by Peter Okafor
A loud horn bellowed. Guards from Section 5 drew the mighty gates open, and several armoured cars drove in, raising dust in the air. The cars were new designs by the Citadel of Engineering in MegaCityOne to navigate through the radiated wastelands, or so he had been told by Old Max the mechanic.
“I heard that the cost of water has risen in MegaCityOne,” Troy whispered to Runner as they stared at the armed men of Section 5 unloading equipment from the vehicles. “Dictator Patterson tasked Section 5 with the job of finding a freshwater lake.”
“Come on, Troy. Have you been listening to Old Max’s crazy stories again? He is a good source of information, but if you get too comfortable, he will feed you false hopes of paradise and mountains with streams of honey,” Runner said.
“It’s true,” Troy retorted. “They are running short of water in the big city. They said the dams have run dry and you can only get acid rains in the wastelands.”
How is that my problem? Runner thought and then laughed softly. “If only they will all die of thirst so that we can go over there and loot their corpses.”
“You can’t mean that.” Troy glanced at him.
“Speak for yourself,” Runner answered.
He caught a glimpse of a girl he knew amongst the guards of Section 5. She was ebony-skinned with creamy cascading hair. Bag after bag, she unloaded the truck where she stood behind a gangly boy with a ridiculously small head and did not seem to notice Runner.
“Rhiannon!” he called.
She raised her head. “Runner.” Her arm went up, waving at him.
Runner slung his makeshift axe across his back and held it tight with a belt that ran over his chest. He took quick strides to reach her.
“Is it true?” Runner’s eyes were afire with curiosity.
“Is it true, what?” she asked.
“That Section 5 is searching for a fresh water lake?” He continued.
Rhiannon sat on the back of the truck. Her hair scattered on her shoulder, and it intrigued Runner the way they adhered to her movements. Troy joined soon enough and rested his back on the truck.
“It is true,” she replied, much to Troy’s delight.
“We are chasing after rumours and myths now. We scoured the wastelands, but there wasn’t a single evidence of water. We even lost three boys in the process. There is something out there in the shadows of the building ruins. I could feel it—the rage. Something took those boys, Runner, but the chief enforcer would not listen. I shudder to think what might become of us all.”
Rhiannon jumped down the truck and opened her arms to hug Runner who received the embrace warmly. She was his best friend too, despite Troy’s nagging comments that she felt something more than that. He knew indeed that love and family was the only thing that kept most folks going in Rat Town, yet they were the hardest to come by.
“I need a favour,” Runner spoke softly.
Rhiannon wiped her hands on a ragged cloth. “What is it?”
“We lost our pay because of a misunderstanding with Skittish, and now we need to get some scrap metal to sell to Old Max.”
“In other words, you need to sneak into the wastelands.” Rhiannon supported her hands on her waist. “But you know if I get caught opening any of the small gates for you guys, I will lose my job.”
“Please, Rhee. If not for us, think about those kids at home. We can’t let them cry through the night.” Troy added, and Runner nodded.
“I got paid today, hundred credits in all. I can get something for your aunt’s kids.” She sunk her hand in a small bag hanging at her waist.
A hundred credits were enough to last a family for a month, but as much as he wanted a share of it, Runner knew Rhiannon’s family needed every bit of the credits.
“Here, this is ten.” She stretched her hand towards Runner.
He held her hand and closed her fingers on the credit-chips.
“Your mom is sick. Use it to take care of her. We won’t implicate you if we get caught in the wastelands, I promise.”
After a moment of consideration, Rhiannon sighed. “Fine, follow me,” she said.
Both boys followed behind Rhiannon. Their strides were hastened yet careful not to alert a guard that stood high on a watchtower. The wiry man turned around a large watch light to check for trespassers. Rhiannon stopped, and the boys did the same, pressing their backs on the side of a car.
“Duck,” she whispered, and they obeyed.
Squatting on his toes, Runner peered from the side of the car. Three guards from Section 5 were tearing out posters of a black skull with two daggers crossed over it.
