by Kyle West
Makara was going as fast as the heavy Recon would go – about fifty five miles per hour, the wheels churning to get us to our destination.
I just didn’t know if it was fast enough.
When the highway turned south, I could see on our left a wide dark river, flowing south.
“We hit the Colorado,” Makara said.
It was more water than I’d ever seen in my life. I’d read about the Colorado River in the Bunker 108 archive. It had once been an important river in the Old World, but overuse had dried it up. Now, the river was wide, so wide, in fact, that I couldn’t see the other side in the darkness. Above the river on the opposite bank, high up, I could see the city. Raider Bluff’s yellow lights glowed dimly with distance, almost unmoving even with the Recon’s speed.
At last, the road turned left, toward the river. I could see a bridge of tall arches spanning the water.
“Silver Arched Bridge,” Makara said. “The only crossing for miles.”
The giant rungs of the arch stretched from shore to shore with the road running straight underneath. The road itself was almost even with the river - maybe just ten feet above it. The pressure from the current must be enormous. Two raiders with rifles guarded the bridge's front.
“Let me do the talking,” Makara said.
We pulled up, and Makara rolled down her window.
A hard-faced, grizzled man peered inside. His eyes widened upon seeing who was driving.
“Makara?”
“Chris, step aside. I have a wounded man in here who will die without medical attention.”
“What?” Chris asked. He shined the flashlight inside the Recon, pointing the beam at Makara, Samuel, and then me. “What happened? Where’s Brux? Jade? Tyson?”
“All dead. Let me through, and I don't have time for these questions!”
"What happened?"
"Gunshot wound," Makara said. “Now step aside unless you want me to run you over!”
“Not so fast,” he said. “I’m not putting my ass on the line until you answer some questions. First, who is this?” he asked, pointing at me.
“Look, Chris,” Makara said, “Just give me clearance to Char or I’ll have him wipe the floor with you. I promise, you not listening to me is more dangerous than this sixteen-year-old kid and a man dying from a gunshot wound.”
Chris sighed, his gaze doing its best to match up with Makara’s. But after a moment, he turned away and raised his communicator to his mouth.
“Makara’s back. I’m sending her up. Have the gates ready, over.”
“Copy that, over,” the voice said from the other end.
“Welcome home, Makara,” Chris said, somewhat sarcastically. “You’re clear. I hope you have a better story for Char than you do for me.”
“I don’t need a story, Chris.” Makara said. “I need a doctor.”
Makara was about to gun the accelerator when Chris grabbed her shoulder.
“What?” she asked, shrugging off his grasp.
“Be careful up there. Things have changed. An emissary from the Empire is in Bluff, talking with Char.”
“The Empire?” Makara asked. “What the hell is the Empire?”
Chris frowned. “You were gone longer than I thought. They’re based in Old Mexico. They’re big, powerful – tens of thousands of people.” He paused. “The emissary’s name is Rex. Just don't get on his bad side. I know you can be mouthy.”
Makara shook her head. “I'll say what I want, when I want, Chris. Is that it?”
“Yeah. You should head on. Just watch your back.”
Makara didn’t waste any more words on him. When Chris stepped aside, Makara floored the Recon, rocketing it into the night.
“The Empire,” I said. “That sounds sinister.”
“I’ve never heard of it before,” Makara said. “Gone a few months, and this is what happens. The game always changes every time I come back. That's nothing new, though.”
Despite those words, I could see the worry in her eyes.
“It’s hard to imagine war at a time like this,” I said. “The world is being taken over by the xenovirus. Leave it to humanity to take itself out first.”
Makara sighed. “All the more reason to patch my brother up quickly and be on our way. We have a mission to finish.”
I looked at Samuel. He was out again. Hopefully, it wasn’t for good this time.
“Just a few minutes, Sam,” Makara said. “Hang on.”
