by Kyle West
“Seems you have this well thought out.”
Within a few minutes, we had caught up to the caravan. When we reached the road, several hundred feet behind the tail of the train, Makara raised her hands high.
“Do the same,” she said. “They won’t let us near till we check out.”
“Check out?”
“We could be raiders to their eyes,” she said. “Raiders attack caravans all the time, and sometimes use diversions. We could be a diversion, but we have to prove we’re not raiders, or with raiders.
“Makara…are you going to get us killed?”
“No worries,” Makara said. “I got this. They’ll know I was with Raine when they see this…”
She lifted the left sleeve of her white tee, revealing a tattoo of a pair of angel’s wings.
“Every Lost Angel has one, and they command respect, even out here in the Wastes.”
Two men approached from the end of the train. They wore elegant, brown robes made from fine material. Each had a large hood drawn, masking their faces. Each had long, thick beards.
“Who are these guys?” I asked.
“That’s a southern look,” Makara said. “There’s more cities in the south, and it’s where most of the trade comes from.”
“State your name and your business, travelers,” one of them said.
“I’m Makara. This is Alex. We are traveling to Oasis, and wanted safe passage with your train.”
“What business have you in Oasis, girl?”
“Raiders pursue us. We seek shelter with your caravan.”
“Raiders? Are you with raiders?”
“No! I said they pursue us. If I were a raider, would I have this?”
Makara lifted her sleeve, revealing the Lost Angels’ emblem.
The other man stepped forward, not seeming to care. “You invite danger to our trading party, and you wish to join us?”
“Look,” Makara said. “They’re in the area, and they will probably come after you, anyway. You might as well take us. We’re both armed and good in a fight.”
“How many are they?”
“Five. As of four hours ago, they were on the other side of those hills. Now, they could be anywhere.”
I now noticed something among the pack animals that greatly disturbed me. The dust had settled a bit, revealing not only the animals and the robed and hooded figures leading them…but also humans, thin, stooping.
Chained.
“Makara…”
It appeared she noticed, too. Her face went white.
“These are slavers,” she said.
Now, the hooded men seemed all the more sinister, and more filed our way. Some held rifles. I could count at least six of them.
“You travel to Oasis?” Makara asked. “Slavery is illegal there.”
“Times are changing, girl. Raine is dead, and the L.A. gangs are always looking for fresh meat. Ohlan will let us stay there, with fair compensation, of course.”
Both of the men stepped forward. Makara pulled out her handgun.
“Stop.”
Instantly, four hooded men drew their own guns, pointing them at us.
“Put down your weapon, now,” the man said. “This is our only offer.”
“Let me make you an offer,” Makara said. “You take one step closer and I’ll blow your brains out. Now back off.”
The man smirked, amused. His companion stood next to him, saying nothing. The other hooded men stood by, waiting for their master’s order.
“It was nice knowing you, Makara,” I said.
Then, the sound of a horn came from the caravan. The hooded men looked at each other.
Makara smiled. “Looks like you got some real raiders to deal with now.”
Gunshots fired near the caravan. I could see men – the same men we had run from just hours before – running toward the goods-laden train.
“Defend the caravan!” the leader said.
It was amazing how quickly they turned from us. I guess, just this once, we were allowed to get lucky. Makara grabbed me by the arm.
“Now would be a good time to go,” she said.
For what seemed the tenth time that day, we started running, away from the trail and into the desert to the east. After running about a mile, we slowed to a walk. We still heard the sounds of guns in the distance.
“No more running,” I said.
“We need more distance,” Makara said. “Brux might have seen us.”
By now, the afternoon light was fading. When Makara saw me lagging behind, she knew she couldn’t push me any further. Off in the distance stood a little house. It looked so similar to the one we had stayed in the night before that at first I thought it was the same one. But, I knew it couldn’t be because we were in a completely different area.
“Let’s hope no one’s home,” Makara said. “I’ve never stayed out this far before. Hopefully, Brux and his gang don’t know about this place.”
When we arrived, the door was wide open. We went in, finding it empty and full of dust. Makara dropped her stuff on the floor, and I dropped mine nearby. I went back out on the porch, where two chairs were. I wrapped myself in my blanket, and sat.
“That doesn’t look good,” Makara said.
“What?”
She pointed toward the eastern horizon. I could see a wall of low mountains that seemed to be moving. Then, I realized they weren’t mountains. They were clouds. Lightning flashed within them.
“Nasty one, from the looks of it,” Makara said. “Better grab these chairs and step inside. It’s going to be a long night.”
“What is it?”
“A solid wall of dust and electricity. They’ll kill you if you’re caught in one. Lightning strikes, getting buried in the sand, something heavy being thrown at you… they’re called Devil’s Walls for a reason.”
“Will the house hold up?”
“Probably. It’s seen hundreds of storms, I’ll bet. But you never know.”
“Comforting.”
“Come on. Let’s move.”
The clouds were closer now. They moved incredibly fast. The last gleams of the fading sun cast pink, purple, and orange over it. The shifting of light and shadow, together with the lightning, gave it dangerous beauty.
