Wasteland: Sirain Rises

by Ann Bakshis

  Wasteland: Sirain Rises

  A Novel by Ann Bakshis

  Copyright © 2015 by Ann Bakshis

  This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living and dead, actual event, locales or organizations is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.

  Published by Ponahakeola Press, 2015

  For my dad.

  Love and miss you.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CHAPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  CHAPTER 1

  “Grainne…Trea!”

  Our names echo through the forest behind us. Braxton is out of breath as he runs towards me, another man alongside him.

  “Are you two all right?” the man asks, hugging Grainne tightly. “We saw the flash.”

  “Yes, Bevan, we’re fine,” Grainne replies, voice muffled against his chest.

  “I need to go find my other men,” Braxton states, trying to get his breathing under control.

  “Sorry, Captain, but we need to go.”

  “I’m not leaving without them.”

  “Look, that army will be back at any moment to make sure their weapon did its job. If we stand around here we’ll never make it out of this forest alive. Now, we need to get moving.”

  Braxton hesitates, but complies and we return to the others.

  The wounded are being carried deeper into the trees on makeshift stretchers. Those that have passed are being left where they lay. Jagger is being toted along by Lehen and Vier. Keller by several Hostem. The rest of us carry whatever weapons that may still be working.

  We reach the forest’s edge an hour later. Over a dozen hefty metallic vehicles sit along the tree line, their back ends yawning wide. The outer shell of each transport is made of a thick black iron, rough to the touch. The tires are plated over, no doors except for the hatch at the back, and no windows.

  The injured are loaded first, taking up most of the room. Jagger and Keller are placed in separate transports, but there isn’t any room left in either for Braxton and myself, so we’re relegated to a small weapons transport with Bevan and Grainne.

  The inside of the vehicle is cramped. Weapons hang down from the ceiling, banging into our heads as we crouch down the center aisle, slowly making our way to two thin benches. We rest with our backs against the partition that separates the cab of the vehicle from the storage. The interior is covered in wire-framed cabinets housing additional weapons, along with a couple of satchels that look like medical kits. Two small monitors sit nestled between the top of the closest cabinet and the roof.

  The ride is slow going at first, and extremely bumpy. I’m unsure of how the driver knows where he’s going since there aren’t any windows, so I peek around the small opening between us, noticing the driver spying radar screens secured to the dashboard. The man next to him appears to be operating cameras that are focused on the ground.

  “How can they tell where to go?” I inquire to Bevan and Grainne.

  Bevan replies. “There are five radar screens in the cab. One is projecting the image the lead transport observes. The rest is the terrain around us.”

  “How far ahead can the first vehicle see?” Braxton asks, leaning forward.

  “The driver can see for two miles. It gives us enough time to change directions if we see any obstacles in our way.”

  We remain quiet for a little while. The boredom is excruciating.

  “Where are we going?” I ask after an hour has passed.

  “Tartarus,” Bevan replies.

  “Where’s that?”

  “It’s just beyond the boundaries of Sirain where the Regulator army won’t go.”

  “Why won’t they go there?” Braxton questions with a slight quaver in his voice.

  “You’ll see.” Bevan grins.

  The hours tick by slowly. We take a brief break to eat and quench our thirst. The wounded are looked at, and they find that some have bled out during our journey. The deceased are taken from the vehicles and left on the ground.

  As we’re assisting a man set down a friend who has died, Braxton asks, “You don’t bury your dead?”

  “There’s no time. It would take hours to dig into the earth. The quicker we can get home to Tartarus the safer we’ll be.”

  “How long will it take us to get there?”

  “If we don’t make any more stops, three days to reach the border and another day and a half to Tartarus.”

  “It’s that far away? How’d you all get out here?” Braxton asks, as we head back to the convoy.

  “Most of us have been living at the Trade Borough for several months. The rest at Oasis One,” Bevan replies, joining us. “When we heard that Acheron had been overtaken and their hatcheries were being attacked we knew we had to move. We didn’t know where to go until you sent out that message, Captain.” Bevan loads the empty stretcher into the back of the lead vehicle.

  “Wait,” Braxton spins Bevan around to face him, “the Hostem destroyed the hatcheries. We were there…we saw it. Are you saying it wasn’t you who did all this?”

  “Some of the Hostem were involved in the take-down of Acheron and killed hundreds at the hatcheries, but there’s more to it than you know.” Bevan closes the back of the transport. “This will all be explained when we arrive at Tartarus.” He walks back to the weapons vehicle.

  Braxton turns to me, bends his head down, and whispers, “You go sit with Jagger. Make some room in that vehicle if you have to, but I need you to stay with him, Lehen, and Vier. I’m going to go with Keller. Don’t let any of them out of your sight, understand?”

  I nod.

