The Wastelanders

by K. S. Merbeth

  “Ahh, Wolf and the crew,” she says in a croaky voice. She speaks oddly, with some kind of lilting accent that sounds over-the-top and forced. She pats Pretty Boy on the shoulder before scrutinizing the rest of us. After a moment she erupts in an overly loud cackle, a sound that clashes with her pseudo-elegant appearance. The laugh soon descends into a coughing fit that lasts several seconds. Everyone waits for it to pass. “It’s been too long, darlings,” she says finally. “Though I’ve been hearing an awful lot about you recently.”

  “That so?” Wolf asks, pleased with himself.

  “Sounds like you’ve been quite busy.”

  “As always. Spreading joy and goodness around the wastes.”

  “I bet you have.” She laugh-coughs again, and the sound grates on my ears. As if locking in on my discomfort, she turns her shrewd eyes to me. “And this must be the new one I’ve been hearing such interesting rumors about.”

  “Kid,” I introduce myself, trying not to crumple under the attention. “And, umm, despite what you’ve probably heard, I’m a girl.”

  “So you are.” She doesn’t take her eyes off my face, and I squirm under the scrutiny. I scuff the heel of one boot across the floor, leaving a streak of dirt behind. “Well, I can see why there was a misunderstanding,” she says, and cackles some more. I blush. “A bath would do you some good. All of you, actually.”

  She touches Dolly lightly on the arm. I expect Dolly to give her typical blank stare in return, but instead she smiles. Tank and Wolf receive only customary nods, and the Queen turns around with a swish of her dress.

  She walks back the way she came, her bony hips swaying and her dress dragging on the tile.

  “Clean yourselves up,” she says over her shoulder, with a wink at Pretty Boy, “and I’ll treat you to dinner. We can catch up then.”

  The sound of the doors closing booms in the quiet room.

  As soon as she’s gone, Pretty Boy leans against the wall with a groan. Tank laughs and claps him on the shoulder. I feel a little overwhelmed. She swept in and out so quickly it was hard to get a read on her.

  “She seemed even weirder than usual,” Pretty Boy says, shaking his head.

  “Yeah, seems like the ol’ hag is losing her marbles a bit,” Wolf says. “But we need the supplies, so be a good boy and keep her happy. If that means spending the night with her, do it.”

  “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” He looks sickened by the thought. I sincerely hope it’s not an actual possibility. Even with her age aside, the Queen seemed a little off somehow.

  Wolf lets out a hearty guffaw and turns around. He sets off down one of the hallways leading out of the room.

  “Well, you heard the lady. Let’s go, boys. Kid, you go with Dolly. See you at dinner.”

  I turn to Dolly to ask where we’re going, but she’s already walking away in the opposite direction of Wolf. I hurry to catch her. She walks quickly, so I have some trouble keeping up.

  “So you know the Queen?” I ask. She glances sideways at me and doesn’t say anything. “You used to work for her or something, right?”

  In response, she only speeds up. I fall behind despite my best efforts.

  “Nice talking to you, too,” I grumble under my breath. I follow her around the corner and into one of the rooms.

  Suddenly there are naked women everywhere.

  And I do mean everywhere. There are at least a dozen people stuffed into this room, and not a single one aside from me and Dolly is fully clothed. The air is warm and steamy, but it doesn’t actually conceal anything. I’m not sure if I should cover my eyes or run out of the room or what. Did we take a wrong turn? I freeze in place and stare down at my boots. Somehow no one else seems the least bit fazed by this, least of all Dolly.

  She notices I’m not following her after a few steps, and turns to give me a confused look.

  “Why isn’t anyone wearing clothes?” I ask, dumbfounded.

  “Bathing room,” she says, as if that explains everything. Now that I’ve gotten over the initial shock of excessive nudity, I can see the baths set up around the room. Still, it seems weird that everyone is so comfortable being naked.

  Before I can ask any more questions, some of the other women notice Dolly. To my surprise, a lady with long red hair squeals and throws her arms around her like they’re old friends. Two blondes who look like twins come over to say hello as well. Dolly smiles.

  “Dolly! It’s been ages!”

