The Wilds

by Donna Augustine

  “Are you going to tell me what your name is? Or should I call you by that bullshit one you gave at the compound?”

  He looked about the forest like he could actually see more than five feet into the dark. “I’ll tell you after we get about forty miles south of here.”

  “Forty miles south?” I plotted the geography in my head quickly from my memory of the maps I’d seen. Newco wasn’t that big. “So we’re heading into the Wilds.”

  “Exactly.”

  I needed to get into the Wilds. I could regroup there and prepare to carry out my plan. Now that the immediate adrenaline of being chased was gone, the logic was taking back over. If I was going to help the girls get out, it was going to take some work and preparation, and that couldn’t be done if I was still being chased through this country. The Wilds was my best bet.

  I closed the gap between us slightly and got a better look at the enigma I’d be riding right across the border with. I could decide what to do about him after he got me where I wanted to go.

  “Do you have a problem with going into the Wilds?” he asked.

  I shook my head, indicating I didn’t have issue with the stated destination. He hadn’t busted me out to let me walk, and I doubted I had any real say. I suspected he was trying to measure up the amount of resistance he was going to get. None was the answer he was looking for.

  But it was just a guess as to what he was thinking. It was pissing me off that I had no idea what was in his head. Blank. He wasn’t giving me even a thread to cling to and let me delude myself into some false understanding.

  My mind rushed back to the first meeting with him. I hadn’t caught glimpses of emotion. He’d fed them to me like breadcrumbs down a path into the woods. He’d known exactly what he needed to show to ferret out what he’d ultimately wanted to know, if I was a Plaguer in the full sense. This guy was good. I’d thought I was incapable of being manipulated, but it was like finding out you’d been playing in the little leagues on the day of the big match-up when the real deal walked in.

  “What do you know about the Wilds?” he asked.

  “I’ve heard the stories.” Everybody had, even in the loneliest corners of the compound.

  “They aren’t stories. They’re true.”

  That was a tall order then, because there were a whole lot of stories, beasts that roamed the forests, outlaws and pirates. If you were a historian, from all that I’d heard, the Wilds was like the Wild West, with creatures that walked right out of your nightmares, and some pirates thrown in for good measure.

  It was also the brightest beacon of freedom available, if you were tough enough to survive. None of the countries messed around in the Wilds. There was no law. There was no government. If you were stronger and could take it, it was yours. If you were tougher, you were in charge. If you were weak, you begged for citizenship to one of the countries; even with the corruption and flaws, it was still better because the weak didn’t survive any life worth living in the Wilds.

  In my opinion, the Wilds was the perfect place for me to regroup and start preparing.

  “I’ve got no problem with the destination but I want to know why you broke me out before we go any farther.”

  “Forty miles.” He looked down at my right hand where it was hidden in the folds of the dress. “Let me see your hand,” he said, pointing to it.

  I knew what he wanted. “My brand is none of your concern.”

  He was in my space and grabbing my wrist anyway. I tried to tug it away but his hold was solid and resisting was only going to accentuate how weak my position really was. I stopped fighting, as there was no need to broadcast it. I looked over at the bike as he stared at it.

  The brand, the ugly, scarred letter P that had been burned onto the top of my hand, was clear to him. Most people were repelled by just the mention of it. The revulsion at the sight of it was usually stronger. I might be out of the compound but I was still marked. There was no outrunning that.

  He pulled it closer, only a few inches from his face, as if trying to determine its legitimacy or something.

  He dropped my wrist after half a minute or so. “It is my business. In the Wilds, Plaguers are killed. I need you alive.”

  “There’s nothing I can do about it so I guess I’ll have to figure out how to stay alive,” I said in a flippant tone. I knew what that brand did to me more than anyone. I’d lived with it, year after marked year.

  He went to a pack attached to his bike and dug around in it. “Here.” He thrust a pair of black leather gloves at me, ones with the fingers cut off. “Put these one.”

  I took them. He clearly had all the details planned. “Won’t this make people suspicious?”

  “Maybe, but no one expects to actually ever meet a Plaguer, not with the survival rate. You live in a place that houses them. How many have you met?”

  In all the years I’d been there, I could count them on one hand, and I knew I’d met a lot less than the amount of people who survived the Bloody Death.

  “If they see it, it’s a different story.”

  “But if they do get suspicious?”

  “It doesn’t matter. If someone wants you they’ll have to get through me first, and they won’t.” He motioned to the gloves. “This just makes things easier.”

  I put them on, looking down at my hands and not seeing the ugly scar for the first time since I was four. I looked back at him, not wanting to give any hint of how I hated that thing or how I felt about being able to disguise it. It was just skin, after all.

  “You plan on telling me why you busted me out?”

  “Like I said, when we cross the border.”

  “Why?”

  “Because if they get you, I don’t want you to be able to tell them anything when they try and torture it out of you.”

  I nodded. It was hard to disagree with that logic. This guy did seem to know a thing or two about the government of Newco and the compound.

  He climbed back onto the bike, hands on the bars and feet planted on the ground.

  “Get on.”

