Mara told him about the Freight Hunters—rigs that weren't driven by men, but by fragments of the Road itself. Machines wearing human shapes. They existed to reclaim lost cargo, to erase drivers who got too close.
"They won't stop," she said. "You're marked now. The only way to stay alive is to keep moving. Keep ahead of them. And if you're smart, you'll find the rest of us."
"The rest?" Rook asked.
She hesitated. "Other Baptized. Drivers who've survived. But the Road doesn't give out second chances, Dalton. Most don't last long."
Thunder rolled outside, though the sky was clear. Mara's eyes narrowed.
"They've found you."