The stark desert landscape stretched out in all directions, a vast sea of red sands and jagged rocks. The sun hung high in the blue sky, casting relentless waves of heat down upon the arid terrain.

The air quivered with heat, distorting the distant horizon, and the only sounds that could be heard were the faint, eerie whispers of the desert wind. The vast emptiness of the landscape seemed to stretch infinitely.

The white porcelain bathtub laid half-buried in the red sand, it's surface weathered and sun-bleached. Hidden inside Samuel was still unconscious. Dried blood covered his body, and was soaked into his clothes.

With a loud gasp for air, Samuel's eyes suddenly opened. Jumping up from the ground he hit his head on the edge of the bathtub. Aching in pain, he began to develop a sharp torturous headache. His face grimaced as he felt all the bumps and bruises which covered his body.

Regaining his consciousness, Samuel stumbled collapsing onto the red hot desert. Grains of sand were wedged in between his nails as his hands were buried deep beneath the surface. Pulling his body up, Samuel sat on his knees gazing up at the bright sky. The burning sun reflecting onto his red face.

Samuel's eyes drifted back towards the mangled wreckage of the Kingswood. Laying on its roof in a crumpled and twisted wreck. The tires were blown out, and the chassis bore deep dents and scratches. Debris from the crash was littered across the desert meters away from Ute.

A man wearing an oversized overcoat and a hat made out of a hubcap was crouched down at the window, searching through the wreckage. Samuel hastily stood to his feet and limped towards the Ute. The man held Tahlia's mug in his hands raising it above his head to get a better look in the sunlight. He didn't notice Samuel coming up behind him.

"That doesn't belong to you!" Samuel yelled out, the man slightly startled spun his body around.

"Belongs to the desert now mate." The man spoke, his Australian accent was strong. Spinning the mug around, Samuel saw a large chunk broken off from the ceramic. "The poor thing is broken anyway." He added chucking the mug to the side.

Samuel quickly rushed to pick up the mug from the hot sand. Inspecting the damage, he found that the handle was also chipped and badly scratched. "Don't throw my shit on the ground." Samuel angrily told him.

The man suddenly whipped out a sawed off shotgun from under his coat, aiming the short stocky barrel right at Samuel's head. "You aren't one of them are ya?" He pondered, his head turned inquisitively.

Samuel flinched in fear. This was the first time he's seen a gun in person. Looking away from the barrel he nervously said, "What the fuck! One of who?"

Lowering the shotgun back under his coat the old man grinned, "You aren't from around here? City boy?" He questioned.

"I came from Melbourne. I'm trying to make my way back home." Samuel explained calming himself down, thankful the man put the gun away.

"This your Ute? Who taught you to drive mate?" The old man jokingly laughed.

"I was rammed off the road." Samuel said as he found his backpack underneath a pile of red sand. Brushing off the sand, he shoved the mug deep into bag.

"Future warning mate. These roads belong to the Ferals. Ain't no way you getting through here with that old engine. You need something faster. Eight-cylinders or above." The man explained, his eyes widened with excitement when he mentioned the V8 engine.

"Where can I find one?" Samuel asked.

"They are rare mate. The Ferals scrap em' for parts." The man answered as he rummaged through the wreckage of the Ute. "I'll tell ya what kid. If ya let me use your Ute for parts, and ya do something a little extra for me, I'll give ya one." The man suggested.

"Something extra?" Samuel wondered.

"Score!" The man shouted smiling with glee as he took out the "Australian 80's" cassette tape from the stereo player. "You'll need to follow me mate." He said shoving the cassette into his inner coat pocket.

With no other choice but to trust him, Samuel reluctantly agreed. Following loosely behind the old man, they trekked through the scorching desert. With one hand over his shoulder, the old man held onto his backpack. Turning his head back to glance at Samuel he spoke, "Never caught your name?"

"Samuel." He answered timidly, his head still aching from the crash.

"Nice to meet ya Sammy. Names Axel." The old man introduced himself.

As they stepped over a large desert hill, in the distance Samuel spotted an old Petrol Station, abandoned well before the end of the world. "Home sweet home." Axel excitedly spoke.

Slowly stepping closer to the Petrol Station. Samuel gazed around the empty desert. "Where are the dead?" He wondered, acknowledging their extinct presence.

"The Ferals draw the Rotters to the Western Highway, blocking travellers from entering their land. Whatever ya do mate, stay away from it. No one has ever made it through." Axel explained, his voice serious and stern.

Axel put all of his weight against an old vending machine pushing it out of the way. Hidden behind it was an entrance into the Petrol Station. The air inside was heavy with the scent of dust and grease, and the dim light filtered through cracks in the boarded-up windows.

Metal shelves lined the walls, cluttered with an assortment of car parts, tools, and makeshift repairs. The flickering fluorescent lights barely illuminated the vast space, casting long shadows on the concrete floor. An old, creaky fan in the corner struggled to circulate the stagnant air.

Barrels filled with miscellaneous nuts, bolts, and screws were scattered throughout, and oil-stained rags lay abandoned on workbenches. On the ceiling rusted car frames were suspended from chains. The distant echoes of a dripping leak added a rhythmic backdrop to the scene.

