Origins (The Wasteland Chronicles, #2)

by Kyle West

  “The book I found was an overview of many different schools. I practiced. I was my own teacher. Soon, sword forms became my new escape. Besides, it was a useful skill to learn to keep people from taking advantage. Later on, I found a university library, where I learned even more. When I wasn’t sleeping, eating, or walking to the next place, I was practicing the sword. I started training at the age of thirteen.”

  “What happened to your mother?”

  Anna’s face grew still. “I missed that part, didn’t I? She died. She got sick with a wasting illness. She was dead within a week.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  The words sounded so trite for something so horrible. I didn’t know what else to say, though.

  “After that, I wandered for another few months. It became unbearable to wander any longer. I headed for Raider Bluff, with the intent of finding my way there somehow, of becoming a Raider. I was hoping a raid group of some kind would take me on, preferably one that would raid in Black Reaper territory. I wanted vengeance, ever since that day, and wanted to kill as many of them as possible. I hope someday I can bring about that gang’s end.”

  “You and Makara are alike, there,” I said.

  Anna nodded. “Soon, in Raider Bluff, my skill became apparent. Char recruited me as his personal bodyguard. This was four months ago. In Raider Bluff, I had food, a bed, and other people to talk to, even if they were Raiders. And I had full license to practice my craft in my off time, when not running errands for Char.”

  “What kind of errands?”

  Anna shrugged. “I’m sort of like a spy. Many would try to kill the Alpha to take his place. It’s my job to prevent that happening.”

  “I bet you have some interesting stories there.”

  Anna gave a half smile. “Maybe. But now is not the time. I have talked enough, and dinner will burn if I do not attend to it.”

  She got up, and lifted the lid off the pot, filling the cave with the mouthwatering aroma of stew.

  She had given the stew a few stirs when, from nowhere, a shadowy form of a man entered the cave.

  Everyone stood and drew their weapons.

  Chapter 11

  The shadow stepped into the light, revealing itself as a short, stooped old man wearing a cloak with hood. He had no weapon other than a gnarled walking stick.

  “Who are you,” Samuel said, “and what do you want?”

  He was old – very old. He had wrinkled, weathered skin that had seen many Wasteland winters. His eyes were soft and intelligent, belying the toughness of the rest of his face. By the firelight, I noticed something strange about those bright, gray eyes. They were clouded.

  He was blind.

  “I felt the warmth of the fire from afar,” the man said, “and heard voices, and smelled the food. I’ve been wandering for days, and was wondering if I might have a bite and a rest.”

  No one said anything, suspecting a trap. Raiders did this, sometimes – used a distraction to catch groups unawares. If only he knew about the weapons pointed at him, would he have been so calm?

  “You are blind,” Samuel said. “No blind man can survive alone. Not out here.”

  The man smiled, as if he had heard this many times before – but no matter how many times it was said, he knew it was wrong all the same.

  “I have made these lands my home for two decades without my sight,” the man said. “Every tree, every rock, I know from memory. Men do not pass this way. Not anymore. They have all gone west, or south. The rest were taken by the Blight.”

  “You are alone?” Samuel asked.

  The man nodded. “I am. If you do not believe me, there is nothing I can say to convince you.” He gestured to a spot near the fire. “May I sit? These knees are not what they used to be.”

  Samuel paused, unsure. “You may sit. Be warned; we are watching you.”

  “There is no need to fear,” the man said. “I simply take food where I can find it, and sleep where I can get it. I am the Wanderer.”

  Samuel nodded toward Makara. She grimaced, and found a bowl and a spoon for the old man. She ladled some stew in – two healthy scoops. Samuel eyed her. She scowled, and ladled another small scoop in. Satisfied, Samuel nodded again. Makara handed the old man the stew.

  Somehow, he knew it was there, because he reached out and took it.

  “It’s hot,” he said, with a smile. “Good, for a cold night like this.”

