Wasteland Wonderland - Part 1 Read online

  “I’ve been seeing a lot of those things today,” I say.

  “In the hands of the Enforcers no doubt.”

  “And Mercenaries.”

  “Mercs don’t usually have guns.”

  “I guess someone is supplying them.”

  “That someone being from Wonderland.”

  “Why are you awake?” I ask. “Why have you got your back to the wall?”

  He puts the gun away, somewhere in the waist of his pants, somewhere near his knife. “A man came to see me yesterday.”

  “About what?”

  “He was asking about a girl. He knew I used to be a transporter. Back when we had people to transport. Thought I might have helped her.”

  “Helped her? With what?”

  “He wouldn’t tell me. Not at first. But it doesn’t take a genius to figure this out. She escaped from Wonderland. She stole something from the Collector.”

  Ruby. She was scared. She was on the run. No wonder she was hanging out in that bar, in that part of town. No wonder she wanted me in her room. Lot of good that did her.

  “What did she steal?” I ask.

  “He didn’t say. But does it really matter? You steal from the Collector, or from the Lord, your life is over.”

  “Why the hell would anyone steal from those guys?” I ask, thinking out loud. “Why would anyone want to escape from Wonderland? The risk, it’s not worth it. This doesn’t make any sense.”

  My brother shrugs his shoulders. “Beats me.”

  “No one chooses the Wasteland over Wonderland. I don’t care what you stole. I don’t care what you did. No one chooses the Wasteland.”

  “You’re pretty worked up over this. Mind telling me what happened?”

  “A man came to the bar last night, probably the same guy who came to see you. He was asking me about a girl. The girl.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I said I’ve never seen anyone like her before. I’ve never seen anyone with skin so smooth and soft. Hair like silk. She said her name was Ruby. She said she was from Wonderland. She said she knew secrets.”

  “You spoke with her?”

  I nod my head slowly.

  “What the hell did you do?” He asks this question even though he already knows the answer.

  “She was scared,” I say. “She was terrified.”

  “And you slept with her?”

  “She died in my arms. She’d been poisoned. Wasn’t no regular poison.”

  My brother pours himself another drink. He’s drinking from a bottle of whiskey. Another antique. He doesn’t offer me one. Probably because I look like shit. And probably because he doesn’t want to waste a priceless bottle of whiskey on a dead man.

  “And then the Enforcers showed up?” he asks.

  “Yeah. And the Mercs. They showed up before anyone but me could’ve known she was dead.”

  “She’s from Wonderland, Hector. They can track their people. That’s probably why she came here. The signal gets weaker underground. A lot weaker. Probably bought her some time.”

  “Not enough.”

  “Did you kill anyone?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Jesus. Why didn’t you cooperate?”

  “They were going to frame me for her death. They were going to put it all on me.”

  “How do you know that? They weren’t after you. They wanted the girl.”

  “They had guns. They were out for blood.”

  “Did you kill Mercs or Enforcers?”

  “Both.”

  “They’ll Exile you for this. Or worse.”

  “I’ve been Exiled before. I’m not afraid.”

  “That was years ago. It’s hotter now. A lot hotter. And you’re not getting any younger.”

  “You really think anyone is gonna enforce an Exile on me?”

  “Yes. I do. And if you don’t cooperate, if you don’t go peacefully, they’ll put people in place, in the Canyons, in this city. They’ll have guards and patrols. They’ll be armed to the teeth. They’ll punish anyone who helps you. They’ll isolate you. That’s how they do it. That’s how they win. They have more people. More guns. They have the tech. There’s no surviving this. Not unless we go to them immediately. We go to them and we explain that it was all a misunderstanding. We need to start cooperating. We need to start calling in all the favors we spent years working for.”

  My younger brother, the hard man of the Buried City, has gone soft on me. That’s what retirement will do to a person. That’s what living in a nice apartment will do to a person.

  Drinking priceless whiskey.

  Having regular showers.

  “There’s no talking my way out of this,” I say. “The Wonderland Enforcers, the Lord, the Collector, they’re out for blood. This girl, she knew something. Something big. Something that got her killed. She came to me for protection, she could’ve just as easily have found you.”

