Chapter 6

I wade through the throng in the marketplace and make my way back to the cages. As I approach, I hear shouting. I take out my pistol and quicken my pace.

Between a group of cages, four shirtless men with black and white face paint - Blackthumbs - are beating a skinny, old woman as she lies in a ball in the dirt. Three leans against the front of his truck and watches, looking unamused.

The four men notice me. They immediately stand at attention on either side of the moaning woman, forming the sign of the V8 with their hands.

"Guest of Anuket! We discovered this criminal attempting theft of your vehicle," one Blackthumb speaks up, kicking a small roll of tools towards me. "What is her sentence, friend of the Cyclops?"

I step forward, peering at the would-be thief. My eyes fall on the tools, and I stoop to pick them up. She must be crazy, trying to take off with my car right here in the middle of a fairly crowded place. Either crazy or desperate. Probably both. I feel uncomfortable. Not in the usual way - not the hot, dry, sand in my boots kind of way. I've gotten used to that for the most part. But now everyone is looking at me, waiting for me to speak. To pass judgment. I've done that plenty of times alone in the Wastes, but here it feels different.

Even so, some rules remain no matter the circumstance. I clench my fists.

"No one touches my car," I say to the woman. Then I glance around at the Blackthumbs. "I'll kill her myself."

"The Outsider has spoken!" shouts one of the men. "The criminal will be executed by the Blonde One's own hand!"

"Get up off the dirt, you filth!" another hisses at the old woman.

The thief slowly staggers to her feet as the Blackthumbs slither away. The woman has wrinkled skin, a frail body, and grey hair - one of the oldest people I've seen since Mend. The criminal's face is nearly unidentifiable as human - swollen, bloodied, and bruised. The rags she wears are old and tattered - even more than those of the many beggars and urchins in the marketplace. She stares at the ground, putting up no resistance to her imminent execution. That must have been beaten out of her.

The Blackthumbs stand quietly beside the cages, waiting for me to act. Three continues to look on. I stuff the woman's tools into my jacket; she won't be needing them anymore. Then I holster my pistol and take out my knife. No point in wasting a bullet. The blade still has blood on it from my run-in with the Mozzies, and once again I promise myself to clean it as soon as I can. I need to use it to shave, after all.

I approach the woman, examining her more closely. Her grey hair glistens in the sun. Her skin is full of spots - brown ones from years spent in the sun, purple ones from trying to shield herself from the beating. Her hands are worn and calloused, covered with the grime of a lifetime spent in the dirt. How she managed to survive for so long, I don't know. After so many years, I'd have thought she'd be more careful. But none of that really matters to me.

I grab a fistful of her hair. In one fluid motion, I spin her around so her back is to me and slide my knife across her throat with expert precision. Then I throw her back to the dirt and watch as the dry earth thirstily soaks up her blood.

The Blackthumbs cheer, clearly excited by the spectacle. Murder makes for fine entertainment in the Wastes. After they calm down, the apparent leader speaks up again.

"By our laws, Blonde Outsider, you gain possession of all the offender's possessions." He is speaking to me without directly addressing me. It's more of a proclamation than a conversation. "You have already taken her tools, and she owns little else." The man pauses to catch his breath, his voice starting to go ragged from the volume and tone of his words. "Except for her companion that we have detained."

He points to the far end of the cages. I turn and am surprised to see a dog sleeping, chained up to part of the fence. One of the Blackthumb underlings runs to fetch the hound.

"This animal is now yours. Do with it as you see fit."

I sheathe my knife and wait as the Blackthumb brings the dog over to me. It's a bit of a struggle at first; the animal seems determined to stay where it is and continue sleeping. Can't say I blame it for that. It tries to bite the man's hands a couple times. Once the dog is on its feet, though, it's happy to follow where the Blackthumb leads. As they get closer, I get a better look at the creature. He's scrawny, malnourished, and I can see his ribs through his short, sand-colored fur. He'd be tall enough to reach my waist if he stood up straight, but he walks with his head lowered, sniffing the dirt. Suddenly, his pointed ears stand straight up as he spots the body of his previous owner. When they reach me, the dog sniffs at the corpse as the Blackthumb hands me the leash.

I don't know much about dogs. Mend had pictures of them in some of his books, and rumor had it that there were enormous, white dogs that patrolled inside the palace of Utopia. One of the towns I once visited had some alarm dogs, and another place hired me to kill a group of mad hounds that kept attacking people. But I don't know anything about taking care of a dog. I'm sure it requires food and water - two things that are already hard enough to come by just to keep just one person alive. Then again, if that tattered, old woman could manage to keep him alive, maybe it wouldn't be so hard.

