NOTE: Here it is, the next chapter of WASTELAND. It's almost over. A question to all the people who read this (I honestly have no clue how many people read this story), concerning the chapters, should they remain simply number or should they have a title? Please answer this for me, or at least give me your opinion. As always, let me know what you think.

The sun had only just now breached the eastern horizon and already the man with no face and I stood in the heart of the ancient city. The crumbling ruins had once been a sprawling mecca whose towers now stood over us like sentries of the old world, casting long shadows that darkened every inch and corner of the narrow streets.

Streets that lay abandoned.

A sense of foreboding had washed over me upon entering the dead city: an imposing force that sunk deep into my bones like radiation. The air was heavy in my lungs and the ground hallowed beneath my feet, both tainted with the blood of so many who had perished. This place was haunted by the memories of the past, and yet the faceless man marched onward, undeterred, his rifle resting gently against his shoulder.

I followed this man closely, finding mind-numbing solace with my Pip-Boy. I tapped at the screen with dirty fingers, exploring every function and giggling each and every time the device made noise. It was such a small computer and yet it could do so much: it monitored my vitals, contained a dictionary, measured environmental radiation, played games, and even kept the time! I had thanked the man, nearly worshiped him, for restoring the small computer: he had said nothing.

I pressed the MAP tab with my finger. The screen changed to an aerial view of the surrounding area. A little blip floated in the middle, representing me and where I stood in relation to the world. A notice then appeared on the screen.

Connection restored to RobCo Industries Global Positioning Satellite.

Acquiring data.

…

Current position: 39°06'35''N, 94°35'19''W

I studied the string of numbers, unsure of what they meant. I decided to ask the man, but, as always, he remained silent. I glowered at his silence, and then decided to pester the man further in the vain hope he would say something, anything at all, even if it was to tell me off. Of course this didn't work quite as planned.

The man stopped suddenly and I, fully engrossed with my Pip-Boy, walked right into him. We stood in the center of an old intersection, the road before us blocked by the rubble of a collapsed building. The same was true to the other streets as well, making this an effective dead end.

The man scratched at his head before searching for an alternative route using his own Pip-Boy. It wasn't long before he made his way to the rusted shell of an automobile that sat useless some twenty feet away. Behind it stood a rusted archway, marking the entrance to a stairwell that led deep into the earth. METRO was scribbled across the sign in faded print. I had no clue what metro meant and was about to check my Pip-Boy's dictionary when the man began descending into the darkness, leaving me alone on the abandoned city street. I rushed after him, taking the concrete steps two at a time and nearly tripping over my own feet and into the darkness below.

We soon stood in an old station. It was unnerving, this never-ending darkness. It masked even the man beside me in a shroud of impenetrable black. I wished to return to the streets above, to the sunlight, but the man seemed intent on proceeding forward. I had no choice but to follow.

I could hear the man rummaging through his rucksack. Soon a beam of dusty light cut through the inky blackness, its strong spotlight illuminating the fluid stained walls and the filthy tiled floor. The man handed me the cylindrical flashlight and led the way into the darkness, his hunting rifle at the ready. I stayed close behind him, trying my best not to imagine what lay in the shadows behind me.

We hopped down from the station's platform and followed a railroad that existed deep underground, its tracks curving away from us and into the darkness where the light could not reach them. Large cracks marred the cement walls and ceiling of the tunnel; small communities of ghostly mushrooms grew in abundance around stagnant pools of water. Radroaches scurried away from our light, seeking shelter beneath warped railway cars that had derailed and crashed. Handprints could be clearly seen in the grime that covered the train windows, as if someone desperately wanted their freedom.

I stepped closer to the man, finding comfort in his deep mechanical breathing.

After what felt like hours trekking through the darkness we reached a junction, an area where multiple tracks came together to form a single line. The faceless man came to an abrupt stop, placing a hand over my flashlight. I took the hint and killed the light, immersing us in total darkness. In the distance I could spy a ceiling light that had survived all these lonely years beneath the surface, its faint glow flickering in the darkness. The man stilled his breathing, stepping lightly towards the faint light. I followed, too afraid to be left alone in the darkness.

