The Wastelander

by Tipsy Wanderer

  “It’s getting worse.” She was a common looking woman, time and stress having made her haggard. “She doesn’t eat a thing and sleeps all day. She’ll wake up maybe once and complain that she wants to see her daddy.”

  She couldn’t keep the knot in her throat from creeping into her voice.

  With all the talking, the afflicted little girl’s eyes fluttered open. They were brown and beautiful, and clear as pure crystal. In this putrid wasteland, it was hard to find eyes like these.

  The little girl struggled to extend her stick-thin hand and put it in Leonine’s calloused hand. There was joy in her sparkling eyes as she looked at him, like she’d forgotten all the pain wracking her little body. She called to him, her voice as thin and frail as a mosquito’s beating wings. “Don’t go daddy… okay?”

  “Stop your nonsense and get some rest.” He kissed her tiny hand. “I’ve almost got enough money. We’re gonna get you the best doctors and it’s gonna be just like before.”

  “Brother and Mommy are always being bullied by bad men. You have to stay, Daddy.” Tears had begun to gather in her eyes, twinkling in the dim light. “I don’t feel bad. Honest. I don’t.”

  Leonine’s eyes were red. She was eight years old, but she knew she didn’t have much time left. The little girl didn’t want her father to walk into danger when her mother and brother needed him here.

  Leonine shut his eyes at the painful thought. He couldn’t give up. He couldn’t. Even though he knew there was so little hope.

  The middle-aged woman wiped the edges of her eyes and spoke to Leonine. “You must be tired after all that travelling. Let me fix you some food. We’ll eat together tonight.”

  No matter how dark the world had become, no matter how cruel the wastelands, no matter how hard just living was, whenever he finished a task and laid his tired bones down to rest at home surrounded by family, Leonine was happy. He was willing to do anything to protect them.

  They weren’t together long before…

  “Hey, is Leonine home?” A guard barged in. “Your batch has been inspected. Please go to the Fort to collect your earnings.”

  Leonine didn’t delay. He headed toward the fort at once.

  Greenland Fort dominated the outpost from its center, the ivory tower from which its leadership rules.

  The building occupied about five thousand square feet of land and was forty to fifty meters high. It was big enough that ten thousand people could live in it, and those that did were the best of the outpost. Denizens of the fort had cleaner water, better healthcare, and safer accommodations.

  Leonine’s dream was to one day move his family into the tower.

  The highest floor was reserved for the outpost leader. Over a hundred and fifty hand-picked bodyguards were permanently stationed there, who also acted as caretakers of the more than two hundred women he kept for his personal use. Anyone else without official business wasn’t permitted to enter.

  Leonine followed the guard, who led him right to the boss’s lobby.

  The boss was entertaining someone, so Leonine stood silently to one side and waited his turn. While he did, the slaver took furtive glances at the people the boss was meeting with. They were three strange men. One of them was dressed entirely in black and a tubed mask covered his face. Another was also black but it was the natural hue of his coal-black skin, and a pair of bulls horns grew from his skull. The final one was younger, and his back hoisted a pair of wings.

  Greenland Outpost’s boss was known for being fierce by nature – they called him Hydra. However, as he spoke with the three mutants, he was clearly deferential. If he didn’t know better, Leonine would have thought there was some fear there as well.

  The black-clad one spoke in a voice cold as death. “Don’t forget, Hydra, this place would be nothing if not for the master’s help. Without his support, you wouldn’t be the boss. Now suddenly you’re wearing big boy pants and want to stand on your own?”

  Hydra was wearing a suit of armor with a sword strapped to his waist. His one dead eye was covered by an eye patch. His face was craggy and fierce, far from attractive. He was a burly man, tall and muscular, but the look in his good eye was deep as a well. He scowled somewhat as he spoke with the man in black but spoke respectfully. “Like you said, everything I have is all thanks to our master. I wouldn’t dare betray him. Only, for you three to request two thousand men… you are asking a great deal of this outpost so please forgive me if I’m not eager to agree.”

