Ezra’s and Milo’s feet pounded down twisting steps to the bottom of the apartment building. Slamming into the door, it burst open with ease, and before Ezra’s eyes adjusted to the morning light, the heat from the remaining flames made contact with his skin. It wasn’t enough to stop them as they both ran to the remaining Tark. The whole town was awake now. People peered out their windows, and a few were brave enough to enter the streets. Ezra heard a couple of shouts for water as he thrust the Tark’s door open and leaped in.

  Milo plopped down on the other side and slammed the door closed. “You think you’ve got this?” Milo said as he adjusted the rifle.

  “Once I can figure out how to start it, sure.” Ezra hoped his feigned confidence would manifest into something more as he fumbled for a start button. A smooth surface passed underneath his fingers near the bottom corner behind the wheel, and once he clicked it, the engines roared to life.

  Ezra glanced up. The other Tarks were nearly out of sight as he thrust his foot into the larger of the two pedals at his feet. Nothing happened, so he tried the other one. His head hit the back of the seat as the Tark propelled itself forward with blistering speed.

  “Watch out!” Milo yelled as he leaned over to grab the wheel.

  Ezra blinked as a building came hurtling towards them and gripped the wheel so hard his hands went numb. Pushing his foot back onto the other pedal, the Tark screeched to a halt before glass display windows. Taking a deep breath, he turned away from the store and put his foot back on the gas. This time, building speed as he went.

  The Tark rattled and swayed as they accelerated over the rough roads. Ezra scanned ahead for any sign of Wilfred or the other Tarks as he swerved around pedestrians. Clutching the wheel tighter, Ezra knew remaining any longer in the city would only make driving harder.

  “Over there!” Milo pointed to a cloud of dust swirling behind a vehicle that veered right at a fork in the road. Briefly, the shadow of a man precariously balanced on top and then disappeared.

  Ezra spun the wheel to the right as he pressed the accelerator. Catching up, he saw Wilfred appear on the top of Tark again as the buildings grew sparser and smaller. The road sloped down, and Ezra could see the brown and gray structures of the Outskirts huddled together in the distance. It looked like a straight shot if the Tark in front of him didn’t take any unexpected detours, which he knew was a terrible assumption to make.

  The gap was closing as Wilfred tried again to make it inside the Tark as he kicked in the window. A vibro-crystal pistol protruded from the broken glass as Wilfred’s boot came crashing down on the weapon. Taking the opportunity, Wilfred braced to swing through the window as a flash of light whipped past, nearly singeing the hair on his head. Wilfred jumped and disappeared before hitting the ground.

  “We’ve got more behind us,” Milo called as he clicked the magazine full of normal bullets into the rifle. “I have about six or seven shots, so try to drive straight.”

  “You try to shoot straight,” Ezra replied as Wilfred appeared on top of the roof again.

  Another flash of white light hurtled past them. Its cold glimmer made Ezra squint as he tried to keep them on the road. Missing Wilfred, the light slammed into a porch that exploded in splinters. Ezra’s knuckles went white as he abruptly turned from the showering debris, and a loud bang reverberated to his right. Milo unloaded his first shot and shook his head.

  “You turned too fast.” Milo’s voice barely registered over the rest of the chaos around Ezra.

  Ezra ignored him and focused on the closing gap between him and Marlaove’s Tark. Just a little more. He pressed on the accelerator yet nearly lost grip of the wheel as the whole Tark lurched to the side. Another Tark slammed into them as a mercenary, in the passenger's seat, stared down Ezra.

  He pulled away, then swerved to get ready for another strike. Preparing to outpace them, Ezra realized his foot pressed the accelerator to the floor. Another jolt took his hands off the wheel, and Milo nearly out the window. Ezra reached for the wheel but threw his head back as a sword pierced the driver's window, scattering shards of glass across his lap. Grabbing the bottom of the wheel with one hand, he reached for the Thorinsphere with the other as the sword got deathly close. The sharp blade disappeared before its cold bite could prick him as Ezra put the Thorinsphere between it and his neck.

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  Bewildered, the man in the other Tark motioned for the driver to back off as Ezra regained control of the Tark. The tire slipped, and the Thorin-sphere fell from Ezra’s grasp and onto the floor. Fighting for control, Ezra turned the wheel back into place and began to build speed again as the Tark glided behind them.

  “They’re backing off!” Ezra yelled over the chaos around him. Desperately hoping his voice reached Milo. “Watch for their next move!”

  Another shot reverberated through the Tark, and Milo clenched his jaw. “Damn it. Missed again.”

  Ezra squinted as another flash of white light ripped through the road, scorching the side of Marlaove’s Tark. Wilfred jumped again and disappeared as his feet left the roof. Seconds later, his boots slammed onto the metal canopy of the Tark, and he stumbled before balancing himself. Sweat beaded down his forehead, and ragged breath shook his body.