In the darkness I could hear footsteps.

And then something stumbled into the flickering light.

A monster that had once been human, no doubt ravaged by the harsh radiation of the wasteland, shambled listlessly through the darkness like a moving corpse. Its skin was mottled and rotten, stretched tight over an emaciated frame that trembled with each ragged breath it took. It sniffed the air like an animal, the milky white eyes of its ruined face glancing briefly in our direction before turning away to prowl elsewhere.

I placed a hand over my mouth to stifle any screams that should escape. The man moved through the junction, a shadow in the darkness, heading towards a second tunnel and away from the monster. I clung to his side, taking his gloved hand into mine.

Then my Pip-Boy sounded with a ding.

Connection lost to RobCo Industries Global Positioning Satellite.

The ghoul spun to face us, its horrible shriek echoing in the dark tunnels. The man raised his rifle and fired, the round passing through the monster's head with ease. It fell lifeless to the ground as more shrieks erupted from deeper in the tunnel, a grotesque chorus of the damned.

More ghouls were coming this way. A lot more.

The man grabbed me by the arm and dragged me down the dark tunnel, my legs pumping just to keep pace with his long strides. I could hear them behind us. I could smell them, a foul stench that burned into my nostrils like acid. Their inhuman shrieks drew closer with each step. They were hungry, and they would be appeased.

An overturned railway car blocked the tunnel ahead, just visible as the darkness gave way to a sickly twilight as more and more fluorescent lamps flickered in fleeting life above us. The man wrapped an arm around my waist and, before I knew what was happening, tossed me unceremoniously atop the train car. He clambered up the side after me, turning to fire point-blank at a ghoul that was too close for comfort. The man swung himself over the ledge and we both leaped down to the other side. But the ghouls would not be slowed. They scaled the overturned railway car with ease, washing over the obstacle like a tidal wave of rotting flesh and primordial hunger.

I did not look back. I could not look back for my fear was too great. I pushed myself to run faster, to keep pace with the man, but my energy was nearly gone. The monsters would catch me and I would be killed, alone in the dark tunnels as the man saved only himself, leaving me to die in his stead. It was only natural, survival of the fitness, and my limit was soon approaching.

Fate had not changed: it had only been delayed.

The man threw out his arm suddenly, letting a small metal ball fly free of his gloved hand. I could hear the clang as the metal sphere hit the cracked wall behind me, bouncing several times against the ground.

And then it exploded.

I nearly fell from the intense shock wave, choking on the heavy dust that fell free of the ceiling and now clogged my lungs. Inhuman screams of pain filled the tunnel as several ghouls were torn apart by the deadly shrapnel thrown by the exploding grenade. Another grenade was thrown and more ghouls claimed in the chaos. The tunnel shacked violently around us. The man spun around and two more grenades flew from his hands.

That was all that was needed.

A great rift opened above as tons of rubble and earth collapsed down into the tunnel from the ceiling, crushing anything unfortunate enough to be directly underneath. The ghouls were buried alive in a mass grave, and I was thrown to the grown by the force of the landslide. When the dust settled we were all that remained: a mute and a child, alone in the destroyed metro tunnel.

Shrieks filled the air as several ghouls lucky enough to survive dug themselves out of the debris like zombies resurrecting, shambling towards where I lay on the tracks. The masked man rose up from the ground, his mechanical breathing erratic. He smacked the side of his head several times before his filter mask returned to its normal pace. Then he raised his rifle.

One shot, one kill.

Two shots, two kills.

Three shots, three kills.

The remaining ghouls recovered and charged forward as a pack of rabid monsters. The man slammed a new magazine into the rifle and slid back the bolt, opening fire almost immediately. One ghoul fell as the round shattered its kneecap; another's head exploded into a viscous paste from the impact. A third ghoul was simply decapitated.

Light...

Light...!

I could see light!

