by J. L. Harden
“Of course there is. There is always a reason. Nothing ever happens without a reason. Cause and effect. It is an iron law of the universe.”
He is rambling now and what’s worse, he’s talking too loudly, making too much noise, putting himself in danger of being found out. This is not like Charles at all. He’s only survived this long by being invisible.
Quiet and invisible.
“I’m looking for a killer,” I say.
“Look in a mirror.”
At least he’s still got a sense of humor.
“I’m serious. Someone killed my girl.”
“Murder most foul, yes? And now you are haunted by her ghost.”
“You could say that. I can still see her. When I close my eyes. In my dreams. I see her. Alive. I see her dead. Unmoving. I see her covered by a sheet.”
“Yes, you most certainly are haunted.”
“But I’m getting close. Somebody knows who killed her. All I’ve got to do is find the bastard and ask the question. And right now, there are three guys I need to have a talk with.”
“Three?”
“I had a run in with some Enforcers. One of them, a guard of the Long Tunnel gave me the details. He called them Conspirators.”
“Three Conspirators meet in the Ruined City. What, pray tell, are they conspiring against?”
“Don’t know. Don’t care.” I pause… I think it over. “I guess they’re conspiring against Wonderland.”
Maybe the same thing Ruby was running from…
“There are but a few places a person would meet,” Charles explains. “If they wished to remain anonymous. If they wished to remain hidden. The most obvious choice is the industrial complex. The train yard, near the above ground hyper loop station. For the sending, but mostly receiving of cargo. Back before the end, before the fall, commerce was booming. Only problem is the tunnel, the… the… the tube! Yes, that’s it. Only problem is the tube that connects this dead city to the other dead cities is now an expressway for the twisted things to travel. The Raiders play their part. They keep them at bay. A wonderful and unintended consequence of their chosen lifestyle and brutality. But every now and then, the mutated things congregate in that train yard, in that hyper loop tube. Monsters from faraway places. You can hear them sometimes, at night, if you get close. Wonderland, they walled the complex off. But it makes no difference. The mutants can climb, like spiders, like roaches. And the Raiders have been busy lately. Preoccupied with something else. Something big. Because of this, the mutants are getting brave and bold. They are testing the limits.”
The industrial part of the city is where I need to go.
It is the most empty.
The most abandoned.
The most dangerous.
“Yes, Hector. Make your way to the above ground hyper loop station. You will find what you’re looking for. But before you go, you will need this…”
He shows me a small case. He opens it up. Inside is a number of medicine bottles and a number of vials of clear fluid. They are labelled in a foreign language that I haven’t a hope in hell of reading.
“Coming in contact with the mutants is dangerous. You need to jab yourself with this. Inject five millimeters. Directly into your muscle.”
He shows me another vial. “And this is very important. I’ve heard Rumors that Wonderland is starting to experiment with bio-weapons again. Starting to use them. Nerve toxins and other nasty things. Take this. If they use their weapons, you need to inject this into your muscle. You need to do it immediately. As soon as the toxin is released into the air, as soon as you come into contact with it.”
I take the case. I draw a syringe full of liquid and I do exactly as Charles tells me to do.
“This will protect you,” he says. “Not many people outside of Wonderland have this. You did not get it from me.”
“No. Of course not.”
“Good.
I’m about to thank him for all his help, but he’s not done.
“And take this,” he says, handing me something that looks like an old digital wrist watch.
“What is it?”
“This is a Geiger counter. It will let you know when the mutants are near. It looks like a watch and it will tell you when it is time to run.”
I take these gifts from Charles. I tell him I can’t possibly repay him.
“You do not need to repay me. You have already done enough. Both you and your brother. I owe you my life. I hope you find what you’re looking for, Hector.”
Chapter 9
I slowly make my way towards the industrial area of the Ruined City, towards the above ground hyper loop train yard. The hyper loop was a mode of super-fast transport that could ferry people and things across the country and across the world many times faster than the speed of sound. Now it does nothing except connect this dead city with a whole bunch of other dead cities.
I slog my way through the unbearable heat and the dust and the sand that’s blown in from the vast plains of the Wasteland. Eventually the hyper loop station and the walls that Wonderland built to keep the mutants contained comes into view. I listen for the sound of twisted things, for monsters from faraway places. I don’t hear them. What I hear instead is… voices.
Human voices.
They are conspiring against the system, against Wonderland, against the ignorant people who are blind to their reality. They’ve gone to a lot of trouble to come here, to this empty and isolated part of the Ruined City. And as a result, they’re not expecting company.
They’re certainly not expecting me.
Hector Ramirez.
The Exiled.
Wasteland Survivor.
I get the drop on them easily. I disarm them. I take their weapons.
A machete from the Raider.
A knife from the Merc.
A knife from the Enforcer.
Strange. I thought the Enforcer would’ve been packing some heat. A pistol or two. A rapid fire machine gun with a silenced barrel and an extended magazine. But no, he’s only carrying a knife.
I wonder why…
Anyway, I beat them into submission. I beat them until they can no longer stand up or see straight.