***
We drove up what seemed an endless series of switchbacks before the land leveled and placed us before the wooden gates of Raider Bluff. These things were huge, probably three stories high. They made the gates of Oasis look like toys in comparison. A giant wooden palisade surrounded all sides of the town, maybe twenty feet high, as if the sheer cliffs weren’t enough. It must have taken an eternity to build. I wondered where they found the labor, until I realized raiders were notorious for employing slaves.
At various points in the perimeter, large watchtowers rose. I had no idea where they had gotten the lumber to build these walls. Trees were growing somewhere, apparently, if not here. It was a testament to the citadel’s wealth and power.
The gates then drew back, sliding into the walls on either side. Thick chains rigged to pulleys moved the massive fortifications. Even though I was about to enter the biggest den of thieves in all the world, I couldn’t help but be impressed.
Makara drove down the main drag. Wooden buildings and saloons lined either side of the dirt road. It was like entering an Old West town on steroids. Signs swung above the open doors – liquor, girls, and guns seemed to be the establishments’ main themes. Raiders dressed in dingy apparel flanked both sides of the road, making way for us as we came in. From their widened eyes, it was clear that none of them had seen a Recon before.
The raiders tried to get the Recon to stop but Makara honked the Recon’s horn and sped up when they got too close.
“They’re not going to hurt us,” she said. “They just want to check out the ride.”
Outside, I could hear them yelling her name.
“You seem to be pretty popular around here,” I said.
“They’re all idiots,” Makara said.
The road wound its way around the mesa. I saw we were not even close to the top. There were three levels, and buildings rose from all of them. The bottom, which we were on now, was the largest. It seemed to contain all the places of business, the wide outdoor markets, the bars, pretty much anywhere you could buy something.
“We’re heading to the Alpha’s Compound,” Makara said. “It’s where Char lives. It’s at the very top of Bluff and exclusive. No one will bother us, plus that’s where the clinic is. Char, in addition to being the Alpha, is also good at stitching a wound. Hopefully this isn’t beyond his expertise.”
“Char was the one you raided with, right?”
Makara nodded. “Probably the only decent person who lives here. It’s weird for a decent man to lead a bunch of scum. It’s a wonder he’s still alive.”
We entered the second level. We were halfway up the bluff now. On either side were well-constructed wooden cabins.
Makara pointed out a small building we drove by. A sign overhung the door, reading, “The Bounty.”
“That’s the Bounty,” Makara said. “It’s a bar run by my friend Lisa. I’ve spent many-a-night there.”
“I remember you mentioning it.”
We rounded the last bend. Over the wooden rooftops of Bluff, I could see the vast panorama of dark desert. The black Colorado River flowed south and the sky above was dark and void.
We reached a final gate. A raider pulled it open from the other side, revealing a long cobblestone road that led into a grassy courtyard. The green grass must have been watered and cared for to flourish like that. Flanking either side of the road were tall pines. I rolled down my window, the trees’ crisp, sweet smell pleasant yet foreign to my nostrils. I could see that the stone structure of the compound w
as a U-shape, surrounding the courtyard. It had narrow slits for windows; open air, no glass. Ahead, the cobblestone drive ended in a cul-de-sac. A wide, yet short, stairway led to a pair of heavy wooden doors. Judging from the thick stone walls, the compound had been constructed to withstand on all-out siege.
“Fancy,” I said.
“It’s grown over the last few years,” Makara said. “Each new Alpha leaves his own mark. Char redid the courtyard. The pines were taken from mountains far to the east.”
“Why is he called Char?” I asked.
Makara smiled grimly. “You will see.”
Makara pulled to a stop in the cul-de-sac. She powered off the vehicle, the hum of the hydrogen pressure tank dimming to nothing.
We hopped out of the vehicle. The air was dry, cold, and sharp. It had definitely dropped a few degrees. We went to Samuel’s side and opened the passenger’s door. Makara and I lifted Samuel from the Recon.
He stirred a bit, and groaned. Though pale as a ghost, it was good to know he was still alive. Despite the sound he made, his whole body was limp. He was dead weight between us.
