by Kyle West
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.
“Elder,” Makara said. “I thank you for this audience.”
She knelt on one knee. I was shocked that Makara was kneeling to this guy who seemed to cover my soul in slime just by looking at him.
I felt I was expected to kneel, too. So I did. For Makara.
“No need for formalities,” Ohlan said. His tone was cursory, and from it I deduced that there was, in fact, need for formalities. “Not between friends.”
“Thank you, Elder,” Makara said.
The guard who had escorted us stood by and watched like a hawk.
Now, Ohlan looked at me. I gazed for a moment into his cold, blue eyes before turning away as if burned. The eyes were shrewd, and seemed to catch everything I was in a moment. A contemptuous smirk played on his lips before he broke into a pleasant smile.
“Welcome, Makara of the Lost Angels.” He looked toward me. “And who is this?”
“His name is Alex. He was alone, in the Wastes. He’s with me now.”
“Ah,” Ohlan said. “The Wastes seem not to have yet chilled your heart, Makara. Perhaps there is a reason for this...adoption?”
“He was helpless. He is the only survivor of Bunker 108.”
Ohlan flinched a bit. He quickly recovered, turning to me. “108? So Chan is dead?”
I stared at him, confused. What did he know of Chan? Of us? Apparently, Chan had more ties to the outside world than he had let on.
I swallowed my pride at having to answer this man. “I’m afraid so.”
Ohlan’s eyes narrowed. “An interesting development. How did it happen, if I may ask?”
I didn’t want to tell him. But Makara and I needed him, as much as that hurt. He had control of this town and the food that would feed me tonight.
“A sickness,” I said. “I barely escaped and would be dead if not for Makara.”
“A sickness?” Ohlan considered. “Yes. There have been rumors of a new, wasting death. Agonizing. Bodies have been found over the last few weeks in the desert, bloated, ripped. The Blights ever spread.”
Ohlan turned from me and back to Makara.
“Yes. I remember you. And I don’t remember you. You are not the little girl who was Raine’s own. You have changed. You were so happy and carefree, then.”
“I had the luxury to be.”
“Indeed. The City of Angels is no longer that. And the Angels are dead, and the cruel Wastes are now even crueler. You have hardened.”
“I have become what I must.”
“Indeed.” Ohlan gave a coy smile. “Even so much as to take from others, I hope? You have not joined with the locusts of the east, have you?”
I had no idea what Ohlan was referring to, but then I realized he was talking about the raiders, and Raider Bluff.
“I became what I had to become, after Raine died,” Makara said. “To survive.”
“You should have come here first, Makara. You know I would have taken you in. But you didn’t come. Are the walls of Oasis not sufficient for you? There was safety here, and family. But you chose another path. You became a raider.”
Ohlan’s eyes seemed to dance. Makara looked afraid. I felt protective of her. But what could I do? I was just a kid, and Ohlan was a powerful man.
“You said...family?” Makara asked.
“Oh yes. Did you not know?”
“Know? Know what?”
Ohlan smiled. “Your brother, Samuel. He was here.”
Makara’s eyes widened. “Samuel? Samuel, my Samuel, was here? When? Where is he now?”
Makara’s hands shook from either nerves or excitement. I just hoped Ohlan wasn’t lying. If he was, I was going to wring his neck, armed guards or not.
“He’s gone, now,” Ohlan said, turning around. “Samuel came here almost two years ago, thinking to find you here. But he did not find you here. He stayed on. About a year ago, he left to live in Bunker 114. Your brother has a brilliant mind, and Dr. Luken, the head of Bunker 114, wanted Samuel to help him with his research. Three weeks ago, Samuel returned from 114, intending to live here. He refused to say why, but apparently he had a falling out with Dr. Luken. It was only a few days later that we received a distress call from 114. Then, nothing. All of our transmissions have been met with silence. A few days later, Samuel led a patrol to 114 to find out what happened. He was supposed to have been back by now.” Ohlan shook his head. “We have not heard from him since.”
“Where is Bunker 114?” Makara asked. “We will leave immediately.”
“114 is not far – it lies in the heart of Cold Mountain, about fifteen miles northwest.”
“And he never returned?” Makara asked.
“No,” Ohlan said. “After losing so much, I cannot risk more men and resources. In fact, I couldn’t get anyone to go even if I wanted to. The widows still mourn the loss of their husbands. You can hear them weeping, in the night. And it’s been such a cold, dry year. The crop is pitiful. Worse, those men had weapons and supplies with them, things that cannot be replaced.” Ohlan sighed. “If only I could get them back.”
“We will go,” Makara said. “We will bring them back.”
I looked at Makara, and looked at Ohlan. He gave a small, satisfied smile.
“Makara, I do not want to give you false hope. We have not heard from them since the day after they set out. Your brother...”
“...May still be alive. Even if he is dead, I need to know the truth. I couldn’t live knowing he might be out there, still.”
“Honorable. But what of your friend, here?”
“I will help her,” I said. “These supplies must be very useful to you. Surely, you would like them back?”
Ohlan licked his lips. “Yes, of course I would.”
