15 Years Later: Wasteland

by Nick S. Thomas

  As the blade drew, the man realised his error and turned to give him a backhand, but there was no time. Zed slashed his filthy hand as it came at him, and that forced it down. He cut again to the inner thigh, opening a deep wound that brought the man down to one knee. Without another word, he cut down with all his power in a vicious blow that buried deep in his collarbone. He collapsed like a ton of bricks. And as the body hit the ground, it was all too clear just how quiet the audience had become.

  It was a moment of peace that allowed him to think back to the happy memory he’d relived in the midst of the deadly fight for survival. He ignored all of his surroundings now. His arm reached up to wave, but he didn't even notice it, as if he had no control over his own body. He smiled as he watched the memory play out in his head. He waved and watched as the woman looked back and smiled while the girl ran excitedly on.

  The roar of the crowd brought him back to reality, and the blood-soaked sands he hailed from. Jay was clapping his hands loudly, audible even over all of his gang.

  "Bravo!"

  This can't be all there is to life? I have to get out. I have to find them!

  Chapter 5

  The night passed slowly. He looked up from his cell in the hope of seeing the stars, but there was only a fog in the air or thick cloud cover. As his body cooled after the fight, so did the ground. So much so that he began to shiver. There was no one coming to give him hot food or a blanket, no one to tend to his wounds or share a few words.

  Is there nobody left that cares?

  Four hours had gone by, and he had slept no more than one of them. Every creak or distant voice awoke him. It wasn't just the bitter cold, but also the fear of what might come for him. Who might come to stab him in the back or slit his throat? Footsteps were now approaching.

  They have to be coming for me, but why?

  He froze and just looked up and waited. The small hatch opened, and finally a man appeared and looked down at him. He appeared to be in his fifties and had a grey beard. His skin was wrinkled and worn from a hard existence, but there was the slightest of warmth in his eyes that Zed had seen from no other.

  "Why did you come back here like this? Why?" he pleaded.

  Zed could only shrug and shake his head.

  "What do you mean?" he asked in return.

  "You had your chance, and you took it. Why come back? Why? What is there for you here but death?"

  The man was shaking his head in disbelief, but Zed's mouth was open in shock. He had no idea what the man was saying, but it was clear that somehow he recognised him.

  "Who are you?"

  "Why couldn't you just have stayed gone?"

  He began shaking his head again.

  "What...what is this...who are you?"

  But he shut the grate over him.

  "Please, help me!" Zed cried out in a loud whisper.

  The man was leaving the scene. He slumped back down again in despair. He’d had some chance and hope of learning who he was and where he was, and yet it was ripped away from him.

  Did the man hear anything I said?

  Another hour passed, and he couldn't sleep for a second of it. There couldn't be more than a couple of hours more darkness. As much as he longed for the sun to warm his body once more, he could only imagine it would lead to a new day of pain and suffering at the hands of such sadistic and savage people. His hope was fading. He had to get out. He had to find his family. He had no reason to believe they were alive, but something in his gut gave him hope. Maybe that was just his body finding a reason to fight and to survive. Once again he heard footsteps approaching.

  Is this the end?

  The whole grate was lifted quietly and carefully, and the older man stood above him. He reached in and took a firm grasp of Zed's hand and hauled him out from the damp and cruel cell, but he didn't say a word.

  "Please, tell me who I am, and what I am doing here?" Zed pleaded.

  The man shook his head.

  He clearly knows more than he is letting on, but how can I get it out of him?

  Voices could be heard of three men drawing nearer.

  "Go, while you still can," said the man.

  It was all Zed needed to hear. He desperately wanted to stay and know more. But survival overrode all of that, all but one thing.

  Where are my photos?

  He stopped and looked around in all directions.

  "What are you doing? What are you waiting for?" asked the man desperately.

  He soon spotted it. His coat. It was hanging off a pole sticking out from a pillar beside Jay's throne from where he had overseen the fight the day before.

  "Just go! Go West!"

  He had genuine concern and worry on his face.

  Why does he care so much for me, a stranger? How does he know me?

  There was no time to ask, and he didn't seem eager to give up any information, anyway. He rushed to the open gate where the man had come from and only checked very briefly before passing through it. A crudely built wooden stairway led up to the top of the barricade and towards the throne. He rushed to the top to find a battlement like viewing platform.

  He felt his heart stop, and he could not move his feet. Ten feet in front of him along the platform was the woman who had tried to kill him. Still dressed in her ridiculous schoolgirl themed attire, she was leaning over the edge into the arena in full view of the cell he had come from. He looked back down. The cell was shut and the man gone.

  Did she see him let me go? What does it matter? I don't owe anyone in this place a shred of loyalty.

  She stepped away from the edge and squared off with him, and that revealed the hatchet hanging in her right hand. He didn't want to risk another fight. He was tired. His muscles were cold and his body slow.

  I might be able to beat her, but what if she gets lucky? What if she underestimated me last time? Too many possibilities, the last thing I need right now is an axe wielding maniac schoolgirl raising all kinds of hell.

  He opened his mouth to speak, but she lifted her left hand and put her index fingers to her lips.