A collection of salvaged engines lined the floor, with old parts messily scattered across the ground. The walls were full of faded posters featuring vintage cars and racing events from the past. Axel was clearly knowledgeable with the automotive industry.

"Follow me Sammy." Axel demanded as he walked behind the messy and rusted counter. The old pay machine was still gathering dust.

Stepping through the back staff room, Samuel saw an old mattered couch with cushions and blankets. Dozens of empty bottles of liquor were scattered across the dusty carpet. "Don't mind the mess mate." Axel spoke embarrassed, taking off his hubcap hat.

Another door led out to a small garage. A car was parked in the middle of the garage with a large grey tarp covering it. Axel grabbed onto the edges of the tarp and glanced towards Samuel. "Ya better be ready." Axel excitedly said.

Throwing the tarp off revealed an old muscle car. It was bright yellow with a dark black strip running across the centre. Axel couldn't look away, his hands lovingly caressing the body of the car. "This here is ya ticket home. She's a beaut isn't she? A 1974 Holden HQ Monaro GTS. Only fourteen-thousand ever made. She's got a fast V8 engine. She'll get ya from nought to nighty-six in eight point one seconds." Axel lovingly explained.

"Impressive." Samuel answered with little knowledge of cars.

"She's more than impressive mate. She's a beast. But before I hand her over, I need ya help Sammy." Axel spoke, finally breaking eye contract from the car and looking at Samuel. "I need more petrol. Ya have to help me steal it. In the desert, petrol is more valuable then food." He added.

"Steal it? From who?" Samuel wondered, his voice sounding uncomfortable.

"From the Ferals. They have an abandoned caravan park nearby. Should be easy, in and out. They only have Grunts stationed there." Axel explained.

"Grunts?" Samuel asked as Axel ran across the garage to a small telescope sticking out of the wall.

"They are weak cunts. You will see them soon enough." Axel explained further. "Here, have a look." He pointed to the telephone.

Samuel peered through the telescope and saw the abandoned caravan park Axel was talking about. It was just over the red desert hills. Old rusted caravans were piled on top of each other with lights from burning fires flickering in the distance. Stepping back from the telescope, Samuel took a deep breath.

"If this will get me a car, I'll do it." Samuel agreed.

"Yes! Great choice Sammy!" Axel yelled excitedly throwing his hands into a fist. "Sneak in under nightfall. Before then, relax, make yourself at home. I've got a radiator I need to fix." Axel said leaving Samuel alone.

Samuel wondered around the garage, examining old car parts which were expertly pulled apart. In the corner of the garage was a ladder, leading up to the roof.

Samuel decided to climb the ladder, curiosity urging him to explore the vantage point on the roof. As he reached the top, the breathtaking expanse of the desert unfolded before him. The red sands stretched endlessly, contrasting with the vivid hues of the setting sun.

In the distance, he could see the abandoned caravan park Axel had mentioned. The flickering lights hinted at a desolate atmosphere, and the rusted caravans formed a haunting silhouette against the darkening sky. The desert winds carried the distant whispers of the night, and the temperature began to drop. The stars emerged, dotting the sky above like scattered diamonds. Samuel found himself captivated by the serene beauty.

Comfortably Samuel sat down, his legs hanging down from the side of the roof. Taking off his bag from his back, Samuel carefully took out the mug which Tahlia gifted him. Placing it down next to him, he tried to ignore the fact it was broken. Pulling out the radio from his belt, Samuel brought it up to his mouth pressing down the push-to-talk button. Reluctantly he let go, closing his eyes in frustration. He pressed the radio up against his head.

"You aren't even listening, what's the point." Samuel whispered to himself. Slowly opening his eyes, he gazed back out at the beautiful landscape. The desert embraced an eerie stillness in the darkness of night.

Pressing down the push-to-talk button once more Samuel spoke into the speaker, "Hey. It's me again. I don't really have anything to say. This might be the last time you hear from me. There's dangerous people out here. Much worse than the Whisperer." Taking in a deep breath he continued, "The Kingswood was destroyed. The woman who lent it to me wouldn't be too happy. I'm helping this man I met, he's going to give me a new car, and then I'll be on my way. Hopefully heading straight home." Samuel froze once more. Closing his eyes a single tear flowed down his cheek. "I miss you Tahlia. I hope you're doing okay. I'll try again tomorrow morning." Samuel ended strapping the radio back onto his belt.

A sudden metal creek vibrated behind him. Samuel quickly turned around and saw a magpie pecking at a worm it had found. It's sleek black and white plumage was shimmering in the moonlight. Its wings were elegantly spread, showcasing the intricate patterns that adorned each feather. The bird's sharp beak violently pecked at the squirming worm. It's eyes, dark and reflective, seemed to hold a sense of curiosity as it tilted its head, momentarily locking eyes with Samuel. It's distinctive warble echoed through the still night.

Swallowing the large worm in whole, the magnificent bird fluttered it's wings and took off. Its wings cut through the air with grace, leaving behind a fleeting shadow against the moonlit dunes. It soared into the night, disappearing into the vastness of the desert.

Gazing out into the never ending desert, the distant burning fires from the abandoned caravan park flickered like distant fireflies, casting an otherworldly glow on the horizon.