“They are taking off posters of Death Throe,” Runner whispered to his friends.
“Yes…yes…yes, now I remember. I heard the rebel was responsible for the water shortage. He sabotaged water reserve pipelines. Apparently, he was setting it free for the common folks. Didn’t change a thing though. A gallon of water still goes for twenty credit-chips. That’s twice what I make in a day…if I work hard.”
“How did you know all this?” Runner asked.
“Old―”
“Max told me,” they all said simultaneously.
“What?” Troy shared his gaze between them. “It’s true.”
The guards passed on, and Rhiannon stood to her feet. “Come on guys, over there.” She pointed at an abandoned factory.
The three ran towards the building, quick enough to escape the watchtower’s line of sight. Runner slammed his shoulder on the metal door, and it opened easily.
“Wow,” he said as he entered, staring at a large television screen. “It’s been long since I’ve seen one of these.”
He scanned the gadget with his eyes, searching for a power button.
“Everything here is Section 5’s property. Don’t put me in further trouble by breaking anything, boys,” Rhiannon said solemnly.
Runner found and hit the button. The screen came alive, displaying the image of a blonde girl standing behind a podium and surrounded by newsmen from the Citadel of Journalism.
Daughter of Supreme Councilor Peter Patterson has vowed to stand against the menace of the rebel, Death Throe. The government will, hereby, relocate all resources towards…
“That’s Olivia Patterson.” Rhiannon pointed at the screen.
Runner turned it off. “More like the princess of MegaCityOne. That girl is just my age, and she got the whole world wrapped under her fingers. She is real pretty. I bet she would make a decent babe.”
“And what are you going to offer her, eh? Your tattered shoes or that bundle of iron rods you call a bed?” Troy chuckled. “Keep dreaming, my friend. We both know we are going to die long before the big city will be opened to any of the slum dwellers.”
Rhiannon laughed at both boys and turned around to face a locker. She opened it and revealed a stash of tools.
“Over here, guys. You could use this as weapons. The wasteland is not where you want to be at night, unarmed.”
Runner approached the locker and picked a wrench and a knife. He was quite good at fashioning makeshift weapons, and just seeing both tools, the image of an axe grew in his mind. Yet he couldn’t still resist the thought of burying it on Dope’s shoulder.
Chapter Three
Between Scylla and Charybdis
Runner scattered the tools on a large table. There were knives, wrenches, screwdrivers, nails, tapes, and copper wires. He held the wrench tight and fixed the handle of a knife between a small opening at the head, and then tied it in place with a copper wire.
He weighed the weapon on his hand, but the head was still shaky. Furthermore, he stretched out a tape and wrapped it around the joint of the wrench and knife to ensure its holding strength. Satisfied, he raised his new weapon up, his gaze cast upon it in great admiration. Now it was good. His continuous nods proved that.
“Here.” Rhiannon handed a pneumatic nail gun to Troy.
“Hey,” Runner said. “I don’t think we would need that. I mean, come on…”
<
br /> Rhiannon snatched it away from Troy and bent down to fix it in his bag. “I told you, Runner, there is something out there in those building ruins. I don’t know what exactly, but it won’t hurt being prepared for all uncertainties.”
She continued to browse through the bag. “Gas mask, check! Wristwatch, check! Axe, check! Sense pills, missing?” She looked around.
“I don’t have any more stash of Sense pills left.” Runner admitted and threw his gaze at Troy.
“Me neither!” Troy responded with his hands wide open.
“Those irradiation pills are the only things that keep the air out there from poisoning our system. You would not last ten minutes without those pills.”
Rhiannon searched her pouch frantically. Runner watched her keenly. She was now officially their guardian angel. It was hard to find someone that would go down the depths of hell to make sure their friends were alright. At least not in Rat Town or even the big city itself, and even if some kind of research were to be carried out regarding the high rise of peer gangs rocking the city, the result would end in the fact that loyalty had been enslaved.
Folks exchanged the little free will they had for favours.