“Come on,” Makara said. “We’re going to have to drag him.”
We dragged him through the compound, to the large front doors. Makara didn’t bother knocking. She threw the doors open with her shoulder, revealing a wide, dark interior lit by torches. We dragged Samuel inside.
“Char!” Makara screamed.
Nothing answered her call. The entry hall was empty, lit only by two blazing braziers along the far wall and a few torches ensconced upon four heavy pillars supporting the room’s structure.
Then, a shadow materialized in front of us, moving forward at lightning speed.
“Watch out!” I said.
Makara reached for her handgun with her free hand, never letting go of Samuel.
A thin, curved sword was placed at the base of Makara’s neck.
“Not so fast,” a young, female voice said.
***
Now standing in the light, the bearer of the sword was black-haired girl, about my age, with green almond eyes. The eyes narrowed as she edged the blade closer to Makara’s throat. I saw that she was beautiful, with a short, yet curvy, figure. I berated myself for even noticing that at a time like this, but even at the threat of one’s life, guys can’t help but notice certain things.
“Who are you,” she asked dangerously, “and what are you doing here?”
Makara spoke first, making an effort to keep calm. “We’re here to see Char, girl. Put that thing away right now, or there’s going to be trouble.”
“Char is not here.” The girl did not withdraw her sword. In fact, it looked like it was more in her mind to use it. “If you had been cleared, I would be the first to know. I’ll give you one more chance. Tell me who you are, and why you’re here. This wouldn’t be the first assassination attempt I’ve stopped.”
“I don’t know who you think you are, but Char and I are old friends,” Makara said, never batting an eyelash. “I’m Makara. Ever heard the name? And if you don’t get us Char right now, then...”
The front doors banged open. I turned to see a grizzled man, probably in his fifties, enter.
“Makara,” he said, his voice gravelly.
There was no mistaking the man’s air of command. He was Char. He was tall with broad shoulders and a shaved head. Two guards flanked his either side, holding rifles. His sharp blue eyes surveyed us all calmly. He wore green camo pants and a thick black leather jacket. A tattoo of a snakelike dragon eating its own tail was emblazoned on his forearm. But his most striking feature was his face. A deep burn wound scarred his right cheek. That wound had happened long ago and would never fully heal.
No one said anything as the man stepped forward.
“I am sorry I was not here to greet you,” he said to Makara. “Politics.”
The girl glanced from Char to Makara, not sure what to do.
“Stand down, Anna,” Char said. “I appreciate your drive to protect me, but Makara is a friend.”
Anna pulled the blade back, sheathing it immediately. Those beautiful eyes stung with hurt. “Char, no one let me know of Makara’s arrival.”
“Your loyalty is admirable, but Makara is to be treated with the same respect you would afford any of my guests. More, in fact. But we don’t have time to have hurt feelings, do we?”
He faced Samuel, who now lay on the ground between Makara and me.
“Lay him face-up,” Char said. “I need to see the wound.”
We set Samuel on the ground. Char walked forward and knelt beside him. He placed two fingers on his neck.
“There is a pulse,” he said, his voice deep and gruff. Whatever had burned his face had also marred his voice. He glanced sideways at Makara. “Is the bullet still in?”
“Yes. It happened about ten hours ago.”
“Humph.”
Char retrieved a knife from his belt and cut Samuel’s white tee shirt open at the shoulder. He pulled the fabric back tenderly to reveal the wound. Fresh red blood trickled out. The surrounding skin was black, purple, and green.
“He’s out, now,” Char said. “But he’ll be dead if I try to pull it out of him like this. He needs morphine.”
“You have that, don’t you?” Makara asked.
Char grunted. “A bit. I do not want to use it on an outsider.”
“My brother is not an outsider,” Makara said. “He is family, as raider as anybody here.”
“Don’t worry,” Char said. “I wouldn’t let you bring him all this way to tell you no.”
“Good. You had me worried.” Makara eyes went up to Anna and narrowed, as if willing the katana-wielding girl away. Anna only stood, meeting Makara’s stare without blinking.
