Angry Machina
Hana stood on a slippery slope of rust-colored sand, squinting in the brilliant sunlight at the small, iron chair that stood rigid on top of the dune as if held in place by magic. She'd stood up and gotten away from it the second she'd winked there, not wanting someone else to come through and squish her.
Tom showed up a minute later, an instantaneous appearance that shocked her even though she'd been expecting it. There was no effect—no smoke, no sound. One moment the chair was empty. The next time, it wasn't. Tom's face looked like he'd just bungee-jumped off the world's tallest bridge.
"What took you so long? Hurry. Get up," Hana said, slipping in the sand as she stepped forward to help him, sliding down the steep dune. The hot sand seemed to find its way through every teeny hole in her clothes and scratch at her skin.
Tom didn't answer, but stood up and was making his way down the loose sand to Hana when Max appeared, with a small cut on his right cheek.