Kalahan listened to the organic mechanic babble about how useful the thief was and something about carrot art? He didn't have long to ponder on Sawbones' words before all at once the storm began to nip at their heels and a convoy made itself known. Holstering his crossbow, he shook his head at the convoy.
[color=ed1c24]"Fuck me sideways."[/color]
The storm was of no concern to him, if anything it was something joyous to him, but the convoy might not be as indiscriminate as a duster. 

The goggles on his forehead came down to protect his eyes but he paused with his hands on the gas mask around his neck.
[color=ed1c24]"If we survive this, you best start makin' tracks off our way,"[/color] he screamed to the silver tongue.
The Road Warrior turned without another word and donned his gas mask as he sprinted off through the corpses and groaning machine frames, practically leaping at Amaha. 

He took hold of his bike by the handles and muttering words of encouragement that were snatched up and clawed to ribbons in the roaring wind. The metal welded to the kick stand made it awkward to put up but he managed with one, swift kick. Heaving against the wind, Kalahan pushed his beauty behind a burned out car and removed a rusty chain, complete with a lock from a saddle bag. He took a shiv from the multitude along Amaha's flank and used the pommel to shatter the passenger side window and the window behind that before looping the chain through the broken windows, through Amaha's back wheel, and back to meet the other end of the chain. Sealed with a beefy padlock, his beloved was bonded to the car and hopefully it would be able to withstand the strength of the outer storm. He patted her chassis as if to reassure her before climbing through the broken window and positioned himself to be sprawled over the dash board.

That would've been the end of it, but he glanced behind him to see if there were any weapons in the back. There were of course none, the raiders had picked them clean, but he did find something that made him stop. A young girl's corpse was lain across the back seat with the left side of her head open and the contents splattered across the opposite window. Kalahan sighed and reached back to gently pat her arm.
[color=ed1c24]"Go in peace, lil' bugger. Since you're gone, I'm just gonna borrow something from ya, alroight?"[/color]

Taking his shiv, he plunged the blade into the corpse's abdomen and wiggled it around, creating a sizable hole from which blood very slowly oozed. He removed the knife and replaced it with his hand, dipping it into the intestines up past his wrist and followed with a second hand. He cupped his hands together and collected blood that he proceeded to smear across his face and dripped into his hair. At a glance, he seemed to have suffered a grievous head injury. His camouflage was now complete and so he leaned over the dash board and trapped his hand clutching the knife beneath his body. Anyone that came to move him would receive an eyeful of rusted metal.

He concentrated on pin pointing the sounds of the convoy so he could know if they were far enough away from the camp he'd spotted earlier so they could make their escape. This would be a close call without a doubt and a small grin made its way onto his face at the thought of how close he was brushing with death.