  She nods silently, still smiling, her icy exterior thawing in their presence. The redhead’s eyes slide to me.

  “And is this your little friend?”

  Dolly nods again.

  “This is Kid,” she says quietly. “Do not be alarmed, she is a girl.”

  “Of course she is.” The woman walks over and tweaks my nose, which I would be more comfortable with if she was wearing a shirt. I try to keep my eyes on her face. She grins, showing a gap between her front teeth. “I’m Ruby. And I don’t see how anyone could mistake you for a boy, you’re far too cute!”

  “Really?” I’ve been mistaken for a boy so many times it almost feels odd to be called a girl.

  “Of course! Not that I blame you for hiding; it’s dangerous to be a girl in the wastes. But not here!”

  She grabs my hand to pull me, and jostles my stubby once-finger. I yelp. She lets go instantly, an apology on her lips.

  “Sorry,” I blurt out before she can say anything. “I, umm, hurt my hand.” I hold it up to show her. She gently takes my hand for a closer look, murmuring sympathetic words.

  “We can find help with that, too,” she says. “But first, clean up.”

  I don’t really have a choice in the matter. The ladies strip me and dunk me into a big metal tub of water. I cover as much of my body as I can with my hands, but nobody even seems to pay attention to it. It seems it really is no big deal here, and after a few minutes I manage to stop feeling so self-conscious.

  The baths are filled with river water heated by a fire. It’s too hot at first, and I feel like I’m being boiled in it. Warm baths are an oddity to me. Both in the bomb shelter and in town, I made do with the occasional cold sponge bath. I find an actual bath less pleasant than expected. The sting of soap reminds me of every scrape and cut I had forgotten about, and many of my old scabs bleed freshly afterward.

  After scrubbing my skin raw, the Queen’s ladies give me fresh clothes: a dress. It’s plain and nothing too frilly, but still painfully feminine for me. I can’t even remember the last time my legs were bare. It makes me feel vulnerable to show my prickly stick-legs and scabby knees to the world. Dolly is coaxed into a dress, as well. Hers is even worse than mine, a white and puffy thing with a big bow on it. She really does look like a doll. Actually, she looks far more natural in it than I do.

  Despite my discomfort, it’s hard to complain when everyone is being so nice. Even when they take my familiar beanie and clothes, with the promise to return them after a wash, I keep my mouth shut. I don’t let them take my backpack, though.

  “So do you all work for the Queen?” I ask, uncomfortable while the blondes fuss over my hair and the redhead bandages my injured hand.

  “That’s right, miss,” Ruby says.

  “What do you do?” I ask. She glances at Dolly and doesn’t say anything.

  “Look pretty,” one of the blondes deadpans.

  “And sweet-talk,” her twin says.

  “And entertain,” the other one adds.

  Ruby winks. As it dawns on me, I feel my face heat up. They all burst into laughter, except for Dolly, who remains stoic.

  As I walk with her to dinner, feeling weirdly clean, it hits me that Pretty Boy said Dolly used to work for the Queen. And she knew those women. And if they sell their bodies for a living, then …

  My thoughts whir and tumble with that idea, and I have to force myself to act normal and keep my mouth shut as we walk to meet up with the others.

  The boys are freshly washed and dressed as we
ll, although it appears Wolf hasn’t let anyone touch his dreadlocked hair. I resist the urge to swoon over Pretty Boy, with his hair still dripping wet and all the dirt washed off his handsome features. For once he notices me as well, doing a double take when he sees me.

  “Wow, Kid,” he says. “You almost look like a real girl.”

  “Uh, thanks,” I say with a blush. It’s pretty close to a compliment. He leans closer, smiling slightly, and I stare up at him with wide eyes.

  “So, you had some freckles under all that dirt,” he says. “Cute.” He raises a hand as if to touch my face, and I’m bright red between that and the fact he called me cute, but then Dolly walks directly between us and shatters the moment. Pretty Boy steps back, and so do I, and by the time she passes through it’s gone. I blink uncertainly at the back of Pretty Boy’s head as he turns to talk to Wolf.

