Disclaimer: The following chapter is the non-edited draft of what was written during NaNoWriMo 2018. My apologies in advance for plot holes and other inconsistencies.

~~~

Lincoln and Marie were taking a stroll through the camp when Gibson pulled up in a cloud of dust and jumped out.

"We've got a problem. Come on, hop in."

"Why, what's wrong? Is it this Potter guy?"

Gibson nodded and opened the rear door of the truck. "Yep. He knows you're here."

"Does that matter?" Lincoln said as he climbed in and scooted over to the far side of the cab.

Gibson climbed back into the passenger seat after closing the door behind Marie. "It does. We just found you and we have no formal connections with him and his thugs. Somehow, he found out that you're here."

"But so what?" Lincoln said as the truck jerked forward and picked up speed.

Gibson turned and stared at Lincoln for a few seconds. "They want us to turn you over to them."

Lincoln's eyes opened wide and he exchanged a quick look with Marie.

"They want what?"

"They want you, Lincoln."

Lincoln leaned back in his seat and looked out the window and sat in silence for a few minutes as his eyes wandered over the tents that passed them by.

"What could they possibly want with us?" he said.

"That, my friend, I'm not sure of. Often, Potter sees something new and he sees an opportunity. Half the time, I'm not even sure he himself knows what he actually wants to do with what he finds. He just wants it because he can."

"A power trip?" Marie said and shook her head, disgusted.

"Like I said, I can't be sure," Gibson said. "I have until dusk to turn you over."

Lincoln snapped his head towards Gibson. "Today?"

Gibson nodded, a frown on his face. "Yep. Obviously, I have no intention on doing so but agreeing to his terms at least buys us a few hours to figure something out."

"Tell me, what happens if you don't do what he asked?"

"He'll make our lives miserable, in one way or another. He'll harass us as a group in whatever way he can or, if he's really feeling obnoxious, he'll drive right at us, guns blazing."

"Guns?" Marie said and sat straight up, eyes wide. "They'll actually try to kill you."

"Yes," Gibson said, "But it's not something they haven't tried to do before. We've had plenty of run-ins with them in the past. It's not like this one would be any different."

"We can't let them do that," Marie continued. "I am not putting your lives at risk because of us. Right, Lincoln?" she said and turned the Lincoln.

"I agree, Gibson, we can't let that happen. I'm not sure how things were between you and Potter before we arrived but they can't be allowed to be come a threat to you just because we showed up, uninvited."

The truck pulled up in front of Gibson's tent. They all exited the truck and Gibson led them back inside to the living room area, where they sat down in silence, all of them deep in thought. It wasn't until Miriam brought in afternoon tea that Gibson spoke up.

"Listen, it's not that complicated. We'll just get you out of here before dusk. When Potter comes looking, you'll be long gone. The tricky part will be doing this on the sly, since I'm pretty sure there's a spy in our camp."

"How do you plan on getting us out of here?"

"Well, for one, Potter is expecting me to meet him back at the Cauldron. I'll do that, of course, but not with you two with me, as he demanded. Instead, we'll stick you two in a car, you go as far away as you can and then hide somewhere until the worst is over."

"We could head back towards the landing site," Marie suggested. "That's what we were planning on anyway, right?"

Lincoln nodded. "Yes, I think that's an idea. Let me ask you this, Gibson. Do you think it's a realistic course of action? Running?"

"What's the alternatives? Turning you over to that maniac is not an option, I can tell you that. We can fight, sure, and we've held them off before, but those are, when you boil it all down, the only two options we have."

"Potter's got eyes on the camp, right?"

"I'm sure he does. He'll want to make sure we stick to the deal."

"That complicates the situation too. If we leave before you meet with him, he'll know something is up and may skip your meeting. Let me think about this for a minute," Licoln said and began pacing around the room, rubbing his chin with his fingers. "Timing will be everything. We can't leave until the very moment you're meeting with Potter. We need his attention to be completely on you so that we can slip out behind his back."

"Lincoln, that's extremely dangerous. If you wait to leave until the moment of our meeting, you'll have less of a head start than if you leave now."

"Yes, but we'll have the moment of surprise. If, as you said, it's likely that Potter is watching the camp, leaving right now makes no sense. He'd capture us before we got too far. If, on the other hand, we play along with his scheme, pretending we'd be handing you over and then taking off at the last minute, there's a higher chance we'll get away. But..." Lincoln paused, put his hands in his pockets and turned to face Gibson. "It also makes it more dangerous for you, arriving without the goods."

