dangerously, threatening to roll, and Furiosa yells something that's more of a cry of pain than a swear word, but her foot is still on the gas pedal, and the engine still roars beneath her.
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He's a good driver. She's going to kill him anyway, if she can, but he's good.
She barks a laugh, once, and keeps her metal arm held at the ready. He's close enough to stab her if he tries, and that might send the bike out of control and kill him, but a War Boy would do it. She's been punctured on a run like this before and is not eager for a repeat.
And as if she's conjured it from that very thought, the stump looms up ahead of them. Later she'll swear she almost thought she heard Joe's voice Angharad! Look out!
God help them if the trailer hitch isn't solid, she thinks, and sinks as low as she can, pulling hard at the steering. As much as she'd like to scrape off the biker locked with her, the trailer is a concern; she'd rather dodge altogether than risk losing their cargo. But the dreg is pulling her, too. Her best efforts to go wide of the stump still mean they're hurtling close, close, too close.
She brakes and turns hard at the same time; there's a shower of splintered wood and metal and ice. The snowmobile rocks dangerously, threatening to roll, and Furiosa yells something that's more of a cry of pain than a swear word, but her foot is still on the gas pedal, and the engine still roars beneath her.