  There isn’t time to dwell on that, though. I wait for the others to distance themselves and grab Tank’s arm. Taking the hint, he slows down so the two of us fall behind the rest of the crew as we walk through the Queen’s dwelling. The overly fancy decorations and endless doorways pass by in a blur.

  “A while ago, Pretty Boy said Dolly worked for the Queen once?” I ask in a low voice. He nods. “So when he said … did he mean Dolly used to be a … a …?”

  “Yeah,” he says in a quiet voice, not needing to say the word. My eyes go wide.

  “B-But, that’s so … she’s so …” I glance up at Dolly, who is oblivious to our conversation, and shake my head in disbelief.

  “Weird, yeah. She’s different now.”

  “How did she go from that to this? Why’d she quit?”

  “She, uh, got pregnant.”

  “Dolly has a kid?” It takes serious effort to keep my voice down.

  “No,” Tank says. “Not anymore.”

  It takes a few seconds to sink in. When it does, I let my grip on Tank’s arm go slack. He pats me on the back and moves ahead to join the others. I lag behind, head reeling as I sort this new information into place.

  I’m not given much time to process, because there’s already new material flying my way. The room we enter next is huge and lavishly decorated and very, very white. The walls are painted white and adorned with paintings, the tile is white and clean, and the long dining table is covered in a lacy white tablecloth. I feel guilty entering the room. My very presence must dirty the place, even after having my first bath in months. I stick close to the others so I feel less out of place. They all look bored, but I stare around in amazement.

  “This place always makes me want to break something,” Wolf mutters.

  “Please don’t,” says Pretty Boy.

  “Aw, shut up.”

  Moments later the Queen enters, wearing a new dress, this one a ridiculously puffy and lacy monstrosity that matches the red of her lips. She sweeps across the room with two guards shadowing her every step. One pulls her chair out. The Queen even sits in a grandiose way, gracefully falling into the chair and crossing one leg over the other. Wolf and the others sit across from her, and I hurry to follow suit. I catch myself sitting with my legs open, remember I’m wearing a dress, and hastily squeeze my knees together.

  “I’m so happy you came to join me today,” the Queen says, batting absurdly long eyelashes.

  “’Course we made it,” Wolf says. “It’s free food, ain’t it?”

  “And we’re very grateful,” Pretty Boy adds quickly, coaxing a smile out of the Queen.

  Silent men set food before us, so much food I can hardly believe my eyes. I thought the crew had it pretty nice as far as food goes, but this is a feast. Along with heaps of white rice, there’s a colorful selection of corn, peas, and other stuff I don’t recognize. I avoid the beans and mix a variety of stuff together on my plate before digging in. I even try a weird little fish that Tank calls a sardine.

  I notice out of the corner of my eye that the Queen makes one of her men taste everything before she eats it. Odd, considering it’s her own food, but I’m too busy stuffing my face to care. The food is just too good, and there’s so much of it.

  The meal even comes with real plates and utensils. The plates are cracked and stained, but they look like they could have been nice once upon a time. I try eating with a fork, but when that gets too frustrating I grab two spoons instead and stuff my face like a starving animal.

  “So,” Wolf says through a mouthful of food, “I’ve got some questions.”

  “Yes?” The Queen stops eating and raises her eyebrows at him. No doubt she notices that he’s eating with his hands and making quite a mess of the fancy tablecloth, but she doesn’t say anything.

  “What the fuck is happening around here?”

  Silence falls as the Queen stares at Wolf. I become very fascinated by my plate.

  “I’m afraid I’m going to need more clarification.”

  “Why’s everyone out to get us all of a sudden? We were at, uh, one of those towns—”

  “Blackfort,” Pretty Boy supplies.

  “Right-o, that one, and they fuckin’ arrested us the second we walked into town. And then, instead of hanging us, they said they was gonna transport us somewhere.” Wolf stuffs another bite of food into his mouth and leans back in his chair so it threatens to topple over. He points his slightly bent fork at the Queen, gesturing for her to speak. “So … what the fuck?”