  I did without a fight. Who was I kidding? He could’ve been one of the beasts they talked about that roamed the Wilds and I would’ve ridden his ass right across the border if that were what it took to get out of here. The bike came awake with a loud growl as we started along a rough pathway that looked like it had only been cleared recently—and roughly at that.

  I wasn’t sure how long we’d been riding for, but the sky was just starting to get a tinge lighter when I felt one of his hands grip mine where it wrapped around his waist, urging my hold even tighter. I glanced over his shoulder ahead to see what was going on up ahead. A large fence was beyond the trees with a panel removed. In front of it stood twenty-some guards, all in body armor and carrying massive guns, waiting for us.

  “Hang on tight,” he yelled. “It’s going to be a rough ride out of here.”

  I gripped on to him as the bike picked up even more speed. I kept my gaze on the group we were approaching and couldn’t help think that we were already dead. I’d been forced to cower for years and I’d never do it again. I’d meet my death with eyes wide open. I wanted to stare it down and give the reaper the middle finger when I went.

  I heard gunfire whizzing by. I recognized it from the drills the guards would do at the compound but I still wouldn’t close my eyes. We were flying toward the gate and zigzagging aggressively. I wasn’t sure if it was to make us a harder target or to avoid the bodies that kept dropping around us. That was when I realized he had some backup hidden. Newco wasn’t killing their people.

  As quick as we’d approached the opening, we were through. I looked back at the gate as we drove away, watching as the rest of the guards were running for cover.

  We were whizzing past trees again, but this time it wasn’t the government of Newco. This forest didn’t belong to anyone. It was wild and free, just as I was.

  Chapter 7

  We rode the bike down more trails, but these seemed well w
orn. How many people came in and out of Newco by this route?

  The sun had lit the entire sky by time we stopped but still hung low enough for me to judge it hadn’t been more than an hour or so. When we did stop, it was only because it looked like the path was ending. Up ahead in between a gap in the trees, I could see water and lots of it. Memories from childhood came to me of sandy shores and vacations with my parents. After so many years in the Cement Giant I’d started to think I’d imagined such sights.

  I moved to get off the bike but his hand grabbed my arm, stopping me. I yanked at it out of frustration. This watchdog stuff was getting old fast and my patience was thinning. I was not going to live like a prisoner.

  “Don’t go past the tree line.”

  It was a barked-out order. I didn’t agree but that didn’t seem to matter to him. His grip dropped from my arm anyway, as he apparently didn’t expect anything less than me falling in line with what he said. He was right. I’d walk the line, but only because I liked the current direction it was laid out in. Where it fell tomorrow would be another story.

  I raced forward to the gap. There was uninterrupted water everywhere, with the exception of a skeleton from the past that marred its perfection. Its iron limbs shot out of the water here and there and broke its surface in no particular order, just chaos. The bridge was all still there but instead of being in its glorious prime of life, most of it had sunk below the water, its bones broken as it exhaled its last breath of life before nature finished erasing its existence. Now it was just another sad remnant of the Glory Years, before the Bloody Plague had had its way.

  They say that this planet used to be crawling with buildings and structures like this from a time that seemed more like a thousand years ago than the hundred and fifty it was. There had been so many people and they had made things that were unimaginable today.

  I’d seen a picture of one of the great cities they’d called New York. I’d heard there had been other such places. So many that it was almost inconceivable to me if I hadn’t seen proof. These places were all uninhabited now, too dangerous to go near once they’d started crumbling. The Bloody Death hadn’t just killed our people—it had killed our world.

  I looked away from the metal ghost and down the coastline that went on forever. It was a muddy shore that a person could run along and keep going for days with no walls to stop them.

  A roar sounded, similar to what our own metal bike let out, and I turned quickly. Samuel didn’t seem alarmed, so it was likely the others arriving. I’d known we weren’t alone after the guards at the gate had been shot down, but over the roaring bike, I hadn’t heard their presence.

  He stood in the opening as two riders, another male and a female, pulled up alongside him. That was it? We’d only had two shooters up against all those guards at the gate? I didn’t know anything about warfare but I couldn’t help but be impressed. I would’ve thought there were a lot more of them for the damage they’d done to the government’s numbers.

  The new guy was on the larger side and had scars running everywhere. They were on his arms where they were exposed by the short sleeves of his dark shirt, and there were even small ones crisscrossing his face.

  The female didn’t look like she’d stand much taller than I did but had a muscular leanness and a cold glint in her eye.

  The two of them got off their bikes and they formed a semicircle, all eyes trained on me. It was time to get some answers. I approached the group, waiting to see what I’d find out as I neared. He hadn’t offered me up any hints of who he was, but I had fresh meat now. There was no way I’d draw a blank with all of them.

  As I got within ten feet, an image of the female killing a teenage boy in combat entered my mind. Not so bad. The kid had been ready to slit her throat and she’d acted in self-defense.

  Then I got a read off the scarred man and I started to laugh. It was so shocking I couldn’t help myself. That was the memory burned into his brain? He’d gotten caught feeding stray pups? It was a new one for me. I could see how it might have been embarrassing to such a hardened-looking man, but really? Maybe my Plaguer’s delusions were losing some of their oomph.