Blood splatters the walls of the alley. The Merc is the only one who tries to run. The others stand their ground and fight. I throw them towards the back of the alley.
A dead end.
The only way they can escape is by going through me. And there ain’t no way that’s ever going to happen.
I tell them to get on their knees. I tell them to pray or to think of their loved ones if they have any. And now kneeling in front of me is a Raider, an Enforcer and a Merc.
Three Conspirators.
They are all beaten and bleeding and probably dying…
Their heads are lowered in defeat.
They know there is no escape.
Not from me.
In my hand I carry a machete. I took this impressive weapon off the Raider. And now I’m going to use it to separate their heads from their shoulders. But not before I get some goddamn answers.
I look them over one more time, just to get a feel for who’s going to talk first.
The Raider.
The Merc.
The Enforcer.
It’s a rare sight seeing all these guys in one place, working together, talking, conspiring. I know they are up to no good. And I know they know something. There’s a reason they are conspiring in a lonely alleyway of the Ruined City, in an alley full of dust and sand and shadow. We’re in a very isolated and empty part of the city. These guys have gone to a lot of trouble to get away from prying eyes and ears.
Especially the Merc.
Especially the Enforcer.
The Merc says, “What do you want from us, Hector? What the fuck is this all about, man?”
The Merc is desperate.
And scared.
He’s a long way from home. He’s not dealing with the heat. It’s getting to him because he can’t escape i
t. There’s no relief. And it’s getting to him.
The Enforcer is afraid as well, but less so. He’s wearing a thermo suit so he’s at least semi-comfortable. The only one who is calm, the only one who is showing any sort of poise and dignity is the Raider.
The Merc says, “I thought you were dead. They said you were dead. What the fuck, man? You’re supposed to be dead. They said it! They said you were dead!”
“They were wrong.”
“What do you want?” the Enforcer asks like a man who is accustomed to people wanting things and getting things.
I look closer and I realize the Enforcer is wearing a brand new, state of the art thermo suit. Over the suit he is wearing a heat resistant coat. Both the Raider and the Merc are not as fortunate. No thermo suits. Just an old heat resistant cloak for the Raider. But as poorly dressed as he is, he handles the heat well. He’s grown up with it. Grown up under the gaze of the Red Giant, in the ridiculous and inhuman and unbearable heat of the Wasteland surface.
The Merc is wearing an old coat. Kind of like mine. Maybe a bit nicer. The Merc looks over my shoulder, still thinking about running. Still thinking about rolling the dice. I’ve never seen this poor bastard before. But I know he’s from the Buried City. And I’m guessing he rarely ventures above ground. To say that he’s not handling the heat well is a massive understatement. He is a long way from home. So maybe he’s the most invested. He is definitely the most exposed and the most at risk for agreeing to meet with these guys here.
“Well?” the Enforcer says. “What the fuck do you want with us? We’ve got no business with you. The bounty on your head has been lifted. You’re a free man.”
That’s a damn lie. No way has the bounty been lifted. I’ve killed too many people to be shown mercy. But I’m not here to debate the price on my head or lack thereof.
So I say, “I’m still looking for answers. Still searching for a killer. I know you bastards have got the answers I seek. I know you know something.”
“You want to know what we know?” the Merc says. “You want to know what the fuck we’re doing here? We’ve come to this place because we’re all fucked. Or about to be fucked. The whole thing, the whole process is corrupt. They lied to us, Hector. You included. We’re trying to do something about it. We’re trying to survive.”
“You’re planning a war against the only people who can save you. That’s a helluva survival strategy.”
“It’s the only fucking way. Don’t you get that?”
“People been talking about war for as long as I can remember. Old Wars. The Last Wars. The Next War. Future Wars. It’s all some people ever talk about. But I’m not interested in war. I’m only interested in finding a killer.”
“We don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about,” the Enforcer says.
“Sure you do. There was a girl. She was from Wonderland. She escaped from Wonderland. And now she’s dead. She was murdered. Poisoned. I want to know who killed her. I want a name.”
“I’ll give you two names,” The Enforcer says. “The Collector. And the Lord. They’re the only ones who have the power to authorize an assassination attempt like that. Poison? There’s not many people who have access to poison. Or bio-weapons. The girl, she was from Wonderland, right? The Lord doesn’t like it. He doesn’t tolerate runaways. Neither does the Collector. It’s a death sentence. You run, you die.”
The Enforcer is feeding me intel but it’s all a smoke screen. It’s all useless. I know the Lord and the Collector are powerful. I know poisons are rare. I know all of this. Everyone knows this. So for wasting my time, I kill the Enforcer. I slice his head off with the machete and his body falls back and his head rolls in front of the Raider.
The eyes are open. There’s a glimpse of life still in them.
The Merc pisses himself. The Raider is cold and emotionless, completely unafraid. And I’m thinking maybe this guy doesn’t really know who I am, what I’ve done, what I used to do on a daily basis.
I rest the machete on his broken shoulder. Under his coat I can see his collarbone sticking through his skin, through his undershirt. “Talk.”
