Wasteland

by Ann Bakshis

  The hallway echoes, even though there’s no one in the hall but me. I hear my mother talking to me, telling me it’s all going to be all right. She says the man who is carrying me is a friend who’s going to take me someplace to be safe. I open my eyes, the soft light vanishes, and I see a closed door in front of me. The doorknob turns easily in my hand and I let the door swing open of its own accord.

  The purple flowered wallpaper is just how I left it.

  Crude sketches hang waist-high along two of the walls. I bend down and recognize the images in the drawings from the nightmares I had as a child. They match the ones on the tablet that Devlan left me all those months ago: a bright white campus of large buildings, some seemingly flowing into one another. Several other drawings show those same buildings on fire or in some stage of collapse - horrifying drawings, that shouldn’t be made by a child.

  I don’t know what to feel.

  My emotions are so mixed up that I can’t tell what the right one is. Meg wants to sit in the corner and cry, while Trea wants to become violent. If only I could get these two merged somehow, with a common goal or feeling, something to rid myself of this constant turmoil rolling around my head.

  I want to go back outside and confront the woman about the lie she told, and to ask her why she placed us into this specific house, especially considering there are at least a dozen others that are empty, but sleep draws me in. I pick up a discarded blanket from the floor. It too is familiar. It’s the one that fell off after Devlan picked me up from my bed. No one has been in this room since that night.

  More mysteries.

  I shake the dust off of my pillow, wrap myself up in the blanket, which still smells of lilac, my mother’s favorite flower, and promptly fall asleep after lying down on the familiar lumpy mattress.

  Breakfast is waiting for me when I arise.

  Cass is busy cooking while Naomi is cleaning cobwebs from the table and chairs. I go into the bathroom to wash my face and run wet fingers through my hair, noticing that I’ve seemingly aged ten years in only a few days. I join the others and thoroughly enjoy the hot meal. Naomi takes it upon herself to clean the entire house, while Jagger and Quin work on fixing the wiring in some of the fixtures. Cass has met Henry and the two of them have gone off to the small farm and garden that sits in the far north corner of the village, to tend to the animals.

  I go off on my own, knocking on the door to the stone building, waiting for the woman inside to answer.

  “She’s not there,” a soft wispy voice says behind me. “She’s gone off to collect fire wood.”

  The woman standing behind me has aged gracefully since the last time I saw her. Tears fill my eyes, then slowly run down my cheeks.

  “Hello, Meg,” she says to me, hugging me tightly.

  I soak her shoulder with tears of joy.

  “How did you know?”

  She holds my face in the palm of her hands, wiping away my tears with the tips of her fingers.

  “Hannah told me. She woke me up in the middle of the night and said some strangers had stumbled into the village. She recognized you immediately, even with your odd hair.”

  I smile as she tousles a few strands at the back of my neck.

  “I was wondering if you’d ever find your way back here.” She takes my hand and walks me into the stone building. We both sit down on Hannah’s cot next to the fire. “Where’s Devlan? Is he with you?”

  “No,” I answer, as my voice chokes back a lump.

  She puts her arm around my shoulder to comfort me.

  “He was a good man,” she says.

  “Where are the others?” I ask, turning my face to look into hers.

  Pain seeps into the corners of her mouth as she squeezes my hand tightly.

  “Devlan was right,” she begins. “They did find out about you.” She lets go of my hand and stares into the fire. “It was only a few days after Devlan came and took you away that they showed up.”

  “Who are they?”

  “Soldiers from Nuceira. They’re called the Morrigan. Somehow they learned that children had survived the devastation at the Dormitories, and went looking for them. How they found out, I don’t know.” She shudders at the memory, but continues to talk. “They came in the middle of the night, dressed in black armor of some kind. We could hear the engines of their vehicles off in the distance, but only after they came into the village did we know what they were looking for. They pulled everyone out of bed and held us in front of this building while they collected the children. The Morrigan took a small blade and pierced every child on the back of the hand, looking for the one that would self-heal. Some of the children became ill from the injury and died months later. It was rumored that the blade had been impregnated with some kind of poison, so that when they did find the right child, that child would self-heal, leaving the poison inside their system causing them pain and eventually death.” Tears begin to stream down her face.

  It’s my turn to put my arm around her shoulder to comfort her.

  I remember a comment she made when I was younger that she had wished I was her real child. I know I’m not her child, I don’t know whose child I am, but I call her my mother all the same.

  The thought of losing the other children, causes anger to rise. I feel heat growing from my arm from the thought of innocent lives taken because of me, but I conceal it behind my mother’s back.

  We sit in silence, not knowing what to say next. Hannah walks in with Quin behind her. I hear him explain to her that he’s in need of some tools since they’ve decided to fix everyone’s homes. She says the only tools are down at the power plant, which is an hour’s long hike.

  “Is it guarded?” he asks, as he continues to follow her around the room, while she fills small bowls with grain from the barrels.

  “Not since Acheron abandoned it when they became self-sustaining with that energy core of theirs.” She hands the bowls to Quin, picks up others, and begins to fill them as well.

  “How does it stay functioning?”

