by Kyle West
As the voices grew louder, I noticed the smell of smoke borne by the wind. Mingled within was a savory aroma that made my stomach growl.
I climbed up the top of a rise, and laid low. Below, in a small depression, six people surrounded a low fire. A giant pot simmered over the flames. My heart raced.
There were five men and one woman, all dressed in dingy military apparel. They were too far to see clearly. All had weapons, mostly rifles, but the woman was armed with a pistol.
Any thought of approaching them was dashed from my mind. Their faces were so hardened they looked more like monsters than humans.
I guessed that these were raiders, the worst kind of Wastelanders, who robbed, stole, and murdered for a living. If I went up to them, they would kill me, or at best take me prisoner.
I would have snuck away, but for one reason: I was low on food, and I needed something to eat. If I waited for them to fall asleep, I could sneak into their camp and take some supplies.
It was desperate, but I saw no other choice. I hadn’t found any supplies in my few days out in the Wastes. It was death either way.
For now, they were eating. Each ladled stew into their bowls. While they ate, there was joking and laughing. But somewhere, the conversation took a turn for the worse. The raiders started arguing. One man threw his bowl on the ground in anger. Seeing that stew spill was torture.
The argument seemed to be about the woman. She had stopped looking bored and started looking attentive.
Then, a brawl started between two of the men. One of them raised a gun.
Another gun went off, shattering the silent night. A man with a blond crew cut had shot dead the man who had drawn the gun.
The man who was shot fell to his knees, then to the ground. Blood pooled by the light of the fire. The man twitched, and everyone watched. Then, he was still.
The three remaining men started stripping the dead man's body of clothing, jewelry, and useful things he had been carrying. The blond man took the dead man's rifle. No one argued. He was probably in charge.
The dead man, with only his clothes left, was hauled into the night by the men. The woman sat by the fire, watching. The men tossed their fallen comrade into the darkness like unwanted garbage.
After that, everyone was quiet. The blond man walked to the woman, and whispered something. She turned her face away. He left her to go back to his spot.
Everyone curled up for sleep.
I waited for at least an hour. When they all seemed good and asleep, I decided that now was my chance. I crept forward, toward the fire.
As I neared, I knew I would now be clearly visible to them. Just one look, and I was dead.
But if I did not eat, I was equally dead. I needed food and I needed a weapon.
I did not dare take any food from the pot, however much I wanted to. That risked too much noise.
All were sleeping, their backs to the flame. So far, so good.
I decided to find something immediately and take it away. Any of them could wake up at any moment.
My eyes set upon a hefty backpack sitting next to the man with the blond crew cut. I nearly jumped out of my skin when he rolled over to face me. Thankfully, his eyes stayed shut. His face had a long, deep scar, running diagonally from the top of his right eye to the left corner of his mouth, right across his pockmarked nose.
After a moment, I reached for the pack. I lifted it slowly, so it would not disturb the stones beneath it. But two of the stones clacked ever so slightly against each other. I winced. The sound must have been a lot louder in my head than in reality. Nothing happened.
The pack was very heavy. My heart raced. There would be lots of supplies in it.
I backed away from the flame, toward the cold night once more. I was going to make it, at least for the next few days.
I was now far enough from the fire to walk normally. I scurried up the slope. I needed to make it to my cave and grab the rest of my stuff. Then, I would set out that night. I needed as much distance between myself and the raiders as possible.
That's when I felt cold hands wrap around my neck.
I couldn't even scream. My head swam as darkness took hold. I fell to the hard earth.
Chapter 12
When I awoke, my head throbbed. Footsteps crunched on the ground near my head.
“Wake up,” a female voice said.
I rolled on my back, facing upward. My vision was hazy, and the cave dark, so I could not make out what she looked like. It appeared that she was alone, however.
“Who are you?” I asked. “Was it you who attacked me?”
“I’m the one asking the questions, thief.”
“Thief?”
“You stole the backpack of one of my friends back there.”
“Stole…”
I felt like an idiot. I was just repeating her words. It was like I had forgotten how to speak.
“Are you going to kill me?”
“No,” she said. “Lucky for you, I’m ready to split from them. If it had been anyone else who had caught you, you’d be dead.”
The woman knelt down. As my vision cleared, and her face got closer, I recognized her instantly. She was the woman who had been watching from behind the rock.
“You…” I said, through gritted teeth.
Her eyes went wide with recognition. “You’re…you’re that Bunker kid. What the hell are you doing out here?”
I stood, clenching my fists. “Everyone I know is dead because of you!”
She stared. “What are you talking about, kid?”
She wasn’t that much older than me – maybe nineteen or twenty. She had long, black hair, and hazel eyes. Her skin was a creamy mocha color, and she was well-formed and in shape. She was very pretty. It was hard to place her ethnicity, but she seemed Asian.
“You stabbed that man, and we brought him back,” I said. “He infected everyone in the Bunker, and now everyone I know is dead. I should have shot you the minute I saw you!”
