The armored vehicle weighing several tons was coming toward them, like a herd of charging rhinos, and more disgustingly, the onboard weapons never ceased their attacks.
John was hit by multiple bullets.
He ducked behind a stationary muscle off-road vehicle, smashed its window with several shots, then slipped inside.
Bam!
As soon as John sat down, he was hit.
A desert walker pressed against the left rear wheel of the off-road vehicle, continuously pushing forward with a loud friction noise.
John felt a sharp pain in his internal organs.
He bent down to dismantle the circuit board and used techniques known to car thieves and transport drivers to start the vehicle—one of the characteristics of non-branded vehicles was poor anti-theft functionality.
Whirr!
John floored the accelerator, kicking up sand, forcibly squeezing out of the encirclement.
He drifted and collided along the internal roads of the scrapyard, observing the chaotic battlefield through the window:
