She turned south and roared down the road on her hog. The sounds of thunder getting louder. “Damn marauders,” she said into the wind her blond hair sailing behind her. She pulled her rifle with her left hand and set it into a mount she had welded on to the handle bars.
She knew what she would find when she got to the fight. A marauder vehicle with a pintle mounted machine gun on top, and two or more outriders on bikes. She would take out the gunner on top and deal with the outriders in due course.
She topped a hill and swore. It was a waystation. Those were neutral ground, no one attacked one and expected to live. The folks in the station were holding their own but that gunner wasn’t making it easier. She lined up her sights on him and fired.
She saw pink smoke as the figure slumped over and slid down the side of the vehicle. That drew the attention of one of the bikers, who turned his bike around and headed straight at her.
She moved her rifle to the center mount and took aim as the two of them closed.