"Move it!" a bitter voice called.
I quickly leap back, as our group leader quickly sped into our camp, with his old, but still yet working motorcycle.
"Hurry it up, all of you! We have not much time until the next storm! Move it or you LOSE IT!" the leader (Mr. Hanks/ Maximus Hanks) scolded us.
As soon as he started to get back onto his bike, to drive away to the control centers, a young teen, at least 15, yelled, "We're working hard! You are the man, our leader, who is not helping at all! If you want us to move it, then help us!"
Mr. Hanks quickly eyed the gathering crowd. Looking at the first person his eyes could fall on, Mr. Hanks jumped off his motorcycle, grabbed the innocent man, and threw him onto his motorcycle, the poor, innocent, helpless man, restless.
"Anybody else wants to say anything? Because, if so, better tell it to my face! Speak now, or get back to work. You lazy amateurs!!" he cruelly ordered.
***
