Boneyards & Badlands: The Complete FTW Series

by Morgan Hobbes

  After letting me drink in the view in silence for a few minutes, Jay-Bee taps the back of my hand to break my attention from the Badlands.

  “What do you think?” he asks.

  “It’s amazing and terrifying at the same time,” I say, turning my attention back to the windows.

  “The first time I saw it I thought the same thing.”

  “Are we tunneling towards one of those buildings?” I ask, pointing towards a row of collapsed buildings nearest the wall. They must be almost a quarter mile beyond the wall. If that’s the case the thought of crawling through the tunnel just got a lot scarier.

  “Correct,” Jay-Bee replies. “The fourth one in from the left is the safest, and that’s where the tunnel lets out. I know it looks like a stiff breeze would blow it down, but that’s only from this side. When you see it from the inside, it’s still structurally sound.”

  We stare through the window for another minute or so. I want to memorize as much of the landscape as I can. The more I know, the more it might help us, even if only in the short term.

  “Come on, we really should get back down to the basement before we’re missed,” Jay-Bee says.

  After I nod in agreement, he turns and walks across the room. I take one more second to look out across the Badlands, then turn and follow him.

  The cheering and shouting reverberates up the stairwell long before we reach the basement. A smile splits Jay-Bee’s face, and he laughs and pumps his fist in the air.

  “Sounds like we’re through,” he shouts and without waiting for me he quickens his descent, his boots tapping out a rapid staccato rhythm.

  I take my time following him. The thought of the tunnel still scares me, and I want to put it off for as long as possible. Eventually though I reach the bottom of the stairs and enter the basement.

  Stilwell runs over and throws his arm around my shoulders. Everyone is still cheering, and some people are even dancing in celebration.

  “We’re through,” he says, the excitement in his voice unmistakable. “No time to waste, grab whatever you’ve got and meet me by the tunnel mouth. Remember, it’s the Badlands, so the more you’re carrying the harder it’ll be.”

  Before I can tell him I have nothing to bring with me except what’s in my pockets, he runs off to talk to someone on the other side of the room. I double-check my pockets anyway, and count off a dozen protein bars. Because of my life in the boneyards I can live off very little, so these will last me a long time.

  For a short while we had an abundance of food available to us. I have several habits deeply entrenched in my soul, and one of those involves protein bars. Before that fated meeting where I would lose Echo, we had been standing around a table brimming with food.

  If there’s one thing I envy of the world outside of the boneyards, it’s the myriad flavors and smells of their food. Protein bars will let me survive off little for a long time, but compared to some of the delights I’ve tried since they taste like dirt.

  At one end of the table though, untouched by everyone was a pile of protein bars. I grabbed as many as I could, shoving them into any available pocket. They provided a comfort, in that I knew no matter what may happen I wouldn’t go hungry for a very long time.

  After everyone had eaten their fill that’s when we moved to start the meeting and our world went to hell.

  So with only a dozen protein bars and a pocket knife tucked into my boot, I gather my courage and walk through to where the excavated tunnel to the outside world begins.

  Once everyone has gathered a senior leader of the Fox Hunters, Derek I think his name is, directs people into the tunnel. His wife, Maliah, goes first. I notice she’s got a gun strapped to her hip, as do the others that follow her in.

  They’ll be our first line of defense I guess, in case there’s someone, or something, waiting on the other side.

  As each person enters the tunnel Derek hands them a small flashlight. I doubt they’ll do much but at least they’d let you see a few feet in front of yourself.

  The hole in the wall stares at me like an unblinking eye. Its diameter is large enough for someone to crawl through on their belly, maybe slightly on their knees if they are my size.

  That’s good news. It means I should get through the tunnel quicker. Stilwell turns towards me and Jay-Bee and looks me in the eyes.

  “Are you sure you’ll be okay, Kara?” he asks.

  I take a few deep breaths and steady my nerves.