  "Shhh," she whispered.

  But her lips were pouting, and she was being overtly sexual as she did it. Was this how she acted all the time, or was she expecting something? She stepped aside and rested her back against the platform wall. Her hatchet was still casually by her side, and she gestured with her other hand for him to go on.

  What the hell is this?

  He wanted to ask her but didn't want to risk angering her. He carried on and passed her cautiously, watching every move she made like a hawk. But all she did was blow him a kiss. He kept eye contact with her even as he got a few feet past. She probably thought it meant something. It did. He was making sure she didn't stab him in the back. He reached his coat and dived into the pocket to check for the photos. His hand withdrew a little with them, and he breathed a sigh of relief. Along with his clothes, they were all he owned. That made them worth risking his life for.

  His shirt was nowhere to be seen, but he slipped his coat back on and was glad to find his bag and belt hung underneath. The voices of the men were very close now, and he noticed a glimmer of movement on the platform on the opposite side of the arena. He dropped like a stone for cover and stayed down against the barrier, looking up to see what the woman would do.

  "Hey, boys," she said and licked her lips.

  "What are you doing up here?"

  "Just admiring the view," she replied jovially.

  She turned back around and rested back against the wall once again. It was clear she had brushed them off somehow and kept his escape a secret.

  "Thank you," he whispered.

  "You saved my life, and now I have saved yours. Run, while you still can."

  It was all he needed to hear. He stayed low and scampered past her to the stairway, rushing down it as quietly as he could. When he reached the bottom, he found himself on the edge of what looked like a main road through the town. On either side were vehicles parked up, inc
luding the truck that had chased him down. There were all sorts of rust covered and beaten up vehicles that spanned at least fifty years. None of them looked like they should even drive and seemed as if they had been dragged off a scrap heap.

  For a moment he thought about taking one of the vehicles, but there was no chance of getting out of the camp without being pursued. He'd had enough of being chased. It was a shame, though, because he could sure do with some wheels right now. He didn't know where to be heading or why, but more than anything he'd like to do it with speed. He looked around for any more signs of movement, but there was none. He went onwards, making his way from building to building. It looked like an old industrial facility that had been converted into a shantytown.

  There were no lights anywhere to be seen, and only a little moonlight could break through the clouds to guide him. Visibility was short, and that was a good thing. He heard several coughs as he passed one building and stopped for a moment and held his breath. More coughs came out, and then they stopped. He waited for a sign of movement but was glad to hear none. He turned back towards the street and his way out, but as he did so, one item caught his eye.

  A few feet ahead a beaten up Dodge Ram. It wasn't the vehicle that interested him so much. It was what hung in the back window, a rifle, and not just any rifle. A Springfield M1903, one of the greatest bolt action weapons ever made. Ancient, and as good at its job as the day it came out of the factory. He wasn't sure how or why he knew that, but it sparked a memory of him on a range from many years ago. He was with a man he thought was his brother beside him and smiling, as they took it in turns to fire some ridiculous calibre hunting rifle.

  He couldn't go on without at least trying to claim it. He crept up to the vehicle cautiously. The doors had long gone, replaced with tubular steel permanently fixed in place. He reached over and very gently eased the weapon up and out of the brackets it was suspended in. It was caked in dust and looked like it hadn't moved in years. A bandolier of stripper clips hung from one of the hooks. He threw that over his body and carried on. He didn't even bother to check if the rifle was useable. He couldn't risk firing a shot. He'd never make it out of there alive if he did, so he slung it over his back. As he was leaving, he noticed a hunting knife suspended in a leather sheath tied with zip ties below the steering column.

  He drew out his multi-tool and quietly cut it free, checked the blade, and slipped the sheath onto his belt. He went onwards. With every step he took, he expected the alarm to be raised. Up ahead was a large wall, the outside of which he remembered seeing when he first woke. This was it. He was almost there, but it stood more than twenty feet high and had been made from high quality construction materials, as if done by the previous inhabitants. He couldn't believe Jay and his band of lunatics could have been capable of such. The wrecks of old cars lay propped up against the barriers for extra strength.

  Two large gates lay at the end of the road ahead. They were the full height of the walls and locked and sealed by massive locks and additional buttresses. He studied every inch of it, looking for a way out. As his gaze reached the very top, he noticed a glimmer of light and focused his eyes. A glint of moonlight bounced off a tin mug held by a man on top of the wall. Zed jumped into the cover of the nearest buildings and held his breath so that he could hear every sound ahead. He hadn't been noticed, and that was confirmed as he carefully peered around the corner to see the man take a sip from his mug.

  It was a small tower that rose up just above the gateway and off to one side. A heavy machine gun was fitted forwards looking out into the distance. He wondered if it even had ammunition, or was its presence a deterrent enough? He didn't want to find out. He didn't want to go up there at all, but he knew he had to. Their viewpoint allowed them to see for at least a hundred yards even in the dark. A small stairway led up to the tower.