  He goes to the third vehicle down the line and climbs in. Jagger is two vehicles past Keller’s. One of the occupants who’d been lying next to Jagger has been removed due to his passing, so I fold the stretcher up, shove it under the bench, and sit down. The hatch closes and we begin to move. Lehen gets up from his seat and moves down the aisle sitting next to me. Vier has placed himself into the farthest corner, watching everyone closely with his one bright blue eye. The gash in his face is more gruesome than I’d imagined.

  Jagger begins to moan, his body twisting from the Quarum. I take hold of his hand and begin to stroke his hair, which calms him down immediately, then he falls asleep.

  This transport doesn’t seem as crowded even with all the people crammed together. The benches are covered in broken-down leather, tufts of cotton sticking out of the cracks. Air is filtering in through a vent in the ceiling, a small fan spinning to aid in its circulation. The chamber is glowing softly by the monitors that are housed along the top of the walls, displaying our route and the scenery outside.

  The next day we’re allowed to get out of the vehicles to stretch our legs, but only for a fe
w minutes. The Hostem check the wounded again. The good news is that no more have died.

  I climb back into the vehicle to check on Jagger, who hasn’t woken up since I gave him the dose of Quarum almost two days ago. This causes me to worry about the impact the injection has had on his body and mind, fearing he’ll wake up more aggressive than ever. I brush his hair away from his eyes and grip his hand tightly.

  “You’re Trea, aren’t you?” a soft voice near me asks. The woman is standing on the other side of Jagger’s stretcher. I glance over at her and observe clothes, torn and dirty, mangled brown hair tied at the back of her head, face heavily creased with age. Despite all that, she doesn’t appear to be over forty. “We’ve sacrificed a lot looking for you.” Her tone is not one of cruelty, but of kindness.

  “Why?”

  She simply smiles, squeezes my hand, and walks back outside. I continue to stare off in the direction she went until a scraping noise to my right catches my attention. Vier is still crouched in his corner, eyes watching me, his expression beginning to soften.

  The next day and a half is uneventful. My body aches from inactivity, and Lehen is just as restless. Vier still keeps to himself in the shadows. Jagger has fluttered his eyes a couple of times, but he still hasn’t woken up. Lehen notices the concern on my face and tries to reassure me he’ll be all right.

  In the early hours of the following day we close in on the border. The screens show the convoy halting approximately fifty yards from a large barrier consisting of concrete bricks with metal bars weaving in and out. The wall looks to stand over seventy feet tall, massive amounts of razor wire covering the top three feet. The hatch to the transport opens to reveal Braxton and Bevan standing on the other side.

  “Trea, come with us,” Bevan requests, gesturing for me to get up.

  Lehen touches my arm as I stand. He and Vier join, all of us walking out together. We follow Braxton and Bevan as we make our way up to the front of the convoy. The sun is just beginning to rise, the air is dead still, and I notice the grass under our feet is burnt black. We walk a few meters in front of the first transport and stop. The boundary is more menacing the closer we are to it. Metal bars are woven through each brick like constricting snakes, with thick spears poking from each bar.

  I don’t see any way through or around it.

  “Now what?” Lehen asks, folding his arms in front of his chest.

  “Here.” Bevan passes a thin tablet to me. “Slide the button on the side and it’ll show you the radar image from the vehicle.”

  I slide the button and the screen flashes to life. The image displays the charred ground under our feet. I notice a few keys along the right side of the screen, so I select the one that is pulsing green. The display changes to an infrared picture of our surroundings, red lights dancing below the surface just feet from where we stand.

  “Detonators,” I say, passing the tablet to Lehen.

  “They weren’t there when we came through several months ago. The Regulators don’t want us returning to Tartarus.”

  “Why would they?” Braxton begins. “You’re their enemy, so they’re going to do everything to prevent you from returning home. Better yet, why would they ever allow you to cross over to begin with?”

  “Our leader entered into an agreement with the High Ruler of Acheron many years ago, which stated that the Hostem would be free to pass between Sirain and the outer realms of Tartarus as long as we didn’t interfere with any of Sirain’s property, people, or laws. We were given the old Trade Borough and Oasis One as they had been a part of the Acheron region.”

  “The High Ruler died about a week ago, so the agreement would be void,” Braxton comments.

  “It was written into the Acheron laws, so regardless of who was High Ruler, this agreement was to be continued.”

  “Where would you cross over from? I don’t see any openings in the fence.”

  Bevan takes the tablet from Vier, slides his finger across the screen changing the image from infrared to silhouette.

  “See those dark spots beginning under the tenth tier of bricks and cascading downward? Those are hinges. There’s a door imbedded in the fence. Our leader had this created just after the agreement was reached so it would allow us easier access.”

  “Vladim never found out about this?” I inquire.

  “Not to our knowledge. He and the various rulers of Acheron didn’t get along. He’s been trying to start a war with the Hostem for years, executing any of us he comes across. He knows we’re in Sirain now, so he’ll do anything to prevent us from returning to Tartarus.”

  “So,” Vier speaks for the first time, “what do you want us to do?”

