Its thick black wheels are noisy on the smooth road surface. The deep grooves and big chunky grips on the tyres are designed for a rougher, softer surface. Dylan hangs on to the roll cage and looks at Steve with a grin from ear to ear as the wind blasts his face. They would be at Steve’s house in a few minutes now.

Steve glances down at Dylan who is now staring ahead at the road, his now treasured handgun on his waist and ready for action: Poor kid, he has no idea what is going on. He needs some work if he’s gonna survive this world.

I’ll do what I can to help him learn but he’ll have to toughen up a lot.

It won’t be so hard though, he has no choice after all. That can help in a way,