  “Hector, I got a job. Came from the top. If you cooperate, we can clear your name, we can start working again. But if you refuse, I can’t help you with this.”

  “A job? What kind of job? No one’s been processed in years.”

  “That’s all about to change. The Shuttles are almost here. I’m taking people from the Canyons and the Buried City into Wonderland. I’m getting paid a small fortune. I’m sorry. But I can’t help you.”

  “Don’t you think the timing of this is a little suspicious? They knew I’d come to you. They knew you had nothing to lose, that you’d help me. That together we’d be that much harder to stop. You had nothing to lose, so they gave you something to lose.”

  “They showed me the proximity of the Shuttles. They’re getting closer. It’s nearly time.”

  He has his head lowered. He can’t look me in the eye.

  “I don’t need your help,” I say. “I don’t need anyone’s help.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to find out what Ruby knew. I’m going to find out what got her killed. And then, I’m going to get a whole lot of revenge.”

  “You should make peace with the Red Giant.”

  “I already have.”

  My brother finishes his drink and stares at the empty glass.

  No one says anything for a while.

  And then I say, “When you go up, watch out for Raiders. Those bastards are getting desperate.”

  I say this because I’m unable to say goodbye.

  He nods. He knows to be careful. He knows the dangers. It’s why he’s the best at what he does.

  “When I get Exiled,” I say. “Come visit me in the Wasteland.”

  Before I leave, he throws me his gun. A treasure, a priceless and deadly antique. He throws me two extra magazines.

  He says, “Don’t you dare waste those bullets.”

  Chapter 5

  I wander the Buried City. I keep an unconscious eye out for Mercs and Enforcers, for the man in the poncho with the scar over his left eye. I feel my brother’s gun dig into my hip. A rat the size of a small dog scurries past me. It had a slice of pizza in its mouth. Lucky son of a bitch.

  I realize I’m still in the nicer part of the Buried City. And I’m not going to find what I’m looking for here. I need to get back into the tunnels, back to the deep stations.

  The Buried City used to be a giant underground subway station. It was one of the biggest in the world. Apart from the numerous platforms, it also contained shopping centers and offices. Restaurants and cafes. Exhibition centers and hotels. All connected. All underground. And now it is smack bang in the middle of the Wasteland. Along with the Canyons, and of course, Wonderland, it became one of the last asylums of the human race.

  And like any city that has ever existed, there’s always a right side of the tracks, and a wrong side of the tracks.

  I make my way to the wrong side.

  My home.

  The Mercenaries I killed earlier, they were only the tip of the iceberg. I know there are more. I know they are all
just chomping at the bit to make a name for themselves. I know they have all been paid upfront to kill me, to kill Ruby. They’ll be given a reward for finishing the job.

  Fresh food.

  Fresh water.

  Women.

  Booze.

  Drugs.

  Weapons.

  Forged blades.

  Maybe even guns and ammo.

  These are all the things we try and use to buy off the people, the Enforcers and watchmen from Wonderland with. I now see how stupid that is. What’s the point of trying to trade something to someone who has no use for whatever it is you’re selling, who already has a treasure chest full of whatever it is you’re selling?

  It’s like trying to sell dirt to a dirt farmer.

  It’s downright stupid is what it is.

  What they, the Wonderlanders, what they want, just like everyone else, is two things...

  First, we all want a way off this doomed rock, we all want a seat on one of the Shuttles. We all want a place aboard one of the Arks.

  We all want this.

  Even if we say we don’t, even if we say we’ve made peace with the Red Giant, we all want a way off. If not for ourselves, then for our friends, our family, our children.

  Truth be told, this is why my brother and I had been risking our lives, transporting people through the Wasteland, delivering chosen refugees to Wonderland. On top of the transporting, we were doing favors for the Collector. For the Lord. We had been trying so hard and all in vain, trying to get in the good books of the good Lord and his right hand man, the Collector. Trying to do enough good, enough favors so we could skip the wait list, get a VIP ticket, a first class seat to an Ark of our choice.

  Ark America. Ark Europe…

  Turns out, this plan was a pipe dream. Turns out, this plan was pure fantasy. They haven’t processed anyone in well over five years. Our dangerous yet lucrative job as Wasteland guide and transporter had become obsolete. The work had dried up. And favors don’t mean jack shit when you go around killing Enforcers.

