The Deadskin Dunes were high and dry. Zephyrs of wind swept through the endless hills of human skin, kicking them into the air in spurting gouts of choking clouds or swirling them into tiny dust devils. Unceasing sunlight baked everything into a crisp dry flakes that never decomposed further than a fine powder.

It was easy to die out here, to add your skin to the collective. Who knew how many skeletons littered the bottom of the dunes? Deadskin divers used to trull for treasure before some idiot woke up the hunters. After that things became more dangerous—and far more profitable. If you were willing to take the risks.

“You ready?” Caruus asked, clasping me on the shoulder. His voice was muffled from the helper lung that covered the lower half of the face.

I adjusted my goggles and worked spit around the tube in my mouth. “I think so boss.”

“Remember, tug the line twice and we’ll pull you up.”

Nodding, I crossed my arms over my chest and fell backward into the the remains of thousands of human beings.