Wasteland Wonderland - Part 1 (6 page)

I’ve never seen my brother like this.
Stressed out. Fearful. And I sure as hell don’t want to drag him
into this mess.

“Who have you been talking to?” I ask.

“Does it matter? The Mayor. The Sheriff.
They’re all freaking out. The city is crawling with Enforcers. It’s
only a matter of time before they find you, before they all find
you and back you into a corner.”

I imagine being surrounded by a bunch of
elite soldiers, armed to the teeth with high-tech military grade
weaponry. It sounds like a dream come true. A kind of fantasy where
I get to kill a whole lot of people, completely guilt free.

“I can help you,” he says. “But we’re running
out of time. The Sunspeeder is hidden in the Wasteland, at the old
spot.”

My brother and I have a few secret places in
the Wasteland. These places contain hidden treasure chests and
caches of survival equipment. We are the only ones who know where
they are buried. Some of them, most of them, you can only find with
a GPS tracking device. Otherwise you could spend a lifetime looking
for something buried in the Wasteland, in an endless desert,
finding only dirt and sand.

The ‘old spot’ he’s referring to, is an old
military style concrete bunker. I think it used to be a weapons and
supply cache. Last used by the military during the Great Wars. Most
of the bunker is buried, swallowed by the Wasteland. Only a small
door is visible, and it’s only visible if you know where to look.
And only if you know what you’re looking for.

I take the keys to the Sunspeeder and I lie.
I tell him I’ll go. I’ll go all the way to the Narrow Canyon. I
tell him they’ll never find me in the maze of tunnels and caves and
canyon walls. This is what he wants to hear. I don’t know if he
believes me or not. He can usually tell when I’m lying.

He’s about to say something, probably
something about how he doesn’t believe me, but then the lights go
out. And the entire Library falls into darkness. My brother takes
out a flashlight with a red light filter. My brother is prepared
because he’s always prepared.

Tiny emergency lights built into the floor
show the way out, back the way I came in.

“They’re here,” he whispers. “I told Meryl to
cut the lights when they arrived.”

“Who’s here?”

“The Enforcers. The Overseer.”

“You really think they sent an Overseer?”

“Yes. I do.”

My brother is not messing around. Not that I
am either. I’m in this to the end. The very end. I’m ready to kill
as many of these bastards as it takes.

“Do you need your gun back?” I ask.

I open my jacket to show him my arsenal.

Two handguns.

The rapid fire.

“Jesus Christ,” my brother whispers in
absolute disbelief. “Where…” He is about to ask me where I got
them. But he figures it out. He waves the question away. “I don’t
want to know.”

“So, do you need yours back?” I ask.

“No. I’m good. You keep it.”

He turns away from me and starts walking
deeper into the Law Library.

I have no choice but to follow him. “Where
are you going?”

“There’s an exit back here.”

“I should take care of these guys first. I
don’t trust them not to hurt you.”

“I can look after myself. And besides,
they’re not interested in me.”

“They’ll be interested once they find out
we’ve been talking.”

“They won’t find out. And they won’t find
me.”

My brother shows me a small entryway, which
is basically a hole in the wall. An air vent.

“Where does it lead?” I ask.

“Into the tunnels.”

“I’ll get lost in there.”

“Make sure you walk uphill. You’ll eventually
come to a station. From there, you can find the outside. Trust me,
you’ll feel it before you see it.”

“Feel what?”

“The heat.”

“Oh, right.”

I’d been to the stations before, the ones
closest to the surface. But I’d never made my way to them from this
deep. And never from the Library. This was a recipe for disaster.
There was an overwhelming possibility, an overwhelming chance that
I’d get lost.

Maybe I should’ve gone to the Casino after
all.

“Get to the Sunspeeder,” my brother says.
“Get to the Canyons. Make yourself scarce.”

I take a deep breath, I’m about to crawl
through the air vent. I’m about to prepare myself for the endless
dark of the subway tunnels.

Before I go, I ask, “Did you or your contacts
find out anything else?”