  “Hydra, you clearly have no idea what’s good for you!” The winged youth ripped a falchion from its sheath. He thrust it towards the outpost leader, fast as lightning. “If you won’t follow orders, then what the fuck are you good for?! Might as well kill you and install someone else!”

  The bull-horned man caught his companion’s sword with his bare hand. The keen metal rang against his fingers like it was striking steel or stone and left no wound. “Don’t be so hasty, Third Brother.”

  Hydra’s hand rested on the pommel of his weapon. “You have to at least tell me why you need so many people.”

  The one in black answered, his voice light and aloof. “We’re chasing a pair of demon hunters.”

  “Demon hunters?”

  “In short, we lost them in a sandstorm. We need more men to help pick up the trail.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “Also, I’m prepared to offer a reward to the outpost’s mercenaries. If anyone finds these two and delivers them to us, he’ll be richly compensated.”

  A strange look came over Hydra’s face. “How will we recognize them? Don’t misunderstand, I ask because I might take part in the search personally.”

  “One male, one female. The female’s age is unknown, perhaps around twenty. She dons a mask, wears gloves, and wears a cross pendant around her neck. The boy is fifteen or sixteen with black hair and eyes. He is thin and carries a strange staff with him, rather prism shaped…”

  As the man in black gave his description, a voice called out from below.

  “Them?!”

  The three mutant commanders and the outpost leader were strong and skilled individuals. Of course they heard the words, and when they turned their heads to find its source, they spied a tall man with a large beard looking back at them.

  Hydra narrowed his eyes. “Leonine? Did you just say something? Don’t tell me you have an idea where these demon hunters might be?”

  “Oh, I know where they are. Hell, I can bring ‘em right to ya!” But he suddenly had a thought, and stepped forward to face the man in black. “But you gotta keep your word!”

  The three men looked quietly at each other for a moment. Eventually the man in black spoke. “You have my word… so long as you deliver.”

  Leonine blurted it right out. “I already brought ‘em here. They’re in the outpost, locked up in the slave vault!”

  They fell silent again and the mutants looked at each other in obvious surprise. Could it be they wouldn’t have to wear out the soles of their shoes scouring the Wastelands? Did their prey come in to escape the heat only to land feet-first in the fire?

  Hydra glanced at Leonine, a dark look flashing through his eyes, and immediately spoke out as well. “I’ll bring them to you!”

  61 The Dungeons

  The slave vault was one of the cruelest places in all of the Wastelands. Day and night, cries of pain and despair rang through its chambers. Day and night, slaves died at the hands of their torturers. Blood and bones from slaves that died here carpeted every inch of the ground.

  Dark, sinful, and cruel. They’d been brought to hell.

  The dungeons were set up in the building’s repurposed sewer system. Dingy hallways extended in all directions like a maze. However, the outpost denizens had only occupied the more complete sections. From time to time, mutated creatures wandered in to attack and eat slaves they caught.

  Cloudhawk was ushered into the dungeons in shackles. One of the guards had taken his exorcist rod. The Bloodsoaked Queen didn’t bear any
visible weapons so nothing was confiscated.

  Several guards forced them forward at gunpoint. When they entered the dim, moist dungeon, they could see that five to six hundred slaves were currently locked up here. Gore-caked implements of torture were splayed around, waiting to be used. From somewhere nearby, a constant series of wails was echoing through the dark.

  New slaves were brought in and placed in complete darkness. For weeks or months, they underwent the domestication process where demented torture was used to break their wills. That’s how they made these wild wastelanders compliant.

  “Hurry up!”

  One of the guards used the butt of his gun to bash one of the slower moving slaves.

  The dungeon was filled with slave cages. What remained of Leonine’s crop was split up to prevent any revolt and consigned to cells while they waited for domestication to begin. Cloudhawk and the Bloodsoaked Queen were escorted into a deeper section of the dungeon with only a handful of other wastelanders accompanying them.

