Time Remaining: 36 Days, 10 Hours. (Status: Boiler clogged. Fuel Critical. Stranded.) Location: Sector 5 - The Great Salt Plain.
The Tar had saved them in the canyon, but it was killing the machine in the salt.
For three hours, the Iron Horse had limped across the blinding white expanse. The landscape was a dead ocean—a crust of white salt three feet thick, stretching to the horizon without a single landmark to break the glare. But the engine wasn't enjoying the view. The rhythmic chug-chug of the pistons had turned into a wheezing, rattling cough.
SPUTTER. HISS.
Thick, black, oily smoke poured from the stack. It didn't drift away; it hung low and heavy, staining the pristine white ground like a bruise. The speed dropped steadily. 40 mph. 25 mph. 10 mph.
"Throttle is wide open," Zack warned, bracing his foot against the firewall to push the lever. "No power. The pressure is dropping like a stone, but the fire is roaring. It doesn't make sense."