  “I need you to clear a path to the door.”

  “How are we to do that?” Lehen asks, astounded by the request.

  “I have an instrument that can knock out the detonation sequence, making the devices useless.”

  “Why do you want us to do it when you or some other Hostem can disable the detonators?”

  “If something goes wrong, you can heal…we can’t.”

  CHAPTER 2

  Lehen goes to the weapons vehicle with Bevan while Vier, Braxton, and I take a closer look at how the detonators are laid out. They’re configured into a grid pattern, twelve deep, and two feet apart. They’re all blinking in rhythm, which means they’re live. I’m uncomfortable with the plan, but Lehen and Bevan are convinced that it’ll work.

  Lehen walks to the front of the line wearing a thick black mesh jacket with a protective breast plate and elbow pads along with matching pants that have a blue metal stripe up the sides of each leg. The helmet he has on reminds me of my old motorbike. A memory, which causes painful recollections of Quin to flood my mind.

  “You okay?” Bevan asks, as he joins us.

  “I’m fine,” I retort, burying my emotions. “What does he have on?”

  “Protective gear in case one of the detonators goes off. It’ll protect him from any shrapnel.”

  As Lehen approaches the first detonator, the convoy moves further away, putting more distance between us and him. Vier calls out distance as Lehen makes his way forward, viewing it all on the tablet in Braxton’s hand. Lehen reaches the first detonator, crouches down, and extends what appears to be a screwdriver out over the indentation in the earth where the detonator is lying. He switches the instrument on and immediately the detonator turns off. The red light stops blinking. He moves on to the next, which also shuts down.

  The process is slow and stomach turning.

  The sun has risen, bright blue skies illuminating overhead. After thirty minutes, almost half of the detonators have been turned off. The closer he gets to the border the more relaxed we all begin to feel.

  “Trea,” Vier nudges my elbow, “what’s that?”

  In the lower half of the screen the once-blinking detonators that had gone black are now changing to bright blue. The glow travels from device to device.

  “Lehen!” I shout, running towards him. “Get out of there. They’re not detonators, they’re Quantum mortars.”

  He turns when he hears my screams, only to be followed by his own.

  The ground before me lights up.

  My flesh burns from the sudden heat.

  The earth is ripped in two.

  I’m thrown backwards, mounds of dirt hitting me, burying me. The ringing in my ears is deafening, my head pounding. Vier pulls me from my grave, dragging me across the soil, and away from the carnage. The detonators we shutdown have all gone off, so Braxton and Bevan are having to carefully choose their footing as they make their way towards Lehen. I shake Vier loose, shoving him away from me, and yelling for him to go to Lehen as I can already feel myself healing.

  Several Hostem have exited their transports to see what’s happened. Grainne runs up to me, checking my arms and legs for damage, but I’m already completely healed before she even reaches me. She assists me in standing since I’ve been resting against the tire plate of the first vehicle. B
raxton, Bevan, and Vier are slowly carrying Lehen. He isn’t moving, but I can hear him moaning. They take him to the weapons vehicle, away from the other transports. Grainne and I follow while everyone else waits at the front.

  Lehen is placed on a stretcher, his protective gear is ripped to pieces, but still clinging to skin that hasn’t healed. Grainne and I work at removing the suit while Braxton and Bevan work on his injuries.

  The mesh is easier to remove than its metallic counterparts. His body is slow to heal, which causes me great concern. Braxton fetches one of the remaining vials of Quarum and injects it into Lehen’s upper arm. The healing accelerates much too fast, not giving his body time to work out the foreign objects that lay embedded in his flesh. He screams as his skin begins to cover the glowing hot breastplate that has been burned into his chest. The Quantum Stream takes hold, changing the metal of the plate to a bright blue. It snakes away from the plate, around his stomach, and down his legs, along the metal stripping that once had been a part of the outfit.

  I cover Grainne’s eyes while she cowers on the ground next to me, her own hands covering her ears. Lehen thrashes about as the healing is almost complete and then silence. I look over at Braxton who’s bending over Lehen with another vial.

  “It’s a sedative. He’ll sleep for a while.”

  Bevan takes Grainne up to another transport while Braxton and Vier place Lehen into the weapons vehicle. Walking up to the first vehicle, I pass several Hostem with shocked faces and tears streaming down their filthy cheeks. I pick up the tablet that had fallen to the ground, and reset the screen. Six mortars remain in our way and all right up against the fence. I take the tablet in my hand, walk through the devastation, and find the instrument Lehen had been using sticking out of a pile of black earth and clay. It looks to still be working, so I pick it up and make my way to the first mortar I see.

  I kneel on the ground before the small divot and try to recall how long it was between when the devices were disarmed to when they armed themselves again. It took the first one thirty minutes to reactivate, but then they cascaded from there. If I could disarm the remaining six and move them away from the each other, perhaps one at a time, it might give us a chance.