by J. L. Harden
Wasteland Wonderland
Part 2
By J. L. Harden
Contents
Dear Z,
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
Dear Z,
Something is rotten in Wonderland.
Hector stumbled on a whole lot of trouble…
If the truth gets out…
If these girls get away…
There’ll be war…
Rebellion.
There’ll be a revolution.
As far as I know there are five girls.
One of them is dead.
Four are left.
There could be more.
And yes, the rumors are true, they sent an Overseer to clean up the mess.
I knew your father, Z.
I know you’re one of the good ones.
I need your help…
E
Chapter 1
I break into a run, heading for the elevator, leaving Hector alone with the Mayor.
Hector Ramirez.
The Exiled.
Wasteland survivor.
A man on a mission.
A man possessed.
I yell into the radio. I’m telling my deputies to hang back, to sit tight, to not do a goddamn thing unless I give the goddamn order.
There’s a girl at the Water Treatment Plant and apparently she’s packing more heat than the Red Giant.
Hector said… “She’s on our side.”
Our side…
Like we’re choosing sides now?
The note I got from Hector’s brother, Ed, is making a lot more sense now, and it’s starting to scare me, starting to put the fear of god and the almighty sun in my chest, in my heart.
War.
Rebellion.
Revolution.
Girls on the run from Wonderland.
An Overseer.
They sent an Overseer…
I’m about to call the elevator when I hear gunshots. A lot of gunshots. Someone just unloaded an entire magazine worth of bullets.
Sounded like it came from the Mayor’s office.
Did Hector just kill the Mayor?
I freeze.
The noise of the gunfire is replaced by silence.
I’m torn, breathing hard. My heart is racing.
Do I turn back? Or do I keep going? The elevator is taking its damn time. I see the emergency stairwell. How many floors down to the main entrance?
I should know this.
How many floors?
Twenty?
Forty?
How big is this building? How big is the Mayor’s fortress? This building, one of the largest in the Buried City. A building that he commandeered all for himself. A building where he kicked out good people, good families, evicted them to god knows where.
No more gunshots.
A whole lot more silence.
Did Hector just kill the Mayor?
It’s the only explanation because there is no fucking way the Mayor killed Hector.
I resist the urge to turn back, to find out what happened, to find out just exactly how crazy and blood drunk Hector is. I need to go and get my deputies. Need to go and make sure they don’t get their heads blown off.
I run down the stairs. And I can’t help but think about how life is weird and funny and chaotic. I was about to confront the Mayor. I was about to ask him all about the girl we found in that hotel. I was about to ask him about Hector and about Hector’s brother and the note I got from him. The note that said we’re on the verge of an all-out war with Wonderland, that something big is about to go down.
If the Mayor wasn’t straight with me, which he never is, I was going to quit. I was going to turn my badge in. My badge. A star shaped piece of metal that honestly would be worth more if they melted it down and turned it into something useful.
The mayor is never straight with me.
He is always crooked.
Always.
So that means I was going to quit.
I’ve been building up the courage for a while now. Been rehearsing the speech in my head.
I’d made sure my gun, the gun I’d been given by the Mayor the day I was sworn in as Sheriff, was unloaded. The reason I’d made sure it was unloaded was so that when I slammed it down on his table… Wait. Slammed or placed? Maybe I was going to place it on the table. Slowly and dramatically. Still not sure which way would’ve been more effective in getting my point across. I hadn’t decided which one I was going to go with, and so I figured I’d make it up on the fly. But yeah, I’d made sure the gun was unloaded so he wouldn’t be tempted to pick it up and shoot me. I made sure the gun he didn’t know about, the one I have tucked down the back of my pants, was loaded. Made sure it was ready to rock and roll if need be.
I’m even wearing a bullet proof vest.
Now that I think about it, the very fact that I felt the need to take these precautionary steps really highlights just how fucking toxic our working relationship had become. And it really highlights just how much I do not trust that motherfucker.
But anyway, I never got the chance to say my piece, to speak my mind, to deliver the speech that I’ve been rehearsing in front of my bathroom mirror for months now. Because Hector barged in, looking like a man possessed, a man on a mission.
Blood drunk.
Out for revenge.
I never got to say my piece because just then, at that precise moment, I get the call…
There’s a girl.
Packing heat.
More heat than the Red Giant.
She’s on our side...
Chapter 2
I’m at the entrance to the Water Treatment Plant. The life source of the Buried City. And my deputy, a man who has never liked me, never liked the fact that I’m his boss, is telling me to hang back.
He says, “We should wait for the Wonderland Enforcers. This ain’t our problem.”
“Mike, are you fucking kidding me? I told you to hang back so you didn’t get your old ass shot. But it’s go time now. Come on!”
I push past him. He grabs me by the arm and I give him a look that says if you touch me again, I will break your fucking hand.
