The King of Mars

Another cold dawn gently shook me awake. I jolted up from my sitting position against the corner of the tiny shack I used for shelter. I've been out here for about a week just walking. If it weren't for the bitter drink, which was running dangerously low, I would be dying of thirst right now. It felt like I was dying of hunger, however, having eaten the remainder of my food. All this time I've only found one animal, some kind of large rat thing, I finished the rest of him just last night. I still have no idea where I am, but one thing was certain, if I don’t find something quickly, very quickly, I'm going to die.

I opened the door and stepped back into the wasteland when he hit me. I don't even know what happened, just that I was laying on the ground. "Where did you come from??" He asked in a snarl as he stepped over me. Whoever this guy is, he was also alone and not much older than I am. He had a much smaller, wiry build and was much grimier and unkempt. But there was a wild flare in his eyes that I guess only twenty years of living out here could give you. That flare, it was dangerous.

"I'm not gonna ask you again, fucker," he growled, thumbing back the hammer of his revolver pointed right in my face, "where did you come from? No one but the most skilled walkers roam the wastes alone. And you,” he looked me up and down, “you obviously have no idea what you're doing."

"Woah, man, calm down." I said, raising a hand to shield my eyes from the brightness of the sun. “You’re right, I don't have any idea what I'm doing. You're the second living thing I've seen in days."

"What do you have in the bag?"

"Certainly not the bullets you need." I smirked and made my move. My foot slammed into the side of his leg, sending him sprawling onto the ground next to me. Rolling over on top of him, I grabbed the collar of his vest with one hand and slammed the other hand into his bony face. After the follow up hit, my assailant was unconscious. Well shit, now what do I do? I tossed the gun away and rolled him over. In his bag I found nothing useful, other than a small length of fraying rope. Looking around once more for any potential back up, I dragged his surprisingly light, limp body into the shed where I just spent the night and proceeded to hogtie him. Finishing that, I waited for him to wake up.

About five minutes later, I heard a sharp intake of breath and looked over at my captive to find him struggling against his restraints. “Goodmorning, sunshine,” I joked. “Don’t bother, I’m a whiz at tying knots.”

He cursed and looked at me with thinly veiled rage. “How did you know I was out of ammo?”

"The problem with old fashioned guns like that revolver is I can see when there are rounds in the barrel."

He started chuckling. "Well, I feel like an idiot. I guess I had you pegged wrong as an easy target. My name is Wheels. I can help you. You can help me. You're definitely sharper than you look. That's hard to come by these days."

"Is it now?" I asked, crossing my arms, the sudden attitude change made me immediately more skeptical. “Looks like you’re the one in need of help, not me.”

“Come on man, don’t be like that.” He spit out a mouthful of blood. “Look, you got me fair and square, what else do you want?”

“You pulled a gun on me,” I said matter-of-factly. “I want one good reason to keep me from leaving your ass here tied up like an early Christmas present for the coyotes.”

“What’s Christmas?” Wheels asked. “Nevermind. You want one good reason, how about two? Firstly, you’re not a murderer, I can see it in your eyes, you’re not the kind of guy to just let someone die in cold blood.”

“Like I said, you pulled a gun on me,” I countered sternly. “How do you know what kind of guy I am?”

“Come on man,” Wheels pleaded once more. “Like you said, it wasn’t even loaded.”

“What would you have done if you got a hold of my shotgun? Which is loaded, by the way.” At this, Wheels shut his mouth and eyed the weapon at my side nervously.

“Look, man, we do what we gotta to survive! You know that!” He cried out after racking his brain for a few silent seconds. “I swear, I wasn’t gonna shoot you. You haven’t even told me your name.”

“Changing the subject?” I stood up and dusted my backside off. Scooping up my gun and shouldering my duffel bag, I moved toward the door. “Have fun with the coyotes.”

“Wait!” I could hear the desperation give his voice a shrill tone. “I had one more reason! Don’t you wanna hear it??”

I stopped and turned around to look Wheels in his panicked, bloodshot eyes. “This better be good or so help me.”

“You said you had no idea what you’re doing. I bet you’re about to run out of food any day now,” I could tell that he was grasping at straws, yet his words weren’t any less true. “I was on my way to a nearby settlement. I can take you there; you can resupply and be on your way. Plus, they’re not too keen on outsiders; you’ll have a better chance if I’m with you. Please, just don’t leave me like this.”

