Exiled to Tansa
Brock sprinted into the alleyway, sirens screaming in his ears. The back of his throat was on fire and his lungs burned. His brown, terror filled eyes darted up and down the shadowy lane searching for an escape in the jungle of concrete and metal skyscrapers that towered over him, spearing into the night and disappearing beyond a veil of dirty, grey cloud. Ahead there was only darkness. Anything could be waiting for him—the over-sized rats which infested the slums of New Melbourne, the mutant gangs, or even the very authorities he was desperate to evade.
Every muscle screamed for some respite from the tortuous pace he’d been maintaining for the past thirty minutes, but he ignored the demands of his body and pushed himself ever forwards into the pitch of night. Behind him