“This is Anna, my bodyguard. You noticed her katana, I presume. She lives by the Bushido Code.”
“Are you a samurai?” I asked.
Anna gave a single nod, but no word for answer.
Makara smirked. “I thought samurai were supposed to be Japanese. And men.”
Judging from the look in Anna’s eyes, she looked ready to draw her blade again.
“Honor and principle go beyond the confines of gender and race.”
“She is deadly with a blade,” Char said. “Where she learned to use it like that, I don’t know. She’s most of the reason why I’ve stayed Alpha so long. Especially these days. But all this is idle talk. Your brother needs my help.” Char motioned to the raiders nearby. “We’re taking Samuel to the clinic.”
The men gathered around. Together, they lifted Samuel up.
“Follow me,” Char said to Makara. Then, he noticed me for the first time. “Who’s this?”
“Alex,” I said.
“He’s from Bunker 108,” Makara said. “Once we take care of Samuel, we’ll fill you in. It’s a long, long story.”
We followed Char and his bodyguards through the dark corridors and into the clinic.
***
Find the rest of Origins on Amazon.
Glossary
10,000, The: This refers to the 10,000 citizens who were selected in 2029 to enter Bunker One. This group included the best America had to offer, people who were masters in the fields of science, engineering, medicine, and security. President Garland and all the U.S. Congress, as well as essential staff and their families, were also chosen.
Alpha: “Alpha” is the title given to the recognized head of the raiders. In the beginning, it was only a titular role that only had as much power as the Alpha was able to enforce. But as Raider Bluff grew in size and complexity, the Alpha began to take on a more meaningful role. Typically, Alphas do not remain so for long – they are assassinated by rivals, who then rise to take their place. In some years, there can be as many as four Alphas – though powerful Alphas, like Char, can reign for many years.
Batts: Batts, or batteries, are the currency of the Wasteland. It is unknown how batteries were first seen as currency, but it is likely because they are
small, portable, and durable. Rechargeable batteries are even more prized (called “chargers”), and solar batteries (called “solars,” or “sols,”) are the most useful and prized of all.
Black Files, The: The Black Files are the mysterious, collected research on the xenovirus, located in Bunker One. They were authored principally by Dr. Cornelius Ashton, Chief Scientist of Bunker One. Though Dr. Steven Keener believes in the Black Files existence, whether they are truly stored in Bunker One’s archives is a matter of debate.
Black Reapers, The: The Black Reapers are a powerful, violent gang, based in Los Angeles. They are led by Warlord Carin Black. They keep thousands of slaves, using them to fuel their post-apocalyptic empire. They usurped the Lost Angels in 2055, and have been ruling there ever since.
Blights: Blights are infestations of xenofungus and the xenolife they support. They are typically small, but the bigger ones can cover large tracts of land. As a general rule of thumb, the larger the Blight, the more complicated and dangerous the ecosystem it maintains.
Bunker 108: Bunker 108 is located in the San Bernardino Mountains about one hundred miles east of Los Angeles. It is the birthplace of Alex Keener.
Bunker 114: A small, medical research installation built about fifty miles northwest of Bunker 108. Built beneath Cold Mountain, Bunker 114 is small. After the fall of Bunker One, Bunker 114, like Bunker 108 to the southeast, became a main center of xenoviral research.
Bunker One: The main headquarters of the Post-Ragnarok United States government. It fell in 2048 to a swarm of crawlers that overran its defenses. Bunker One had berths for ten thousand people, making it many times over the most populous Bunker. Its inhabitants included President Garland, the U.S. Senate and House of Representatives, essential government staff, security forces, along with the skilled people needed to maintain it. Also there were dozens of brilliant scientists and specialists, including engineers, doctors, and technicians. The very wealthy were also allowed berths for helping to finance the Bunker Program. Bunker One is also the location of the Black Files, authored by Dr. Cornelius Ashton.
