The Cities

by K. A Knight

  “Why are you here?” I begin easily.

  They look at each other and I sigh. “Am I going to have to kill one of you to prove how serious I am?”

  Yates instantly shakes his head and I zero in on him, knowing he is the weak link. “We were sent to report back anyone heading south.”

  “Why?” I snap.

  “I don’t know, they don’t tell us,” he replies. I pull out a knife and he shakes, falling back, his eyes wide. “I think they are planning something, they are mobilizing troops, sending us farther than ever past the Dead Sea into the dead lands up here, they are stretching us thin.”

  “Dead lands, huh?” I grin at Dray then. “I prefer Wastes.”

  Yates nods, obviously encouraged that I haven’t stabbed him. “They don’t want us to know, but I heard rumours they are running out of food and water, more and more outer ringers are dying, starving.”

  “Shut up,” the other man hisses, but Yates throws him a glare.

  “I don’t plan on dying for them,” he snaps, finally showing some backbone, and looks at me. “There is unrest in the Cities, people wanting to know the truth, unhappy with the dividing of supplies and the labour they pull compared to the inners.”

  Blowing out a breath, I still the blade. “Inners?”

  He nods then. “The Cities are split into three rings—outer ring, middle ring, and inner ring. Outer is for labour force, they are the last to get supplies, middle is for the…well, middle, like engineers and that, and inner is for the government, doctors, and the rich,” he explains and I scoff, what a way to run a place. “The government is getting paranoid, claiming riots as an act from the outers and sending troops in to ‘cleanse’ them. I think they are just trying to reduce the population.”

  “You think a lot,” I point out.

  He turns red and slams his mouth shut.

  “Are there more check points along the way?” I inquire, and he shakes his head.

  “Not on this route, further west and east there are, but we are the last check point before that shanty city and then the Cities,” he offers helpfully, kind of making me sad. I wanted an excuse to vent my frustrations on the spoiled pricks.

  “The Cities, tell me everything. Everything I need to know to get in, who’s in charge, the people, don’t leave anything out,” I order, sitting in front of them and waiting.

  “The Cities used to be a city back in the day, cut off from bombs, and separated into three, but the rulers built bridges to connect them all. The one in the middle, which is heavily protected, is in the inner. The one to the right is middle, and the one to the left, the most destroyed, is the outer. Each have their own guards and jobs, none interact unless called for. Each have separate entrances and exits, one gate at the front of each. It’s filled with broken buildings and the reminder of the world before, the inner is the least destroyed, and if it wasn’t for the walls and crumbling architecture, you might believe it was from a time before…”

  He blabbers and I listen as he tells me everything and anything, letting me decide what is relevant and not, and with each word I get a stronger sense of confidence. They have hidden behind their walls since this all started, and they don’t know what it means to have to fight for survival. They might have weapons, trucks, and a fucking city, but we have something they will never have.

  Stubbornness, and the fighting strength to keep on going, even in the face of death. Each time we go into the Wastes, we gamble with the reaper, and yet we do it again and again. We fight for fun, and we live with cannibals and ferals. They have no idea what they have unleashed upon themselves

  After he finishes talking, I sit back and stare from Yates to the other silent man who looks so pissed at the Cities’ guard for spilling.

  “I like those boots,” I say with a grin, and Yates looks at his boots and blanches. “What size are you?”

  I don’t let them go, that would be a stupid fucking move, and I know they would report back. No, instead, I let Nan drive their truck with them tied up in the back as we head to Reeves’, they can stay there for now. I have all the information I need and it makes me feel better. I think the plan might work. If I know anything, it’s that people like the outers, as the Cities call them, will never be happy under someone’s boots. They want freedom. I can use that. If there is one thing I know, it’s that when there is an iron ruler, there is rebellion, those who fight back.

