Wasteland Wonderland - Part 3

by J. L. Harden

  But Alphonse can’t oblige Frank.

  Not yet...

  Because right at that moment the other men spring into action.

  Unfortunately for them, they don’t last long.

  They don’t last five seconds.

  The Axeman makes short bloody work of these men, of these poor excuses for Wasteland Raiders.

  And in no time at all, the Raiders are dead and chopped up and ready for burial. They are ready to fertilize the farm, the soil, ready to sustain these orchards and these crops.

  Alphonse raises his axe high above Frank’s neck.

  He’s going in for the kill.

  But I still need answers. I still need answers to a whole lot of questions.

  So I move out into the open. My gun is raised.

  Mia doesn’t stop me and I say, “Sorry to interrupt, Alphonse. I really am. You’re a goddamn artist. But I need this man alive. Just for a few more minutes.”

  Alphonse looks at me, at the gun. He then looks over at Mia.

  “I just need to ask a few questions. Once I get some answers, you can cut him up into as many pieces as you want.”

  Alphonse lowers his weapon. “Go ahead. Make it quick. We’ve got work to do.”

  And Frank says, “Hey, instead of killing me, how about you let me live?”

  He says this with a lot more poise than any man in his situation has a right to possess.

  “If you play nice,” I say. “If you answer all my questions, I’ll let you run off to whatever part of the Wasteland you call home.”

  I’m lying and he knows it.

  He’s too smart to not know it.

  But then he flashes me a smile and he holds up his left hand. And in his left hand is his severed right hand. Initially I think he’s holding on to it as a keep sake. A memento. For nostalgic reasons. Or maybe because he’s so delusional and out of it from blood loss he thinks that maybe someone, somewhere can reattach it. And maybe they have the tech inside the walls of Wonderland to perform an operation like that, but not here. Not in the Farm. Not in the Buried City. Not anywhere in the Wasteland.

  He starts prying the fingers apart. And it turns out he was holding something in that severed hand.

  A small controller of some kind.

  Is it a radio?

  No.

  It’s not a radio.

  Is it a grenade?

  He presses a button.

  And I’m expecting an explosion. I’m expecting all hell to break loose.

  Is he wearing an explosive vest? Are any of his men? Was this a suicide mission?

  No.

  Because nothing happens.

  At least, not right here.

  My mind is racing and my body is ready to react, ready to take cover, but nothing happens. “What the hell did you just do?”

  “You want answers?” he says. “You want to know who I am?”

  And for some reason I feel like Frank has all the leverage and I feel like he’s holding all the power.

  “This is a remote detonator,” he explains.

  “What did you just detonate?”

  “A flare. A signal. I have just called for my men, the rest of my men, a horde of Wasteland Raiders. They are waiting in the Ruined City. And now? Now they will destroy the Solar Panel Farm. In doing so, they will cut the power to this farm and this city. They will destroy the power source that this place so heavily relies on. After they have cut the power, they will come here. They will come for the girls and whoever else they feel like.”

  Frank is calm under pressure. Calmer than anyone who’s just had his hand severed has ever been.

  He has all the leverage. All the power.

  “Why are you doing this?” I ask. “What’s in it for you?”

  “We’re getting paid a fortune in weaponry and food and water. They’re actually going to give us access to Wonderland’s water supply. They even offered asylum. Only about half of the guys took that part of the deal. Most of them see the Wasteland as their home. Most of them don’t give a shit about leaving this place.”

  By this place, he means Earth.

  “Who the hell are you?” I ask.

  “My name is Franklin Kilgore. But everyone just calls me the Magician.”

  Chapter 7

  The Magician.

  Damn.

  He got the nickname because he makes problems disappear. He makes people disappear.

  “God fucking dammit,” Mia says. “You should’ve let us kill him!”

  “I needed answers,” I say. “I still need answers. And you’re being naïve if you think the Raiders weren’t going to carry out this mission of destruction with or without this guy’s go ahead. The moment they realize he’s not coming back, they’re pulling the trigger.”

  “He’s absolutely right,” the Magician says. “You kill me, they destroy the connection to the Solar Farm. And in doing so, they destroy this place and all the food within it. However, if you let me live, I can stop them. I can stop them before it’s too late.”

  “He’s bluffing,” I say. “Don’t believe a word he says.”

  “I am not bluffing,” he fires back, sounding as though he is genuinely offended. “I would never bluff about a thing like this.”

  “We can’t take the risk,” Mia says.

  “That’s right,” he says, eagerly agreeing with Mia’s assessment of the situation. “You can’t take the risk. And you shouldn’t take the risk. It’s way too much of a gamble. All of this… this farm… the crops… the fruit… the vegetables… the food… it is much, much too valuable. It is simply too dangerous to risk all of this. It would be downright stupid and careless and reckless to even consider killing me.”

  “We feed you sons of bitches as well,” Mia says. “That’s the deal. You leave the Solar Farm alone, you leave us alone, you leave the Buried City alone… and we feed you. If you destroy the connection, if you cut the power, you and your people will starve as well. You’ll die. And you’ll die quicker than anyone below ground will die.”

