Chapter 5
The night goes by quickly as I think about my new, unsteady alliance and my past. Other than a few pairs of distant headlights around midnight, we spot nothing of interest. The gravelly terrain changes back to sand, and no more mesas dot the landscape. The sun rises over a featureless horizon. I remove my gloves as the desert air heats up, but it doesn't seem as hot as usual today. Still far from ideal, but it's a good day for the Wastes.
The first half of the day passes uneventfully. Then, as the sun nears the center of the sky, a small mountain appears on the horizon directly ahead of us. When we get closer, I see a cliff jutting out from one side of the rock. On the cliff is a small city of what appear to be real buildings, though I can't tell what they're made of yet. Areas of green poke out between the structures. Nestled at the base of the cliff is a sprawling ghetto of what looks like huts, tents, and vehicles. The most striking part of the scene, however, is a small but steady stream of water pouring down from the cliff-edge. With access to that much water, it's no wonder the ruler developed a God complex.
Three's truck slows to stop, but he doesn't cut the engine. I brake to a halt as the old man steps out of his vehicle and approaches mine. He isn't carrying his shotgun or any other weapons, likely to avoid making me think he is attacking. He steps up to my car slowly and speaks through where my window once was.
"Those are the great cities of East and West Eden," he explains in his deep, emotionless voice. "Ruled by the Goddess Anuket, who is the God of water, agriculture, love, beauty, health, nature, peace, bein' a cunt, et cetera, et cetera."
Three stares out at the twin cities for a moment, lost in his own thoughts.
"Now, I am a sanctioned MFP officer." He again pauses, then looks down at me. "Which is basically a legal Road Warrior who is neutral of the warring tribes and cities. There is some semblance of law out in these lands. So because of that, we don't need to worship and grovel at Anuket's feet like a layman would be expected to. Nor do we need to recognize her divinity. But we still need to be polite, or she will gut us. Ma'am, Lady, Great Anuket - whatever. Just be polite and show some humility. Just know that you are with me, and Anuket is in control here. You are free to leave any time before we actually hit the city. Do you have any questions before we continue?"
I've never heard him talk so much, and I need a moment to take it all in. I've never heard of MFP before, but I know Road Warriors. I've been called by that title many times; any lone driver with a scrap of skill counts as a Road Warrior these days. Cord told me it used to be the title of one man, some legend, but he's long gone.
I glance ahead at the cliff and its two cities, wondering if the walls will feel like home or like they're suffocating me. Maybe a bit of both. What I'm more concerned about is Anuket. I've never talked to someone who thought they were a God before. It seems silly to me. That's probably something I shouldn't say to her.
"If you don't mind my asking," I say, turning my gaze back to Three. "How'd you lose your eye? I'd like to avoid having that happen to me."
Three takes a deep breath. I notice a slight stubble growing on his face since shaving yesterday morning. I should shave my chin soon, too. Can't stand how it feels on my face.
"It's a pretty long story that has it all: intrigue, love, despair, adventure. I'll spare you the details and give you the short version." Three closes his exhausted eye for a moment before continuing. "Basically, I got caught fucking one of her Handmaidens. Anuket's Handmaidens are apparently sworn to celibacy. She was furious with the girl, so had her killed as punishment. My life was spared since I was needed, but my punishment speaks for itself. Pretty mild for her, actually."
I don't know what 'celibacy' means, but I still get the point of the story. I wouldn't have pegged Three for the romantic type; but then again, fucking doesn't have to be romantic - or even productive. Cord once explained to Simon and I that people sometimes do it for fun, not just to make children. I've barely seen any women since I left Utopia, let alone had time for fun of any kind.
"So, yeah…" he concludes. "Don't get any ideas about her Handmaidens."
"Right, I'll keep that in mind," I reply. Then I gesture toward Eden. "Shall we?"
Three nods and returns to his still-running truck. Our engines roar awake from their idle states as we once again take off across the desert. Not long after, we break out onto an actual road - a highway in relatively good condition for its age.
As we speed down the highway, two motorcycles approach from the city. I reach for my pistol and place it in my lap as the bikes get closer. Three hits the brakes and stops his vehicle, and I do the same. He doesn't get out this time, and I can't see what he's doing in his truck.
One of the motorcycles halts beside Three's vehicle. A shirtless, slightly muscular man with suntanned skin steps off and approaches the driver side window without drawing a weapon. I see his mouth move, but I can't hear what he's saying to Three over the noise of the other motorcycle slowing to a stop nearby car. This second man parks his bike and approaches me on foot. Like his partner, he's incredibly tan and somewhat muscled. His young face is entirely covered with black tar and elaborate, white markings that I don't recognize.
