Wastelands

It was midday and the sun was bearing down on the land. In the distance it looked as though fire was rising up from the ground. Hot and sweltering. I don't know how people can handle being in the sand-baked ground. It may be a bit cooler... but to me it was like walking around in an oven. I parked my jeep and got out.

The radiator made a noise as if dying of thirst before smoke began seeping through. “I'll get it fixed one day...” I mumbled to myself while getting out. I knew I wouldn't; I would just find something else to take.

I looked at the wall in front of me. They were the same as everywhere else. They were approximately fifteen feet tall with no way to climb. At the top, men would sit and shoot at anything that even looked funny. Anything that flies was to be shot on site since you never know if they could actually be carrying the virus.

Walking through the first door, I looked around. To the left there were burn piles of people and animals. Those who were even thought to have the virus were burned first, then they would ask their companions if they had been bitten or attacked. That's the only way to survive around here anymore.

These establishments differ but only slightly in the navigation. The more important you are, the closer your “home” is to the center. The ones who live in the very center are the sad excuse of government officials. They hide behind even thicker barriers that separate them from the “commoners”.

I knocked loudly on the huge metal door. The door opened and a young looking man stood there, his hands hovering over his gun that was strapped to his hip. “What's yer business?” he asked.

“Bounty,” I replied curtly, holding up my bag. Nodding his head he allowed me through. He walked slightly ahead of me, showing me where I needed to go. Even though he was in front, he made sure that I was in his peripheral, always in sight.

We made it to a small hut that was towards the left. Walking in, I saw a small desk with one chair behind it and two in front. I sat in the one closest to the exit. “He will be here soon.” the man told me before turning to return to his post. My hands settled on the gun that I had strapped to my thigh. While they don't kill what's outside, it is very handy when it comes to slowing them down.

Looking around the room, I spotted newspaper clippings. They were old, at least thirty years since there aren't any news stands or reporters any more. Not many people let their curiosity get the best of them.

I heard that people used to think that if government fell, that anarchy would ensue and with that there would chaos. They were wrong though. People seem to want leaders - people to tell them how things are going to be. I guess you could say what they want most is protection, and with order you have a bit of that, if not much.

The laws may have changed, but they still have the basics. You have a leader and you do as he or she says. You can challenge their authority, but it's rare that you'll have anyone backing you up. Disrupting how they rule will result in your removal from the camp. You will be outside, alone, with no one to protect you from being hunted.

Some of the beasts have even formed clans, like a pack of rabid animals. Thirsting for blood and flesh. They thrive off the hunt. They love it when their prey is running from them.

“How many have you brought?” The door to my left opened and an elderly man walked through. His bushy white eyebrows almost covered his blue eyes. He used a cane to walk as he hobbled over to his desk and sat down.

“Twelve humanoids, twenty animals,” I picked up my bloodied sack and sat it on top of his desk. The look of disgust passed over his face as he gingerly pushed it aside.

“I see.” He pulled open a drawer and picked up a little locked box. Taking off the key around his neck he unlocked it. “I don't even see why we pay people like you,” he muttered.

“Because we are the ones who put our lives on the line. Eventually, we will have wiped them from the planet.” I crossed my arms over my leather brown jacket. He looked up, mildly surprised. “Oh, was that not meant to be said aloud?” I cocked a thin brown eyebrow.

“Here,” he shoved a wad of money in my hands then left the room as fast as he could. Smiling, I counted my money and left.

Right at the edge of the exit sat an armory. I needed to get my swords sharpened, as well as stock up on ammo. You can never have too much. While they were working on my blades, I pulled out my map. Huge red x's marked the camps that I've already traveled to.

Hmm, I suppose I'll continue going south-east. I tapped the map three times on the counter before folding it up and slipping into the back-pocket of my cargo pants. “Hey, you ever hear of anything called Craug?” I leaned on the counter.

“A what?” the man looked up, lifting the protective goggles on his face.

“I suppose not.” I turned around, resting my elbows on the counter while stretching back. It seems his trail has gone cold. I closed my hazel eyes. I've been chasing him for five years now... how far could he have gotten? If he were dead I would hear about it... he's made such a name for himself.

Two hours had passed and he had finally finished. I gave him the money and began making my way to the car. People cut their eyes at me, as if I was bringing demons into their home. They could not wait until I would leave. Lucky for them, I couldn't wait to be rid of this place. Being underground for too long makes me feel claustrophobic.

I closed my eyes while taking in a breath of fresh air. Well, as fresh as it could be. I packed everything away in the jeep and pulled out a jug from the back. Popping the hood, I heard a disapproving hiss. “Oh, don't give me that.” I spoke to the jeep. “I thought you would have cooled down by now.” I wiped the sweat from my brow while pouring the murky water into the radiator. I know it needs the proper fluids, but... I don't think I've ever came across a “proper mechanic”.

I pushed the hood closed. “Out!” I heard a man shout. Turning around, I saw a few guards marching out the metal door carrying three people. They were tossed out and one woman crawled back on her knees, tears flowing down her face.

“Please, wait, he didn't mean anything by it.” she begged. The man's face twisted into a grin while kicking her back. Rolling my eyes I watched as the closed the doors. The look of despair on each of their faces.