  “We know the risks involved. Wouldn’t be taking them if we didn’t have certain assurances from Wonderland.”

  I say, “You think Wonderland is going to save you?”

  “I know Wonderland is going to save me.”

  This guy, this Magician is slippery and deceptive. He’s probably bleeding to death, he’s definitely incapable of defending himself, and yet he holds all the cards and all the power.

  He is in complete control.

  “What the hell are we going to do?” Mia asks.

  “You set the flare off, right?” I ask the Magician.

  “You are correct, sir.”

  “How long do we have? How long before the Raiders mobilize? How long before they cut the power?”

  “Not long. I’d say about twenty or thirty minutes. They were waiting for the signal. Hiding out in the Ruined City. The Solar Farm is not far away. It’s on the southern edge of the city, stretching out into the endless plains of the Wasteland.”

  “We’ll have to cut them off,” I say. “Stop them before they get there. Trade his life, for the life of the city.”

  “That’s not a fair deal,” Mia says.

  “I think it’s a very fair deal,” the Magician says. “And really, it’s your only option. You know how those Raiders get. They’re an angry lot. People say the Red Giant cooks their brains. I’d have to agree with those people.”

  “Where are the girls?” I ask Mia, realizing that the girls on the run just became less of a priority then the lives of every single person living in the Buried City. “I’ll need you to keep them here.”

  Or maybe I should take them to the Max. Can I trust Mia? Can I trust Alphonse? Sally seemed to think she could trust them. That’s good enough for me.

  “We hid them deep in the cornfield,” Mia says. “Follow me.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” says our arrogant Magician. “You see, the thing about being a Magician, making things disappear, i
s that it’s really only possible through the use of distraction and misdirection.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask.

  “My best men. They have no doubt located the girls. They will be taking them above ground. To the Ruined City.”

  “You’re lying.”

  “I am many things, but a liar is not one of them.”

  He is definitely lying about not being a liar.

  “Why?” I ask. “What the hell do you want with them?”

  “Like I said, we’re getting paid a fortune to do this. We’re getting paid so much that we’ll be set up for life. Paid enough so that cutting the power to the Solar Farm and destroying the truce is no big deal. And yes, we have assurances from Wonderland. However, you really never can be too careful and you never really know who you can trust in this fucked up post-apocalyptic world. That’s where the girls come in. And now that we have the girls, we have more leverage to bargain with. Wonderland will have no choice but to pay us now if they want their property back. Just in case the thought of double crossing us ever entered their mind. And believe you me, they want their property back. Or dead. Which we are more than prepared to do. For another fee of course. Killing is hard, sweaty work.”

  Damn.

  He’s got the girls.

  He’s got leverage.

  He’s got a horde of Wasteland Raiders at his command.

  He’s got assurances from Wonderland.

  He’s got the upper hand.

  Chapter 8

  The Magician is in complete control and he fucking knows it.

  No wonder this bastard is so goddamn arrogant.

  We patch the Magician’s hand and stop the bleeding. We do this just in case everything he says is true. We do this because right now, he’s our only bargaining chip.

  Son of a bitch was right, we can’t kill him. We can’t take the risk.

  Mia checks the cornfield where they hid the girls. Sure enough, they’re long gone.

  The only thing that remains are two dead farmers.

  Splatters of blood on the ground.

  Broken corn stalks.

  Mia says they were good men. Good workers. Honest.

  “When they first started out as fruit pickers,” she says. “They never even tried to steal anything. Do you know how rare that is?”

  Rare. Honest. Good men.

  And now they’re dead.

  The Magician says we should hurry. He says we don’t have much time. Not if we want to stop a whole lot of trouble and a whole lot of people dying. Not if we want to save the truce. He says, “Mourn later. If we want to save lives, then we need to go right now.”

  Mia punches him square in the jaw and knocks him off his feet. She says, “This is just great. What the fuck are we supposed to do now?”

  “I don’t know,” Alphonse says. “We’re not prepared for this. We’re not prepared for the Wasteland. To fight out there. Above ground. The Raiders know the Ruined City better than anyone. It’s their home. We can’t fight them on their turf. We won’t stand a chance.”

  “I’ll go,” I say and no one hears me because they’re still freaking out and still grieving for their friends.

  Grieving for rare men. Honest and hard working.

  “We have to do something,” Mia continues. “Sally trusted me with their lives. And if the power is cut...”

  “I’ll go,” I say again, louder. “I’ll stop the Raiders. I’ll get the girls. I’ll save the truce.”

  I’ll save the city and save the fucking day.

  Because it’s the least I could do.

  I say to Mia, “I need a Sunspeeder. And I need Alphonse the Axeman by my side.” I then turn to Alphonse. “You ever been outside?”

  “Once or twice.”

  And the Magician smiles. And he says, “Now we’re talking, baby. You know, I’ve always liked you, Ed. You’re a man of action. You’re my kind of guy.”

  “How the fuck do you know my name?”

  How does everyone know my fucking name?

  “Please, don’t insult me. I don’t get to be where I am right now unless I know everyone in this godforsaken place worth knowing.”