"What is your business in the Holy Cities of East and West Eden, the divine realm of our Goddess Anuket?" the man asks proudly.
It takes a lot of effort not to raise an eyebrow at the question, which sounds more like a proclamation. Good thing they have a lot of water here, or these heralds would have had their tongues shrivel up long ago from being so long-winded.
"I'm here with Three," I say simply, somehow managing to keep a straight face. "We here to do business for, uh, Great Lady Anuket."
The man frowns, looking visibly annoyed.
"Do you think just anyone can stroll into the Holy Cities of East and West Eden and demand to speak to our Goddess and protector Anuket? What do you have to offer her and her chosen people?"
Before I can reply, he opens his mouth again to start another rant.
"Chuckles!" his partner shouts, cutting him off. This man speaks calmly and with authority. "Relax. He is with the Cyclops. They may pass."
"The Cyclops is here?" the young herald, Chuckles, cries. "Well, why didn't you just say so, Blonde One?"
He backs away from my car and sheepishly kicks at the sand. The other man approaches my car. His face has the same black and white markings, but he is noticeably older - somewhere between my age and Three's.
"I apologize for Chuckles," the man says with a smile. "He is eager to bust heads for our Goddess Anuket. But we will happily escort you to her palace and see to it that you two get an audience."
Both men return to their motorcycles and take off down the highway. Three follows, and I fall in behind his vehicle. It's almost noon, and the temperature is still relatively cool. I wonder if the weather is always this nice near an oasis.
We slow our rides when we near the base of the cliff. The lower city, West Eden, less of a city and more of a large encampment full of small tents, cobbled-together shacks, and vehicles that double as homes. The upper city, East Eden, seems much nicer. I can tell even from here that that most of the buildings stand two or three stories high. They are carved from stone and decorated with polished metal. Tall, green reeds are visible around the top of the waterfall, which empties where West Eden meets the cliff.
Thanks to our escort, no one stops us as we enter the lower city on the highway. Crowds of scarred, mutated people wander about, doing business in what seems to be a large marketplace. Merchants in rags or scavenged clothes trade in food, scrap, water, weapons, and ammo. I spot a few selling slaves. More men with the same face paint as Chuckles and his partner keep watch over the masses. Law enforcement.
We follow the road into the center of West Eden, near the bottom of the waterfall. I can now see that the water spills into a chasm in the ground. Armed men patrol the edges of the pit. These guards are quite a sight to behold, strikingly different than the painted men in the marketplace. They are tall and extremely muscular, with all visible skin painted a dark green. Their heads are shaved, displaying several metal implants and ridges decorating the scalp and following the length of the spine. The wear armor made out of tires, and they carry various rifles that look reasonably well-maintained. One catches me staring and snarls, revealing a mouthful of sharpened teeth. I glare back before turning my attention to the pit itself.
The road passes right next to the chasm, and I lean over to glance past the edge. The water descends another thirty feet into the earth before splashing loudly into a sparkling pool. Ladders, ropes, and scaffolding cling to the chasm walls, where several men and women in sheer, white robes climb up and down with buckets. Clean clothes and no visible deformities or injuries. These people are clearly of a higher class than everyone else in West Eden. My mouth feels extra dry from staring at all the water, and I take a quick drink from my canteen as we leave the pool and its strange guards behind.
We finally reach the base of the cliff, which has stairs carved into the face. Nearby are dozens of small, fenced-in cages, most of them occupied with cars. Some of the vehicles are being worked on by mechanics with the same outfits and markings as Chuckes. Three backs his truck into one of the cages as the motorcyclists and I come to a halt. Chuckles gets off his bike and approaches my car, frowning.
"You can park your wheels in one of those cages; they will be safe. It is the Blackthumbs' holy duty to guard all vehicles that take shelter under the waters of Anuket's glory," he says proudly. "I shall travel up to East Eden to tell our Goddess Anuket that the Cyclops and the Blonde One wish to speak to her glory. Until I return, you are free to trade, explore, observe, or just tune your wheels."