  It makes sense to us out here, those who can fight, those who work hard and have skills to survive. The people like the ones who run their government died out a long time ago, or like the people of Paradise, they don’t last long. They don’t know what hard work means, depending on others to do everything for them while they sit back and claim they are creating a new world, a better world. The question always is—for who?

  The Cities are trying to be like the countries of the past, but what they don’t realise is the world has changed. Diplomacy and governments aren’t needed anymore and they sure as shit aren’t wanted up here in the Wastes. We have our own leadership, our own rough and ready justice, and it works just fine. They are going to have the shock of their lives when they meet us.

  They thought they were ready for us, they thought we were just savages, and I can’t wait to show them how wrong they are.

  The ride to Reeves’ is boring after that, with no other surprises, and we pull up outside the compound late in the day. In the middle of nowhere with sand and Wastes stretching on all sides, stands what looks like a scav’s wet dream. Made of wood, it resembles a rundown bar, complete with a metal sign declaring it “Dive” with an arrow pointing downwards. It has two stories with a wraparound, wooden porch filled with scavs and roadies drinking and playing. To the left of the bar is what looks like a well with a pump leading out of it. Stationed near us, facing into the Wastes, are the remains of a crane with two scavs on tops, obviously using it as a lookout. Rows upon rows of bikes and cars fill the right-hand side. I whistle when I see it all. It has a certain road charm to it, if you can ignore the stench of booze, blood, sex, and sweat seeming to hover over it.

  “I stay upstairs in my quarters, the rest of my men stay around back, so you can stay there for the night,” Reeves tells us, before grabbing the nearest scav. “Show them to the plane, will you?” he orders, and then strolls over to two guards that come and wait for their leader’s instructions. “I need a fucking drink and a wet pussy to sink into,” he mumbles, groaning and cracking his back.

  “Ya can fuck right off, ya fat bastard, if ya are talking about me!” Nan calls, before striding up the steps and inside with a laughing Reeves following after her.

  “Come on, Delouris, don’t be like that!” he hollers after her, and my mouth drops open.

  Delouris?

  Laughter bursts from my throat and I look at Dray to see him laughing as well. “Fucking Delouris, no wonder she never told anyone,” I gasp out between laughs.

  “Oh, I can’t wait to throw that in her face.” He smirks and I shake my head.

  “One of these days, she will shoot you,” I warn, but he smiles widely at that.

  “She could try.”

  “Er, this way,” the scav says, looking between us before turning and rushing away. He’s in nothing but shorts and boots. He leads us around the bar and I spot makeshift tents, sleeping quarters, and poorly constructed huts and trailers. Behind it all is what I’m guessing is the plane—fuck, I didn’t think he meant an actual plane.

  What looks like the broken parts of a crashed plane are hidden behind the worse for wear building, with some metal steps leading up to the open plane door and material shielding it from the sun. The scav looks back at us and must see our surprise. “Reeves said it crashed here a couple days after the floods. It’s safe, though, that old tin is never moving. It can get hot during the day, but they’ve set up some fans in there.”

  “Fans? Fucking la-di-da,” I tease, and he turns red before turning back around and moving over to the plane.

 
; “Outhouses are to the right, and drinks and food are inside Dive,” he explains, before he stops at the steps. “You stay here for the night, no one will disturb you.” Then he rushes away, a roadie knocks into him from the side, and they go down snarling and fighting.

  Stepping onto the ladder, my new boots ring out on the metal as I head up to the plane. I stop on the threshold of the open door and look around. Shit, okay, this is cool as hell. Some of the seats are still there, while others have been ripped away and a mattress lies in their place. All sorts of junk litters the space—fans, music, bottles, and clothes. It looks like a storage area, but I like that it’s away from the others with privacy, and we are up high so I can have a good lookout. Stepping inside, I drop my bag and jacket on the mattress, and then stalk around, lifting up items and putting them down as Dray prowls after me like always.

  “You want a drink?” he asks.