  Everyone watched the old man. Anna was wary and had a hand on her blade the entire time. I didn’t blame her. Personally, I didn’t think the old man was any harm. I just wondered what he was doing here, and how he survived in the wild without his eyesight.

  The old man ate several mouthfuls. He did not seem to mind that it was near scalding.

  “Who are you?” Samuel asked. “What brings you to our cave?”

  The old man chuckled. “Your cave?”

  Samuel frowned. “Well...maybe it is yours. I don’t know.”

  “Nothing is anybody’s,” the old man said. “Not anymore. In the Old World, they had mountains of paper deciding who owned what. All that is irrelevant. In the Old World, I owned much of this land here, by Mount Elden. I was a very rich man. But I suppose you do not care about that, either.”

  “I hope you don’t mind us staying here,” Samuel said.

  “Oh, no. I welcome visitors. It’s been so long since anyone has been out this way. I stay away from the city. For a long time, there were people there, even after the Rock fell. They are all gone – either dead, or relocated to the south. I was the only one who stayed.”

  “Relocated?” I asked. “By who? Where?”

  “By the Novans,” the old man said. “I have talked to their kind before. A group passed this way, about a month ago. Asking about Bunkers.”

  “Novans,” Samuel said. “How many?”

  “There were six or so,” the old man said. “They are long gone, into the Great Blight. Who knows what became of them?”

  We all looked at each other. As long as it was not our Bunker, Bunker One, there was no problem. But hadn’t Marcus said that was on the top of their list?

  There was no way to know for sure without asking the man. I didn’t think Samuel would want to give that away. Not yet, anyway.

  “Why did you stay when everyone else left?” Anna asked.

  “This is my home. And I am far too old for moving. Here I have stayed ever since Dark Day. The government would not let me into Bunker 88, in the mountain. So I made my own bunker. That was long, long ago. Thirty years ago. I would have been fifty.”

  “What is your name?” I asked.

  The man smiled. “I don’t remember what it was people called me. I am different. I have been preserved for a purpose. I have seen you coming.”

  “But...you can’t see,” I pointed out helpfully.

  The man took another bite of stew. He was slowing down, and the bowl was nearly drained.

  “This is what I do remember. My family and I survived for nearly a year in my underground bunker. It was a horrible experience. We ended up coming out a year after. My wife, two daughters, and their husbands, and two children. That was 2031. Those days were bad.”

  The man did not speak for a while. He finished eating.

  “I remember watching the sky every night since Ragnarok first became visible. It grew and grew, redder and brighter each night. It is a strange thing to watch your own death approach you, and not do anything about it. You cannot imagine the terror of those times. ‘The Dark Decade’ does not even begin to describe it. It’s a wonder the world didn’t blow itself up with nuclear war before Dark Day.”

  “And you have lived out here for all this time?” I asked.

  “More or less,” the man said. “But I have wandered many places – north, south, west, and east. I am the Wanderer.”

  “How do you survive?” Samuel asked. “No weapon, no vision...and forgive me for saying, but you’re old.”

  The Wanderer chuckled. “Yes. I am old
. Too old for this world, that is for sure. But I have another kind of vision. A vision of the mind, that allows me to see what needs to be seen; even things that are not visible, such as thought and intent.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “It was not always this way,” the man said. “But I have an inner feeling that I have learned to trust, and it directs me in the right way. Just as it directed me here, to this cave. Go to the cave, it said. I did not question. I went. Maybe it is God. Maybe it is something else. It is there, all the same.”

  “That makes no sense,” Makara said.

  Samuel held a hand up. “And you are alone?”

  The Wanderer gave a single nod. “I have been alone for years. This land is empty. Not even the Raiders come this far. There is no reason. This is the eastern fringe of the Boundless, and beyond that is the Great Blight – where no man goes. I lived in the east, for a time. Now, the Blight is a wall, and east and west will never speak again – unless one were to stop the Blights.”

  We all looked at each other. This man pinpointed our exact mission, without even knowing us.

