The King of Mars

After the haunting encounter with the Children of Ash, life in Mineshaft was pretty normal. At first, the people were wary of me, so I only stuck around Sarge and Wheels, which was ironic due to the fact that I was equally wary of them. But the settlers started to warm up to me after the first few days, which I spent working my ass off, and eventually a few of them would even approach me at Little Lamplight to inquire about my nonexistent adventures in the wasteland. Yet the fact that I spent my whole life in an underground bomb shelter up until a few weeks ago was equally as interesting to the people that I told.

During the day, I tagged along with scavenging crews, which were primarily composed of children. Everyone had to work, that was the only way the settlement was able to make ends meet. The adults mainly spent their time doing construction on older structures, looking after their preciously small amount of livestock, and patrolling the nearby area for raiders or worse. The very few experts, by experts I mean engineers and doctors, were constantly busy fixing machinery and taking care of the sick and injured. There was even a makeshift school where these experts took turns passing down their priceless knowledge to the next generation. The children took turns going to school and scavenging out in the wasteland.

Today, I was once again playing babysitter and pack mule for a team of child scavengers. It was difficult and dangerous work. We roamed the hills nearby Mineshaft, looking for scraps of metal, medicine, and maybe an electronic device or two whenever we found a ruined building. Writing utensils and notebooks were also coveted treasures that could be found if they dug deep enough into the dilapidated structures. My job was to haul the sled full of miscellaneous garbage that the kids said were useful while keeping up with those quick little bastards.

At first, I thought it was insane to send children out here, even with adult supervision. But when I saw these kids take on a small pack of starving wolves a couple hours ago, I knew my fears were completely unnecessary. They weren't just quick; they were brutal when attacked, staying true to the tone of the wasteland. I didn’t even have to do anything. Right after killing the wolves, a few of them took to skinning and gutting them and harvesting the small amount of meat they had on their bones, giving me more stuff to lug around.

The kids have warmed up to me too and mercifully slowed their pace. Besides Wheels, these children are the first semblance of friendship I ever had. There are seven of us out right now, including me. Nimrod, Jet, and Crystal are the oldest at fifteen, Crystal being the only girl. Then there was Possum, whom at twelve years old is Mineshaft's self-proclaimed "head scavenger." Though he probably is the most agile little kid in the town, the other children scoff at his illusions of grandeur. And then there are Nosebleed and Earache, the youngest at nine years old, and the most annoying of the group.

We were outside of what I assumed was an old garage, judging from the peeling depiction of an automobile above the doorway. "Old places like these are goldmines for assloads of cool shit," Possum boasted his knowledge proudly when I kicked down the old door, pointing at the ruined sign. "Nosebleed, you go in first."

"But... I don't wanna. I'm scared." The timid nine year old protested.

"Don't boss him around," Crystal yanked on Possum's ear, her motherly instincts coming to Nosebleed's defense. "You ain't the boss here, you little twerp."

"I'll go in first," Nimrod stepped boldly up to the doorway. He and Jet both had a thing for Crystal and often fought over chances to impress her. Nimrod was already swallowed by the shadows before Jet, the bigger of the two, could take this chance away.

After a moment or two of Jet "hmph"-ing and scowling, the boy's voice floated out through the doorway. "It looks pretty clear. Light is dim, but good enough to see by."

"Moleman, keep guard," Possum said, his tone was always less arrogant when dealing with me. I nodded and leaned against the crumbling brick wall as the children stepped inside. I had no interest in looking over whatever was hidden in the old building, much rather preferring to take this small window to rest. I sighed, thinking about what they would find and add to the already nearly full sled. Nothing too heavy, I hope.

My thoughts eventually traveled to home. I didn't particularly miss the tiny room, but a part of me ached for the safety and comfort, mostly the warmth. I still haven't completely gotten used to the constant chill of the wasteland like Wheels said I would. With my eyes towards the sun, which peered weakly through a veil of grey clouds, a pang of sadness flooded my chest when I thought of my father. "Where the hell are you?" I wondered out loud.

It's been nearly a month since I left the shelter and I don't have shit to show for it. All I have of my father is a fourteen year old mental picture and a crumpled piece of paper which I was beginning to think wasn’t even from him. Surely, he would have come to get me by now if he was nearby. That raises the question of who left the note and why, how they even knew where I was. And if he wasn’t out in the wastes somewhere, what the hell happened to him? It kept me up at night, in silent fury, asking whatever god may be why the fuck someone would just leave their child alone like this in such a world, locked up like a prisoner in some hole in the ground. Then again, nothing about this world seemed fair; my struggles were laughable compared to what must be out there. I was just a lost little boy looking for a daddy that abandoned him. The thought really got under my skin.