  “Yes. I can do this,” I reply with my fists clenched by my sides.

  “I’ll go first and you can follow me,” Jay-Bee says.

  Stilwell doesn’t give me a chance to reply.

  “I’ll go first,” he says. “Kara you follow me, then Jay-Bee.”

  Derek motions for us to approach, and as a group we do.

  “Your turn guys, let’s hustle.”

  Stilwell takes off his backpack, ties it to his waist with a rope, and enters the tunnel. He drops his pack, and as he worms his way along the tunnel length, it drags along behind him.

  “New girl, your turn,” Derek says and hands me a flashlight.

  I take another deep breath and peer into the depths of the tunnel. Stilwell has made good progress. After the mouth, the tunnel widens so the trip may not be that bad.

  There are timber supports at random intervals to hold up the roof, so I trust it’s stable enough. Before I can lose my nerve, I crawl into the tunnel and shuffle my way along.

  Thanks to my size I can raise myself a little which makes the going easier. I crawl forward on my forearms and knees, and after a short while I can see brief flashes of light beneath me. Jay-Bee is close behind me.

  So far my fears haven’t overwhelmed me. I think because I’ve got friends both in front and behind me it’s keeping me sane. We crawl on through the dark, dirty tunnel.

  Nobody says a word, just an occasional grunt of exertion or fatigue. If they’re anything like me they’d be trying to think of anything except being buried alive.

  Next thing I know I’ve caught up to Stilwell. He’s larger than me so is making slower progress.

  “Hurry up, slowpoke,” I say to him in a loud whisper, not willing to risk raising my voice too much.

  He snorts, suppressing the urge to laugh out loud as he normally would.

  “You’re welcome to overtake me if you can,” he says, “only-”

  Whatever he was about to say gets cut short as he cracks his head against one of the timber supports. A handful of dirt and rock dislodges and rains down on him. My heartbeat quickens and almost pounds through my chest.

  “Damn it,” he hisses.

  He backs up a few feet and points his flashlight towards the support beam. He gives it a gentle tap. It doesn’t move, and no more dirt falls away.

  “Still good,” he says, and continues his crawl along the tunnel.

  My legs refuse to move. I can’t tear my eyes away from the roof of the tunnel. Images of the roof collapsing and burying me alive rush into my brain. I can feel the earth envelop me.

  I throw my hands around my head, instinctively trying to protect myself, but it’s no good. The weight of the dirt is crushing me. It forces the breath from my lungs.

  “Kara.”

  I’m trapped. I can’t move an inch. My flashlight is somewhere in front of me buried beneath the dirt, and I’m alone here in this godforsaken tunnel.

  I claw in desperation, trying to dig my way out but it’s no use. For every handful I dig away another falls to take its place.

  “Kara.”

  One day someone might dig out the tunnel again and find my remains. See how my fingers have worn through to the bone as I tried to dig myself free. Jagged gouges in the earth like the Badlands above me.

  My breaths are getting faster and shorter. Everything is pitch black. I don’t know if I’m dead or alive.

  The crush of the dirt is unbearable.

  “KARA.”

  Something scratching, poking at the back of my
leg. No, it must be the cannibals Jay-Bee told me about. How have they found me? They’ll eat me alive while I’m trapped in this tunnel.

  I kick out with my legs and scream. Something crunches under the heel of my boot.

  “KARA, STOP!”

  Light floods my eyes and I can see the tunnel again. I’m not buried. No sign of Stilwell in front of me. I stop kicking.

  “Kara, are you okay?” Jay-Bee asks me. His voice sounds nasal and I can feel his hand on the back of my leg. “I think you freaked out or something.”

  Tears run down my cheeks. My heart races. My arms and legs shake from the rush of adrenaline and no will of mine can stop them. I blink away the tears in my eyes and focus my mind.

  “I think you broke my nose,” Jay-Bee says.