  He smiled in satisfaction. “Do you believe?”

  “How do you know the reason we have come?” Samuel asked.

  “I know many things – Samuel.”

  Everyone gasped. I wasn’t convinced. He could have overheard someone saying the name, if he had been hiding outside for a while.

  “Are you some type of mind reader?” Lisa asked. “I have heard of such things.”

  “I am the only one I know of,” the Wanderer said. “With my mind, I see many things that are hidden. If I look into your eyes, I can see your fate.”

  I was skeptical. “A mind reader, and a prophet. Can you tell us if we will succeed?”

  The old man didn’t say anything to that. “No, I cannot tell you that. No one can. But I can tell you what you must do lest you certainly fail.”

  That got everyone’s attention. Everyone waited for the Wanderer to speak.

  “What must we do?” Samuel asked.

  “Everyone’s individual part is different,” the Wanderer said. “And I must tell you each in turn. After I have told you, you cannot tell any other person, or it all falls apart.”

  “Clearly,” I said.

  Everyone looked at me, urging me to be respectful. It was hard. I wasn’t buying it.

  The Wanderer paid me no heed, however. It was a bit irritating. Instead, he turned to Lisa.

  “Lisa.”

  She jumped when he said her name.

  “You first.”

  The Wanderer stood, and Lisa looked up at him.

  “Now?”

  “Yes. Yours is short, but important.”

  Lisa walked over to the Wanderer. Fear was in her eyes, even if she hid it well in her composure.

  The Wanderer spoke softly, and Lisa listened. Whatever the Wanderer said, however important, she kept her face unreadable. He said maybe two sentences before she turned away and sat where she had been before.

  Next, he looked at Samuel. Samuel stood and walked immediately to the Wanderer. The Wanderer drew him away from the fire, toward the mouth of the cave. They talked for a while – maybe five minutes. Samuel asked a question here and there, but was mostly quiet.

  It seemed strange to me that these two could soak up this man’s words and take them at face value. Who was he? There was no such thing as prophecy or mysticism. There was only science and brute fact. My father had taught me as much, and the world we lived in only solidified that stance. If there were a God, if there were anything – why would he have let this happen?

  Yet, the man had known much – things that weren’t necessarily impossible for him to know, but things that were very good guesses, nonetheless.

  Samuel returned to his spot by the fire. The Wanderer stood, looking at Anna.

  She rose and walked forward, as if meeting her death. The Wanderer spoke to her for maybe half a minute – after which she nodded once. She stood there a moment, and then came back. She did not meet my eyes when she sat.

  It was just me and Makara. The Wanderer shifted his gaze between us, as if wondering who should go first. Finally, his eyes rested upon Makara.

  “Come, Makara,” he said.

  Makara got up and went to the Wanderer. He spoke to her in much the same way as he spoke to anyone else. I could tell she was fighting back tears. It was not as if the Wanderer said anything unkind to her – Makara would not have cried about that. It did make me wonder what he had said, though.

  It was my turn. I had never felt more afraid in my life. I was starting to doubt myself. At first, I hadn’t thought this man had any ability to see the future, at least no more than I did. Now, I wasn’t sure.

  I walked past the fire, and stood in front of the Wanderer, as the rest had. His eyes were filmy. They spooked me. Cloudy and gray, they were bright and reminded me of their eyes. It was as if I were staring into the eyes of a ghost.

  For some reason, it felt as if he were much older than he had let on.

  “How are you, Alex?”

  “Don’t you know already?”

  I knew I shouldn’t have been cheeky, but I couldn’t help it. The man paid no heed – he only smiled.

  “Just like your father,” he said. “He never had the stomach for any of that mystic crap, did he?”

  My eyes widened. How could he have known about my father?

  I tried to find some explanation, some excuse. A lucky guess here just didn’t seem to cut it.

  “Did you know my father?” I asked, in a whisper.