“We will bring them back for you. In exchange, we would like to stay here, in safety.”
Ohlan frowned. “Now, that is a lot to ask.”
“What’s the difference?” I asked. “You lost five, and you would gain two. Perhaps more, if there are any survivors. Furthermore, you would get the supplies.”
Ohlan considered. I couldn’t believe I was convincing him. Makara was quiet. Even she seemed impressed.
Ohlan nodded. “Very well. It is done. You can sleep here tonight. Ren will see to your meal, and give you enough for your journey there and back. You can start tomorrow morning.”
“Thank you, Ohlan,” Makara said. “We will not disappoint you.”
Ohlan smirked. “Disappoint me? I have nothing to lose.”
“We’ll bring those supplies back. I’ll make sure of it.”
“And I hope you can find out what happened at 114,” Ohlan said. “The supplies are most important, of course, but I would like to know what was strong enough to kill a patrol of my best men.”
When Ohlan put it that way, going to Cold Mountain seemed like a bad idea. Yet, this was our only way into a safe home. And it was the only way Makara could find out about Samuel.
“Ren, show our guests to the common house.”
Ren, the guard who had brought us here, saluted with his hand over his heart. “Yes, Elder.” He turned to us. “Follow me.”
We followed Ren down the road from which we came. The street was empty, though yellow lights illumined a building that seemed to be a saloon. Inside I could hear raucous laughter and booming, electronic music.
We walked until we stood in front of a sheet metal building along the wall.
“This is the common house,” Ren said. “You will rest here to
night.”
We went inside. The house was empty, and looked like it had not been used in a long time. Several rows of bunks lined one half of the room, containing dirty mattresses. Still, the prospect of sleeping on something other than rock or floor was good. The other half of the house contained a table. A large pot sat in one of the corners.
“What’s that?” I asked.
Ren looked from me, to Makara, wondering if I was joking. “It’s a piss pot.”
Makara smiled at my embarrassment as Ren turned to leave.
“I’ll be back with food,” he said. “Ohlan wants you up and ready to go before dawn. You are not to leave this building until then.”
“We don’t plan to,” Makara said.
When Ren walked out, we stashed our stuff by the bunks in the corner. Makara took my pack – the one with the batts in it, and hid it away under the corner bed where it would be out of sight.
We then went to the table, and sat.
“So, where did you get that extra gun?” I asked.
Makara turned back to me. She was tired, and did not look like she wanted to talk.
“It was for safekeeping,” she said. “I did not know if I could trust you. I took it from Brux’s pack after I knocked you out. I guess we’ll be getting them back in the morning.”
“Yeah. I guess.”
“Look,” Makara said. “I’m sorry. I see you’re not going to try to shoot me with it, now. I’ll give it to you tomorrow. Promise.”
Makara seemed far away.
“How are you doing?” I asked.
“Just...shocked. Completely shocked. I thought he was dead these last two years. Now, he might be alive. Still, probably dead. But there is hope and I don’t know what to do with it.” She sighed. “I don’t know if I can sleep tonight. My brother was all I had, Alex.”
“He might still be alive,” I said. “That would be something.”
“I don’t want to get my hopes up,” Makara said. “I don’t want this to be just another link on the chain of disappointments.”
“Either way,” I said. “At least we’ll have somewhere to stay.”
“Yes. But what’s the point of being alive when you have nothing to be alive for?”
“Makara...wasn’t it you who told me we went down fighting?”
She sighed. “Yes. But...I feel different now.”
“That’s all it is: a feeling. You never know what could be coming around.”
“Sometimes, I feel like I’m just saying words. Words can’t bring my brother back.”
“Maybe we just have to believe. Even if it’s in nothing.”
“Believe in belief?”
“Maybe. Tomorrow, we will be closer to knowing the truth.”
“That’s what I’m most afraid of. I’ve lived my whole life the past two years on the assumption that he’s dead. What will he think of me and what I’ve done to survive? I did all those things because I didn’t care. But now, maybe I do.”
“There is a time for that,” I said. “But it is not now. Now, we have a chance to rest. So let’s do that.”
We sat there for a few minutes. Makara calmed down. Somehow, my words had done the trick.
The thing was, even I didn’t know how much I believed in them.
I thought about Ohlan. Living here under the dominion of that man seemed an evil fate in and of itself.
“Was Ohlan always like this?”
“Yes. He is a smart man, but he is also cruel. But it is his cruel and calculating ways that helped him to build Oasis. People follow him without question. If they didn’t, they would be ostracized, which is as good as death.”
“I almost don’t want to stay here,” I said. “But it’s hard to argue with a full stomach. It doesn’t have to be forever, I guess.”
We still had the batts. Surely, that had to be worth something somewhere. We could always find another town.
At that moment, the door opened. Ren walked in, carrying two steaming trays of food. My mouth watered, and my stomach growled.
He set the trays on the table.
“There is a well behind the house, near the wall,” he said.
Ren left without another word.
“Charming,” I said.
“This place does not like strangers, that is for sure.” Makara stood. “I’ll go fill our canteens. You can start eating without me.”