I was screaming at her. Why hadn’t I killed her? Why didn’t I tell Michael on the recon? None of this would have happened. My dad, Khloe, everyone else…they would all still be alive.
“Hey, kid. Calm down. I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Hurt me? I don’t care what you do to me. I couldn’t care less. I have nothing now because of you.”
“Shut the hell up, and give me a chance to explain myself.”
Sizing her up, I knew she could probably take me in a fight. Let’s face it; she was a lot more in shape than me, and she had a pistol holstered at her side.
I sat down on a large rock.
“Alright,” the woman said. “We found the guy lying on the side of the road. He looked dead. We were going to pass him up, but he groaned as we walked past him. We stopped. The guys wanted to kill him. There was nothing I could do to stop them. Brux stabbed him, three times in the back. We hauled his body off the road, where no one would find him.
“Then you guys came, so I hid. I thought you might have seen me. But I guessed you didn’t, because you didn’t do anything.”
“And I should have.”
“I had no idea you would take him in. Besides the purple stuff coming out of him, we didn’t think he was sick.” She blinked. “So, did everyone really die?”
“Yes. Everyone except me. I’m the only one who made it out. At least, the only one I know of. I lost my dad and my friend, among other people.”
She looked at me, her eyes wide. “I’m sorry. I really am. But it was a mistake on our part. You have to believe that.”
“It doesn’t matter. What’s done is done. I’m trying to find a city. I won’t survive long out here. I was just trying to find some food, which is why I snuck into your camp.”
The girl looked me up and down, seeming to see me in a new light. I looked past her, toward the mouth of the cave.
“You’re going to die, you know,” she said. “They’ll come after you. They’ll make you wish you were dead.”
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“I wish I were dead now.”
“Don’t say that. You keep saying that, and you really will be dead. Trust me, you don’t really want that.”
“What do you know? Maybe I do. My dad is dead, because of you. My friend is dead, because of you. There’s nothing you can do to make up for that.”
The girl looked at me, and scowled.
“You don’t want my help? Fine. But if you decide you want to survive out here, I can teach you everything you need to know. How to make a fire. Where to find food and water. All the good places to camp. Who to trust, who to avoid, what cities will let you in. It will take you years to figure that out on your own. I can teach you in hours.”
“Thanks, but I’ll be fine on my own.”
“I doubt that. How long have you been out here?”
“One week.”
“Have you found any food or supplies in that time?”
“No.”
“There’s only a few kinds of people who would sneak into a raider camp and steal their gear: the insane, the stupid, and the desperate. I think you might be the third, but the first two are sounding pretty good, too.”
She handed me the backpack I had stolen. I held it awkwardly in my hands.
“Now, you can either come with me and keep all that stuff, or you can go out on your own without it. Your choice.”
I looked up at her. She was serious.
I set the pack on the ground, and rifled through its contents.
“Let me at least see what I would be losing out on.”
A pot. Some cans of food. Some bullets.
There was a heavy shirt. Might make a good extra layer for colder nights.
I lifted up the shirt. Below it at the bottom of the pack were dozens upon dozens of small, silver batteries.
“What the hell…?”
“All our pay was in Brux’s pack. I’m willing to split it with you, if we work together.”
“Batteries? Seriously?”
“They’re currency.”
“But they’re worthless…”
“To you, maybe. With these things, you can walk into just about any settlement and get food, weapons, whatever you want. There’s well over three hundred batts in there.”
“That’s…insane.”
“Look, kid. Batts are valuable. They’re from the Old World, and they’re useful. They give heat, cook food, and power machines that would otherwise be useless. They’re a commodity, and someday, all of them will be gone. These are even the cheap kind. If you could get your hands on some rechargeables or solars, you’d never have to raid again.”
“Fine, I believe you. So, why would you want to split them with me?”
“Because, believe it or not, I actually feel bad for what happened. Most raiders aren’t bad people. We were just in a bad situation, and we do what we must to survive. If I’ve already ‘killed’ everyone who matters to you, then maybe this is some weird way to make it up.”
“No. There’s nothing you can do, so don’t even try.”
I didn’t want to talk to her, and I wanted her to stop talking to me. Yet, she did have a point. I knew nothing about surviving out here. Going with her would give me something to do, even if I hated her guts. Hate was better than emptiness. It would give me a reason to go on.
“Fine,” I said. “I’ll go with you. Where are we going?”
“Don’t know. Somewhere far away from them. Maybe Oasis. It’s a walled settlement, so if I can get you in there, you’d be safe. It’s run by a man named Ohlan, who I’ve met. You might be able to buy your citizenship there with your share of the batts.”
“Do we have enough food?”
“Just what we have in the pack. You have a name?”
I eyed her up and down. I guess if I was stuck with her for the next few days, names might be useful.
“…Alex Keener.”
“Makara Angel.”
She lifted her own pack, putting it on her shoulders.
“Come on. If we’re fast enough, I know a place where we can shelter before sundown. Keep an eye out. I can’t look everywhere at once, and raiders can be thick in this area. It’s cold today, so most of the rats will be hiding in their holes. That’s good for us. If we hurry, we might make Oasis tomorrow.”
