by K.Z. Freeman
We walk for what feels like too long a time in the shimmering air. He leads me to a clearing overlooking a basin robbed of its resources by mining efforts a long time ago. The soil is stripped and bare and the whole area stands desolate. Below the hill, dropping sharply at the clearing’s edge, stretches a view – the skeletal remains of a town. Within the buildings, movement can be seen even from a distance and most of the structures stand half crumbled. Husks of emaciated people mill about, scavenging and scraping together whatever they can. Although how they can still find anything after all these years, I can scarcely understand. The only thing which comes to mind, the most obvious thing, is that they steal and scavenge from each other.
The hills about us are bare. Some of the trees still stand, somehow defying the winds and time itself. They seem to be as tenacious as humanity but sport no leaves and grow black. They look like charred bony hands grasping the radioactive air.
“Down there,” Ty says, pointing to the very center of town. It makes me wonder why the feck we had walked all the way up here.
“Why is the Bank inaccessible?” I ask.
“There was a building right on top of it which crumbled and fell,” Ty says. I could detect a remnant of an accent behind his words. “Some of the townsfolk said it was done deliberately, that there were things inside the bank that came out and dragged people inside.”
“Stories, you understand?” he said. “From what I can tell, a narrow tunnel has already been dug to the site. I tried to sneak in one night but the bastards guard it with machine guns.”
“That should make things difficult,” I say.
“Indeed,” he agrees, “but luckily for us, I have a silencer,” he grins, I can see the outline of his teeth behind the fabric pulled over his face.
“Why do you need me then? And why does a silencer matter?”
“I only have five more bullets. I’ve no idea if more of the guards are inside. If they are, we’re going to need more firepower and more eyes. Your firepower. Your eyes.”
“In other words, you’re hoping my MP5 will draw them to me while you hide in some hole until the dust has settled,” I say. The thought of stealing his pistol for myself had occurred to me, and if it wasn’t for his hand always resting on its hilt, I would have perhaps considered the notion twice. I did not want to get shot, however. But that silencer…
“Maybe,” he says and removes the piece of cloth from his face. A pointy chin stares at me. The thinness of his black beard tells me he’s probably younger than me. His wide mouth and meaty lips are spread into a toothy smile. His teeth are yellow. Still, the smile is charming somehow, handsome even, but above all, mischievous. It makes you want to shoot the bastard or else he might stab you in the back with that very smile still on his lips.
“You already know my name, can I ask for yours? Or perhaps I should just keep calling you guy?”
“Nomad.”
“Ah… you’re one of those,” he says with distaste. “Tell me, Nomad, will I be able to count on you to have my back if tell you you can count on me to do the same?”
“That depends,” I answer.
“On what?”
“Whether it’s worth watching your back to begin with.”
He laughs loudly. This time I can only guess at the sincerity of it. “My back is quite worth protecting, I assure you. But I see I’ll have my hands full with yours if you insist on being snappy.”
“Cut the shit. I have no problem with having your back. I figure in this world a man needs all the friends he can get, but my trust isn’t given, it is to be earned.” I hear myself talking and realize I sound like a prick. “I’m not some kid running around the wasteland with half a mind to fall under the wing of anyone promising riches. You know this, I can see you’re the same, so let’s talk plainly. Don’t try and make speeches in an attempt to fool me.”
He considers my words for a moment, eyes distant, then cocks his head to face me. A full head smaller than me, he offers me one of his hands. I consider the gesture and grab his forearm. He tightens his grip as his face turns serious, “I will not betray you, you have my word, for what it’s word, at least. I hadn’t had a friend since I left Francia, so this’ll be a welcome change of pace.” He smiles.
I nod my own smile.
I don’t think this is how friends are made. “Where do we begin?” I ask as our hands part.
“First, we’ll have to get down into this merde-hole of a town.”
“And then?”
“Then we wait for nightfall.”