My brother is looking over his shoulder.
“Yeah. I asked around. And apparently, the poison they used, it’s
not a natural poison.”

I kneel down next to the metal grate that
covered the air vent. I take notice of what appear to be bite marks
and claw marks. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, it’s not found in nature. Anywhere.
They cooked it up in a lab. It was designed to be untraceable. Fast
acting. Lethal.”

“Anything else?”

“The girls, they’re definitely from
Wonderland. Word is, they belonged to the Collector.”

“I already knew that,” I say, sliding the
metal grate out of the way. “Wait, did you say
girls
? As in,
there’s more than one?”

“Yeah.”

I try and think about what this means.
“Doesn’t make any sense. People. Girls. Born and raised in
Wonderland. Why are they leaving? No one ever leaves.”

“I figure they were being mistreated,” my
brother says. “By the Collector. Or by the Enforcers. I figure they
were being raped. Abused. I don’t care who you are, Wonderland
ain’t worth that.”

He’s right. Some things in life just ain’t
worth the price. “I thought you said you couldn’t help me on this?
I thought you got a new job.”

“I did get a new job. And I can’t help you
with this. And I’m not here. I was never here. Got it?” He gives me
another spare magazine for the handgun. Another fifteen bullets.
Another fortune. “Go. Get out of here. Remember, walk up hill.”

I’m hearing rumors. The Collector. The Lord
of Wonderland.

A goddamn Overseer.

Problem is, I’m hearing the same rumors from
everyone, from reputable sources, from my brother. Which means
either someone is laying down some A-grade misinformation, or the
rumors are actually true.

I’m hoping it’s the former.

Someone or something enters the Law Library.
My brother and I both sense it at the same time.

Not Enforcers.

Whoever it is… is quiet.

They are careful.

Calculating.

Something small and deadly slides along the
floor of the library, coming to a stop at the side of my boot. It
is a goddamn grenade. I can’t tell if it’s a frag grenade or a
smoke grenade or something high-tech from Wonderland.

I kick it away, back down the center
aisle.

We barely have time to take cover.

A split second later it detonates.

It was a frag grenade.

It destroys book shelves and books.

Wood and paper.

Words and history.

Laws and crimes.

I don’t know if my brother is dead or alive.
He could be buried under a thousand books, under the rubble and
debris. He could be blown to bits.

I don’t know. But there’s nothing to do but
keep moving.

Keep fighting.

If I stop, if I look for my brother, I’m as
good as dead. If my brother is alive, he can look after himself. On
the other hand, if he’s dead, he’s dead. And there’s nothing anyone
can do anything about that now.

Move, dammit Move!

My limbs are in shock. My ears are ringing. I
am completely disorientated. I get to my feet. I try convincing
myself that I am ready for this fight. For this battle.

Ready for war.

And that’s what I’m expecting. I’m expecting
war. I’m expecting a small army. But there’s no army.

It’s just one man.

I see him moving off in the distance, through
the smoke and the dark. He’s quick and agile. Taller and thinner
than I expected. He almost looks malnourished.

The Overseers are seen as these mythical,
legendary beings. Stronger and smarter than the rest of us.
Genetically enhanced. They were designed, created to supervise and
oversee long interplanetary flights, and eventually, interstellar
flights. They were designed to look after the people and carry out
constant maintenance on the ships and the Arks and the
Shuttles.

They were designed to be better than us,
better than mankind, better than the human race.

They weren’t created to be killers.

And yet this is what I hear all the time.

Rumors about how goddamn dangerous they
are.

And I don’t know, I expected him to be
bigger. Not necessarily taller. He’s plenty tall. Tall enough to
see eye to eye with me, and there’s not many people who do. But
yeah, I expected him to not look so malnourished.

Either way, I’m not messing around with this
guy, this
thing
. I take out my gun. And it’s funny how I’m
already calling it my gun, when really, I only just relieved the
dead Enforcer of it. I mean, the gun is still covered in his
blood.

His blood.

His life force.