  “I’m... I’m sorry,” I whisper.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine,” Jay-Bee says, “it’s not the first time it’s been broken... but we need to keep moving. There are still many people behind us.”

  I push myself back into my crawling position and shine the flashlight along the tunnel length. Then, willing myself to move forward my arms and legs follow and I restart my slow journey.

  After a long time passes, the tunnel slopes upwards, and a faint glow appears ahead of me. The shuffling and huffing sounds of Jay-Bee behind me let me know he’s doing his best to keep up, even though I can go faster than him. I stop until I hear him catch up.

  “Finally,” I whisper back to Jay-Bee. “I think we’re near the end. I can see a light.”

  “I’m glad to hear it,” he says. “My everything is killing me.”

  I laugh and continue crawling.

  “I know what you mean,” I say. My arms and knees feel like they’ve rubbed raw against the dirt. I want nothing more than to stand and stretch my muscles. I suspect they’ll ache for days.

  In time the light draws closer. When I’m about twelve feet from the end, Stilwell’s face appears and smiles when he sees me.

  “You took your time,” he says. “I was beginning to worry.”

  “Sorry,” I say. “I had a panic attack after you head-butted the support beam.”

  “Ah,” he says and rubs at a visible lump on his forehead. “If it makes you feel any better, this hurts like a sonofabitch.”

  “You know what? It does a little,” I say, crawling my way forward. The entrance is so close I can almost touch it.

  Way off in the distance, a thump rings out. Somewhere from behind us, down the length of the tunnel.

  “What the hell was that?” I ask, turning my head back as far as I can towards the source of the sound.

  “Kara, get out NOW!” Stilwell screams at me as he dives into the tunnel. He grabs my hands and pulls me forwards towards the tunnel’s exit.

  A rush of wind explodes past us and showers us in dirt and rocks. Carried along with it are the screams of those behind me.

  My nightmare is coming true. I can feel Jay-Bee pushing at me from behind and Stilwell pulling me forward. My legs and arms propel me along as quickly as they can. Stilwell drops out of the tunnel, losing his grip on my hands.

  I push forward as hard as I can. A thumping sound comes from behind me. I don’t need to see it to know the tunnel is collapsing on us.

  Closer now, only a few feet from safety.

  Stilwell reappears and locks on to my wrists with an iron grip. He drags me forward and light from the outside world shines on the tips of my fingers. He pulls me again and I’m out almost as far as my elbows.

  The thumping of the tunnel collapsing behind me is getting so close. I can no longer feel Jay-Bee pushing me. I hope he’s okay. Stilwell grunts as he pulls at me again. A weight pushes down on my legs.

  I move forward maybe an inch. I’m so close. More weight piles on top of me.

  I scream.

  Air gets pushed from my lungs.

  My world turns dark.

  3 - Echo

  I may not remember my life before, but thanks to the mind augmentation I know a hell of a lot of stuff. My brain is bursting with knowledge on almost every topic.

  When I look at the comms on my wrist, I can recall every detail about it. How it’s manufactured. The code of the software that runs it. Even the gold paths etched into the circuit boards it contains.

  My father smiles at me. I smile back.

  “I know so much,” I say, giddy with excitement.

  “That’s good,” he says, “but I take it you still have no memory of who you were before?”

  I close my eyes and try to picture it in my mind. Nothing comes.

  “No. Just a swirling mess of new information. Everything I look at triggers memories, it’s a little overwhelming.” I look around the room and point at a screen. “I know every single component that contains. I can also tell from the model number it was manufactured eight months ago.”

  “That’s normal after a mind augmentation. Your brain will adjust, and you’ll only call up information when you need it, rather than it hitting you uncontrollably.”

  My father holds out his hand and helps me stand. At first I thought maybe he was just being polite, but the second I’m upright the world spins before my eyes. He holds me steady until it passes.

  “Come,” he says. “We have much to catch up on.”

  A soft chime rings out to let us know we’ve arrived. We’re only one floor down from where we were, but the difference is noticeable. Where it was only my father and I in the lab, the control room heaves with people.