  “Ah,” she says. She delicately sets down her utensils and folds her hands on the table, her long nails stark red against the white tablecloth. “Yes. I’m surprised you haven’t heard yet. There’s been a bit of an … upheaval, so to speak. Times are changing, Wolf.”

  “Changing how?” His voice lowers to a growl, as if he’s offended that anything could change without his explicit permission.

  “The return of law, and order, and authority,” she says. “Or so he says.” Her lips twist, something dark flashing across her expression.

  “Who?”

  “He calls himself Saint.”

  “Pff,” Wolf scoffs. “Sounds like an asshole.”

  “Law in the wastelands?” Pretty Boy asks. “How?”

  I keep eating and pretend not to pay too much attention to the conversation, but my interest is caught. I steal glances at the three of them between bites. Dolly and Tank seem content to stay out of it.

  “Saint has secured a radio tower,” the Queen says, looking at Pretty Boy rather than Wolf. “And from there he’s managed to spread his message and solidify his control.”

  “So he talks to the towns that way,” Pretty Boy says, and nods thoughtfully. “That’s why everyone’s ready for us.”

  “Yes, there’s a description of your little crew out on the radio waves, and a hefty price on your heads. He’s after sharks, and you’re well-known enough for him to target you specifically.”

  “But not to kill us?” Pretty Boy asks. “They’ve been trying to capture us alive.”

  “Yes, yes, for a reward. That’s another part of what he’s trying to do: trials and all, just like the old days, rather than shooting anyone straightaway.”

  “And what’s your take on all this?” Wolf asks, pointing again with his fork. The Queen turns to him, her thin lips pinched together. She glances at the utensil, then at his face, and smiles insincerely.

  “You know me, Wolf. I stay neutral.”

  “Well, we can’t afford that.” He drops his fork and leans back in his seat again, placing his boots on the table. “So what do we do then, eh?”

  “What can we do?” I ask, unable to keep myself out of the conversation any longer. “This seems bigger than us.” My place in the world has improved significantly since I started tagging along with Wolf and the crew, but the idea of going against someone like Saint still seems overwhelming.

  “Nothing’s too big when you’ve got enough explosives, Kid.” Wolf grins, suddenly confident and fierce.

  “You want to blow the place up?” Pretty Boy asks, his eyebrows drawing together.

  “Damn s
traight I do. I’ll explode the shit out of it.”

  “You want to blow up a radio tower,” he repeats slowly. “That’s your plan?”

  “Seems like the most obvious solution,” Wolf says. Tank and Dolly nod along with him.

  “Well, count me out.” Pretty Boy throws his hands up. “I’ve signed up for a lot of crazy shit with you, but I’m not along for this.”

  “Like shit you ain’t,” Wolf says. I look back and forth between the two of them, a spoonful of food held halfway to my mouth.

  “Who says it’s such a bad thing, anyway? A little law in the wastelands? A world where our lives aren’t threatened on a daily basis?” Pretty Boy shrugs. “What’s wrong with that?”

  “People like us ain’t got no place in a world like that.”

  “People like you.”

  “Oh, fuck you. You and your uppity bullshit. Just because you can play nice and pretend you ain’t like—”

  The Queen slams her silverware against her plate. The loud clang silences everyone. When she has our attention, she plasters on a sickly sweet smile.

  “As lovely as it is to listen to you bicker,” she says, “I’d prefer if you did not do it here.”

  “Whatever, I’m done.” Wolf takes his feet off the table, and his chair comes down on the tile with a heavy thud. He stands, stretches, and sends the Queen a lazy mock salute.

  “I’ll expect compensation for what I’ve told you,” the Queen says coldly.

  “Right, right. I’ve got a truck full of shit to trade. We’ll work it out.”

  He leaves, the sound of his footsteps echoing in the silence left behind him. When he slams the door shut, Pretty Boy quickly smiles at the Queen.

  “Thank you for your hospitality,” he says, his politeness an abrupt change. “Really, we appreciate it, though Wolf is too crude to say as much.”

  The Queen waves a hand dismissively, still frowning. I glance at Pretty Boy and detect a hint of nervousness. If his sweet-talking isn’t enough to win back the Queen’s good mood, that can’t be good.