Makara pulled me inside and shut the door tight.
Chapter 16
As soon as we were in, I collapsed on the floor.
“Hope the storm gets to Brux and the rest of them,” Makara said. “That would make things a lot easier.”
Makara and I sat in our chairs as the first wave of sand slammed against the house’s eastern wall. From the groan of the wood, I thought it would cave in right there. But it held up, and only creaked.
From the windows, lightning flashed, so close I thought it would hit us. Living underground, I had never seen lightning. I didn’t expect it to be so blinding and so…terrifying.
We ate a quick meal – the last of the rice bread, and some water, and went to sleep along the western wall.
Well, Makara went to sleep. It was much harder for me. The lightning and the storm were too much. The house was cold and pitch black, and I could only see when lightning flashed outside. I watched Makara’s form, wondering how she could sleep through it.
Outside, the wind roared, and the temperature dropped until I could see my breath clouding the dry air. All I wanted was to be warm. The wind seeped through the cracks, and I could feel the dust settling on my face, getting in my mouth. My hands and feet were numb. Makara’s breaths were still even with sleep.
“Makara?”
She didn’t hear me. I got up, and began pacing the house. I was tired, sore, and cold – and, as always, hungry and thirsty. I wanted nothing more than to be back underground, where it was warm, where it was safe, and where there was always food. I would have killed for a hot shower.
I lay down again. If I had the guts, I would have woken Makara up and asked to share our blankets.
Finally, I was driftin
g off again. I was on the edge of dreams when a guttural scream shook the entire frame of the house, jolting me awake.
Makara’s eyes opened and she shot up from where she had been laying. She reached for her gun, and held it close. She looked at me and held a finger to her mouth.
“Don’t move,” she whispered.
I heard something, something big, scratching on the ground outside. It was barely discernible above the roar of the wind. I heard what I thought were heavy breaths. I hoped it was only the wind.
“It’s one of them,” she said.
“Here?”
We lay in the house, quiet. My heart was pounding. I hoped that if I breathed softly, if I didn’t move, it would go away. The storm raged on outside. We waited for what seemed an hour.
We didn’t hear the thing again.
“It is gone,” Makara said.
“What could be that big?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Makara said. “That virus can do weird things – make animals much bigger than they were meant to be. We must be near a Blight. Now, go to sleep.”
I lay down, and closed my eyes. I didn’t know how I could sleep with what she just told me. Yet, despite that scare, I found myself soon drifting off.
* * *
The next morning, we woke up late. The storm was over. Still, Makara told me to stay inside while she went to check things out.
A minute later, she came back in.
“There’s nothing out there,” she said. “We lost a lot of time yesterday, but we still might make Oasis by sundown if we hurry.”
We left the house, and traveled all day without seeing another soul. It felt lonesome, out in the Wastes, but given what I’d seen of people out here, I guess that was a good thing.
We avoided the road and struck northeast, through the desert.
“Aren’t there supposed to be cities around here?”
“Yeah, Oasis. Twenty miles.”
“No. I mean, it’s only been thirty years since Meteor, right? You’d think there’d be more buildings around.”
“This area was pretty bare even before that.”
“Still…”
“We’re somewhere north of a city that was called Yucca. There are still signs of it, in some places. You can see buildings, half-buried in the dirt.”
The day was warmer than yesterday, and the clouds were not as thick. They were still red – always red. And of course, there was not a trace of vegetation on the ground.
It seemed to be getting worse the farther we headed north. Smaller, then bigger, dunes rose from the earth. It was tough to climb them. Just seeing those dunes made me feel thirstier and more tired than I already was. We were rationing our water – there would be none until Oasis.
We never stopped, not even once as we plodded north. It no longer felt cold – in fact, I had broken into a light sweat. I was getting used to the work of walking, though there was a constant gnawing at my belly. The promise of a hot meal was all that kept me going.
We passed a few buildings on the way. We passed hills, rocky outcrops, but the day never brightened beyond noon. We were coming up a rise, when on the other side we came to a valley, covered with sand, surrounded in the distance by a ring of low, brown mountains. In the center of the valley I could see low wooden buildings crowded around a small lake. A circular, wooden wall surrounded the whole settlement.
We stopped, and I felt my heart swell with happiness.
“Oasis,” Makara said. “It is good to see you.”
It was thirty minutes before we were standing before the giant wooden gate. Two muscled guards sat in foldout chairs in the watchtower connected to it. Each had a rifle propped next to him. They scowled as we stopped before the entrance.
“Not looking good, Makara…”
“Quiet. You’re making me nervous.”
Neither of the guards said a word. One was tall and black, and chewed on a cigar, letting the ash fall to his feet. The other was tan with cropped, blond hair. They stared down at Makara and me from their perch like vultures eyeing their next meal.
We stood there a while, Makara never breaking her gaze from the men after mine had long fallen to the sand.