  He’s used his skill too many times. It’s draining his stamina. Another rifle shell flew onto the dashboard of the Tark as Milo cocked the gun for another shot. From his expression, Ezra could tell he still wasn’t hitting anything. He glanced up at Wilfred again, struggling to get into the broken window. We have to do something quickly. He can’t use his skill much longer.

  A terrifying force jerked Ezra’s head into the top of the steering wheel just as he realized what had occurred. The Tark behind them slammed into them again as Ezra braced himself for the hit. “Milo! You need to do something about th…” Another shot from the rifle consumed Ezra’s voice. Tires screeched behind them, and metal frames rattled as vehicles crashed into one another.

  “I got one,” Milo grinned. “Right in the tire. The whole thing spun out of control and crashed into another. You should’ve seen it. The whole thing was glorious! Like some crazy chain reaction.” Milo opened his mouth to continue gloating as a bolt of white light illuminated their faces and tore through the side of the road.

  A cloud of dirt rained on the windshield, and Ezra held the wheel steady to ensure they were still going straight. Another boom sucked the sound from above them as Ezra’s ears rang and sparks showered from above. Without warning, daylight filled the Tark as the roof dislodged itself from Ezra’s half of the Tark. Then came a deafening thud. Milo recoiled from his window as the metal canopy twisted around the two remaining connections. The outside air guided particles of dust past the windshield and into their eyes. Each grain of dirt stung Ezra’s face, and he tried to wipe the pain away with his forearm.

  “How is he still alive?” Ezra yelled over the torrents of air whistling along the frame of the Tark.

  “Whatever this guy’s deal is. It seems like he doesn’t care one bit about hitting Marlaove’s Tark.” Milo said as he tightly gripped the rifle and stared forward. Ezra could tell he was thinking, or at least trying to, with everything going on around them.

  “They were sent to kill him. So at this point, I don’t think his life matters to them.” Ezra swerved to the right as a beam of energy surged through the street. “How many bullets do you have left?”

  “Three,” Milo responded without hesitation. “But the guy’s relentless. He won’t give me a chance to aim before his skill takes my head off.” The roof drummed against the side of the Tark. Each thud demanded a solution to their predicament. Wilfred was exhausted, the Tark was falling apart, and yet another burst of white light scattered rubble across the windshield.

  Once the fine grains of the dust scattered from Ezra’s vision, the Tarkin-tram moving across the road became apparent. Its silver shine sped across the city, and Ezra pressed against the accelerator. I have to beat it. His throat tightened. It was going to be close.

  “You’re not going to make it,” Milo leaned forward, holding his breath.

  Ezra’s fingers wrapped themselves tightly around the steering wheel. “We have to. If we let Marlaove’s Tark out of sight, they’ll be long gone by the time it passes.”

  “If you insist,” Milo said as the pounding of the roof stopped and he pressed a hand against its surface. “But I’m not leaving this up to fate.”

  The roof flew off the remaining connections and over their heads as Milo clenched his jaw and guided it in front of the Tark. Ezra’s eyes widened. The silver tram crossed their path, obscuring Marlaove’s Tark. Then the front wheels hit a large bump, and Ezra felt weightless for just a moment while Milo let out a guttural scream as if bearing the entire weight of the Tark upon his hands.

  The silver bullet about to obliterate both of them passed underneath while tires screeched to a halt behind them. Ahead, the edges of Wilfred’s coat whipped in the wind outside the window of Marlaove’s Tark. Ezra smiled, seeing it as a sign the chase was about to come to an end just as their Tark slammed into the ground. The suspension groaned, yet still it moved forward. Seconds later, the left door of Marlaove’s Tark burst open as one of Faulpher-tek’s men tumbled out, and Ezra pulled at the steering wheel to miss him.

  His entire focus remained on Marlaove’s Tark. At any moment, Wilfred would take control, and this whole game of cat and mouse would come to an end. They would escape, and he would get to hear the man’s story and perhaps see Wilfred wear a genuine smile.

  Light as bright as the sun filled Ezra’s vision as the ground beneath gave way, as the whole world flipped upside down. Buildings flew past him behind curtains of smoke and splinters, and Milo’s rifle thrust itself into his knee. Once everything became still, a warm liquid pooled around his shoulder. Blinking a few times, he saw Marlaove’s Tark only a few paces in front of them, lying on its side embedded into a storefront. Wilfred supported Marlaove as they emerged from the wreckage and began to limp away. Attempting to reach out, Ezra’s arm didn’t respond. He tried to call for them, but only a gurgle came out, yet they kept going. Further and further away, as only one thought passed through Ezra’s mind. Don’t leave me.