  She looks at him with a funny expression. “Where do you think we get our electricity from, young man? Why do you think we keep the tools down there?” She loads his arms with more bowls and then promptly exits the building, Quin following closely behind.

  I smile at the exchange but stop when my mother’s face falls, and a concerned expression appears. She waits until Quin and Hannah are out of earshot then turns to me.

  “How well do you know the people you’re traveling with?”

  I feel my nerves beginning to fray.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Quintus is with you,” she says, more as a statement than a question.

  “We met in the Wasteland. Why, Mother, what’s got you so frightened?”

  “Quintus never came out of the Dormitories with us. Thatcher went back for him, but the housing unit he’d been living in was obliterated, so he couldn’t get to him. As far as we know, the only children who made it out were Kedua, Lehen, Vier, and you. If someone helped him escape, who was it? Or even how, or why?” She takes my hands, grasping them tightly. “Promise me you’ll be careful?”

  “Of course I will.”

  I stay sitting on the cot as my mother gets up to help Hannah who has returned with an arm full of eggs. I think about what my next move should be and shudder at what I come up with.

  I think I may need to get rid of Quin.

  More questions come up from what my mother has said.

  If only four are accounted for in the escape, and Quintus was not one of them, then where are the other two? Where has Quintus been if they didn’t save him? Who has he been with? Did Devlan ever recognize Quin?

  I pull my feet up to my chest, hugging them. My instinct is to run, but there’s nowhere to go. I don’t want to leave my mother. It’s been over twelve years since I saw her. She and Devlan are the only family I really every had. Magda calls to me to assist her and Hannah with the chores. I nod my head, more to clear it than acknowled
ge her request.

  The remainder of my day is spent working around the village. Jagger and Quin spend the day down at the power plant, doing maintenance, and picking up tools and any other items they may need to fix up the houses. I spend my time in the stone building, which is the dispensary, with Hannah and my mother. We bake bread, tell stories, and get a large feast ready for the evening.

  I’m happy to be here, but at the same time, my fears about Quin and my questions about what I must do next are eating away at me. I don’t feel like celebrating anyway.

  Snow continues to fall over the next several days. Jagger and Quin have moved into the house next to my old home that I now live in with my mother, while Naomi and Cass stay in a house across the way. They seem quite happy here and have made it known they’re intent on staying when the rest of us are ready to continue on.

  I’m restless, and can’t sleep the fifth night.

  What my mother told me about Quin has left a sour taste in my mouth. I wish it were warm outside so I could go running and burn off some of this tension. Donning a used wool coat Henry found for me, and putting my boots on, I wrap myself up tight and exit the warmth of the dwelling. I go over to the barn to check on the animals. Several are snuggled in their beds of hay, so I go and sit next to a calf that is only a few hours old. Its mother died during labor, so Andrew has placed it in the icehouse for food. I stroke the head while the calf sleeps, and she sighs softly with each caress. From where I’m sitting in the barn I can see the entrances to all the houses.

  The cold starts to seep into my bones after sitting for almost an hour. I’m nuzzling myself closer to the calf when Quin steps out onto the small wood porch, furtively heading toward the path to the power plant. He doesn’t appear to be carrying any kind of torch to light his way through the dark, which strikes me as odd.

  I pat the animal’s head, get up, and begin to follow him making sure the Levin gun I keep tucked in the small of my back has not slipped out of place. I don’t go anywhere without it now. Since the ground is covered in fresh powder, I try to walk in Quin’s footsteps so not to leave any trace of my own. His stride is much wider than mine, which makes it more difficult.

  My feet and hands are getting colder the longer I stay outside, but I keep pressing on.

  An hour seems to pass before we reach our destination. I walk past several trees with bits of razor wire poking out from under a few layers of bark, then notice a clearing up ahead beyond another grid of fencing. The area is dark, with no lights around the perimeter of the plant. I can hear waves crashing, so we must be close to the shoreline. I stop short of the clearing and listen to my surroundings.

  I hear the hum of electricity from the power plant, but there is an underlying growl somewhere further south of me, so I step off the path and walk a little deeper into the woods staying along the fence line now impregnated with the tree trunks and branches. The further south I move the louder the growling noise becomes. A broken road appears on the other side of the fence with two large black vehicles parked on top. I listen as the distinct sounds of closing doors echo in the darkness, and move silently closer, until I see them and can hear their voices.

  “Hello, Rabaan,” Quin says firmly.

  “Quintus,” the man says and gives Quin a hug. “Glad to see you’re all right. Hope Trea hasn’t been too difficult to catch.”

  “No, at least not after her escape from Tyre,” he responds with a laugh. “She’s back up in the village.”

  “Good, it will make the capture easier.”

  I see a grin form on Rabaan’s face.

  “What about the other one?” he asks.

  “Kedua is heavily protected in Acheron. We will need to draw her out of the city if you are to seize her.”

  “That will prove challenging, but not impossible.”

  I tilt my head slightly to see what Rabaan looks like, but his face is hidden in the darkness. The man next to Rabaan is a little shorter.