I asked the townspeople if they’ve seen someone fitting his description, but who knows how he even looks these days. Anyways, they weren’t any help. I even approached Sarge, who's seen everyone that ever entered or left the town, and he wasn't helpful either. I have no idea what to do or where to go, but I can’t just stay in Mineshaft scavving for parts forever. A breeze chilled me through my armor. It echoed through the hills like a dying groan.... Or was it a dying groan? Immediately, I knew there was something nearby, that noise was not just the wind. Next, I smelled it and my nose crumpled, it smelled like burning hair and rotting flesh and it wasn't from the wolf meat. My hand slid over my shotgun as I looked around the dismal landscape and slowly backed into the garage.

The kids were having a fun time picking through the scraps of garbage. Laughter, it's so damn rare in the wasteland. "Hey guys," I half whispered so whatever was out there didn't hear me. "We have a problem."

"What is it?" Possum answered, much too loudly, I grimaced at the kid's voice. The other children of the group stopped playing around and looked at me as well.

"I heard something nearby. It sounded like a groan, only lots of them." I explained. "And then the smell. Burning hair. I think something is on fire nearby, and I think we should get out of here before it spreads." The children stared back at me with fear filled eyes. "Don't be scared, it's only a fire. We just should get away before we're caught in it."

Possum barely whispered which was so unlike his usual self, "Moleman. Feldgrau." Feldgrau, those are the things that Sarge warned me about on the day we met. What the hell does that mean? That’s when I heard something shift behind me and then an inhuman roar filled the old garage. I whipped around, my shotgun pointed at a figure in the doorway. It completely filled our only visible exit, stooping to enter the broken door frame. When it stood at height in the dim, concrete room, it was at least eight feet tall, maybe more. I couldn't make out much more than it's obvious size and the fact that it carried a gruesome looking club. Its heavy breathing seemed magnified by the nearly empty room. The smell of rotting flesh filled my nostrils, making me want to gag.

"Humans?" It grunted, the voice was a savage sound. Grunting again, it raised its club, but I didn't want to see what it would do with it. My finger clenched, the shotgun exploded, and the feldgrau roared in pain. It dropped its club and clutched its shredded chest, but it didn't fall over dead. Instead, it just seemed to get angry. As it stood to its full height once more and collected itself, I pulled the trigger again, but the shot only destroyed the now empty doorway as the feldgrau darted to the side and was immediately in front of me, moving with much more speed than anything that size should rightfully possess. A wrecking ball fist hit my chest, and I fell back, gasping for breath. Cold, grey fingers wrapped around my face. Millions of stars burst in my eye socket as my skull slammed on the concrete and the gun flew out of my hand. My vision swimming, I saw the monster stand back to its full height and swivel its head from me to Possum.

"No..." I gasped. "You… leave him... the fuck alone... Motherfucker.." The boy was frozen with terror. I cried out for the kids to run, but no one could move in the presence of this terrifying thing. I had to get up, had to do something. With all of my effort, I rolled to my side and slowly pushed myself off of the ground. The back of my head was warm and wet and I could barely breathe.

The three fifteen year olds finally moved and stepped in the path of the advancing monster. I could tell that the feldgrau was eating this up, the fear of the children. If it moved as fast as it did when it hit me from the start, we all would have been dead by now.

"No.. guys." I wheezed. "Get... away." I had to say this, even though there was nowhere to run. And if there was, this thing could surely catch them in an instant. That's probably why the kids wouldn't listen to me, only brandished their puny knives against the feldgrau. I need to hurry. With a herculean effort, I managed to get on my feet. I wobbled over to the shotgun and my clumsy fingers struggled to reload it so I could save our lives. With the loaded gun in my wavering hands, I carefully aimed towards the feldgrau and let the shotgun explode once more. The monster roared with rage and staggered forwards. Jet took this opening and lunged forwards with his knife. Nimrod followed suit and the two fifteen year olds proceeded to stab the fuck out of the feldgrau.

This only seemed to upset the feldgrau even more, it flailed about in confusion, giving frustrated barks and roars. But the boys managed to avoid the flailing limbs until Jet caught an elbow in the face. The boy crumpled to a heap on the ground. Through the pressure building in my ears, I heard Crystal yelp and run over to the fallen form of Jet. I pulled the trigger one more time. There was an impossibly high pitched squeal that I never would have guessed could come from the Frankenstein before me and it finally fell, writhing in agony. The death throes of the monster ceased and pitch black blood seeped from the body as the shotgun fell out of my hands with a clatter on the floor. The last thing I saw was the petrified group of children standing over the fallen form of Jet before my eyes went blind