“We’ve got scouts all over the Ruined City. On every block. You’ve got about ten minutes until you’re surrounded. You want my advice? You should use those ten minutes and give yourself a head start. Give yourself a fighting chance.”
“No. I don’t want your advice.”
And he’s lying about the scouts. We’re so far away from any area of operations we might as well be on the other side of the planet. We might as well be on the fucking moon.
The Merc bargains and begs for his life. “Look, Hector. You’ve got this all wrong. We’re not the bad guys. We didn’t do nothing. We’re trying to stop the bastards…”
I break his jaw with my fist. “I don’t remember asking you a goddamn thing. Not yet.”
“The Merc is right,” says the Raider. “We’re not the bad guys here.”
“Yeah? You guys still got a taste for human flesh?”
He answers this question with silence. And a look flashes across his face that could be shame or regret. But I’m not sure and he doesn’t answer me. He doesn’t answer me because of course he’s still got a taste for it. And I say, “That’s what I thought.”
“It’s survival of the fittest out here,” he says, defending his cannibalistic ways. “We do what we need to do to survive. Us Raiders, we’ve all made our peace with the Red Giant. The Earth is our home. The Wasteland is our home. We’re more than happy to live here, to die here. We don’t want to leave. But you people, the rest of you, the last people left on Earth, you all want Salvation and you were all promised. And guess what? You’ve all been lied to.”
“The shuttles are coming back,” I say. “They’re just taking longer. There’s nothing to be done about that. It’s no one’s fault.”
“Why are the Arks moving further away?” he presses. “What possible reason?”
“Radiation. From the sun. It’s getting stronger. They need to move deeper, further away. It’s simple.”
He laughs. “They’ve got a story for everything, don’t they?”
I run the blade along his shoulder and the blade is so sharp it actually slices his coat. I let him know I’m not messing around, that time is running out. “I know you know something. Just give me a damn name.”
“They’ve done something to you, Hector,” the Merc says, mumbling through his broken jaw. “What the fuck has gotten into you?”
“One of you bastards helped steal her from Wonderland. You might not have killed her. But you’re just as complicit. Just as guilty. I want a name…”
“The only thing we’re guilty of is planning the destruction of the Wonderland leadership. If you’re here to kill us for that, we are guilty as fucking charged.”
“You thought the three of you could bring down Wonderland? You’re even crazier than I thought.”
“Not just the three of us,” the Raider says. “We have an army.”
“You’ve got shit. You want to fight Wonderland? You want to fight all those Enforcers and Spider tanks and gunships? You won’t survive the first battle. Come to think of it, it won’t be a battle, it’ll be a massacre.”
“Dying in battle, fighting for what’s right, this is perfection.”
“The Red Giant has cooked your brain.”
“Maybe it has. Maybe. But you… you are definitely lost. I hope you find yourself, Hector. I wish you luck on this journey.”
The Raider is calm and crazy and I’m not going to get any answers from him because he is not afraid of death. Because he wants to die out here. Because dying in battle, in a good fight is what the Raiders want above all else, it’s what they’ve been told is the highest honor, the greatest achievement, the best kind of death and the best kind of end to a life.
So I give him what he wants and I behead him. And the Merc tries to run again so I slice his leg off at the knee. He screams. And these screams of pain and agony echo around t
his alleyway and around the Ruined City. Around the Wasteland.
“Keep your voice down,” I warn.
He ignores my advice. He keeps screaming.
“You scream, you’re basically ringing the dinner bell. Do you want to be eaten by a bunch of Raiders? Or by a bunch of mutants?”
That shuts him up.
I remove the belt from his pants, an old canvas belt. I use it as a tourniquet, tying it around his upper thigh. This will slow the bleeding for a little while. It won’t save him, but it should give me enough time to get an answer.
“Speak.”
“Fuck you.”
“I can make this worse. A lot worse.”
He shakes his head because he doesn’t believe it can get any worse than this and then his whole body starts shaking as he goes into shock.
“Why were you three working together? What the hell is going on?”
“This is big, Hector. Bigger than the price on your head.”
“I thought you said the price had been lifted?”
“Yeah, because we thought you were dead.”
“How big is this?”
What would make three sworn enemies put their hate and their differences aside?
“This is the end,” he says. “This is it, there’s no tomorrow, no future. The girl was just the start. She knew, she had to know, that’s why she ran.”
“Who killed her?”
“I don’t know. Take your pick. The Lord. The Collector. Wonderland, they have Enforcers, they have spies, assassins. They have Overseers.”
The things he says, describes, they sound familiar, like I’ve heard it all before.
“What were you three meeting here for?” I ask. “Why here? Why go to the effort? Why take the risk? What were you planning?”
“Does it matter?”
“Yes. It does.”
“No, it doesn’t. You were right, we’ve got no shot at this. I just wanted to be part of something. For once in my life. I wanted to be part of something meaningful. Something right.”
“Seems to me if you join forces, you’d have the numbers to make an assault. At least one. There’s no doubt you’d die in the process. There’s no doubt you’d be slaughtered. But you would get one shot. You’d die a good death. Especially if you’ve got Enforcers willing to defect.”
