When we get to the infirmary, the War Boys who captured me make conversation with the others, partly in Russian but mostly in English.
I realise that most of them are perishing, ridden with diseases, infections and cancers.
One of the Boys, who goes by the name Nux, has two large tumors on his shoulder, which he affectionately calls Larry and Barry.
He smiles at me, in a friendly way rather than a sinister one. I'm confused at first.
"They wouldn't let me drive without you," he tells me. "I'm too sick, they say, but with your blood, I'll be good as new."
"My blood?" I ask.
"You're my blood bank," he says.
Just as he does, somebody clips a chain to my arm. They tie up my legs and my hands so I can't move, but I wouldn't fight back anyway- not this time. I know that I'm valuable- Nux needs me alive- and I'll find just the right moment to escape.
My arm feels numb and I look down to see a needle poking into my skin. My blood shoots through a narrow tube, which runs from the inside of my elbow to Nux's arm and is intertwined with a chain. When they untie me, every movement of Nux's makes my arm ache.
I pull him over to me, like a dog on a leash, but the pain doesn't faze him. He's grinning from ear to ear at the blood travelling from my body to his.
He looks up at the War Boy who set the blood bank up.
"Does this mean I can drive? I can come with you all?" Nux says, excitement evident in his eyes.
"Yes, if you can control your blood bank," the War Boy mocks Nux.
This doesn't faze him either.
"Well tell me where we're going," Nux demands.
"We lost a few prisoners while we were chasing this one," the other Boy pokes me.
"Don't do that," Nux mutters.
The War Boy ignores him and continues, "We didn't think they'd be much use to us anyway, but then we found out that Max escaped with them. They stole the War Rig, loaded with tanks of oil and water, so we need to find them and bring them back."
"The War Rig?" I think aloud.
"It's our best war machine," Nux tells me.
The name Max sticks in my head, too, because I've positively heard it before. I just can't put a face to the name.
The War Boy tells Nux to prepare for the chase and orders that I help, 'or else'. I still don't help.
Nux leads me out of the infirmary and into a crowd of War Boys, all headed toward the gates of the Citadel.
"Are we going right now?" I ask, still uncertain about how I'm going to escape.
He doesn't answer me. He looks nervous, but ready at the same time.
They tie me to the front piece of the car, on the bonnet. The chain- tube travels through the window, where Nux sits as the driver. There is a metal mask on my face, stopping my mouth from opening.
The entire fleet of War Boys' cars around us start their engines, including Nux's, which sends vibrations up my feet. They all speed off along the dirt road, shouting things at eachother and roaring with laughter.
I turn my head and almost gasp- I would if I could open my mouth. Immortan Joe himself sits at the wheel of the biggest car I've ever seen, a shock of white hair upon his ugly head. His skin is bright red and his eyes are like slits in his face.
I turn away, quickly, before those slits find me staring at him.
It is about an hour before I see a little black dot- the War Rig- at the end of the dirt road. There are cheers and battle cries from the excitable army behind me. I remain focussed.
I can hear the Rig rattle as we draw near. Thunder rumbles above and the wind lifts clouds of sand into the air. There are swirling vortexes of dry, red and black earth, lightning darting between them.
Nux's maniacal laughter fills the air. He screams, "Oh, what a day! What a lovely day!"
The front of our vehicle almost touches the back of the Rig now, the rest of the army catching up behind us.
The War Boy next to Nux doesn't bother firing his weapon- the War Rig is bullet proof. Instead he shouts over the storm that he will take the wheel while Nux and I climb onto the Rig. Nux is to grab the escaped prisoners, or at least take control of the Rig and drive it back to the Citadel.
This is the opportunity I've been waiting so patiently for.
Nux climbs out of the window, onto the bonnet of the car, as the other War Boy slides into the driver's seat. Nux undoes the chain which holds me to the bonnet and tells me to follow him onto the Rig.
The car speeds up, getting close enough to the Rig for Nux to stretch out and jump onto the wagon. He tugs on the chain for me to follow him up, which I do, utilising some of the strength I've been storing up and making an astounding leap onto the Rig.
He runs over the top of the Rig towards the front, where the runaways must be sitting. We reach a small storage box room, which stinks of oil. There are tools scattered all over the floor and it takes me but a second to find the one I need. A huge pair of iron pliers.
I kick Nux off the side of the Rig, holding on so I don't fall down after him. He clings onto the side, his legs flailing, looking up at me.
"What are you doing?" he shouts.
I grab the pliers and start cutting the chain furiously.
"No! My blood bank!" he calls.
The chain snaps and, with one last kick to the head, Nux falls off the side of the Rig. But the other War Boys are still in pursuit.
I cut off my mask, stretching out my jaw. There's a growing spot of dark blood on the inside of my elbow, so I tear off one of my sleeves and wrap it tightly around the wound.
I run over the Rig, making my way towards the cockpit.