As Chuckles scurries away toward the steep stairs, I drive my car into one of the empty cages and kill the engine. I look to where Three is now parked. He is leaning back in his seat with his arms crossed over his chest and his eye closed. He is apparently comfortable enough here to take a nap. I'd feel a lot better if he'd stay awake and keep an eye on the vehicles, but he did look like he could use some rest. He said he's done work here before, and he's clearly someone who cares about his vehicle, so I suppose it would be all right to leave my car here for a while. Besides, I'm itching to explore the lower city. I'll probably hate it - too many people, too much noise - but it's been so long since I've been in a big city that I just can't resist.
I make sure my equipment is safely hidden away before I grab the spices from the back and leave my car in the cage. I walk along the road and into the lower city, feeling the eyes of the armed guards on me as I pass the chasm. I don't bother trying to get a closer look at them or the pool. I enter the main part of West Eden, and suddenly there are people everywhere - shouting, pushing, trading, coughing, shuffling through the market. It's almost overwhelming. I haven't been around this many people in a very long time. Back then, though, I wasn't a stranger; I was part of the crowd, and it was a lot cleaner and more organized than this.
I make my way towards the nearest merchant who doesn't look busy with desperate customers. Maybe he can give me an idea of what these spices are worth. I've done some trading in smaller towns, but never with anything like this. Seems like an odd thing to value - what's the use in making food taste better if there's barely any food to begin with?
The merchant is cleaning out his fingernails with a large knife. His feet are kicked up on his table, which is covered with firearms, ammunition, tools, various fruits and vegetables, and rusted cans of pre-war food. The man has deep scars on the right side of his face and smaller scars almost everywhere else. His face is weathered, making it impossible to tell how old he is. A purple and white bandana covers his head, with a pair of goggles resting on top.
"Uh, hello," I say, stumbling over the simple greeting. It's been awhile since I've tried to start a normal conversation with someone. "Looking to trade these spices. Heard they're worth something here."
The merchant stabs his knife into the table and peers up at me. The scars on his face pull his upper lip into a permanent sneer.
"Oh yeah, stranger. Spices are practically currency out in Caesar's Empire," the merchant replies. He pronounces each word precisely, like he's making sure everything he says sounds perfect. Good voice for a salesman, but I wouldn't want to talk to him any longer than necessary. "Eden is the center of agriculture, though, so you won't get as much as you would in Ashtown or something, but we can still work something out."
The man reaches for a cane topped with a billiard ball leaning against his table. He stands slowly and carefully, revealing a suit covered in crisscrossing purple and white stripes. It's dirty and tattered, but it still stands out from the grey and brown rags of the lower city folk. He makes a struggled bow in my direction.
"So, stranger, what are you looking for? I probably have it if it's not already on the table."
The merchant is set up outside of a large van that no doubt holding the rest of his wares. The vehicle has few modifications and no armor or weapons - clearly not meant for fighting. A healthy-looking man leans against the side of the van and watches something cooking in a pot over a small fireplace. This man has tousled, light brown hair and looks to be about my age. He wears a black, leather jacket over his muscled frame, and a handgun is holstered on his hip. Some type of bodyguard for the merchant. Makes sense; a vehicle like that isn't going to defend itself. I turn my attention back to the merchant.
"My windows got busted the other day," I reply. "You got anything I can use to cover 'em? Some mesh or something? Barbed wire, too. And food's always good," I add, getting a whiff of whatever the bodyguard is making.
"Hey, Rhodes, what are you cooking?" the merchant calls to his bodyguard.
"Carrot stew," Rhodes answers without looking up.
"Would you be willing to sell some to this kind gentleman? He has plenty of Imperial spice."
"Sure." Rhodes pauses for a moment to think. "A cup of spice for a couple bowls."
"Excellent." The merchant smiles, but it looks more like a grimace thanks to his scarred face. "As for mesh and barbed wire, I have about four feet of barbed wire right here." He pokes a coil on the table with his cane. "But I am not sure what I have for mesh. I'll check the van. Be right back. Enjoy your stew."
With that, the man turns and opens the rear doors of his van. He steps up and walks through the veil of curtains that hide the interior from curious eyes.
Rhodes finally moves, pushing himself away from the van and approaching me.
"Let's see the spice," he says.
"Why exactly is this stuff worth so much?" I ask as I pull the lid off and hold the container out so Rhodes can see."Doesn't seem very useful."
"How can it not be valuable?" The bodyguard looks at me inquisitively. "Have you had food that was supposed to expire before the world fell?"
Before I can answer, he picks up a can off the table. There's a faded picture of a dog on the side of it.
"Here, this is on me. Try to get it down without salt or spice."