  “Yes, but honestly I’m drained. I don’t want to socialise or have to be the Champion right now. I don’t want to be that tonight. I just want to sit and relax and come up with a better plan after all the information we got today.” I turn to him, leaning onto a chair behind me and he nods.

  “Then I’ll go get us a bottle and some food,” he offers, before dropping a hard kiss on my mouth and heading outside, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Looking around again, I sigh and lean back against the chair.

  All this information, all these plans and worries, are rattling around in my brain, but the resounding question is—will it work?

  Stripping off my stained shirt, I sort through the pile of clothes on one of the chairs in the back, and I find a black, sleeveless shirt with an A in graffiti type lettering on it. I try it on and decide to keep it. I kick off my new boots, placing them at the end of my mattress, wiping away the dust on them before I lean back and just let my mind wander.

  Causing chaos is still our best bet, making dissension in the ranks and splitting their focus, but with the way the Cities are laid out, I don’t know how to do that. I want to face them, knock on their gate, maybe I still can? Just then, Dray comes in with a bottle dangling from one hand and a bowl in the other. He passes both to me as he strips out of his boots and unbuttons the top of his jeans, and then sits back on the floor in front of me.

  “I need your advice,” I start and he nods, leaning farther back, reaching out to touch me with his leg like he can’t bear not to touch me, even for a moment. “What would you do?”

  He tilts his head, those icy eyes locked on me. “Probably storm the place and kill them all, but that won’t work, so why don’t we hash this out together?”

  I nod, setting the bowl between us, before flicking off the lid of the bottle and placing it next to it. He sits up, crossing his legs, and I explain the ideas I have and what I want to achieve, as well as the parts where I don’t know what do. He listens intently, only taking a swig after I have finished, his eyes turning distant as he thinks.

  “Let’s simplify it. What do you want?”

  “My men,” I reply instantly, and he smirks. “Get them distracted on two fronts while I enter the other.”

  “Then let’s do that. You planned for me to sneak in anyway, so who’s to say we both can’t rile them up, and then sneak back out and knock on the front door like we planned?”

  It’s so fucking simple that I curse as I grab the bottle and down some before looking at him. “Fuck,” is all I say.

  “There is a reason a leader has generals and advisers. Sometimes you are too close, too involved to figure out a solution. Humans work better together,” he remarks, then grabs some of the food and starts eating it with his fingers. I do the same, watching him the entire time.

  “What happened to your mother?” I inquire out of the blue. I know what happened to the rest of his family, but I never heard about his mother.

  “She died when I was very young, infection, she was a vile woman. Mean right hook.” He shrugs, still eating and sipping the booze.

  “I would ask how you turned out so normal, but…” I trail off and he laughs, throwing his head back, and when he looks at me his eyes are sparkling.

  “You can’t talk, Champion.”

  “Bastard.” I grin and throw back my drink. The sun is setting and the orange rays shine through the plane, reflecting on his beautiful face and body in front of me. I hear Reeves’ men get louder the later it gets, but we are in our own little hideaway up here, and that allows me to relax a little. Once I have finished eating, I lean back on the bed, staring at the curved, plane ceiling.

  It goes quiet, the silence comfortable as he strokes my feet, massaging them while I relax, and when night finally comes and the plane darkens, he gets up and lights the candles dotted around the space, before hovering over me. He takes in my face and then wanders off again. I can’t be bothered to move, so I let him, only turning my head when music fills the air.

  The woman’s husky voice sings of meeting someone again. I spot him standing in front of what looks like a portable, wind-up record player before he turns back to me, prowling towards me then offering his hand. “Dance with me, wife.”

  I glance from those ice-blue eyes to his hand, and I place my palm in his. He pulls me up effortlessly and then spins me away before pulling me back, my spinal hitting his chest. A startled laugh erupts from me when he wraps his arms around me and rocks us to the music, humming along as her voice fills the air, winding around us.

