A/N: Not just an awesome movie, but now a multiple Oscar-winning awesome movie. All thoroughly well-deserved too. ^_^
Disclaimer: I'm just wandering around George Miller's Wasteland, looking for hope and a story. Needless to say, it all belongs to him.
Manifest Destiny: Part 3
It's around the middle of the afternoon when the War Rig growls and grumbles to a halt atop a small dune. Furiosa scrambles out of the cab onto the roof, armed with her personal binoculars, ready to scan the endless horizon.
Nux sprawls next to her, as comforting a presence as any of her sisters now. The pained shadows beneath his eyes have receded slightly, thanks to a few hours' rest, but he still trembles with the cold remains of the night fevers, even in the heat of the Wasteland.
She hears Toast sigh, then pause for breath as she leans slightly out of the window. "Hey...what's that?"
Above them, Furiosa turns to where the dark-haired girl is staring. In the cab, she, Cheedo, the Dag, even Nux, press close to her and stare out of the window.
A tower. With a shining beacon atop.
The former Imperator stands still for a heartbeat.
"I remember somethin' like that."
She can hear the almost-smile in her raspy voice.
She slides back into the cab and guns the engine, turning the Rig towards the tower.
Nux leans back and braces his arm against the empty door space. There is an invitation in his gaze to lean against him, if she wishes.
She squeezes his free hand when no-one is looking and leans back against his side, not missing the twitch of muscles in his neck when he tries to hide a smile.
It's not lights. It looks like glass, maybe metal?
Whatever it is, it looks pretty.
He watches closely, and then frowns slightly as he picks up a new noise.
A voice. A woman's voice.
"HELP! HELP ME!"
There!
On top of the tower!
A naked woman, screaming for help. Sprawled on the highest reaches, not a stitch on her.
He feels slightly uneasy and looks away.
It doesn't feel right to look at her like that.
From his brief gaze, he can tell the woman looks strong and healthy. He can't see any ropes or chains keeping her there. And why would whoever left her there keep the tower in decent shape, and fix all those shiny things to it?
The War Rig crawls forward towards the base of the tower. He looks back, studies the faces of the Wives. All of them are craning forward, desperately trying to see what new incident awaits them.
The Road Warrior glances about the dunes, then back at the woman. "Uh-uh."
He points upwards. "That's bait."
Furiosa doesn't take her eyes off the structure. She pulls up to the base of the tower and kills the engine. "Stay in the Rig."
She slides out of the cab and marches forward, arms spread out not unlike the Immortan himself.
He leans forward and strains to hear what she says.
"I am one of the Vuvalini, of the Many Mothers."
She walks towards the tower with no hint of fear.
"My Initiate Mother was Katie Concannon."
She stops and gazes up.
"I am the daughter of Mary JoBassa."
Her voice catches. The woman stops wailing and stands.
"My clan was Swaddle Dog."
The woman raises her hands and lets out a strange shriek that sounds half like the call of the carrion birds, half a cry of joy.
He starts in his seat as he hears the roar of motorcycle engines. Well kept, by the sound of 'em.
Half-a-dozen bikes.
Are they friendly?
She looks back up the woman and watches her slide down a rope to ground, and dig frantically in the dirt for a frayed smock.
The bikes wheel around in sync and park before the Rig, leaving a clear path between Furiosa and the tower. The riders pull back their visors and raise their guns.
She can tell from a glance that they're all female.
The woman, now clothed, sprints down the sand dune and comes to a tentative halt before Furiosa. Her eyes ask only one question.
And Furiosa answers. "It's me."
They walk towards each other and fold themselves into a desperate embrace, Furiosa's face hidden, the woman's face filled with sorrow and relief.
One of the older women steps forward, pulling her headdress away from her face. She tilts her head to another woman, her hair as silver as the moon. "There's something in the eyes. Perhaps it is JoBassa's child."
The Valkyrie finally releases her and nods her head. Her voice is thick with tears. "This is our Furiosa."