And I say, “Touch me again and I will break your fucking hand.”
“Zoe, I’m trying to help you. You go in there, you’re going to die. You’re not going to accomplish a goddamn thing. You keep this up, you keep playing the game like this, and you’re going to get us both killed. You’re going to ruin everything.”
I keep walking and I’m trying to ignore what Mike is saying, trying to ignore the words and the terms and the phrases that are dripping with toxicity and a rotten smell that’s so damn palpable I can taste it. And I know for certain that the Buried City has been hollowed out by corruption. I just don’t know what to do about it.
I don’t know if there’s anything to be done about it.
We’re supposed to be peacekeepers, right? We’re supposed to keep everyone in line while we all wait for the Shuttles, while we wait for access into Wonderland. We’re not supposed to abuse our position, our standing. We’re not supposed to abuse what little power we have accumulated, what little power we have been gifted.
And yet it happens all the time.
Maybe it’s human na
ture.
I keep walking.
Mike tries to stop me.
I’m starting to notice blood on the ground.
There’s a guy, a Merc, sitting against the wall, he is holding his right forearm. This part of his arm is no longer attached to his body. His eyes are closed. I can’t tell if he’s dead or alive.
Mercenaries. These guys are so hungry and desperate to make a living and make a name for themselves, that as long as you pay them, as long as you reward them, they’ll go rushing head first into any situation. No matter the danger. No matter the likely hood of losing your limbs and losing your life.
I feel nothing but pity for this poor guy.
I wonder how he lost his arm.
Has to be the work of Hector.
Mike is still behind me. Don’t know why. A second ago he was hell bent on hanging back. Waiting for the Enforcers.
He says, “You’re crazy, you know that? I’m telling you, this isn’t our goddamn problem. The Enforcers will be here. They’re probably on their way already. I put the call out on the radio. They can hear. They’re listening. They’re always listening. They sent an Overseer in with them. An Overseer. We should stay the hell out of this.”
I actually stop and face him. Mike Malone. A veteran of the Last Great War. A man who was promised my job once upon a time. Or so he says. I’m starting to question his claims because usually the words out of his mouth are not true.
The Mayor said he chose me over Mike because he couldn’t trust Mike. Apparently, a long time ago, Mike was a bodyguard for one of the Crime Bosses. Apparently the Mayor couldn’t be assured of Mike’s total and unwavering loyalty. Thought he might be some sort of double agent, working for the Bosses, reporting back to them.
But now that I think about it, who knows whether or not this is true either. The Mayor could’ve cooked up any old story to tell me.
Anyway, I was offered the role.
Me. A girl amongst hard and grizzled men. A child amongst war veterans.
It was an offer to good to refuse but I should never have accepted it. I should’ve realized what I was getting myself into. I should’ve realized that I’d be going to work in a rat’s nest every single day. Working with liars and conmen.
I took the job because it would speed up the process, because I’d be fast tracked.
Entrance into Wonderland.
A seat on one of the fastest Shuttles.
A home on one of the best Arks.
And if I’m being brutally honest, I took the job for selfish reasons. I didn’t take it to help anyone. I took it to save myself.
Mike is yelling at me, shouting at me. Calling me insane. Berating me for not ‘playing the game’. Telling me to wait.
Wait for the Enforcers.
Wait for the Overseer.
“This is a Wonderland problem!” he yells. “You’re going to get us both killed.”
“If we wait… if we sit tight… that girl in there, she’ll be murdered. She’ll be poisoned or worse. Just like the girl we found in that hotel room. I’m not in the business of sitting around and doing shit all while innocent girls are murdered. Not here. Not in my city. Not fucking anywhere.”
“What the hell are you talking about?” he says, playing dumb. Playing innocent.
I’ll give him credit because I give credit where credit is due. Most of the time, Mike is very good at lying, very good at playing pretend. He speaks lies with ease. Plausible deniability, he once told me, is a very important weapon, a very important tool in our line of work.
He continues his charade by saying that Hector was the one who killed that girl. The one from Wonderland. “He kidnapped her. Drugged her. Raped her. And then he killed her because he’s a goddamn monster.”
That’s the official story. And he’s sticking to it. And it makes me sick.
“And besides,” he continues. “This girl, she won’t be murdered. You heard the report. She’s packing heat! She’s armed. She’s dangerous. She brought this on herself.”
“She’s running, Mike. She’s scared. She’s not a killer. She’s not a criminal and she doesn’t deserve this.”
No one deserves this…
Mike is shaking his head. He’s getting desperate. Real desperate.
“Think this through, Zoe. You go against Wonderland, you interfere with their business, there ain’t no way you’ll ever leave this place, this cesspool of a city. You’ll never leave the Wasteland. Don’t you want a life? Don’t you want a new life amongst the stars? A chance to start a family? Don’t you want that?”