  “Maybe. It is doubtful. I will tell you what I haven’t told the others.”

  I took a step back. I didn’t know what to say, but I wanted to know what he meant.

  “Years ago,” he said, “I became lost in a Blight. There was something in the air that made me fall asleep. I woke up insane, and I became the Wanderer. I was blind, but I began to see things with my mind. Something happened to me, out there...and now I can see everything. I know everything. Only I can’t speak it. I am not allowed. Something beyond stops me.”

  “None of this makes any sense.”

  “Sometimes, it doesn’t have to.”

  I tried to make sense of that one, but it only left me more confused. I willed my brain to shut itself off.

  “I will tell you what I can, Alex. All of this is bigger than any of you realize. It will all be made apparent, soon – and all of you can decide what to do about it. At least, the ones of you who survive. It was written that there will be wars and rumors of wars when the end comes. Maybe the end isn’t coming – but an end surely is. And it is an end none of you will want to face.”

  “Some will die?”

  “Some?” the Wanderer whispered. “Maybe all. As soon as you cross the border, into the Great Blight, everything will change. You will be fighting for your very lives, every second, every breath.”

  “We already are,” I said.

  “You think you are. Something is out there, far more sinister than the crawlers, far more ancient, far more powerful. Something wants you dead.”

  “What is this something?”

  “I don’t know it, but I can hear it in my dreams. A Voice. A Song, which encompasses the whole world. It will enthrall all life unless you can silence it.”

  There was no way I was getting anything out of that, so I decided to ask questions that required a straight answer. “How soon until we get there?”

  “Tomorrow evening will be your last night on this side before you stand before the Gates of Hell.”

  “You say that as if it is an actual place.”

  “It is.”

  The Wanderer grabbed my shoulders, causing me to nearly jump out of my skin. “It all hinges on you, Alex. You have wondered, more than once, what your place is here. I am telling you now. Without you, this mission will fail. Without you, the world will fall and everyone will die.”

  “What is the xenovirus?” I asked. “Why is it
killing us?”

  “I can only say so much, Alex. The rest you will have to discover on your own. But there is something out there trying to stop you. Something does not want you reaching Bunker One, and it is not just the Novans.”

  The fact the Wanderer knew where we were headed did not surprise me. This man finally had me convinced.

  “What do I have to do? Just tell me, and I will do it.”

  “You must be ready. I have told everyone else what they must do. There is a sacrifice you must make. You will know it when the time comes. That is remote yet, but never forget my words. You must make it, or all shall crumble to dust.”

  I remained silent. The Wanderer had more to say.

  “You have a gift no one else here has. If this group can’t come together, you all might as well leave and return to Raider Bluff and wait for the end. Because the end is coming. I always thought Ragnarok was the end. No. Ragnarok was only the beginning.”

  The Wanderer’s warning sent chills down my spine.

  “The beginning? What’s going to happen?”

  “I cannot see that far. There are too many strings. It all depends on you, though; I can see that much.”

  I looked away. No pressure at all.

  “Just tell me what I must do.”

  “You will know, in time. Just remember my words.”

  “I don’t even know how to interpret that.”

  The Wanderer was still holding onto me. He had not let go for two minutes. He did so now.

  “Your potential is far beyond what you even realize. There is always something we can do to make another’s day brighter – a smile, a kind word or gesture – the small things give us the strength to do the big things.”

  The Wanderer turned from me and faced the fire, its orange glow reflecting off his face. He went off to sit where he had eaten. Everyone watched him quietly.

  “I have said all I came to say,” he said. “I just need to have a bit of a rest and I’ll be off.”

  “I’ll bring you a blanket,” I said.

  The Wanderer smiled. “That would be good.”

  I went to the Recon, and found him something to cover up with, my mind a blur. Once I’d grabbed a thick blanket, I returned and handed it to the Wanderer. He accepted it, wrapped himself up, and lay with his back to the fire. Within moments, his breathing was even with sleep.