NOTE: The end of the first part of WASTELAND. The first three chapters were originally going to be a single large chapter, though I decided against this. Splitting it up seemed like the better choice. To all those who read this, please leave a comment of what you think. Just don't say it's good, critique me. I can take it.
I landed hard.
Momentum carried me several feet further across the dirt and sand. My pants were shredded at the knees and I could feel my skin burning from the friction. I knew it was over. The man had shot me, and even though I felt no pain I could see the blood seeping into the sand around me, dyeing the wasteland a deep scarlet.
Heavy boots crunched through the sand behind me. I could hear their steady pace. That, and something else. Labored breathing and a scratching sound. Something was crawling its way across the ground. Closer to me. Then it screeched: an inhuman sound of pain and rage that made my blood run cold. I rolled over onto my back.
I shouldn't have.
Dragging itself towards me was a monstrous creature that I had never seen before. A gangly thing with deep colored fur and razor sharp teeth that shone like daggers in its horrible mouth. Blood gurgled forth from a bullet wound near its neck with each haggard breath it took, pooling beneath it in a crimson puddle that shone brightly in the blazing sun's light. Its silver eyes stared directly ahead, directly at me, blind and unblinking and filled to the brim with a feral hunger. It wanted to eat me.
A clawed hand snapped shut around my ankle. Pain shot through my leg as the thing's claws dug into my flesh like hot knives, and slowly I was dragged back to the thing, its maw open in anticipation. I yelled out and kicked at the monster with my free leg, doing nothing but enraging it further. Then the man stood above us, faceless behind a filter mask that made every breath he took sound mechanical. He raised his hunting rifle in one hand and wrapped a gloved finger around the trigger.
He fired and the creature went limp, its brain spilling to the ground.
I was breathing hard, nearly hyperventilating. The monster's clawed hand was still twisted tightly around my ankle, its claws dug in tight. The man slung his rifle over his shoulder and approached me, the visor of his mask reflecting everything that stood before him. I drew back as far as I could, pain flaring through my leg with every movement. The man ignored my fear and stooped down so that he could pry the dead creature off of my leg. The pain I felt was excruciating as the claws were worked free of my skin. Liberated from the monster, the man lifted me up off the ground and carried me back to the ruined shack, making sure not to jar my injured leg.
I said nothing as the man held me in his arms.
He said nothing in return.
The faceless man sat me atop a wooden dresser which groaned under my weight. I watched as he retrieved supplies from his rucksack and set to work on my wound, applying a rancid smelling salve that alleviated much of my pain before bandaging my leg tightly. He then held out an apple, waiting patiently for me to take the fruit from him. My hunger won out in seconds and I snatched the apple from his hand, biting voraciously into it without a second thought.
The man nodded and left me alone in the shack. He returned moments later with the dead monster. Food was food in the wasteland, no matter where it came from. The man began carving into the creature like an expert butcher. I watched him work from my perch, savoring the last of the apple's white flesh. The man reminded me of my father after a successful day of hunting, though my father had never encountered a creature such as this before: a monstrous shrew that waits for prey to pass. The man separated what was edible and what wasn't and soon had a small fire started using the excess amount of socks as kindling. I took pleasure in watching the socks burn.
Soon the meat was cooking.
The man disposed of the waste while I sat where I was, not willing to put pressure on my leg just yet. The scents that wafted over from the fire were torture. The apple had done nothing to appease my appetite and had only made my hunger worse. I would have gladly eaten the meat raw but I remained civilized, enduring the temptations that pulled at me.
As the meat cooked the man continued his search of the shack, finding usefulness in items I would have passed over: such as bobby pins and bottle caps. He might have an elaborate hairstyle beneath his wide brimmed cap – a hat which was similar to my own stormchaser hat – but bottle caps seems completely useless in the wasteland. He also found more sensible items, like ammo and some electronic scrap which I assumed could be sold or traded.
The refrigerator had been a horror show: something much larger than a rat had died inside, and recently at that. Afterwards the man found the blue jumpsuit. He seemed truly interested in that useless piece of clothing, paying special attention to the number inscribed on its back. He eventually tossed it aside and continued on. I was tempted to show him the Pip-Boy that I had found and now wore, though I decided against it.
I still did not know this man. He might take it from me.
The sun was setting by the time the meat had finished cooking. Famished could never describe how I ate that evening. I tore into ever morsel handed to me like a rabid dog, taking enough time to find the irony in this situation. I was now eating the monster that had tried to eat me. The creature had been disgusting when alive but it tasted so delicious, if not just a little chewy. The man ate nothing. He simply handed me more to eat once I ran out. I felt like a glutton, though I had a legitimate excuse.
"Thank you," I said after stuffing my face to my heart's content. The man nodded and remained quiet. I continued. "I would have died if you had not helped." The man said nothing.
And then it was morning.
And I was alone.
The man was nowhere to be found.
Laying beside the now dead fire was a small plastic sack. Inside was a bottle of water and some dried meat. Deeper down was my Programmer's Digest magazine. I didn't think, I just acted. I grabbed the bag and ran out into the desert, finding and following a trail in the sand. My injured leg was stiff and sore, but that made no difference. I moved as fast as I could, sweating through the morning heat.
And then I stood behind the faceless man, his long coat trailing behind him with each step he took. His rifle's barrel glinting in the still rising sun.
"Let me come with you," I said aloud. I did not want to be alone. Not again.
The man said nothing and continued walking.
The hope I had felt crashed and burned deep inside of me. He wanted nothing more to do with me, though could I blame him. I would only be a burden. He had shown me an act of kindness, but all that mattered in the end was his own survival, not mine.
I hung my head, willing myself not to cry because I knew I would always be alone in this wretched desert. I would wander alone and I would die alone. No memory of me would exist and I would be forgotten, just as the ruined shack had been forgotten to time. My walls would collapse and I would wither under the sun. That was my fate, and I was foolish to think that I could change it.
The man stopped and turned to face me, staring out from behind his reflective visor. He tilted his head in the direction he had been traveling, a small nod that shattered the world of despair that surrounded me. I smiled my crooked grin and wiped away the tears that had pooled in the corners of my eyes as I ran to his side.
"Thank you," I choked, ready to cry out in joy. I cleared my throat and composed myself, holding out my hand in a businesslike manner. "I'm Alice."
The man looked down at me and placed a gloved hand atop my head. I pouted to show my displeasure but I did not shake his hand off. Deep down I longed for the touch of another human being, just so I would know that some good still existed in a world where evil thrived.
For the longest of moments we stood like this, statues in the wastes.
And then we marched across the desert, without a care in the world as to where I went.