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the gas tank faster, but whatever the reason those people were chasing them, it wasn't one she wanted to find out. She scanned the horizon, looking for any place to hide, but the desert was too exposed. There was nothing but shrubs, cacti, and rolling hills.
     
    The truck was now only fifty yards behind them. They must have been pushing seventy, which was incredibly dangerous for the terrain. If the people chasing them were willing to risk crashing their car, then that meant they were desperate, and desperate people were dangerous.
     
    There was no way of knowing what they wanted or if they were armed. If they did catch up, Brooke knew she wasn’t a good enough shot to actually hit a target at this speed. She handed John the revolver so she could get a better grip on the steering wheel.
     
    “Hang on to that for me,” Brooke said.
     
    The cruiser’s steering wheel stiffened in Brooke’s hands. She floored the accelerator. The cruiser's engine roared from the increased fuel intake, and the wave of sand kicked up behind them heightened.
     
    The muscles on Brooke's shoulders bulged. Every bump and dip they hit tested her strength and at times over took her ability to keep the steering wheel steady.
     
    The cruiser’s nubby tires slammed into a rock that caused the vehicle’s front to pop up then slam back down onto the sand. Their heads jumbled on their necks like bobbleheads.
     
    Brooke checked the rearview mirror again, gauging the distance between them and their pursuers. The other vehicle hadn’t gained on them since she had increased her speed, but she wasn’t sure how long she would be able to keep up this type of pace. Her arms and shoulders were on fire, and the adrenaline in her body was beginning to wear off. Then, in the distance, she could see a beige cloud forming. She squinted and looked at it more closely, making sure it was what she thought it was: a sandstorm.
     
    That was her cover. There was no way her pursuers would be able to find her in that mess. Visibility would decrease to less than a few feet in front of their faces. And even if they kept up their current speed, they would most likely crash.
     
    Brooke checked the speedometer again. She was pushing seventy now. With the number of rocks jutting up from the sand, she wouldn't be able to keep this pace for much longer. If they hit one of the massive boulders at the wrong angle, the axle could snap in half. And that wasn’t something she’d be able to repair.
    Their mode of transportation was the second most important thing to them right now, with only water exceeding it. If the cruiser broke down, they would be in trouble.
     
    Brooke eased off the gas, her speed slowing to a more manageable forty-five. The vehicle behind them started to regain the ground it’d lost when she sped up. She watched it bounce violently around, at times almost tipping completely to its side as the driver kept up his dangerous pursuit. Brooke focused her vision forward. The sandstorm in the distance was closing in.
     
    The storm was about half a mile away. The front corner of the vehicle that was pursuing them came into her side mirror. Flashes of the truck’s red paint faded in and out of the waves of sand the cruiser kicked up.
     
    The red truck inched its way forward, finally becoming parallel to the cruiser. A man in the passenger seat had half his body hanging out of the open window. His face was concealed with a bandana and tinted goggles. The only thing that was visible was his black hair, which was blown back by the wind. Grains of sand whipped and ravaged his shirt and body.
     
    Brooke could see a metallic silver pistol waving in his hand. She veered right, attempting to put more distance between the two of them, but the driver of the red truck was quick to react. The sandstorm was only a few hundred yards away now.
     
    Just a little farther.
     
    A gunshot exploded from the red truck, followed by a loud thump against the cruiser. Emily