The bike had been singed by the fire, but looked like it
might still work. They discovered the tires were unsalvageable when they hauled
it from the ruined heap.
“Do you think you can get it started again?” Klag asked.
Hazarad made a face, “Maybe. Won’t know until we start
working on it.”
They walked it over to their truck and pulled out the toolkit.
Klag kept watch while Hazarad got to work. Dusk was falling by the time the
engine stuttered to life.
“Yes!” Klag shouted.
“We aren’t out of the quicksand yet; we still need some
new tires.”
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