That morning, the rest of the party that wasn't heading for Spring City or staying behind set out for Route 99. Midian had a vehicle parked not far off the highway, in some bushes: a dumpy delivery van, tall, boxy, and white, with blue fenders. It was certainly not made for comfort or speed, but it had plenty of room, and, best of all, with no windows in the rear compartment, no one would easily see the many suspicious passengers it carried. That made for a dark, monotonous drive through the long, long Marble Mountain tunnel, though. The clattery buzz of the engine thrumming through the metal floors; the steady whoosh of the road; the flicker of long-life sodium vapor lamps coming in the windshield and passing through the the doorway from the cab... Maybe it would have lulled someone to sleep, were it not for the utter lack of seats anywhere in the cargo area. That's right—no seats at all in the thing, save for the driver (the jackal) and one passenger (their axolotl navigator).

The vehicle eventually eventually emerged to beaming sunlight. Yellow Desert was a strange kind of microcosm like that; enter the tunnel around grass and conifers, exit to barren rock and sand. It wasn't a vast desert, contained in a relatively small area of an island that wasn't even that big, but it was hot and unpleasant. It wasn't long before they were veering off the beaten path and rumbling off across those sweltering flats, bumping and jostling across the cracked, weathered earth. And, it wasn't long before they were flat out stopped, either.

The van was not made for such heat. The temperature gauge was not simply "in the H," but rather soaring majestically over the H, and threatening to come back around to C for another lap. There was a squealing sort of hiss coming from the engine compartment, and when Midian did finally relent show the truck some mercy, it uttered only a tired fart in thanks, and died with a mechanical fanfare that sounded like a few toolboxes being dropped at once.

*SssthbBBBPT.*

Steam puffed out from the edges of the hood, out the grill, and all up the front of the windshield. Midian sighed.


Coop lay in the back of the van, asleep. His tremendous bulk piled up in the corner of the van like a beached sperm whale — he lay with his arm draped over the top of his head, and his head in the crook of his elbow. The day had been a long one, so had the night before that, and the day before that, and most people who had spent their life fighting one thing and battling another gradually learned over the years to sleep when the opportunity for sleep presented itself. This was one of those opportunities.

Then the van ground to a stop, and Coop threw himself upright.

"Get out of—" he began, swatting at some invisible pest that had been occupying his dreams. He stopped, and looked accusingly around at everyone.

"What—are we there? What's going on."


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No answer from the front. The driver, not immediately visible from the very back of the van because of the rather narrow doorway, could be heard exiting, swinging open then banging shut his squeaky sheet-metal door.

Dry, dry dirt crunched under Midian's olive boots. He stopped around the front, raised the hood, and, with rag in hand (and not a whole lot of caution or self-preservation in mind), twisted the radiator cap off then immediately hunkered down and back, squinting and shielding his face with a beige-sleeved arm as a mighty plume of steam burst in all directions.

He set his hands on his sides and stared at the mess, feeling his own temperature start to rise just like the van's had, from the top of his dark-haired head down.

"Are we what — walking?" replied Midian, ambling slowly around the front fender to Aga's side of the vehicle. He hadn't heard the axolotl, but guessed close enough. "Because, I think,... yes. Or we wait here for some time."

He set his rag-holding hand down on the edge of the open engine compartment and leaned casually, perhaps waiting for the others to sort out their reactions, dread, and plans.

The door now open, Coop rolled slowly over until he flopped out, feet first. He slowly straightened himself up, making a series of low popping noises, like a cracking iceberg.

He relaxed his shoulders and stared at the van for a moment. He looked over to the hood, where Midian and the radiator were fuming in harmony. He frowned and stalked over.

He looked over the engine, hopelessly.

He grunted and turned away.

"Great place to need water," he said.

"Anyone know what, uh, where some water is or something? I guess the mountains pretty much guarantee there won't ever be a decent cistern around here, so we're gonna need to find a spring or something."

"I've got bottled water," said Midian, shaking his head slowly. "We would still have to wait a long time not to crack the engine block." Cool water on rip-roaring hot engine would be the fastest way to no longer have a working engine, and fortunately, he was aware of it.

The jackal turned to face the direction they were traveling, let out a long exhalation as he crouched, and began to stretch his stiff legs like a proper runner.

"I scheme he's got the right idea," he explained, motioning toward Rodolf. "This desert's very small. We a'far enough off of the road to not be spotted, and we're fast, nè?"

"No," said Coop.

"No, come on, let's go."

He squared himself up in front of Ace and looked the cat in the eye.

"Not going to sit around waiting for you to cripple yourself tripping your way through the desert before you realize you aren't Sonic the Hedgehog," he said.

"Get on my back."