  “She’s singing for us,” he murmurs into my ear, before spinning me and pulling me back to his chest. Leaning my head against him, I let him guide as he moves us from side to side, his arms wrapped around me and holding me against him. His heart beats under my head, echoing in time with mine.

  I let her sorrow filled voice croon to me as my husband holds me. What a strange thought, for sure, but it feels so perfect to be here right now in his arms. Dray often claims he’s lucky he found me, but in reality, it was the other way around. I was a familyless, broken slave before, and now I have this—an incredible man who loves me and would follow me across this world and into the next. I know that’s what he’s saying.

  No matter what happens, we will meet again, not even death itself could keep us from each other.

  Back Home

  I spend the night curled in Dray’s arms, half asleep and relaxed, while the other half of me that can never fully switch off thinks about everything that is to come in the next few days. When the pre-dawn light filters through the small airplane windows, I sneak out of Dray’s arms and head down to the outhouse, doing my business before strolling over to the Dive.

  The shack looks worse in the daylight with bullet holes and blood covering the wood, but it makes me feel at home. Anything too clean out here, I wouldn’t trust it. Strange but true. There’s a back door facing the sleeping scavs and roadies that’s propped open, so I slip through the half broken screen door and it shuts behind me, the silence echoing around me. Is everyone still asleep?

  The back door leads to a corridor where broken frames hang from the walls, and writing decorates both sides like every scav and roadie has carved their road name here, and maybe they have. Running my fingers across the etchings, I follow the dim hallway. There is a door to the left and I open it, peering in to see restrooms, but the smell has my nose wrinkling and I shut the door as I carry on down the hall. There is one picture still in its frame and it stops me as I trace the image with my eyes.

  There’s a large, black bearded man with a bandanna covering his head and shades over his eyes. He has a leather cut in place with a white shirt underneath and blue jeans tucked into big boots. Next to him is a tiny female with bright blue hair and she is grinning. She looks so happy while he looks stern, but the way he is holding her is loving, and the bar is behind them looking better than it does now. The sky is blue and shining in the picture. I spot his hand hovering over her stomach and suck in a breath. Her hand covers his with a ring shining there. On the bottom of the corner in neat, scrawling handwriting is ju
st two names, Tag and Lera, with a little heart drawn after.

  For some reason, it makes me unbearably sad. I’ve seen this world, I know it’s filled with death, but seeing the beauty that was once here in this place where now only destruction stands saddens me. At least they had each other. I trace their faces when shuffling and muttering reaches me from somewhere farther down the corridor, so I cast the picture one last glance before carrying on walking, searching for the reason for the sound. The hallway has one more door to the right before it opens up into what I’m guessing is the front of the bar.

  I peek into the room, noting the tables, poles, and bar curving around the whole room. Wooden stairs are tucked into one corner, leading upstairs. The walls are wooden and covered in posters, dart boards, a broken TV, and other games. A pool table stands at the back with a scav asleep on top, and a naked girl curled up on his chest, which makes me smirk.

  More men and women are passed out around the room, so I leave them be and turn to the other door which opens and leads into a kitchen. The place is surprisingly tidy, with a silver grill, cooker, microwave, and other appliances, as well as a stainless steel counter in the middle of the room. Spoons, ladles, and cutlery hang from hooks in the ceiling. A skinny woman is bustling around, muttering to herself about men being pigs. Her hair is short and swept to the side, a greyish colour tinged with blonde. She turns to me and I freeze, she is beautiful, truly beautiful, but that’s not what stops me…it’s the face. It’s the woman from the picture.

  “Hello there. Sorry, I didn’t know anyone was awake. Are you hungry?” she asks, moving over to the stove, but I stop her by stepping into the room.

  “Lera?” I inquire.

  She grins then, stopping and wiping her hands on an apron tied around her skinny waist. “Saw the picture, did you?”

  I nod and she sighs. “Least no fuckers broke it again, I had to stop him from chopping someone’s balls off last time they did.” She waves it away, coming towards me with her hand outstretched. “Nice to meet you…”