Chapter 43: Highway Chase

The motorcycle’s front wheel tore across the Badlands road, scattering gravel and sand that clattered against Apollo’s exposed engine.

V lay flat over the bike, arms stretched forward. Even with a sand scarf covering her face, the flying grit stung her skin.

The engine’s vibrations rattled her focus. The only advantage was the rushing wind, which whisked away the netrunning pod’s heat.

The bike growled low, the distance ahead vanishing fast—like a sparkler burning out.

“There.”

In cyberspace, V’s vision trembled, on the verge of shattering.

As the Daemon’s implanted memory module disengaged, she surfaced like a diver breaking water, pulling free of the netrunning pod.

Netrunning with a Daemon was quick if the target was clear and the implant could be discarded without fear of detection. But in their situation, they had no choice but to take longer.

“Jackie, get ready. We’re closing in.”

Her voice cut through the heavy silence on the comm channel.

“Nicely done, girl—we gained three kilometers.”

Jackie finally let his breath ease. V had been pressing forward almost unconsciously, and he couldn’t help but worry.

Both riders dropped their wrists, Apollo’s massive engine rumbling deeper as they crept closer to the beast ahead.

It was like mice daring an elephant. The pressure pressing down on them grew heavier with each meter.

Tires taller than their heads spun beside them, dragging the air into low-pressure zones that threatened to pull them beneath.

The wheel hub’s bolts blurred into a single spinning grinder, a millstone ready to crush flesh and bone.

They fought the handlebars with all their strength to resist the deadly pull.

“Up front, Jackie. I’ll go first!”

They had taken a front-rear formation when drawing alongside the truck, creating steadier airflow for the rear rider. It barely worked.

Above the front wheel, a wide step meant for climbing into the cab now offered V her chance.

Fighting the storm and the bike’s violent shake, V suddenly released the handlebars and twisted, seizing the step with both hands.

The bike roared forward beneath her, but without control, it was seconds from disaster.

The sand-laden gale slammed her upright body, howling like demons in her ears.

As the bike swayed harder, V didn’t hesitate.

With a surge of strength, she kicked off just as it collapsed beneath her, vaulting upward.

The motorcycle spiraled out of control, crashing into the rear row of tires.

Metal screamed as Apollo’s frame shattered like brittle blocks, collapsing into scrap.

An explosion thundered behind them, but the truck barreled through the fire without slowing.

The vehicle was intact, but its driver, jolted by the chaos, finally realized something was wrong.

This transport was supposed to be secret, with minimal security assigned.

He scrambled to call for backup, but his neural link flashed red—his signal was cut off.

“Shit.”

He slammed the massive steering wheel, forcing down his panic.

Instead of braking, he floored the throttle. Slowing down would hand control to the hijackers, but speeding up left him unable to swerve.

Either way, it made things worse for V, clinging to the truck’s side as the wind battered her with double the force.

Below, Jackie positioned his Apollo, ready to climb aboard.

But just as his hands gripped the step, the truck swerved hard toward them, sending his bike spinning out of control.

In an instant, his legs were about to meet the same fate as the last Apollo.

V reacted fast—she glanced at the sandy roadside, tightened her grip on the step above her, and drove her boot into Jackie’s chest.

He didn’t waste a second. Realizing it was over, he hurled himself into the softer sand, arms covering his head as he tumbled through dust.

A heartbeat later, his motorcycle erupted in a deafening blast.

“Damn it.”

V cursed—the kick had nearly thrown her off.

She clung to the step as the wind ripped at her, tossing her body upward.

“Ugh—!”

With every ounce of strength, she hauled herself back against the truck, arms trembling on the verge of collapse.

Up ahead, Arthur pulled over by the roadside, staring silently into the dark.

The swirling sand at his feet reminded him of the West—though there the winds carried tumbleweeds.

In the distance, a white light broke the horizon.

V clawed her way toward the window and drew her pistol.

She aimed at the corner of the glass, tilted the barrel upward, and fired.

The shot was lost in the gale, but a flash flared, and cracks spread across the window.

She smashed it open with the butt of her gun. Through the shower of shards, a black muzzle thrust out from the cab, aimed at her.

Far ahead, the white light hurtled toward Arthur like a meteor, swelling until it bore down on him.

He pressed down his Gambler’s hat, eyes fixed on the roaring truck.

“This thing’s a hell of a lot bigger than a train!”

The storm whipped his face, the ground trembling beneath his boots.

Arthur braced himself in the center of the road, feet spread. He drew Achilles from his back, holding it at an angle before him.

His right shoulder dipped. Light skimmed across the canyon wall, over the brim of his hat, casting a long shadow behind him.

Judging the distance, he narrowed his eyes. The electromagnetic rails of Achilles locked tight, the weapon humming with a charged buzz.

V ducked away from the muzzle in front of her, but the shooter wasn’t letting go—the barrel lowered to fire.

Pinned by the gale, V had nowhere to run. She braced to leap off—

A piercing hum split the night.

A hexagonal hole burned into the windshield, white smoke curling from its scorched edges.

“V, I dropped the driver.”

Arthur’s voice cut through the comms.

“Nice shot, Arthur—you’re a god with that gun!”

V slipped into the cab just as the truck closed to within five hundred meters. Arthur still had three seconds. He didn’t move.

She seized the wheel immediately, not checking for more threats inside.

And that was her mistake.

From the shadows in the cab, another gun rose, aimed at her.

Arthur had no time for another shot. Thinking fast, he dove to the side.

In midair, Achilles stopped trembling—fully charged.

Arthur brought it to bear and fired.

“Buzz!”

The sound was odd, but Arthur already liked its deep, muffled crack.

Then he slammed hard into the sand.

V froze at the smoking hole in the cab wall, sweat chilling her brow.

She had seen it—Arthur had fired midair, practically blind.

Feeling a limp arm fall across her shoulder, she swallowed hard.

Damn it. There was an Off-Net brain in the truck.

Everyone knew almost every mind in society was jacked into the Net from birth—one of the few free services in Night City.

Earlier, she had found only one Net Interface in the cab and assumed there was just one person aboard. That mistake had cost her.

Now she had to figure out how to slow this thing down.