Everyone wanted something from you. Nothing was free, not friendship, not even love. Integrity was dead and so-called dignity cast into a fiery pit. To survive the new order of the world meant to shed three-quarters of the building morals of humanity.
“Found it.” Rhiannon smiled, and Runner returned one too.
Rhiannon was not like the typical slum dweller—greedy and fraudulent. Together with Troy, the three of them were inseparable, and he would not trade that friendship even if a knife was placed on his mother’s throat. Okay, that was treading a bit too far. Good thing he didn’t have a mother anymore.
Runner snatched the pills from her palm. “The pills are not even necessary because I don’t think we would spend more than ten minutes in the wastelands. It is just to get a few scrap metals, and that’s all.”
“I’m not stupid, Runner!” Rhiannon snapped. “I didn’t get all this stuff for you guys to pick metals worth five credits. Come over here.” She beckoned at them.
She reached into her pocket and brought out a dusty piece of clothing. Rhiannon placed it on the table. She shared her gaze between both boys and then opened it fully.
“A map,” Troy said.
“Yes.” She nodded. “See here.” She pointed at the map. “We went around this part of the wasteland during our rounds. It used to be an old factory in a place formerly known as Boston. I heard that after…you know…the big boom! A truck transporting copper coils got hit by one of those storms and now is buried alongside the ruins of the factory. That is where you must go. If you guys are successful, you could find enough copper worth a thousand credit-chips.”
Troy jerked suddenly. “A thousand what?”
“Credit chips,” Runner answered. He turned to the girl. “Damn! Rhee, you’ve been holding out on us.”
“All those while, I wasn’t sure it was true until I checked it out today during our rounds.”
Runner bent down and picked up his bag. He wore it on his back and strapped his makeshift axe on a belt buckled around his waist. He adjusted the black gloves he wore on his hand and gazed at his wristwatch again to make sure it was working. Time was the most important asset in the wasteland. Every slum dweller knew this as the first rule of survival when scrap hoarding—at least that was what they called looting valuable metals from the wastelands.
The fierce radioactive storm hits at every hour mark. The moment a man forgets this…well, there won’t be much of a corpse to retrieve.
“When we come back, I’m going to buy you dinner in one of them fancy restaurants in the big city.” Troy glanced at Rhiannon with a warm smile.
Runner had noticed Troy’s enduring smiles whenever he was with her. Now, that same smile lingered and even his laughter whenever she said things that are not close to funny. Troy had always tormented him with comments of Rhiannon wanting to be more than his friend, but he knew without doubt that Troy’s heart was set upon her.
“Alright. Let’s be about it, Troy.” Runner was ready.
Rhiannon drew both boys together and put each arm over their shoulders in a brief embrace. “Careful out there, guys. Don’t worry, Runner. I’ll watch your aunt’s kids…as usual.”
She opened the locks on a small door and tried to open the door, but it creaked and held still.
“It’s just rusty. No one comes through this door, not anymore.” Runner slammed his shoulder on it, and it opened with a bang.
For a moment, they all stood still, hoping that no one heard the sound. Stale air rushed in through the door, and it smelt of old dust. Satisfied, Runner stepped through and was closely followed by Troy. He turned around and saw the door shut by Rhiannon.
Now, they were truly alone and in the most dreaded part of the small world he had come to know, the wasteland. He had been in and out of the wasteland more times than he could remember, but this time, he couldn’t shake off a queer feeling.
Maybe it was because he knew to get to the factory Rhiannon had marked on the map meant to go further than the familiar zone of the wasteland he was comfortable with. One deep breath and he took a step forward.
“Let’s take the path of Karathon.” He pointed at a broken wall that served an opening within the ruins of a tall building.
He opened his map and studied the markings of ‘O’ that depicted safe paths. Karathon, like many other names of passes and paths, was named by a slum dweller named Karathon. Poor fellow must have died not long after his discovery. Not many of them survive. Perhaps it was a good thing they risked their lives marking paths and safe zones for others to enjoy.