  But I have seen their clothes before. They are wearing the same uniform as the men that raided my home in the Wasteland.

  So they were Morrigan.

  “Is Lehen still not talking?” Quin asks, crossing his arms.

  “No, he’s being awfully stubborn. He takes torture well, but of course he heals from it. I want to burn him, but Parson Mathan wants to keep him alive until we have all the remaining Antaeans so we can destroy them all together…with the exception of you of course.”

  “Of course,” Quin says. “So when will you come to the village?”

  “Tomorrow night. It will give us time to surround the area and take her by surprise.”

  I begin to slink backwards away from the area, having heard enough of the conversation.

  I’m sickened by the betrayal.

  Tears cascade down my cheeks, but freeze to my skin. My stomach tightens up as the full impact of what I just witnessed dawns on me. My feet stop moving as I’m momentarily paralyzed with fear. I try to pull Trea up from her hiding spot, willing her to surface, but she doesn’t react to fear, only anger.

  How could he do this to me? How long have they been tracking us? What is Quin really?

  I hasten back to the village, but make sure not to take the path back. Instead I hug the tree line next to it. As soon as I’m back, I go into my house, pack some of my items into a satchel, and kiss my mother gently on the forehead, trying not to rouse her.

  I don’t leave her a note as I don’t want Quin to know what I’m up to. I’m not proud of myself for running out on her, but I need to protect her like she protected me, and this is the only way I know how.

  Hearing his footsteps on the planks outside, I wait to hear his door open and then close.

  I exit my house and stand outside his front door, making sure he’s gone to his room, then wait a few more minutes before letting myself in. The house is identical to mine, all the homes are, so I turn right and walk down the small dark hallway. I open the door to the room on the left, tip toe in, walk over to Jagger’s sleeping body, and place my hand gently over his mouth before nudging him. He startles slightly, but relaxes when he realizes it’s me.

  “Meg, what time is it?” he asks, through a deep yawn.

  “Almost two,” I whisper, as I take a step back from his bed.

  He swings his legs over the edge, but doesn’t stand.

  “I need your help. You need to show me how to operate the boat.”

  “What?” he asks, again through another deep yawn, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

  “You need to get dressed and go with me back to the lake to show me how to operate the boat.”

  “You want me to show you now? Can’t it wait until morning?”

  “No, it can’t,” I whisper in a hoarse voice.

  Jagger looks up at me with a concerned look on his face.

  “Please?”

  He grabs his clothes that are hanging over the back of the chair next to his bed, puts on his boots, and grabs a Dorongan, slipping it over his shoulders.

  He doesn’t ask me any more questions as we step out into the cold and head back to the lake.

  Why is he so trusting?

  Chapter 18

  The boat is exactly where we left it, although now it’s buried in snow.

  Jagger climbs aboard to get the engines warmed up while I clean off the deck. The engine is cold, so it turns over several times before it will fire up properly. I go below deck and into the engine room where he is checking the monitors to make sure the boat has enough power for long-distance travel.

  He shows me the control buttons and the small steering wheel, but says all I have to do is punch in my coordinates and the boat can guide itself. I thank him with a hug before he climbs the ladder, then I check the previous logs to get the exact coordinates for Acheron. After I feel him cast off the moorings and push the boat into the water, I enter in my destination.

  The boat backs up slowly and begins to turn itself around just as I hear footsteps coming down the ladder
. I poke my head out into the gangway and see Jagger standing on the bottom rung.

  “Where you go, I go,” he says.

  I try to protest, but he won’t hear any of it.

  “I trust you, Meg, and I’m not letting you go by yourself.”

  “You could get killed,” I warn him.

  “So be it…I’m protecting you no matter what it takes. Thomas spoke about your kind when I was younger. He told me the Antaeans are our only hope for freeing us from the High Rulers, so I made a promise to myself that if I ever had the luck of meeting one of you, I would do everything I can to protect you. I trust you have a valid reason to go back to Acheron, so I’m going with you.”

  I decide not to pursue the argument any further.

  We stay in the engine room, slowly making our way through the cold choppy waters.

  “They’ll try to destroy us once we are within a mile of them,” Jagger finally says, after a long respite.

  “I know. That’s why I’m going to go on deck and signal our surrender.”

  I wait for him to balk, but he just nods his head in agreement.

  I climb the ladder, hugging my wool coat as the wind lashes at my skin. The silhouette of the city can be seen through the haze that has settled over the lake. I hear motors revving just ahead of us, approaching fast.

  “Turn away or prepare to be fired upon,” a voice booms through the ether.

  “My name is Trea, and I have come to see the High Ruler,” I shout into the air around me.

  I hear more boats approaching, some beginning to slow. Our boat jerks as it hits metal. A man in a guard uniform climbs aboard, making sure I am who I claim to be. He calls over to his crew to tow us in and radio the High Ruler as we begin to pick up speed. Jagger reaches the deck and stands with me as we approach the same platform I escaped off of just a few days ago.

  Our boat is secured to the moorings along the east wall of the platform. Two Regulators search us and remove our weapons. Jagger is placed into binders, but they don’t bother with me since they know I can easily break them.