Gibson dismissed Lincoln's concern with a wave. "Nonsense. He wouldn't do anything rash right there. Sure, maybe throw a fist or two but I can handle that. In fact, I have an idea of my own to enhance this ruse even further," Gibson said with a gleam in his eye.

-=#=-

A few hours later, Potter stood in the center of the Cauldron, waiting. His fingers tapped an impatient rhythm on the hood of his truck and he chewed a piece of gum with increasing intensity as he threw the occasional glance at the clock on his wrist.

"They're late, boss," his driver noted with a grunt of dissatisfaction. "Should be here by now."

Potter nodded and kicked a lizard that tried to scurry by his boots, then slammed his fist on the hood.

In the distance, the sun was setting, painting a sky various hues of orange that transitioned to darker red and then darkening shades of blue. A slight breeze kicked a few solitary tumbleweeds across the arena and provided the only source of sound the area.

The quiet was interrupted by the rumble of an engine in the distance. Potter recognized it as Gibson's long before it came into view. It came into view, a cloud of dust behind it, followed by a couple of other trucks equipped with machine guns mounted on their roofs, sunglass-wearing men on the bed of each truck carefully scanning the area ahead for threats as the barrels of the guns followed their watchful eyes.

Gibson's truck stopped ten yards from Potter and cut its engine. The remains of the engine sound faded as it bounced around the Cauldron, returning the center of the bowl to an eerie quiet.

"What are you waiting for?" Potter muttered to himself while he fingered the butt of the revolver on his hip. He glanced at his men around him. They were ready, rifles in hand. But, the door to Gibson's truck remained closed.

"Come on out, Gibson," Potter yelled, his words echoing all around him. The gunners on Gibson's two support vehicles trained their weapons directly towards him and although he couldn't see it, Potter knew they were both trained directly at his chest. One wrong move and they would blast him to kingdom come. He nervously fingered the handle of the gun in the holster on his hip, his eye locked on the cab of Gibson's truck. The doors remained closed.

"I don't have time for your games today, Gibson. Give them up."

Nothing happened. The breeze kicked a few tumbleweeds across the field behind Gibson's truck while a dust devil raced across the dry dirt, dissolving as quickly as it had formed. The stalemate was interrupted by the crackling of the radio in Potter's truck.

"Potter, come in, this is Eagle's Eye, over."

Potter rushed back to his truck, ripped the door open and fumbled with the mic.

"Potter here. Talk to me."

"There's movement in the Nomad camp. There's a vehicle heading east. I can't tell who's inside but there are at least two people. Over."

"Get them," he yelled and threw the mic on the floor, jumped out of the cab and marched over to Gibson's truck. He slammed his fists on the hood of the truck.

"You double-crossed me, Gibson," he screamed. A moment later, the driver's door of the truck opened and Gibson stepped out. He casually walked over to the front of the vehicle, stopping inches from Potter.

"Did you really think I was going to just hand them over to you like that?" Gibson asked, a smirk on his face.

Potter leaned in, his nose mere inches from Gibson's. "You said you would," Potter fumed.

"Correction," Gibson said, as he put a finger square in Potter's chest. "You said I should hand them over. I never said I would."

"So why are you here?" Potter said with a grunt and took a step back.

"You said to meet you here."

"With them," Potter screamed and slammed his fist on the good again. "What's the point of meeting me here if you're not handing them over?"

Gibson shrugged, a smirk on his face.

Potter leaned in closer to Gibson.

"You're playing me. I know about the vehicle. They won't get away, you know that, right?"

"Who won't what?" Gibson said with an innocent look on his face. "You're all kinds of confused. You should pay your little spies better before you believe every word they say, Potter."

Potter clenched his teeth and balled his fists, resisting the urge to rearrange Gibson's face. There would be time for that later.

"This is not the end of this," he said instead, a finger raised as a warning before he stomped back to his truck. The engine started with a black cloud of exhaust. Potter put it in gear and raced past Gibson, still standing at the front of his truck. He floored the accelerator as he left the Cauldron behind. Why was it that he always had to do everything the hard way?

~~~

Has Gibson's gamble paid off? Will Lincoln and Marie manage to escape or will Potter get the upper hand?