I pull at the leash a little, trying to get the dog's attention away from the dead woman. When that doesn't work, I step towards him and reach a hand down to grab the rope around his neck. He suddenly turns his head and snaps at my hand, barely missing my outstretched fingers. I yank my arm back. After that, though, the dog turns away from the corpse and looks at me, cocking his head to one side expectantly. His eyes are young and dark brown, just like mine. I straighten up and head towards my car. The dog walks beside me, panting in the heat. He starts sniffing the air, following a scent that leads him to my jacket. He jumps up to get a better whiff, making me stumble a little to one side. I stop walking and try to push him down, but he snaps at my hand again. Then he goes right back to sniffing at my jacket. I pat the pockets, looking confused until my hand hits something hard. I pull out the open can of old food with the picture of a dog on it. Of course. The dog wags his tail wildly, licking his chops. I don't look nearly as thrilled, trying not to wince at the stench. I set the can on the ground, and the dog immediately stuffs his snout into it, devouring the contents in seconds. Once he's done, he picks up the can in his teeth and looks at me, still wagging his tail. An odd creature, that's for sure. He's lucky I got that food for free.

I lead the animal to the cage with my ride in it. He immediately lies down in the shade of the vehicle, dropping the empty can between his paws and resting his head on it. As the fanatical mechanics clean up the corpse of the old woman, Three approaches me.

"You sure put on a show," the Cyclops comments in his usual gravelly, monotone voice.

I sneer a little at that. I took care of a problem; wasn't my fault people treated it like some spectacle. I glance at Three, trying to read him but finding it impossible. His face and his voice give nothing away, and I'm sure that's no accident. I decide to let his remark go, though. I don't really care about the opinion of a man who can't make decisions without rolling a die.

"Anyway, a Blackthumb told me he announced our arrival, and Anuket will see us shortly," Three grunts. "We are to meet an escort at the base of the fall." He glances the dog, who is yawning in the shade. "What are you going to with that thing? A mutt can help if you train it right, but it also eats up resources."

I look down at the dog, who is already half asleep on the ground. Lucky bastard.

"Think I'll keep him," I reply, ducking into my car to hide the newly acquired tools and wire. "If he gets to be more trouble than he's worth, I'll get rid of him. Simple as that."

Three doesn't respond as I shut the door and tie the dog's leash to the side mirror.

"You, uh, stay here and look after my car, yeah?" I instruct the dog, whose only response is to blink up at me with sleep in his eyes. I shrug and turn back to Three. "Let's go see this Great Lady."

The Cyclops simply nods and turns away from the cages. I follow him down crude, scrap metal stairs leading to the cliff behind the fall. The whole path is occupied by Blackthumbs - not a ragged urchin in sight. In the hierarchy of this city, it's obvious that the mechanics hold a higher status than the masses. Outsiders like myself appear to be regarded at about the same level as peasants, seeing as how they tend to all be located in the lower city. I'm only an exception since I'm here with Three, who claims to be an MFP Officer, whatever that means. There are two other groups I've witnessed, but I haven't seen enough to gauge their importance: the white-robed people of the water pool and the large men with tire armor. The robed men and women are possibly members of the upper city or some kind of religiously important figures. They remind me of Utopia, of course, where everything was white. The enormous, armed men are unlike anything I've ever seen, though. They're military, I'm sure, but why they have sharpened teeth and metal ridges implanted in their skulls is beyond me. They're intimidating, to say the least, but they're equally as fascinating. West Eden and its marketplace felt a lot like some of the towns I visited on my travels - full of poor folk trying to get by, just like me. These people, on the other hand, are something else.

My thoughts disperse as we reach the chasm at the waterfall's base. I am nearly overwhelmed by the smell of fresh water, and I can even feel small droplets splashing on my face as we pass by the impossible output of liquid. I almost understand how people could worship a person who controls such a marvel. Almost.

