Mad Max: Badlands
Chapter 1: The Road
The Road. That's all there was left anymore. Two directions: straight ahead, or straight behind. Sand blew across his face and the road, catching in places. Dunes formed. The yellow line almost not visible anymore.
He moved the ragged black shirt from his face and dumped a couple drops of water into his parched mouth. They hit the dry skin and disappeared instantly, providing no satisfaction.
It had been so long since anything happened. He hadn't seen another living person in a week now.
The last one he saw alive, if that was what you could call him, didn't last long once Max found him. He was lying on the road, almost completely covered in sand. A crow had actually landed on the old man's leg and had ripped some of the man's pants, and torn a piece of flesh from his thigh, which didn't seem to bother the man at all.
'Hello, traveler,' the man said when Max crouched next to him. The man spoke without being asked anything while Max glanced over him, looking for useful tools to take with him.
'Not much behind us there, huh?' he said, smiling. His eyes never opened. He didn't move except for his mouth.
'Did you hear about Auntie?' he said. 'Old bitch got what she deserved if you ask me.' He chuckled as Max pocketed a knife the man had lying beside him. Max smiled, still scavenging.
'Do you know what's up ahead?' he paused. Max looked at the man for the first time. 'I've heard paradise lies on this road.'
'Paradise?' Max repeated, looking on ahead the road. Dirt. Dunes. Desolation. The Road.
'Yes, up ahead,' the man's hand raised, a ragged finger pointing in the direction they were both headed. 'There.'
'Where'd you hear this, mate?' Max asked. 'About this paradise.'
'It's the word,' the man said, his arm falling back to the sand.
'The word?' Max asked, frowning. He spied two canteens. Hopefully full, or somewhat full.
'The word of the road,' the man said. He coughed. Max thought about offering the man some water, but knew that is was futile: the man was dying. His features had sunken. He was frail and thin. A ragged black shirt. Torn denim. No shoes. It was almost a miracle he'd made it this far.
'Please, take this key,' the man started another coughing fit. Max accepted it and looked down into his palm. The key was covered in blood. Faintly, underneath the blood, gold could be seen.
'Paradise,' he voice trailed off. 'Believe me. Have faith, traveler.'
Max closed the man's eyes, snatched the canteens, both half full, and quickly searched the man for anything else useful.
And now, he looked down at the blood key in his hand. Paradise.
He wrapped the shirt across his face again. Up ahead, nothing but the road. Max started off again. Heading towards what the man had called paradise.
Max had a sinking feeling in his stomach, that much like everything else left in this world, that this paradise was going to either end up being a huge disappointment, or a real pain in the ass.
