As the jeep rolled across the desert, I looked back at the walled city, now only a small dot on the horizon. While my companions were overwhelmed with the foreign feeling of freedom, I couldn’t help but give in to the thrill of being chased. They seemed to have forgotten that we were all prisoners mere minutes ago, born and raised behind steel gates. Now the only reminder of that were the matching tattoos circling our necks.

The bullets whistling inches away from our heads landed on the golden bedding harmlessly, dispersing the smooth sand. Behind the concrete walls I only knew the rough touch of the grains the wind carried. However, up close the dunes of the dessert looked soft and welcoming. Still, I was not ready to meet my end there. Fate seemed to have other plans. I could see the shadows of vultures circling our jeep. Only they knew how many runaways lost their lives here.

At least five vehicles were trailing us, close enough for me to hear the roar of their engines as they struggled to ascend the dune. I flinched as our driver took a sharp turn. I doubt he knew how to drive through the desert. The manoeuvre did not help us get away. The tires of or jeep dug deep into the sand and soon the golden grains engulfed them. The immobilized vehicle tipped sideways and started rolling down the sharp incline.

I only came to my senses when the metallic tang of blood invaded my nostrils. The windows, the roof, the blonde hair of one of my companions, whose eyes have lost their charming glow forever – everything was painted crimson. I could feel drops of warm blood dripping down my cheeks.

The brunette next to me squirmed, trying to escape the iron hold of the deformed car frame. Only then did I take a moment to observe her. With her wrinkled clothes and greasy hair, she certainly appeared to be more than ruffled around the edges, but the plain outlook served her as a good façade. Had I known I would be travelling next to a person who had so many weapons close at hand, I would have never gotten into the jeep.

“Cut your throat. It will end pretty fast,” she said, matter-of-factly, as if she was inviting me for coffee.

I shuddered as she handed me a knife – one made for combat, not for chopping tomatoes. The brunette rolled her eyes, unamused by my reluctance.

“If we get caught, we prove that there is no escape from that God-forsaken city. If we never return, we die legends”, she explained and for a person who was convincing me to take my own life, her words made sense.

“If we get caught, we prove that there is no escape from that God-forsaken city. If we never return, we die legends”, she explained and for a person who was convincing me to take my own life, her words made sense.