Mike grabs me by the arm again because he thinks he’s making a compelling argument and he thinks he’s got me convinced.
I make good on my promise and I break his hand, grabbing his thumb, twisting it until I hear the snap and the crunch.
Twisting until I hear him scream.
He falls to his knees.
“I warned you,” I say. “You crooked old man. I warned you.”
I leave Mike there on his knees, clutching his broken hand. I make my way through the Water Treatment Plant. Stepping around blood stains. Walking through them. I make my way towards the girl. Another girl from Wonderland. Another girl on the run. She’s packing heat. More heat than the Red Giant.
She’s on our side.
Up ahead, I see a Merc by the name of Tommy Two Scars. They call him Tommy Two scars because his name is Tom and he has two scars on his face, one over each eye. He has a radio in his hand. A nice and shiny looking radio. High-tech. Definitely from Wonderland.
He speaks to someone, probably the Enforcers, probably a Commander. Maybe the Overseer that everyone’s talking about.
He’s giving intel.
“They came through here,” he says. “Both of them. Hector and the girl. She was providing cover fire. She took out a lot of Mercs, man. You shoulda seen it. This girl can shoot. I’m talking precision. Laser guided precision. Like she’s a fucking robot or something, man. She’s good is what I’ saying. Anyway, Hector showed up. He showed up and he’s angry, he’s furious, right? I’m hanging back because, I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do against Hector fucking Ramirez, right? So he starts poking around real casual like. He’s not hiding. He’s not sneaking around. He’s just out in the open. He’s not worried about nothing. So I follow from a safe distance. Follow him all the way to this vault door. A vault fucking door. In the Water Treatment Plant? It’s the damndest thing.”
A voice finally speaks to Tommy through the radio. There’s a lot of static. I can’t make out what the voice says.
“No,” Tommy answers. “The vault is still locked. Anyway, this tall and skinny motherfucker shows up, right? And Hector and this dude, they get to blows. Hector opens up. Like, I’m talking he unloads with a full magazine from some kind of goddamn high-tech machine gun. Something real fucking cool that I ain’t never even seen before.”
Tommy Two Scars…
He gives a play by play to the man on the other end of the line. Probably, definitely an Enforcer.
Maybe the Overseer.
Then he says, “Anyway, Hector just fucking ends it, man. He grabbed this guy by the neck, by the throat, and he fucking broke his goddamn spine. Can you believe that? Broke his spine with his bare hands. It was beautiful, man.”
The person on the other end speaks…
“No, she’s still here somewhere,” Tommy says. “She’s hanging back. She’s keeping a low profile. But I’m warning you guys, she’s got some kind of high powered, high velocity sniper rifle. And she is good and accurate with it. So you guys better watch your fucking heads if you want to keep them.”
A blast of static.
“You are very welcome. What do I want? Well, let’s put it this way. I’d be happy, more than happy, if you give me full rights to whatever is in that bag of hers, and that rifle she’s got.”
I’m going to need to take down Tommy Two Scars.
Need to get to the girl. Need to get her far away from this place.
Because this place is about to be crawling with Wonderland Enforcers. And if I don’t do this quick and good, we’ll be trapped in here.
Tommy is still speaking into his fancy radio, still negotiating the terms of his payment. He’s not taking any notice of his surroundings, which means I can get nice and close.
I say, “Hey, Tommy.”
It’s all it takes. It’s enough to shock him and surprise him. He fumbles the radio. He drops it. He turns to face me and there is a look of absolute confusion on his face.
“Sherriff?”
It’s all he says, all he has time to say.
I put my boot through his face. His face with two scars. Two scars given to him by the Crime Bosses of the Buried City. Or maybe by a Wonderland Enforcer. Maybe even the Lord.
These scars were given to him for being a good little snitch. A good little rat. These two scars are supposed to let everyone know that he is a made man. That he is untouchable.
I guess he could call in a favor or two. Get me killed.
So I better make this worth it. Better get my kicks in and get my money’s worth.
I flatten his face with my boot, breaking his nose. I kick him in the side of the head, breaking his jaw.
He goes down.
I get my money’s worth.
I pick the radio up. And the voice, a man, an Enforcer says, “Thomas? Report.”
I drop the radio on the ground and stomp on it.
I look down at Tommy. Shit. He could be dead. I might’ve gotten carried away.
I might’ve killed a made man.
A man with two scars.
Two.
Two scars given to him by the Lord or someone important and powerful.
I’m so fucking dead.
Doesn’t matter that I’m the Sherriff of the Buried City.
Doesn’t matter that I’m in the right and that this son of a bitch is a career criminal. A parasite. This fact makes no difference to the people of Wonderland.
To the Lord.
To the Collector.
I see my future slipping away from me, a future that I had planned and given myself permission to dream about and fantasize about alone in my room. Alone at night. A fantasy of getting off this rock, away from the Red Giant. Starting a new life.