  Ranged around the room are hundreds of work stations. A group of people man each one. My father leads me across to a large corner office containing several work stations, most of which face away from the glass windows.

  “I’ve had this set up for you,” my father says. “I thought I’d make this my temporary home as well, just while you get back up to speed with everything. I hope you don’t mind.”

  “Not at all, sir. I’m glad to have you nearby,” I say while poking at a piece of equipment. “What is it you’d like me to do? I don’t remember what I used to do.”

  “All that will come in time. I think for now we should test the memory implants. It might be you have a new predisposition towards a particular field. I don’t want to influence that in any way, so we’ll work through some of the memory modules we implanted.”

  “What should I try first then, sir?”

  “I was thinking security and surveillance. You can start by sweeping the live security footage and setting up facial recognition alerts.”

  I nod in agreement as I concentrate on the words ‘security and surveillance’. The appropriate memories surface in my mind and I know exactly what I need to do.

  “Is there anyone in particular you’d like me to find?”

  My father stares at me for a moment before replying.

  “There’s no easy way of telling you this, but there is a group of terrorists who have made it their mission to destroy our way of life.”

  “What? That’s absurd. Why would people want to do that?” I ask.

  “Because there are always people like that. We call them terrorists, they think of themselves as rebels. They call themselves ‘Fox Hunters’ because they want to take me down personally. They’re a very dangerous outfit. Before your injury, they brought down our East Coast headquarters with explosives. Fortunately there were few people in at the time so casualties were minimal, but the building was destroyed.”

  This knowledge hits me like a punch to the stomach. I can’t believe there would be people so misguided that they would blow up an entire building. My father stands opposite me looking me in the eyes. I pull him into a hug.

  “I’m so angry,” I say. “I don’t remember it but just the thought of it makes me furious. I’m just glad you weren’t injured.”

  My father breaks from my hug, gently pushing me away by my hips. His face changes from concern to a smile.

  “It’s in the past now. But we can do something about it in the here and now. They’re exp
erts at hiding from us, but I hope that with your implanted abilities you might find a way to find them where we have not.”

  “I’ve got several ideas already,” I say and turn towards a workstation.

  My fingers tap and slide across the screen preternaturally fast, guided by the implanted knowledge.

  Hours fly by as I work the screens. I develop and deploy electronic spies and data-miners throughout the networks, autonomous AI programs that can intelligently seek out our targets. When I show my father the progress I have made, he’s impressed.

  “You did all that in four hours?” he asks.

  “Yes, but the knowledge you implanted did most of the heavy lifting. I was just the human interface for it.”

  “Don’t sell yourself short,” he says, watching the screens intently. Streams of data scroll up the screen, but none of it is pinpointing a location. “I may have given you the tools, but it took your unique way of thinking to put it all together. If we did the same with anyone else, I doubt we’d get anything of this caliber. I knew you were special, that’s-” he says, cutting himself off.

  “What do you mean?”

  He smiles and shakes his head.

  “Nothing, it’s not important. This is excellent work. Let me know the second you get a hit,” he says, then turns and walks back across the room.

  I’m still puzzled by what he was going to say, but it’s obvious he won’t be drawn on it. Instead, I push it to the back of my mind and return to my screen.

  The volume of data flowing back is immense, and too much for one person to review by themselves. I minimize the screen displaying the data and get to work on a sieve program to help me organize it into something manageable.

  An hour later and I’ve finished cobbling together a program to organize the data. It’s rough, more proof of concept at this point, but if it works, then I’ll know I’m on the right track.

  I tap the icon with my finger and the sieve program launches. It sucks in the data from the other screen and gets to work.

  On screen there’s a cube made of small silver spheres that represents the results of the sieve. The spheres are unique data points, and as the program finds more information, the spheres grow in size. When there’s a connection between data points they’re joined by a faint line.