She smiles and squeezes her kinswoman's shoulders. "How long has it been?"
She tries not to let tears choke her voice. "Seven thousand days, plus the ones I don't remember."
The woman steps back, her eyes now shadowed in pain.
Another Elder – for that is who they are - steps forward. "Furiosa. What happened to your mother?"
"She died. On the third day."
As one, all of the women bow their heads, reach their right arms up in front of their heads, pluck an invisible something out of the air and pull it in close to their hearts.
She mimics the gesture.
She doesn't know why this one motion almost makes her cry.
The Elder resumes her questions. "From where did you come?"
"The West. Citadel. Beyond the mountains."
She turns back, nodding at the Rig.
They see her.
They know what to do.
Time to take a risk.
He and the Road Warrior slowly clamber out of the Rig, the Wives already out and in the lead.
The Elders raise their weapons, pulling back slightly.
The second white-haired one narrows her eyes. "The men. Who are they?"
Can't blame her. He knows he must look a sight, shaved head, pale and skinny. The Road Warrior's bulkier but compact, and you don't want to get close to him.
Furiosa turns back, something like fondness in her eyes.
"They're reliable. They helped us get here."
She nods. No lie.
A burst of pride blooms in his chest.
He helped.
He did good.
He watches as Capable and the other Wives move forward, the Vuvalini opening their arms and reaching gnarled fingers up to touch pale skin.
He waits.
This is for Capable. For Toast and Cheedo, for the Dag.
The middle aged Elder gently takes Cheedo's hands in her own and bends her head down. The sunlight highlights the threads of silver in her dark hair. "Where did you find such creatures?"
She squeezes the younger girl's hand and smiles. "So soft..."
She tries not to laugh at the Dag. The silver-haired Elder has taken the blonde's face in her hands and is studying her mouth intently. "This one still has all her teeth!"
She lets out a warm croak of a laugh and wraps her arms around the younger woman.
Another Elder with tight white curls is scrutinising Toast with a fond expression. The short-haired girl curiously reaches towards the bandolier strapped across the woman's chest...
And gets her hand smacked down!
A second of shock, and the Elder starts to laugh. Toast looks slightly shocked, then breaks down into giggles.
She's not sure she's ever heard her giggle like that.
It's nice. Perhaps a sign of things to come.
Furiosa stand in the middle of the group, a rare smile on her face as she watches all of them.
"I can't wait for them to see it."
The silver-haired Elder steps forward and stares into her face. "See? See what?"
The former Imperator looks confused. "...Home. The Green Place."
Another Elder steps forward. "But if you came from the West...you passed it."
All of them turn back, to face the way they came.
Dread builds in her stomach.
No.
The Dag tentatively speaks. "The crows...the creepy place with all the crows."
And she watches as Furiosa's hopes and dreams fall apart.
It's just a jumble of voices to him, but he can get the gist of it.
"The soil..."
"We had to get out-"
"We had no water-"
"-the water was filth-"
"It was poisoned-"
"-it was sour-"
"And then the crows came."
"We couldn't grow anything..."
Toast speaks up. "Where are the others?"
"What others?"
"The Many Mothers."
"...We're the only ones left."
He doesn't know what to do.
He can only watch as Furiosa staggers past the Rig, all in a daze, slowly loosening her mechanical arm from its strapping and braces.
He wants to cry.
He wants to hug Capable and pretend this isn't happening.
She doesn't know what to do.
She can only watch at Furiosa collapses to her knees in the sand, the wind whipping the dust about her.
Tears burn her eyes as she hears the heartbroken scream almost physically tearing through the older woman's body.
She wants Nux to hug her and pretend this isn't happening.
But it is.
And nothing they can do will change it.
Night falls over the Wasteland, and the crew of the War Rig have split off into smaller groups, sitting quietly with the Vuvalini.
She and Nux have claimed their space in the lookout, wrapped in each other's arms, a hand-woven blanket covering their legs, and a lantern casting a flickering yellow light over their faces.
She watches as Cheedo, safely ensconced with the main group of Elders, points at something in the sky.