Finally, the black guard spoke. “What do you want with us, raider? You know you and your ilk are unwelcome within these walls.”
“I am not a raider,” Makara said, her voice level. Her calm voice carried as well as a shout would. “Just a traveler, seeking a place to rest.”
“Humph.” The guard smirked. “A likely story. Then the caravan leader, who now rests safely within our walls, must be lying. He saw you with the raiders yesterday. They made off with quite a bit of loot. I’m surprised your share wasn’t great enough for you to come begging here.”
“We oughta shoot you on sight,” the blond guard drawled.
The black guard smirked at that. I was ready to turn around. But Makara stood her ground.
“Let me speak to Elder Ohlan.”
The black guard’s eyes narrowed. “Elder Ohlan need not speak with scum such as you. I suggest you turn back. Now. Before I put a bullet in your chest.”
“Ohlan knows me. And I knew Raine. I am Makara of the Lost Angels.”
The guards exchanged curious looks. The blond guard nodded, and the black guard turned to speak to Makara.
“Those are not light words you speak, Angel,” the black guard said, adding a note of skepticism to that word. “Many would claim allegiance with the Angels. What proof do you have?”
“This,” Makara said, lifting her sleeve.
The blond guard fiddled with something behind him. A spotlight clicked on, sending a beam of bright light onto us. I held my hand to my eyes. Then, the light clicked off.
“Well enough, traveler,” the black guard said. “If that work is false, then it is well done. I will tell Ohlan you are here. I will return when I have an answer.”
The black guard left, while the other one stood watching, holding his gun and looking ready to use it.
“Don’t say a word,” Makara said softly. “With luck, Ohlan will remember me. The Lost Angels are still spoken highly of in the Wastes.”
“Why are they so well-known?”
“Raine. He was not like the other gang lords. He was good. He helped people. He even helped build Oasis’s walls. He’s the reason the raiders don’t own everything up to the border of L.A..”
We stood in front of the gate for a while. The blond guard stood like a statue, paying no heed to our conversation.
“How do you know Ohlan, anyway?”
“I guess I forgot to tell you that part,” Makara said. “Ohlan is Raine’s brother.”
Chapter 17
We waited a long time. With the night, came the chill, and it wasn’t long before I was shivering. Makara gave a small hiss. I stopped.
Finally, the black guard came back
“You are to come in,” he said. “Elder Ohlan wishes to speak with you.”
The gate started to move. It creaked, rolling back inch by inch.
“First, you must surrender your weapons to me. They will be returned upon leaving.”
Makara did so. I noticed, after giving up her first gun, she gave up another one from her pack.
“You’ve had two? This whole time?”
She looked me up and down, and shrugged. “What of it?”
“I could use one, you know.”
“Maybe in time,” she said. “I’m sure about you, now.”
I didn’t understand why she kept it from me. Did she not trust me after all we’d been through?
The guard led us through Oasis’s main drag. I’d never seen anything like it in my life. Buildings of sheet metal and wood, sometimes both, lined both sides of the street. From the sides people watched us, more people than I’d ever seen since leaving the underground. They were dressed in tattered, faded pants, colorless shirts, rarely of one piece, sewn together from a variety of different sources.
For the first time, I r
ealized what a commodity clothes were, and how much I had taken them for granted living underground. All Bunker residents had standard issue, wear resistant pants and shirts, along with camo and warm weather gear for recons. If anything needed to be mended, there was the spare material to do so.
These people had no such luxury. They had whatever they found, or inherited it.
It wasn’t just the clothes I noticed. The men had long, thick beards, and intense, dark eyes. The faces were gaunt and hardened, faces that were well beyond their years. There was little beauty left in the women, unless they were young. The harshness of life had taken it out early.
No one said a word to us. There was no greeting or welcome. There was just calculation in their eyes, wondering who we were, whether we were dangerous, whether we could be taken advantage of.
It was nothing like I had expected. These people were scraping to get by. I wondered if it was just the harsh environment and lack of resources, or the city’s leadership. Either way, if this was the best a walled city had to offer, then maybe I didn’t want it.
Then again, my hungry stomach disagreed.
“When can we eat?” I asked Makara.
“Just let me talk, and try not to get in the way.”
We at last came to the oasis itself. There were palm trees around it, but they were shriveled and long dead. The whole thing was more like a pond than a lake. Buildings crowded around it, made from the same wood and sheet metal I had seen earlier.
All in all, the total population of the town might have been a thousand people.
One side of the oasis was completely bare. In the failing light it was hard to tell, but that might have been where the crops were.
A hooded figure stood, back to us, on the shore of the oasis. I knew this to be Ohlan, because two guards stood by him with rifles, facing toward us. He turned at our approach, lowering the hood. He, unlike the other people I had seen, was well-fed and his face clean-shaven. He was balding, with a ring of gray hair. He had a wrinkled face, in which was set a pair of sharp, blue eyes. There was a toughness to him. Not the kind of toughness that comes from the hardships of life, but the kind of toughness that comes from inflicting hardships on others. I immediately did not like him.