He pulls the merchant's knife out of the table and cuts open the can. Sharp fumes of rotten meat and something unfamiliar emanate from the thick, brown sludge inside. Rhodes holds out the can, and I set my spice down on the table so I can take it. I try not to breathe too deeply. The stench from the can is nearly enough to make me sick. I thought that after all this time, I'd be used to smelling and eating stuff like this. I guess it's just something I'll never quite get used to.
"It is absolutely disgusting," Rhodes mumbles. "But in some less developed areas of the Wastes, it is all they have access to. But here, they have crops and vegetables - the only city I have ever seen to have them."
The bodyguard pauses and leans down to take a deep breath of the spices.
"This is pretty good quality, though. Where did you get it?"
"Did a job for a guy down south. He threw this stuff in as part of my reward. Told me it was valuable up here," I say with a shrug. "So here I am."
"Hmm…" Rhodes hums to himself. "Interesting. If you want to get the most out of it, go somewhere that doesn't have an abundance of crops."
The bodyguard steps back to his soup and begins scooping some into a bowl. It's really just a hubcap bent into the shape of a bowl, but it works. I stuff the can of old food into my jacket for later as he brings the bowl to me.
"There you go, Blondie. Just lump your payment for it with Yale for whatever you end up buying from him."
As Rhodes returns to his small fire, I take a gulp of the hot soup. It's the best thing I've tasted in a long time. I'm about halfway through the bowl when the merchant, Yale, steps out of the van with a spool of some sort of wire.
"I don't have any mesh," Yale says. "But I do have this spool of chicken wire. Will that suit your needs?"
"That should work just fine," I reply between mouthfuls of food.
I briefly wonder if I should give some soup to Three for all the work he did on my car, but that thought quickly vanishes as I down the rest of the bowl. Three can fend for himself.
"You said two bowls, yeah?" I ask, holding out the bowl to Rhodes.
"Mhm," the bodyguard grunts, walking over to take the empty bowl.
"You can take your payment after that," I say, turning back to Yale. "And while I'm here, anything you can tell me about Lady Anuket? Been awhile since I've come across someone so, uh, important."
"Well, as I'm sure you know, she is Eden's ruler," Yale begins, setting the chicken wire on the table before taking a seat. "How she came to power - I do not know the facts, only the legends. The legends that say she is a Goddess given human form. But if you are curious on her personally and how she rules, it can be summed up in one word: cruel. Anuket will deliver harsh punishment for the smallest slight, imagined or real - her favorite being removal of tongue and gouging of eyes. Never torture, though." He smiles his deformed smile again. "So I guess she has that going for her. Anuket can be benevolent, though, if she so chooses. Occasionally, the Great Lady will give residents of the lower city a taste of the small pampering the upper city receives. The Gods are fickle."
Yale fiddles with a small purse made from a burlap sack, scooping his spice payment from my container into it. Rhodes returns with the rest of my soup, and I eat it as Yale continues his description.
"She is also beautiful. Beautiful beyond measure. More perfect than the most expensive slave wife. The locals say her beauty can drive mortals mad with lust. And let me tell you," Yale chuckles, staring off at nothing in particular. "They aren't too far off."
"I see," I mumble, glancing warily upwards toward East Eden.
The more I learn about Anuket, the more I start to regret coming here with Three. Everything about her sounds horrible; even her good looks have a catch. The stuff about punishments and lust makes me think of how Three lost his eye. I wonder how long ago that was. Maybe back then he didn't know how extreme Anuket could be. Or maybe he just didn't care. Seems to me it could go either way. I scratch at the stubble on my face as I think. I hope I get a chance to shave it soon. I may be a Road Warrior now - a man surviving by the skin of his teeth and the roar of his engine - but I still hold onto some things from my past. In Utopia, everyone was cleanshaven.
"Sounds like I'm in for one hell of a time up there," I conclude, placing the empty soup bowl on the table.
I put the lid back on the spices and gather up the wires I purchased. Then I take a deep breath; the air doesn't seem quite so dry here, but the crowdedness of the marketplace is starting to get to me. Time to get back to my car.
"I'll try to remember how good that soup was," I call back to Yale and Rhodes as I disappear into the crowd. "Next time you see me, I might not have a tongue anymore."
Author's Note: Thank you to everyone who has been taking a look at this story so far. Special thanks this week to TheFirstStranger7 for the review and Lewibaton for the follow. Coming up next week: East Eden and all its green glory. Stay tuned.