Nux tilts his head, trying to see where she's pointing.
A shooting star?
No...a satellite. That was what Miss Giddy called them.
She can't quite make out their conversation, but she doesn't have to.
He rests his head against the empty window frame of the lookout and stares down at the Dag. She's standing near to the silver-haired Elder, hands rubbing over her belly.
Her words, he can just make out.
"Stay right where you are, little joey. Kind of lost its novelty out here."
The Elder looks up. "You havin' a baby?"
She makes a motion with her head to say yes.
"Warlord Junior. Gonna be so ugly."
He feels his eyes widen and his heart pound.
She's a successful breeder. She's having the Immortan's child. They risked the Immortan's heirs, two of 'em, just to get all five Wives out of the Citadel.
She did all of those shiny things to escape and survive, and she did all of 'em with a baby in her belly. A baby still hanging on.
Just as strong as its father.
The Elder looks at her and offers her a smile. "It could be a girl."
He thinks on this.
The Immortan fathered it, sure, but it's held on in there. Its mother's gone through hell to find somewhere safe to live, helped dig the War Rig out, fought like a caged feral to protect her own, and not breathed a word around him or the Road Warrior that she's been fighting for two.
If it's anything like its mother, it's got to be a girl.
She holds back a smile as she watches him.
She knows what he's thinking, and what he's about to ask.
His forehead creases slightly, then his cheeks go paler than before as he turns his head and stares down at her belly.
"If she's...are you...?"
She scrunches her nose at him and shakes her head.
"No."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
The panicked look in his eyes fades, but the concern still remains. He tucks a corner of the blanket around her feet and pulls her shawl back over her shoulder.
One less thing to worry about, but there's still so much to consider now.
She sees Furiosa, wrapped up in a blanket just like a child, quietly move towards the dune where the Road Warrior has perched. His head jerks up and down every few seconds, between the silent horizon and whatever he has in his lap.
She'll make him the offer they've all been talking about.
Tomorrow, they'll leave the War Rig, load whatever will fit onto the bikes, and ride out...there.
Wherever there is.
She's willing to go. So are her sisters.
Nux has made it clear that wherever she goes, he will follow.
He's not leaving her, no matter what.
She won't ever leave her sisters.
They won't leave Furiosa.
Furiosa won't abandon the remains of her clan, not after all that's gone before.
And the Vuvalini will never leave any of 'em behind.
Anyway, it's not like he's got anywhere else to go.
They leave at first light, the bikes kicking up trails of salt and sand as they ride across the Plains of Silence. Behind them, the Road Warrior and the War Rig fade into the swirls of dust and the heat of the desert.
He didn't say goodbye.
She doesn't think he needed to.
Nux steers their bike slightly to the right, avoiding the dust clouds from the bike that the Young Elder and Cheedo have claimed. She wraps her arms around his back and leans her head against his shoulder, feeling his muscles twitch beneath her fingers.
Who knows what lies across the salt?
As long as she's with them, she doesn't care. This is so much better than what they left behind.
Isn't it?
A new roar, a deeper roar pulls her out of her thoughts.
The War Rig?
No, too high.
Not one of the Immortan's scouts?
No, they'd be dead or fighting within a heartbeat.
A heavy blue bike, laden with blankets and fuel, cruises through the swirling dirt and turns slightly to stop in front of Furiosa.
The Road Warrior hauls himself off of the bike and approaches the former Imperator, pulling something out of his battered leather jacket.
She leans forward, Nux with her, both straining to see what the older man is giving to Furiosa.
Looks like...a rag?
He strains and catches the sound of the Road Warrior's gruff voice.
"...This is your way home."
The former Imperator straightens up, shoulders slack with surprise.
"We go back?"
He nods.
Toast leans forward, not bothering to hide her shock.
"Back?!"
The Dag looks back and forth between the two older warriors.
"I thought you weren't insane no more?"
He bites back a smile at that.
The middle aged Elder dismounts and strides up to the pair.