“No. I’ll wait.”
It was a minute before she returned. Sitting there with that steaming tray of potatoes, beans, and corn was torture.
As soon as she got back, I dug in.
When you go for a while without eating much, you get full fast. I had to force myself to finish, and I felt like my stomach was going to explode. Makara was right; hunger is the best seasoning. I couldn’t remember a better meal in my life.
After gulping down my water, Makara and I sat for a moment. We were both tired, not saying anything. She wanted to be alone with her thoughts. So I went to my bunk in the corner, got out my blanket, and hunkered down for the night.
The mattress might have smelled funny, but it was soft and comfortable. I closed my eyes, and dreamed of a future that did not involve getting shot at, living on the run, with a full meal every night and at least some semblance of routine.
The only thing was, I was probably going to die before any of that happened.
Chapter 18
After getting the guns back, we left Oasis at dawn by the north gate past all the fields. On our way, we passed wheat and corn stalks, half withered by the harsh, dry environment. It was a wonder that anything at all could grow out here.
Then, we were out in the Waste again, heading northeast to Cold Mountain, a shadowy mass in the distance. It was surrounded by smaller mountains. I wondered how we’d find Bunker 114 in that entire thing.
It was still dark, and we saw no hint of the sun until a golden glow shone above the eastern mountains. The desert floor was bathed in a vibrant, orange hue.
On the way, Makara handed me my gun. My gun. It felt good to even think those words.
We stopped for a short break so I could get to know it better. It was a Beretta handgun. It looked at least fifty years old, but it had a lot of character. It had many scratches and scuffs from the years, and the design was sleek and round.
Makara took a moment to show me how to use it. She took out the magazine. Fully loaded, it contained seventeen rounds. Makara showed me two boxes of 9mm rounds in the pack. The two boxes each contained a hundred rounds. I had plenty of ammo as long as I didn’t get too trigger happy.
When I latched the holster onto my belt, words cannot describe how much more secure I felt.
We walked on.
“How far do you think it is?” I asked.
“Ten miles or so,” Makara said. “It’s still morning, so we’re making good progress.”
As the sun rose higher in the sky, the mountain appeared to get a little closer. It wouldn’t be long, now.
We walked on at a fast pace the rest of the day. By late afternoon, we had entered the foothills of Cold Mountain. It rose up in front of us like a giant tooth, wicked looking. It had a long, pointed top, like a spire. It was hard to see the top, as it was mostly lost in reddish haze.
I noticed something else, too, as we drew closer. The sides of the mountain were purple, pink, and burnt orange.
“What is that?” I asked.
We both stopped to look at it. It was clear that the color was unnatural. Multicolored layers of something toppled down the mountain in frozen waves. It looked alive.
“A Blight,” Makara said. “No wonder that patrol did not come back.”
“Are they always dangerous?”
“I’ve never seen one this big,” she said. “It’s taking up the whole mountain. You never know what kind of things you can run into in a Blight.”
“Monsters?”
“Just be ready. Shoot anything that moves.”
***
We were almost to the northern fa
ce of Cold Mountain. Nothing had jumped out at us, yet, but being in my first Blight was a nerve-wrecking experience. The entire ground was coated in a thick, sticky purple and pink substance. This, I knew, was xenofungus. I had only seen samples in my father’s lab. To see miles upon miles of it was surreal and frightening. It squished as we walked on it.
Pillars, maybe ten to twenty feet tall, rose from the purple stuff in organic towers. They appeared to be spawned by the stuff on the ground, and had massive, bell shaped openings that dripped pink slime. The slime flowed downhill, pushed along by the fungus. It collected toward the end of the Blight. It might have been the way the fungus spread ever outward.
We worked our way through the towers and spongy ground. It was late afternoon by now. We had found no Bunker entrance, so far. But I knew we would have to find it quick. Getting caught out here at night was a terrifying thought.
We turned the corner of the mountain to find ourselves on its northern face. The entire side was covered with purple and pink grime. It glowed from the hazy, setting sun, and clouds of insects swarmed near the towers. Right in the middle of it all was a gaping maw, black, lost in shadow.
“That looks promising,” Makara said.
“Like the mouth of a beast.”
“If there’s any entrance, that will be it. Come on. It’s not far.”
As we crossed the purple field, I couldn’t shake the feeling that we were being watched. I looked around, but saw nothing.
“I have a feeling something is watching us...” I said.
Makara stopped. “I don’t feel anything...”
I turned around. I could see nothing but multicolored miles of Blight, spreading in all directions.
When I turned around again, they were right in front of us.
Two dog-like creatures, completely hairless, were kneeling in front of Makara. In tandem they pounced on her, and she fell backward. She screamed, dropping her gun. Their jaws snapped, closer to her neck. She elbowed one in the head.
I ran forward, pulling out my Beretta. I fired at the one about to finish Makara. Two bullets plowed into the head. The thing yelped and went slack, purple goo oozing from the wounds.
The other monster snarled as it turned to face me. I fired several times, the bullets tearing into its chest and front legs. I couldn’t get a steady shot.
