The sound of unrelenting gunfire clattered through the night. Like a bullet train rattling across a wooden track, or a thousand horses galloping across tarmac; like one of Max's eardrums had declared war on the other, carving through his head with a Gatling gun on either side.
He could feel the vibration in his gritted teeth and the shaking ground beneath his feet. He could feel the cold metal rubbing against his clammy hands as the gun recoiled with each and every bullet. He could feel the empty bullet cases pattering against his boots like blood rain after a horrific battle. He could feel the presence of every living person around him, their concentration, their strength, their fear. He could feel them putting their faith and their future into every bullet. And he could feel those bulle