I once again notice the steep, zig-zagging stairways on either side of the waterfall. At the bottom of the stairs closest to us are two of the armored soldiers. Three approaches them without hesitation. This close, I can see that they are impossibly tall, towering over me. They are also more muscular than Three. One is wearing a yellowed t-shirt under his tire chestplate. He has an expression on his face that I recognize: the thousand-yard stare of a man who has seen more than he would like to have seen. The other guard is shirtless under his armor. Through the strips of tire, I can see that his torso is covered with small, raised scars. The scars are obviously done on purpose - hundred of small, uniform dashes, giving his skin a similar texture to the tires he wears. I can't see his eyes through the red-tinted goggles wrapped around his head, but I imagine he has the same stare as his companion. Both guards have bits of metal purposely placed in their bald scalps; Goggles has three, and T-shirt has two. These implants are also in a neat row, with the steel bits in various stages of rust and scabbing. In each man's hands is an ancient, rusted-over assault rifle of some sort. The weapons are so old and beat up that I struggle to imagine them working properly, but their owners are so large they could easily just bludgeon me to death with them. Attached to the barrel of each rifle is a glaring contrast: an affixed bayonet that is shiny and well-kept.

"Three the Cyclops and his Blonde companion," Goggles booms. "You may enter the Holy City of East Eden. Our Lady Anuket is expecting you both. Your escort to her throne is waiting at the top of the stairs."

I manage to tear my eyes away from the terrifying guards and concentrate on not tripping up the stairs. As we climb, I find myself growing excited to see East Eden. The curiosity that I try so hard to keep at bay is bubbling up, and that's always risky. This isn't Utopia, where everyone is perfect and everything is clean. Here, only one person is perfect - Anuket, the so-called Goddess. And from what I've learned, she isn't a very forgiving deity. I can't let my curiosity get the best of me in a place like this; it could get me in a lot of trouble.

And don't get any ideas about the Handmaidens, I remind myself, glancing over at Three.

We reach the top of the stairs. Green. Trees, grass, crops - the top of the cliff is filled with them. Even Utopia didn't have this many plants. The ground up here is actual soil - not lifeless dirt. It presses down under my feet like I'm stepping on a pile of cloth. It makes me uncomfortable, but it's worth it for the view. The green grows across the top of the cliff, which opens into a small valley. Parts of the mountain stretch skyward on all sides but the one we came from. A thin strip of oasis nestled in a mountain, high above the Wasteland. Maybe this place is closer to perfect than I thought.

Tending to the plants are men and women in the same white robes as those in the basin. They happily work, harvesting crops and watering plants farther away from the small river that feeds the waterfall. These farmers have no visible scars, mutations, or steel implants. The buildings are skillfully crafted out of brick, wood, stone, and metal. Most are two or three stories tall and completely undamaged. There is not a hint of violence or suffering up here. It's like being in a dream.

"Enjoy it while you can, Roman," Three says with a hint of wonder in his voice. "We won't be here long."

I look at Three, surprised by his sudden show of emotion, even if it's very small. He's seen it before, but the beauty of this place still gets to him. Must be why he keeps coming back even after what Anuket did to him.

After a few moments of trying to take it all in, I notice Chuckles kneeling on a nearby patch of grass. He stands up and greets us with a scowl.

"Cyclops, I trust you, but your Blonde companion here better know how to behave himself," the Blackthumb hisses quietly. "This is a peaceful, holy place. There shall be no violence." He pauses for a moment. "At the entrance of the Great Lady's temple, you will leave your weapons with a Crocodile. Instruments of War are not tolerated in Lady Anuket's presence."

"Uh... Yeah, of course," I say, realizing that he is speaking to me. It's hard to pay attention with so much to look at.

As much as I'm enjoying the serenity of East Eden, I can't help but feel a little uneasy about having to leave my weapons behind. I don't plan to attack Anuket, but having my knife and my pistol on me at all times is a comfort thing as much as a protection thing. At least I still get to keep my scarf.

Chuckles smiles for once, seeming to sense my uncertainty. "Our ways seem strange to outsiders, but they understand us a little better when and if they get the chance to visit here." The Blackthumb quickly notices his break in resolve and returns to a scowl. "Follow me," he huffs in his best tough-guy voice.

Our escort leads us along the river that cuts through the valley of East Eden. My boots squeak as they step across the soft, wet grass. I see more white-robed figures, but they ignore our party as they work. I also see more types of plants than I knew existed, as well as an animal. Roosting proudly on a crest of rock is a bird. Not the rare, nasty vulture from the Wastes; no, this bird is majestic, with white feathers and a seemingly happy expression - not unlike the residents of East Eden. Not a care in the world.

The short, silent walk leads to what is unmistakably Anuket's palace: a huge, female face, mouth agape, carved into the mountain. Not a single piece of scavenged material - all chiseled by hand. Its eyes feed the river from a source within the rock itself, making it look like the woman is constantly crying. A small bridge crosses one of the eye streams, leading to the open mouth that doubles as the palace's entrance. Two massive, wooden doors stand just beyond the mouth's lips, hiding the interior from view.