  “Where you are right now,” I say, I remind him, “Is between a rock and a hard place.”

  “A rock and a hard place is where I call home.”

  “That’s real cute. But you didn’t answer my question. How do you know my name?”

  “Anyone who’s anyone knows who you are. You’re Edgar Ramirez. The Hard Man of the Buried City. Wasteland Transporter. Brother of Hector. I’d have to be a complete fool not to know who you are.”

  He’s got a fair point. You don’t do the things I’ve done without picking up a reputation.

  “How’d you get a nickname like the ‘Hard Man’ anyway?” he asks. “What makes you so hard and tough?”

  “We don’t pick the nicknames that are bestowed upon us. We just have to live with them.”

  “Still, I’d bet my severed hand you’re not any tougher than any of my men. Wasteland Raiders, brother. Born tough. Forged in the heat of the Red Giant.”

  I resist the urge to say that we’re about to find out who’s stronger and tougher and who’s worthy of what nickname. I resist the urge, because really, the goal here is to avoid a war. The goal here is to keep the power flowing.

  Save the girls.

  Save the truce.

  Save the city.

  Can’t do that if I’m picking fights. Can’t do that if I’m killing people.

  And I’m in no position to be making threats. No position to talk tough.

  This guy is getting on my nerves.

  “Gag him,” I say to Alphonse.

  “Aww come on,” the Magician says. “Is that really necessary?”

  “Yeah. It is.”

  Mia continues to freak out. She’s starting to think about losing power from the Solar Farm. She’s thinking about all of this, this green, this life… she’s thinking about it all dying. Drying up and crumbling. Fruit and food withering on the vine.

  “You can’t let them cut the power,” she says.

  “I know.”

  “I’m serious. If they cut the power, a lot of people are going to starve.”

  “I know.”

  “A lot of people will die.”

  “I won’t let that happen,” I say. There’s confidence in my voice but it’s only there to comfort Mia. It’s only there so she doesn’t completely freak out.

  She’s starting to crack and if I had to guess, I’d say it’s because right about now she feels responsible for feeding every single person in this underground city, and she’ll feel responsible if they all starve, if they all die.

  Just like she feels responsible for the dead men at our feet and for the girls who aren’t here.

  I tell her none of this is her fault. And even if they do cut the power, which they won’t, but even if they do, the consequences won’t be on her head.

  I tell her she’s one of the good ones.

  She’s a farmer.

  A provider.

  I tell her I need a Sunspeeder with a full charge. And I need two fully charged up thermo suits.

  “I’ve got the suits,” she says. “But if you take the Sunspeeder through the tunnels, you won’t make it in time.”

  “Then what the hell are we supposed to do?”

  “You’ll need to take the stairs.”

  “The stairs?”

  “Yeah. We’re directly below one of the largest skyscrapers of the Ruined City. About forty floors below. Take the stairs. They’ll lead you to the ground floor of the building. From there you can make it outside.”

  Forty floors. Damn. That’s a long way to climb with a prisoner. A long way to climb in this heat, a long way to climb when each level closer to the surface… the temperature will jump exponentially higher and higher.

  “We’re definitely going to need those thermo suits,” I say.

  “Follow me.”

 
Chapter 9

  Mia hooks Alphonse and myself up with two old and antique looking thermo suits. She apologizes. But it’s all they’ve got. So they’ll have to do.

  The Magician is already wearing a thermo suit underneath his heat-resistant poncho.

  A much nicer thermo suit.

  I consider switching with him.

  But we don’t have the time.

  We need to go.

  Mia leads us to the stairwell. She opens the door. “Good luck.”

  I tell her we won’t need luck and that she doesn’t need to worry. Again, I tell her this so she doesn’t completely loose her mind. Because the truth of the matter is, we could use some luck and there’s a whole lot of things to worry about.

  We start off at a furious pace. But about ten flights into the climb, the Magician falters and falls to his knees.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask. “Thought Wasteland Raiders were supposed to be in peak physical condition?”

  You have to be fit, fitter than a prize fighter if you want to survive out in the Wasteland.

  The Magician mumbles something through his gag and I can’t understand a word he is saying. Alphonse steps forward and takes the gag out of his mouth.

  “What’s wrong?” I ask.

  He’s breathing hard. His chest is heaving. “I can’t… I can’t breathe with that thing in my mouth.”

  “Breathe through your nose.”

  “Can’t. Nose has been broken too many times.”

  I look at Alphonse and he kind of just shrugs his shoulders.

  And again, we’re running short on time. The Magician knows this. He knows every second we spend arguing is one second closer his horde of Raiders get to cutting the power, to destroying the Solar Farm, to condemning a whole lot of people to death.

  “Fine,” I say. “Just pick up the pace. You start lagging, I’ll cut your goddamn legs off and drag you up these stairs myself.”

  The Magician springs to his feet and immediately begins walking. And I can’t shake the feeling that we’re being played. That we’re being led into a trap. Son of a bitch is our prisoner, but he’s still got the upper hand, he’s still in control.

  We climb another ten stairs, getting into a rhythm.

  I get lost in my own thoughts.