I didn't wait for the man. I couldn't wait for him. I climbed up off the ground and onto the raised platform, stumbling across the station towards the sunlight that filtered in from above. I ran up the concrete steps, abandoning the man to the tunnels and the darkness. I needed to reach the surface. I had to see the blue sky once again!

Then I was standing under the sun, staggering away from the haunted metro, exhausted but happy. Happy to be alive and away from the hellish creatures that inhabited the world beneath the city ruins. And I stood there in the city street, laughing a maniacal laughter that showed just how damaged I had become.

"Well, what do we have here? A lost little bird in the desert."

I twisted around, slowly, to see three men approaching me, all clad in crude armor patched together with metal scrap and junk. Painted on their chests was the motif of a vulture, and one, a squat man who stood in the center, wore a human skull across his right shoulder. Metal spikes protruded through the skull like snake's fangs.

The man's greasy face contorted into a malicious grin as he stepped closer towards me. I stepped back. "What's a little bird like ya doing all alone in the big bad city?" he asked. "Wouldn't want ya to get hurt now, would we?"

The largest of the men was licking his chapped lips, chuckling like a nutcase the entire time. "We could sure use something to eat, boss," he suggested. "Been a long time since supper." The large man reached down for the pistol holstered to his side. The third man remained quiet, indifferent to everything.

The boss shook his head vigorously. "Ya always jumping to conclusions. Ya have to take your time, play with ya food. It's not everyday that such a gift comes walking this way into our city. A little bird ripe for the plucking. I say we not let it go to waste."

The men stepped towards me.

I screamed at them, suddenly overcome with anger. "Stay away from me!"

The boss laughed. "Ooh, this little bird has some fight in her."

The men were on me before I could run, the leader's grip closing tightly around my thin throat. He threw me to the ground, pressing his weight down on me so that I couldn't move. I could only stare up into his cold eyes and breath in his rancid breathe. A smell of rot and death.

"Don't fight too much," grinned the boss. "Wouldn't want to hurt ya too much."

He reached for my trousers and ripped the button free with a single pull. I could feel my pants slide down my legs; his touch as he caressed my inner thigh. His two goons stood above us, waiting for their turn. I struggled against my captor, trying desperately to break free, but he was too strong. There was nothing I could do.

A shadow moved in the distance.

"We get to eat after this, right boss?" asked the larger man.

The boss sighed. "Yes, Bob, we get to eat her after this."

The boss reached under my shirt. His fingers found my stomach, circling my navel like the vultures painted on their crude armor. Then he inched higher. He was touching me and then pulling my shirt up. His fingers were fondling my chest, and they went lower. Much lower.

"Relax," whispered the boss, bringing his foul mouth close to my ear. He spoke sweetly, but his voice was laced with corrosive acid. He was undoing his pants. "I'll try to be gentle."

Blood splattered against the cold ground.

The man with no face stood there above me, the lethal blade of his combat knife dug deep into the neck of the large man, severing his spine in one fluid movement. The faceless man's rifle was raised and, with one arm, he fired point-blank into the second man's head, blowing out the back of his skull. Both fell dead to the ground, unaware that they had just been killed.

"What the..." The boss pushed himself up, reaching the pistol holster at his side.

I grabbed onto the filthy man, wrapping my arms and legs around his torso and dragging him down atop me. It was all the time that was needed. The masked man flipped his rifle around, grabbing onto the barrel and swinging upwards like a club, making contact with the raider's temple. There was a sickening crack and the man rolled off of me, laying motionless on the ground.

I scrambled to my feet, pulling my pants up to my waist. "You bastard!" I yelled at the downed raider, kicking him squarely in the ribcage with as much force as I could muster. The fallen man was still breathing. Rage boiled over inside of me, and I stared long and hard into the reflective visor of the masked man.

He shrugged and drew back the bolt of his rifle. He fired directly into the raider's skull without a second though. Blood and brain matter sprayed the asphalt, and the man ceased to live.

My Pip-Boy sounded with a ding.

Connection restored to RobCo Industries Global Positioning Satellite.

Acquiring data.

…