Guarding the passage are four of the scarred, armored men - Crocodiles. This time, each wields an intimidatingly large, well-maintained machine gun, with the long belt of ammo posing as a sort of rough, copper scarf. When we come within fifty feet of them, the two on the flanks drop to one knee and raise their firearms.

"Stop! Hands in the air! Inspection!" the pair in the center shout as they rush towards us, weapons raised with disciplined efficiency.

Chuckles and Three quickly raise their hands. I follow their lead.

"They don't mess around anymore," Three mutters.

"Our Lady is wary of the Blonde One," Chuckles whispers, eyes pleading to Three to remain silent.

The two monster-men reach us in seconds. Sunlight glints off something shiny, and I glance down to see that one of the Crocodiles has a metal leg. The shin is covered with a guard made of tire, matching his armor, but the rest is exposed metal and hydraulic tubes. Like his machine gun, the leg looks well taken care of, completely devoid of rust or dirt. He has no problem keeping up with his partner, making me think he's had the prosthetic for a while - long enough to train with it. The other Crocodile has all his limbs intact and looks almost identical to the one in the T-shirt at the base of the stairs. Then he opens his mouth to speak, revealing that his sharpened teeth have been replaced with metal spikes.

"Relinquish your weapons!" the two Crocodiles command in unison. "Place them on the ground! They will be returned upon your exit! Blackthumb!?"

Chuckles produces a small handgun from his waistband and sets it in the grass. Leg pats him down and nods to the Teeth.

"Cyclops!?"

Three pulls the shotgun from his shoulder and places it on the ground. Then he removes a handgun from within his jacket, grabs the other from his hip holster, pulls a combat knife from each boot, and a takes out the bowie knife from his jacket-mounted holster. Finally, he reaches into his left sleeve and pulls out a pair of rusted brass knuckles.

The two Crocodiles simply stare coldly as Three unpacks his mini-armory. The rear guards diligently look from a distance, never lowering their weapons. Chuckles watches with interest, and I raise an eyebrow. Guess Three didn't feel safe leaving all those weapons in his truck. I know how he feels. When he finally finishes disarming, Leg pats him down and once again nods to Teeth.

"Blonde One!?"

I lower my eyebrow and reach into my jacket to pull out the knife. There's still blood all over it, and I sigh inwardly as I set it on the ground. Then I place my pistol and revolver alongside it and look up at the Crocodiles. Leg begins patting me down. His massive, calloused hands are not gentle, nearly knocking me over. When finished, he nods to his partner. Simultaneously, they form a handsign to the two others, who lower their weapons and stand at ease.

"Chuckles the Blackthumb?" Teeth says. He speaks in a softer tone than earlier, but it still rings with authority. He has no speech issues from the metal in his mouth. I wonder if speaking is part of their training, too. Everything they do is meant to be as commanding as possible.

"That would be me, sir," Chuckles says as strongly as he can, but I detect a bit of terror in his voice.

"For your piety and dedication, you have been granted permission to enter and be in Anuket's presence," Leg informs him. I notice the lack of titles he uses for Anuket, meaning his station must be much higher than the Blackthumbs.

Chuckles's eyes light up. His mouth twitches as he desperately tries to hold back a smile. He forms the sign of the V8 with his hands.

"I thank you, sirs. But I am not worthy of the great honor of laying my eyes upon the Great Lady Anuket."

"Nonsense. She ordered it herself," Teeth replies. "Quit groveling, and don't prove her judgment wrong."

Chuckles immediately stops protesting and lowers his hands.

"Follow us, you three," Leg commands, quickly turning towards the entrance along with his partner.

As we walk toward the enormous mouth, the rear guards move forward to collect the weapons lying in the grass. I get a better look at them as they appraoch. Both are shirtless under their armor. One has a large, zigzagging scar that cuts through the raised, patterned scars on his torso. The other's chest is completely hidden underneath thick, curly hair. What he lacks on his head and face he more than makes up for on every other part of his body. His arms are similarly carpeted, making his already enormous muscles seem even larger. They pass us without a glance, completely focused on their task.

Leg and Teeth quickly make it to the large double doors and push them open in unison, revealing a dark hallway. The Crocodiles corral us inside. The doors shut behind us with a loud thud that echoes into the palace. Ahead is a short, dim hallway leading to a tall staircase with light seeping down from the top. Nowhere to go but up.

Time to see if this Anuket is anything like the stories.