The blood hasn’t even fully dried and
coagulated and I’ve already taken ownership.

I flick the safety off and take careful
aim.

The thin man, the Overseer is fast.

And he won’t stay still.

I waste bullets, a handful of bullets that I
could’ve traded for so much booze and deep fried meat.

I move back against the far wall, I see the
exit to the tunnels. It’s just a hole, a vent. It had been covered
by steel mesh to keep the rats out. To keep the bigger roaches out.
But this mesh had been carefully dismantled, probably by my
brother, or maybe it was the Librarian. I wonder if she’s still
alive. I see where the mesh has been twisted and bitten. The rats
have still tried their best to get in here. You have to admire
their persistence and determination.

I ignore how big these rats get. I ignore how
big their teeth get. I push these images from my mind.

The Overseer moves. I see him in the corner
of my eye. He throws something at me.

Throws…

Why isn’t he armed with a gun? A rapid fire
gun. One with a silenced barrel and an extended magazine.

I feel a sting on the back of my hand. Like
something, a dog or a rat has taken a bite. And my hand goes
completely numb. My fingers stop working. I drop my blood covered
gun.

My whole arm goes numb and limp.

Useless.

Something is wrong…

I look at the back of my hand.

There’s this dart.

It’s pierced the skin. Pierced right between
the bones of my hand. It’s a needle. Something small and pointy.
It’s hard to make out because it’s dark and my vision is starting
to fail me.

Everything, and I mean fucking everything is
hazy and blurry. Like I’ve had a gallon of fortified brew and as
much beer to chase it all down with. I know I don’t have much time.
I know the Overseer will be coming in for the kill. I know he will
want to get nice and close to do this. He might not have a gun, but
he’s definitely got a knife.

He’s definitely got weapons and poisons and
hi-tech killing instruments from Wonderland.

Hell, he could probably kill me with his bare
hands.

My left arm still works. So I reach under my
jacket for the rapid fire gun. I hold on tight. I see the Overseer
moving down the center aisle, coming right for me. He’s not even
bothering to hide or duck. He’s not concerned about taking
cover.

He is not afraid of me.

I unload a full magazine. I don’t aim because
I can’t aim. I spray and pray. And the bullets chop the wooden
shelves to pieces. Books and knowledge and wisdom and history and
lies are torn to shreds.

The Overseer finally takes cover, diving
behind some rubble, disappearing into the darkness and the shadows
created by the emergency lights and the flash of my high-tech
military grade rapid fire gun.

The entire magazine is empty in seconds.

Again, I can’t help but think about how much
money I just wasted. I push the thought from my poisoned mind. It
was money well spent. It has bought me some time. Just enough to
slip through the exit, through the hole in the wall that leads into
the subway tunnels.

I have the presence of mind to grab the gun I
dropped, and my brother’s torch. Without it, I’d be blind.

I can hear my brother’s words of advice, his
vague directions…

Walk up hill. You’ll feel the heat.

I wish I knew which way was up. Or down. Left
or right.

But I don’t.

I can hardly think straight.

It takes me forever to realize that I’ve
probably been poisoned with the same poison that ended Ruby. And
that I could very well be dying.

My left arm goes numb and limp. I let go of
the rapid fire. It swings faithfully back to my side as a result of
the strap that’s around my neck and my shoulder.

I hunch over and I start running as best as I
can.

As fast as I can.

I know the Overseer is coming for me.

I know he won’t stop.

I’m running through the darkness, running hunched over. One hand is
clutched to my stomach.

Cramping.

Churning.

One hand brushes the wall of the tunnel for
support, for guidance.

I need to find some water. I need to dilute
the poison in my body, or at the very least, I need to find a quiet
spot to ride this out.

But what if there is no riding this out? What
if this poison is as lethal as my brother said it was? As lethal as
I know it is.

How long did it take to kill Ruby?

Hours?

Minutes?

I answer my own question and I say to myself,
to no one… “Then that quiet spot will be a quiet spot to die. Nice
and peaceful.”