Runner and Troy continued into the ruins. All around them were scattered remains of vehicles bleached to their chassis by what was left of nature. The ground was hard and full of broken bricks. Grey bones of unlucky sojourners and scattered useless metals littered around made for a terrible path.
“Do you think I have a chance with her?” Troy spoke to break a long silence.
“Who?” Runner spared him a glance.
“Who do you think? Dumbass! Rhiannon, of course.” The boy threw a small stone at his friend.
Runner adjusted his bag on his back and turned to him. “I thought you said she was into me.” He smiled.
“Yes, but you’re not into her, so I don’t see a reason not to try.” Troy hung his head.
Runner faced Troy and continued to walk but backwards. “I think you have a chance,” he spoke and turned to face his path.
Troy was naïve for asking such question. Runner knew despite how much his friend cared for her, it would be difficult to get her to set aside her fixation on him. As much as he knew, that was just the way such things work.
They stepped off the last rubble that lined the pass of Karathon and into a graveyard of buildings. Runner raised his gaze to the sky. It was unusual for one to do that when there were no stars to watch or moonlight. All that met his gaze was one big mass of grey blanketing the sky. Everywhere, the light was akin to that of a late evening when the last light was about to die. The wasteland was untouched by the artificial lights of MegaCityOne and thus, clouded by a lingering dusk.
He set his sight on his wristwatch. “11:00 pm,” he muttered. “We must hurry, Troy,” he said to his friend.
“I don’t know why I always feel like I am the last person in the world when I’m out here.” Troy hastened his steps to reach Runner.
They stopped before the ruins of what used to be a supermarket. The doors were all blocked by broken metals and bricks, but Runner knew exactly where he was going. He squatted behind a wall and pressed his hands on it, felling weak bricks in the process. A large hole was revealed on the wall, and he shoved his hand in, pulling a grocery cart from within.
“We can put the coppers in here,” he said.
Troy did not seem to be listening to him. The boy’
s eyes and mind were somewhere else.
“Look!” he shouted suddenly, pointing straight.
Runner stood to his feet and joined him.
“Over there.” Troy directed Runner’s gaze. “That’s the factory Rhiannon marked on the map.”
Runner grabbed the cart, ready to speed off to the factory. His sharp ears caught something, a faint rattling among metals and brick. Quickly, he caught Troy by the loose end of his jacket and dragged him down. They hid behind a wall held in solitude by the foundation of a ruined gatehouse.
“Someone is coming,” Runner whispered.
He peeked from the side and saw a familiar face. “It’s Gunner.” He glanced at Troy.
“Which Gunner?” Troy seemed curious. “Gunner the loan shark or Gunner the scrap hoarder?”
Runner shook his head. “Seeing that we are also looting, it is only fair that it would be Gunner the scrap hoarder.”
“Thank god.” Troy breathed deeply. “I owe Gunner the loan shark a hundred and fifty credit-chips, and he vowed to have my head if I don’t pay up.”
“Quiet,” Runner whispered.
He watched as a gang of men crept out of half broken buildings and surrounded Gunner. They were scrawny men wielding crude weapons of crowbars, wrenches, broken pipes, and wood. At first, there was no movement. Suddenly, one of the men snatched Gunner’s bag of metals and cleared him right from his feet. The boy fell with such a loud thud that Runner could hear it from afar.
They raised their weapons and began to pound him. The poor boy’s cries stung Runner’s ears. He cried and cried until the cries died down, then the gang stopped. They looted anything they could find from Gunner’s body and shouted to their victory.
“Fucking marauders. Those are Ishmael’s gang,” Runner spoke woefully.
“We can still help Gunner,” Troy said.
Runner turned to him almost immediately. “Are you crazy?” he snarled. “Look, Troy. I know you’re a good guy and all that, but survival isn’t your thing. Those are goddamn man hunters. They only sit around and wait for folks like us to do the looting before coming to beat us to death and steal our shit. Sorry about Gunner. It is a terrible thing that they did to him, but we got to sit here till they go, unless you want to be buried beneath rubbles.”