  The three of them looked at me as if I were crazy as I laughed aloud at what they thought was nothing. I didn’t care. Being a Plaguer, it was something I was accustomed to. If they only knew the truth, we’d see who was crazy and who’d be running for cover.

  I continued to march right over to them. When I got within four feet, both of the newcomers took a step back. He’d had me wear gloves but his people were obviously in the loop about what I was. That was something else I was used to, especially from people from the Wilds. Whenever someone from the Wilds had landed in the compound, they’d feared getting near me even worse than the people from Newco. I’d discovered from an early age that people from the Wilds were a very superstitious lot and believed that once you’d had the Bloody Death, you never really got rid of it and could still give it to others.

  I was glad they were scared. They weren’t going to fight me if they were too scared to touch me. I didn’t think they’d shoot me even though they all had guns strapped to their hips. It lowered my possible combatants down to one when I decided I was ready to break off on my own.

  But oh what a one. If I had a choice, I’d take my chances on the two newcomers combined instead of him. The way he shut down his emotions, expected to be listened to as if no one ever dared not. When I finally decided not to toe his line—and I was near to positive it would happen, as I had an instinctual aversion to lines—he was going to be a big problem.

  “Who are you people and what do you want?” I asked.

  “She’s haughty for someone who should already be dead,” the woman said. “Let’s see how tough you are outside your safe little compound.”

  I eyed her up. Green pants that had leather patches sewn over the knees, a tank top that showed just how lean and muscular she was. Her dark hair was cropped short, only a couple of inches long and probably better for fighting.

  Then I thought of how I appeared. Still in the white dress from the compound but with a dark sweatshirt added on, my limbs were lean but without the muscles she sported, my flaming red hair all a mess. I probably looked like easy pickings to someone like her.

  The idea of it made me want to laugh. There wasn’t anything in this world that would make me go running back to that compound. If Sam didn’t, certainly not some chick dressed for battle. No matter how tough she thought she was, I didn’t think she could say the same. I might not look like much but I had a mind honed for conflict, if not a body.

  I ignored her. I didn’t care what she thought—if she liked me or hated me, it was of no consequence. The same went for the scarred man. They were too scared of the Bloody Death to touch me. I could probably walk away right now without much difficulty. No, my rescuer was the only one who could end up being a problem—especially if he thought he was going to become my new jailor.

  He’d appeared cold and methodical in his government outfit. Stripped of it, he was still cold but now looked lethal. I still couldn’t pick up anything from him to tell me differently. I didn’t care. My first goal in life had been fulfilled. I was outside the Cement Giant. Now I wanted to be completely free so bad I could taste it.

  “Well? You said after we got out you’d tell me.” I lifted both hands to the forest. “We’re out.”

  He didn’t move an inch. “After we cross,” he said.

  I looked over at the water that I’d been so amazed by until he told me he wanted me to go on it. “You want me to go across that?”

  “Yes.”

  “How?”

  “On that ship, over there.”

  He was pointing to a large wooden vessel coming around the bend. It had large sails blowing in the wind and a flag with a strange emblem. I knew what that was. It matched the descriptions in Moobie’s adventures. Moobie didn’t trust pirates. And just like that, my rescuer moved the line to somewhere I wouldn’t toe. That was
the issue with other people’s lines. Sometimes people drew them in all sorts of crazy places. “You want me to get on a pirate ship?”

  “Yes. It’s the only way to cross here. They control this water.”

  People died on ships all the time. Even in the compound, I’d heard about people trying to cross the great waters and dying. I hadn’t made it out to drown. Plus, I needed to be able to get back to Newco. That might have been my biggest issue. I couldn’t go somewhere I couldn’t get back from. “Absolutely not. That wasn’t the deal. You said you’d tell me now. I’m not crossing anything,” I said, knowing there wasn’t anything he could say that would make me get on that boat. If I got on, I might not ever get back. Unacceptable. I was going to have to stall.

  “I already hate her. Why do we need this bitch?” the woman said. “She should be shot. She’s got that dirty disease running through her and she shouldn’t live.”

  I took a few steps toward her and she retreated. “Come on, do something about it,” I said, and then laughed as she tripped on a branch behind her in her urgency to get out of reach.

  “I’d shoot you if it weren’t for him,” she said.

  “If you hadn’t just fallen on your ass, that might sound a little more threatening.” I leaned over her, wagging a finger a few feet from her face and making her scramble backward.

  “That’s enough,” Sam ordered. I wasn’t delusional enough to think he was putting an end to our dispute for fear of my feelings. His girl Patches wasn’t making a very good showing. The scarred man remained silent, but I had a funny hunch he was enjoying the show.

  “Is it enough?” I asked, still looking at the woman below me now, my finger inching closer toward her exposed flesh. I knew I was taunting her. I knew it was childish, but after fourteen years of taking this crap and swallowing it, I’d told myself I’d never take it again. She just happened to have the unique opportunity of being the first one to get in my face since I’d left the Cement Giant. “Well? Tell me.”