Considering his words for a moment, I decided that it would be better for my survival to follow him to wherever this settlement was. My food and water supply was dangerously low and even if he did die, I would likely be following him into the grave shortly after. There was also the slim chance he would get free anyway and ambush me while I slept. “Okay, I’ll give you one chance. I’m going to untie you now. Remember, my gun, unlike yours, is loaded…”

Cautiously walking over to my captive, relief clear on his face, I stuck the barrel of the gun right against his back as I untied the rope. “If I even smell anything funny, I will not hesitate to blow you away. Lead me into a pack of your buddies and I will kill you. Even if they kill me, I’ll make sure I blow your head off if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Noted.” Wheels said. With my gun still aimed at him, he stood up and rubbed the chafed spots on his wrists. Bending to retrieve his nearly empty bookbag, he asked, “Can I have my revolver back?”

“Think I’ll just hold onto it for now.”

“Fair enough. You still never told me your name.” He said, returning the rope to the inside of the pack and zipping it up.

“Tobi.”

“So, how old are you anyways, Tobi?”

"Nineteen."

"So you were born just after all this. Hmmm." Wheels grumbled and rubbed his scraggly beard. "I wasn't. I was four years old when this happened. Barely learned to talk. But I do remember some shit. Not too far from where we're standing, there used to be towers of stone that held up the sky. Gigantic, concrete trees where people lived and worked."

"And then the war-" I started to say.

"There was no war," Wheels said bitterly. "One day, God just started crying. Its anger fell from the sky and turned the world into this." He opened his arms to the wasteland surrounding the outside of the shed. "For no reason, they said. It just happened."

"How did anyone survive?" I asked.

"Me and my family, we got lucky. You and yours, you probably got lucky too. There were people that got lucky like us, but not very many. Most of them that survived the bombs were turned to freaks by the glow and the ash afterward."

"But there are still normal people? Like you and me?"

He laughed again, "Normal. I guess you can say so. People can be decent enough. Most aren't though. We become animals when we're forced to. Survival and everything. The people here can be put into three easy categories.” Wheels held up three fingers and pointed each one out as he said, “Walkers, settlers, and raiders. Settlers are the people that found other people and help each other stay safe. They build towns around whatever ruins from the old world they can find. Old factories that still have supplies. Scrap metal to build little shacks. Dried food maybe. Weapons, if they're fortunate, you get the idea. Raiders are just gangs. They move. Like small bands of the most vicious animals you can think of. They pillage and murder to survive. They live in caves and sewers and under rocks like cockroaches. And then there are walkers like you and me. We just wander. Nothing much else. For a good reason or for a bad one or for no reason at all."

"But didn't you say you had a family?"

A dark look overcame his face. For a moment I didn’t think he would answer but finally he said. "All I remember is my older brother. He was much older. Bout five years ago, he was captured by a small troop of raiders and dragged off to who knows where. They left me alone, for some reason, I'll never know why. But the next morning, I looked for a trail of blood, I found nothing. No dead raiders either. Knowing my brother, he escaped. He was one of the baddest motherfuckers you would ever meet; no punk raiders could ever kill him." Wheels sighed. "Since then, I've been walking. I move from settlement to settlement, looking for a sign of my brother." He shook his head, "Enough about me, who the fuck are you?"

“Well,” I figured since I made the decision, this was my traveling companion for the time being, so I might as well talk to him. Honestly, it was nice to have another person to talk to after all this time, even if that person did try to just rob me. I lowered the gun, the threat appearing to be gone for now, and started to tell him what I was doing out here. "I was born in a hole..." I proceeded to tell him the story of my life. He listened intently. When I was done, he was smiling from ear to ear. "What?"

"You, you'll be extremely worthwhile to have around. Intelligence, that's what separates us from animals. The fire burned all our books, made us blind to the world that we lost. You, from what you just said I think you can help bring that back. It's what my brother always talked about, he always wanted to restore a part of our lost world. It was his mission." Wheels laughed heartily. "Damn! I wish you could meet him!"

"Me too, he seems much more trustworthy than you,” I said half-jokingly. “Well, you help me find my father and I'll help you find your brother.”

"Sounds like a plan!" Wheels exclaimed. I took the chance to study him quickly while he dusted himself off. With relief and surprise, I realized that I would blend right in with this world. Wheels wore archaic armor similar to mine, only much more weathered. A camouflage vest of pockets and zippers sat on top of his armor, and torn denim jeans ending in equally shabby boots completed his outfit.

The only difference in appearances that I could note is the dirt and sweat that caked his exposed skin, not to mention his tattoos. His hands were covered in them, and I suspected most of his body was as well. The words ATOM BOMB were inked across his knuckles. His teeth were bad unlike mine, his hair was short, and his face was scarred. Things I will need in the near future: dirty teeth (nah, I’d rather not); shorter hair; scars; and loads of tattoos.

"You done checking me out?" Wheels grunted. "I'd suggest you take a picture, but I haven't seen a camera in twenty years!" I looked away quickly, embarrassed. He swung open the door of the shed with a loud creak. “This place we’re going to is called Mineshaft, not terribly far north of here. It’ll be the first stop in your tour of the wasteland!”