Makara headed for the mouth of the cave. The raiders would probably be very close by.
I followed her outside.
Chapter 13
By the time we got going, I realized I was hurting more than I thought. Everything ached, especially my stomach, which hadn’t had food in a while. There was little water, too. Makara gave me some of her share. I accepted, even if I didn’t want to. As we walked, I munched on some of my granola, fighting back the urge to down all of them.
Makara was always busy scanning the horizon, ducking at random moments. I had no idea what she was so afraid of. We were clearly the only ones out here on this cold, dismal day.
The clouds were spooky looking – always the color of blood, that cast the whole bare earth in crimson light.
“What kind of name is Makara, anyway?”
“It’s Khmer. It’s the first month of the Cambodian year. I’d like to think it means a new beginning.”
Despite myself, I became interested. “Are you Khmer?”
“On my father’s side. My mother was American, and so am I, for that matter.”
“How are you American? You’re a Wastelander.”
“I was born here, kid. That makes me American.”
* * *
We stopped around noon to eat. She handed me some sort of sticky, bread-like substance wrapped in tin foil. It wasn’t bad.
“What’s in this, anyway?” I asked.
“Rice, mostly.”
“It tastes good.”
Makara smirked. “Hunger is the best seasoning. I’d rather have a hearty stew on a day like this.”
We were up again, and walking. We were in the wilderness, nowhere near a city. Makara had taken us far off road, thinking that if we were being followed, it would be harder for her former raid group to track us. Flat plains spread before us. There was a nightmarish beauty to it.
“So, are we anywhere close to L.A.?”
“L.A. is about eighty miles west. Fights, and wars all the time, gangs killing each other over the last bits of stale food that haven’t been snatched up. Not much can survive thirty years. Eventually, L.A. will be completely dead. Not like it was ten years ago, when Raine was alive.”
“Who was Raine?”
She didn’t answer, but kept walking. I shrugged, and didn’t ask again.
Nothing more happened that day. No more words were exchanged. I could tell Makara wanted to be alone with her thoughts. Fine by me – so did I.
* * *
We walked the rest of the day without much incident. When the red sky darkened, Makara led us into an old house, decrepit and peeling. Otherwise, it looked like it had weathered the horrors of Ragnarok pretty well. Its structure was intact, and it didn't look like it would be collapsing anytime soon.
We went inside. We ate the last of my granola bars. From Makara’s face, she disliked this even more than the rice bread.
After eating, she got up.
“I need to check something out,” she said.
I shrugged. I got out my blanket and hunkered down in a corner. Just to think two weeks ago, I would be in my warm bed full of hopes and dreams. All of that was gone, now.
The numbness just grew until I burst. I tried to hold back tears, but they came out all the same. I kept thinking of Khloe. When one has no hope, one can’t even cry. But now, I guessed I had hope.
Hope in what?
Makara came back in. I hastily dried my tears.
“We're not being followed…at least from what I can tell…” She stopped short. “What’s wrong?”
I didn't answer her. I couldn't find the words.
“I know things are tough,” she said, in her tough voice. “But you need to buck up.”<
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How she could even say that, I didn’t know. She had no idea. No idea at all.
I turned toward her. I could see her silhouette by the door.
“You know,” Makara said, “you probably won’t believe me, but we’re a lot alike. That’s part of the reason why I wanted you to come with me. I don’t fit in with the raider types and I don’t fit in with the settler types. If I can get away from the raiding life, I’m willing to risk it.”
“You’re alone, then.”
“Does that surprise you?”
“No. But it makes me wonder what you see in me.”
“I see me in you.”
I was about to think she truly was crazy, when she surprised me.
“Like you,” she said, “I was born in a Bunker.”
* * *
I just stared at Makara. I didn’t know what to say.
“Wait…really? Which one?”
“Mine…was a bit different. I was in the main government Bunker. The one with President Garland in it. Bunker One.”
Nothing in her voice told me that she was lying. There was nothing I could do to hide my shock.
“Wait…the Bunker One? The Bunker that is one thousand miles away in Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado? What happened to it? How did you end up here?”
“That's a long story.”
“Well, we have time.”
“I suppose so,” Makara said, “though I don’t really like to talk about it. Where I’m from, it’s much colder, and darker. They call it sunny California for a reason, huh?”
“Doesn’t seem too sunny to me.”
Makara smiled. “You’re hard to please, then.”
“What happened to Bunker One? How did it fall?”
“Bunker One was huge. It held ten thousand people.”
“Ten…thousand…?” I asked. “How did you feed them all? Where did they fit?”
“The Bunker came from the Cold War era. During the Dark Decade, they expanded it. But none of that matters now, because everyone who lived there is dead. Everyone except me, as far as I know.”
There was nothing I could say to that. Nothing at all, other than…
“That’s what happened to us. People started getting sick, and dying and…turning on each other.”