  Zed quietly wound his way around the last few structures and climbed a metal stairway onto the walls. He looked out and found it was just as he had hoped for. The freedom he had prayed for. Back to the wall, there was no other sign of Jay's people, other than the one man in the tower. He drew his knife and crept forward, always keeping a watchful eye on the man.

  The sentry appeared to be completely oblivious to everything. He simply looked out into the distance with a vague expression on his face as he sipped from his mug. Zed calmed his breathing as he drew nearer and clenched the knife tightly. He reached the base of the stairs to the tower. There were only ten steps up to the eight-foot square position. He crept up the steps. Half way up he finally had a full view into the tower and discovered a second man sitting asleep against the inner wall.

  Shit!

  He kept going. He had no choice. He had almost made it when the sentry knocked back the last of his drink and turned around, stopping dead as he spotted Zed. He froze for a moment as if it was the last thing in the world he expected to see. Zed did not hesitate. He launched the knife at the man. It pierced his coat and embedded in his heart. He dashed up the last few steps and caught the body to slow his descent, but it wasn't enough. The head of the dying man touched the sleeping one, and he began to stir.

  Zed leapt into his lap and held his hand over the man's mouth as he tried to shout, and that muted him down to a vague mumbling that didn't carry. He began to struggle, but Zed smashed his knee into the man's sternum twice to subdue him. He fought back, swinging two heavy blows into Zed's flank. He managed to take some of the power out of the blows by dipping his elbows into the strike, but it still hurt. He reached around the back of the man's head with his other hand and sharply snapped his head.

  His neck was broken, and he instantly went limp. He let go, and the body slumped down beside him. He looked down at the damage he had done. All he could think was how he had killed six people in two days.

  When will it ever stop? Why can't they just leave me be?

  In one corner was a large coiled up rope. He tied it off against one of the supports, threw it over the edge, and looked around for any last signs of life before climbing down. As his feet touched the ground, he instantly felt better and took in a breath of air. It was far fresher than the stagnant filth inside Jaytown.

  Which way? What was it the old man said? Go West. Why? I have no reason to go anywhere else, so why not?

  He began to walk out into the night. He still felt lost, but at least he was free.

  Chapter 6

  The sun was rising on the horizon, and the first light and the heat it brought was a welcome feeling on Zed's skin. He sat atop a rock and watched and waited. Far into the distance was Jaytown. He was waiting for the inevitable response of its inhabitants as they stirred and witnessed what he had done. He looked back to the West, the way he had been heading. He could see nothing but mountains.

  Why West?

  He'd love to know more, just another minute to ask that man questions. There was plenty of open ground between him and those mountains. He couldn't risk it in daylight.

  Thirty minutes passed. The first thing he heard was the echo of the huge bell ringing out for miles around. They had awoken all right. It brought a smile to his face. He didn't like having to kill, but it brought him some satisfaction after what they had made him endure. He took the time to relax and enjoy his freedom, the fresh air, and the warmth of the sun. He opened his bag and found his flask had been filled with water. By who, it didn't matter. He didn't have anything to eat, but at least with water he could survive a while.

  It wasn't long before the roar of engines echoed across the plains. He hunkered down low to be safe and watched as twelve vehicles tore out from the gates of the town and separated into threes to go in all directions. He nodded in appreciation of the fact they clearly had no idea where he had gone. He watched for a full five minutes until he was satisfied he was safe before ducking down behind some rocks to be well hidden. He took one more sip and then rested back to look at the photos he had retrieved.

  The picture of the woman and child were the ones he stared at.
<
br />   Are they mine?

  He felt such a deep personal connection to them both but still couldn't tell exactly why. He could only guess. As he noticed a necklace around the woman's neck, he remembered the chain and ring that had been around his. He reached up to feel them, but they were already gone. It felt like a part of him was missing, and his heart skipped a few beats.

  A few rocks being thrown loose nearby brought him back to reality. He dropped the photos and snatched up his rifle. Without any idea if it were even loaded or operational, he stood up and lifted it to his shoulder. The sights came into line, and he found himself before the crazy woman who had tried to kill him. Her hands were empty, and he could not help but feel satisfied that their roles were now reversed. He looked around for others from Jaytown. A few steps each side allowed him to get a good view of the area.

  There was still one vehicle racing across the sands in the distance, but nothing close by. She was carrying a pack on her back, and her hatchet thrust into a belt as if she had been travelling for a while.

  "What do you want?" he demanded.

  There was no time for niceties. They clearly meant nothing to these people, and despite her act of kindness in letting him escape; he couldn't help but feel the desire to pull the trigger. But his doubt over the weapon, and her hatchet being so close to hand, made him stay clear of the trigger.

  "What do you want?" he repeated in a louder and sterner tone.

  She lifted a clenched fist and that made him a little edgier still. But as she opened her hand, a ring dropped, hung from the chain that had been around his neck. He couldn't believe his luck. He let his guard down and lowered the rifle for a second as he gazed upon the ring, but snapped back out of it and raised the rifle against her once again. She said nothing and simply held out the ring as if expecting him to make the next move.

  Is this a peace offering?

  It seemed as good as any. He stepped forward cautiously and snapped it from her hands.

  "I can't go back," she said bluntly.