  Cloudhawk looked around, trying to get a grasp on the situation. He counted four guards behind them with guns trained on their backs and another five or six prison guards nearby. No more than ten captors all together. None of them knew how skilled the guards were, but if they were average fighters, then they were too much for Cloudhawk. The Queen was a different story.

  But like him, the Queen was in shackles. With her movement restricted, he had to assume it would affect her skills. She’d have to kill the four carrying guns as quickly as possible, which was a difficult task while injured and restrained. Under these conditions, it seemed that even the mighty Queen was helpless.

  What should they do?

  Cloudhawk wriggled his wrists but was unable to free them from the shackles. As he looked around, it was clear the dungeons were well-guarded – after all, unlikely as it was, slaves still had a chance to escape. Their chance lay in the relics hidden on the Queen’s person. If she could get free, they might be able to fight back.

  Both of them were quietly mulling over the same concern. They knew the demon’s lackeys were close, and if the Queen managed to escape the dungeon, the ensuing chaos would reveal their presence here. Wasn’t that the same as advertising their location? Sweepers under the command of the black-clad freak need only to surround them and their daring escape would be undone.

  But if they didn’t do anything, would they be forever trapped in these dungeons as slaves?

  A voice from behind cut through their dark thoughts.

  “Halt.”

  The guards stopped and turned to see who called. They faced the newcomer with respectful countenances. “Captain,” they hailed, “what are your orders?”

  The man who approached was the same one who’d had them shackled outside. His dark eyes hovered over the Queen’s full figure and round buttocks for a moment, and several of the guards figured they knew his intent. “You… you there. Come here.”

  Cloudhawk knew nothing good would come of this.

  The Queen separated from the group. Through her tattered cloak, her voluptuous and tight figure could still be discerned. Her face was still hidden behind the mask, but her body alone was enough to awaken the brutish nature of these guards.

  “I wanna see this one alone… leave her with me.”

  “Yes, captain!” One of the guards saw that Cloudhawk wasn’t moving and kicked him hard with the heel of his boot. “What the fuck are you staring at? Move!”

  “I didn’t think Leonine would bring back such quality merchandise.” The captain slowly approached the Queen. “Let’s see what you look like.”

  A murderous glare slowly crept into the Queen’s gaze.

  Cloudhawk knew at that moment that keeping a low profile was no longer an option. With the Queen’s temper being what it was, things were about to get violent.

  One of the guards moved to push him again when suddenly, Cloudhawk flung himself forward. He slammed into the guard and managed to seize his exorcist rod.

  The captain looked up and saw the commotion. His face darkened. “Fighting back, you brat? Get him!”

  “Queen!”

  Cloudhawk whipped his staff towards her. She spun around and held out her hands.

  The steel staff whistled through the air at high speed and smashed into her shackles. In a shower of sparks and with a deafening screech, it tore through the cuffs like a saw. The Queen flung the shackles off her wrists and chopped her hand towards the captain.

  Greenland Outpost’s guard captain was an able warrior, no less capable than the commanders of the Blackflag Outpost’s elite guard. However, the Queen’s attack was fast, sudden, and unexpected. In an instant, he knew that this woman was a top-class fighter but it was too late to dodge her blow.

  The captain lifted his arm to deflect her attack. Pulling a dagger from his cuff with his left hand, he thrust it at her abdomen. The outpost leader was fast – but the Queen was faster. Her chop became a grab and she caught his arm in a vice-like grip.

  “Ahhggg!”

  He howled, an inhuman sound filled with pain. In an instant, his entire arm burned black like spent coal. The Queen whipped her slender leg and connected with the captain’s chest with enough force to snap half a dozen bones. His right shoulder split and his arm was torn out of its socket. Even still, he was flung back so hard he smashed into the far wall. These were not wounds he’d survive.

  She pivoted and used the captain’s blackened arm as a bludgeon, smashing it into a guard’s face before anyone could react. While the rest of them fumbled to raise their guns, she fell upon two more in a flash. Her gloved hands pressed against the skin of their faces.

