Apocalypse (The Wasteland Chronicles, #1) (19 page)

Facebook

Twitter

Goodreads

Blog

kylewestwriter[at]gmail[dot]com

Samuel was dying.

We had left Bunker 114 and Cold Mountain
behind hours ago and darkness cloaked the Wasteland. As we sped
east toward Raider Bluff, I wondered if Brux’s parting shot meant
our mission had failed before it even began.

Samuel’s eyes had remained closed for almost
the entire journey. Wet blood soaked his right shoulder. The
congealing agent had slowed the bleeding somewhat, but he wouldn't
last for long. We had to find someone who could remove the bullet
and stop the bleeding. If we couldn’t, either Makara or I would
have to do it.

The Recon’s bright blue lights pushed back
the night, letting us see ahead in a wide arc. Thirty years of red
dust covered most parts of the highway. We zoomed past decrepit
buildings, ghost towns, and mangled road signs, the skeletal
remains of Ragnarok.

Makara was speeding 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, a wide dark
river became visible to our left, 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, rose Raider Bluff. The city’s yellow lights
glowed dimly with distance, almost unmoving even with the Recon’s
speed.

At last, the road turned left, toward the
river. A bridge of tall arches spanned 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 have been 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 as he saw 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? Twitch? 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, your 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 radio 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
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 saw 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 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 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, and 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 spread 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. The stone
structure of the compound was 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. It was good to
know he was still alive, though pale as a ghost. 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.

No one 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.

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.

Standing in the light, the bearer of the
sword was a 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 as if 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 give to any of my
guests. More, in fact. But we don’t have time for 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 laid Samuel on the ground. Char walked
forward and knelt beside him. He placed two fingers on Samuel’s
neck.

He glanced sideways at Makara. “Is the bullet
still in?”