"What are they saying?"
Another Elder answers. "He wants them to go back from where they came."
The Citadel.
...What?
The same Elder asks the question all of them are thinking. "What's there to find at the Citadel?"
Furiosa's voice is quiet, but it carries.
"Green."
"And water." Toast straightens up, speaks around the toothpick in her mouth.
"There's a ridiculous amount of clear water. And a lot of crops."
The Dag adds her voice to the mix. "It's got everything you need...as long as you're not afraid of heights."
The Keeper looks over at Toast. "Where does the water come from?"
The scorn in her voice is clear. "He pumps it up from deep in the earth. Calls it Aqua-Cola and keeps it all for himself."
"And because he owns it, he owns all of us." The Dag's voice has become harder, almost mocking.
The Keeper scoffs. "I don't like him already!"
He feels Capable's arms loosen from around his waist as she dismounts, keeping her blanket wrapped around her shoulders.
The Valkyrie stands tall, caution in her tone. "It'll take two weeks to skirt the wall of mountains."
The Road Warrior shakes his head. "No."
He gestures back towards the mountains. "I suggest we go back the same way we came. Through the canyon."
He feels a chill go through his gut. Whether it's from what the Road Warrior said, or from what Larry and Barry are doing to his body, he's not sure.
Toast looks around. "It's open, we know that. Right? He bought all his war parties through."
"So we take the War Rig and we charge it right through the middle of them." He makes a stabbing motion through the air.
He feels her eyes burning into the side of his head. He turns and shares a look with her.
Crazy? Or brave?
The Road Warrior continues, "We can decouple the tank at the pass, shut it off behind us..."
He flicks his hand.
The Keeper spreads her arms.
"Kaboom!"
The delight in her voice is tangible. The other Elders and the Wives laugh.
Even the Road Warrior cracks a brief smile.
Furiosa brings them out of their brief excitement. "And how exactly do we take the Citadel? Assuming we're still alive by then?"
Toast chews on her toothpick. "It'll be easy. All that's left are his War Pups, and War Boys too sick to fight."
Capable finally moves forward, red curls blowing gently in the wind. "And we'll be with Nux. He's a War Boy, he'll be bringing us home, bringing back what's stolen as he's meant to."
A part of his brain notes that she's referring to herself and her sisters as possessions.
He doesn't like it, but that's how the Immortan thinks.
And actually, it's a pretty good plan.
Something curls in his belly, then winds its way up to his heart.
Warmth.
Light.
They could do this.
They could actually do this.
They've made it this far. Why the hell not?
All eyes turn on him, waiting for his input.
"Yeah."
He shifts slightly on the scratched leather and nods.
"Feels like hope."
The Keeper's voice is jubilant. "I like this plan. We could start again! Just like the old days!"
Furiosa doesn't move.
She can imagine what's going on in the older woman's mind.
Lingering grief over the loss of her birthplace.
Fear for the Wives.
The comfort of having the remaining Vuvalini around her, and the unwillingness to risk her family.
The chance that they could all die.
The chance that they could run, but starve and die on the plains.
The chance that they could live.
The Road Warrior's voice is rough, but kind.
"Look. It'll be a hard day, but I guarantee you that 160 days' ride that way," he turns and points at the endless flatness, "there's nothing but salt."
He gestures behind them. "At least that way you might be able to...together..."
He looks down at his hands, and the ragged map on the fuel tank of the bike.
"...Maybe come across some kind of redemption."
He holds out his right hand. The offer is clear.
Furiosa pauses, looks at him...
And slaps her good hand into his.
Anticipation crackles through the group like lightning.
She looks back at Nux, his eyes now bright with determination.
If they can escape and survive the Wasteland, they can surely do this.
If the Wives, the Vuvalini, the Road Warrior, if he...no, if they can survive out here, then they can get home.
A grin slides onto his face as he revs the bike's engine, as Capable slings herself back onto the pillion and holds onto his shoulders.
Oh, what a day this is gonna be.
What a lovely day!
TBC