  Whoosh! Fire belched from their every orifice. When the Queen let go, they fell to the ground, with everything above their necks having become carbon coke [1]. The charred holes that used to be their eyes, noses, and mouths were now hideous craters.

  To say the remaining two were terrified of this woman would be an understatement. They stumbled backwards in retreat while trying to aim their guns. Cloudhawk lunged forward and planted his staff into a guard’s chest, but was half a moment too late in pulling it out to attack the second one.

  Bang!

  The last guard got the shot off, but his rifle was crude and single-shot. The Bloodsoaked Queen artfully dodged the bullet and the guard fumbled with the rifle’s bolt to clear the barrel. When the second shot was ready, he lifted his head but his target was gone.

  Crack!

  The Queen had slipped behind the guard, wrapped her hands around his neck, and twisted it. His spine snapped like a twig. The body collapsed and, panting, she made her way to Cloudhawk to help with his shackles. Once he was free, her hoarse voice croaked at him. “Go.”

  This was one hell of a tough lady! She’d managed to put down a handful of crack guards without much effort, while wounded to boot.

  They’d dealt with the guards, but the gunfire had alerted everyone in the area. Soon, they’d be surrounded by dozens of prison guards, more than the two of them could handle.

  Cloudhawk dropped to the ground and started searching the corpses. He pilfered a handgun from the captain’s waist, one of the guards’ rifles, as well as a store of bullets. The other wastelanders who’d been brought back here with them grabbed the other weapons.

  “We’re not gonna escape like this,” Cloudhawk said to the others. “You free the others. If we can get a force together, we might be able to fight our way out.”

  They were much too frightened by the Queen’s deadly display to respond. The woman was as terrifying as the demon mask she wore!

  Too stunned to think much beyond doing what they were told, the men left to gather others. They managed to open a few of the cells and free a dozen or so slaves before a group of prison guards appeared.

  “Everyone run, scatter! Free as many as you can!”

  Cloudhawk knew he and the Queen couldn’t hide, so their best bet was to cause chaos. If they could free enough slaves, they might give them t
he cover they needed to get out.

  “Queen! Let’s go!”

  Cloudhawk fired at a prison guard blocking their path and blew him away, opening a path towards the exit. As they ran, they smashed opened cell locks to free more of the slaves and generate more chaos. There were too many for the guards to suppress and they were quickly overwhelmed.

  The two of them reached the exit, but as they were about to burst outside, they were met with a thunderous sound. A huge number of figures, armed to the teeth, were charging their way.

  The Queen knew them instantly. “Sweeper troops!”

  A mob of troops in armor wielding broad headed axes poured in, followed by the arrival of a winged man from above. His descent kicked up a cloud of dust. Through the dim light and grime, the mutant’s keen eyes picked out the two figures preparing to flee.

  “It really is them!” Incredulous laughter bubbled up in his throat. “Brothers, we’ve found the two rats!”

  How did they get here so fast?!

  The Bloodsoaked Queen and Cloudhawk both felt their hearts seize in their chests. They were surrounded, with the three mutant leaders and the outpost’s best fighters closing in. The two of them definitely couldn’t fight their way out and with this many enemies, they could lock down the dungeons by spreading out like a dragnet.

  “Hide!”

  Cloudhawk and the Queen ran down the first path they saw.

  The three mutants closed in on where they just were with a dozen or so crossbow-wielding subordinates in tow. It took them only a couple of minutes to find what direction they’d fled in.

  The slithery cold voice of Stranger Black hissed in their ears. “They’re here. They couldn’t have run far!”

  The mutants brought teams with them and began to comb through the dungeons. However, none of them noticed something different in the air, like a portion was missing.

  Cloudhawk and the Queen were pressed together, face to face. He’d thrown his relic cloak over them and channeled his psychic energy through it to hide them temporarily. The mutants couldn’t see anything and so passed right by, completely unaware their prey was inches away.