  Anyway, the second thing people want, and will always want… need … is knowledge.

  Information.

  Secrets.

  We are curious by nature, and the more things we know, the better prepared we can be and the more power and control we can have over any given situation. Over any person or enemy.

  Knowledge and information can get you power.

  Riches.

  Knowledge is a dangerous thing.

  I’m convinced this is what got Ruby killed. She knew things she wasn’t supposed to know. She said she knew everything. And for knowing everything, for knowing secret things she wasn’t supposed to know, she paid the price.

  She paid with her life.

  So yeah, information. I need it. And I know just where to get it.

  The deep tunnels are a dangerous place in a dangerous city. They’re full of dive bars and sleazy clubs. A lot of them are converted subway carriages. Trains that go nowhere except into eternal darkness. Only the worst and the best people head into the deep tunnels.

  Early on, the Buried City had trouble with things and people from far away places coming out of the dark. The Mayor of the Buried City at the time had the ingenious plan to brick the tunnels up and collapse them in certain places. He wanted to seal us off from the dangers of the outside world. He even put armed patrols at these choke points just in case. But even with all these safety measures, sometimes, desperate and hungry and mutated people still get through. Sometimes, things still get through. Big things. Scary things. And that’s why only the best and the worst people come to the tunnels. That’s why you never come down here without a knife. Or a really big stick.

  And here I am with a knife, a gun, and two extra mags.

  No wonder I feel good about this.

  The bar I’m headed for is called ‘Terminal’. It’s ten carriages long and the closer you get to the brick walls, to the edge of the Buried City, to the eternal dark, the better the bar gets.

  Or worse, depending on your outlook.

  Either way, the beer gets stronger, the smoke gets thicker, the music gets louder, and the girls get friendlier.

  There’s a new guy guarding the entrance.

  Big guy. Young. Obviously on the juice.

  He’s not going to let me in.

  “Bar’s full,” he says.

  “All ten carriages?”

  “You don’t want to go through all ten. Trust me, buddy.”

  I resist the urge to say, I ain’t your buddy. I resist the urge to say, don’t you fucking know who I am?

  I am Hector Ramirez. The Exiled. The survivor of the Wasteland.

  I grab his throat with one hand and put my fist through his face with my other hand. His head snaps back and he falls to the ground in a heap. I step over his body and slide the door open.

  Standing near the entrance is the lovely owner and operator of this prestigious establishment.

  Lisa says, “Oh, Hector. I’m sorry. Did Sammy give you some trouble?”

  “Kid needs to lay off the juice. Messes with his ability to think straight.”

  “He’s new. He’s from the Narrow Canyon. He didn’t know no better.”

  “Narrow Canyon? How’d he get so big living in the Narrow Canyon?”

  “He’s not a goldfish, Hector.”

  “No, he is not. And I’m guessing you’ve been feeding him well.”

  “Like you said, maybe he needs to lay off the juice.”

  “I’m usually right about these things.”

  “You’re not here to cause trouble, are you?”

  “Me? Never. I’m just looking for a friend.”

  “Well, it seems you’re quite the popular fellow tonight. Had a few people asking about you.”

  “Just a few?”

  “More than a few.”

  She motions with her head towards the back.

  “Carriage ten?” I ask.

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks, Lisa. You’re the best. I’ll try not to make a mess.”

  “Appreciate it.”

  I make my way towards the tenth and final carriage, towards the darkness. It’s around about the eighth carriage where I start to get maybe a little worried. It’s more crowded than usual.

  I’m walking into a bottleneck. A kill box. The perfect place for an ambush.

  Oh well. Nothing to do but keep going.

  In the ninth carriage I start to notice people walking the opposite way, heading for the exit.

  I enter the tenth carriage.

  Usually the music is loud back here, usually the atmosphere is wild and crazy.

  The carriage door slides shut behind me.

  There is no music.

  No smoke.

  No one is drinking.

  All eyes are on me.

  And I say, “You all know who I am. I’m not in the business of killing Mercs.”

  To my right, a mouthy little fucker by the name of Will says, “Hector, you’ve got a price on your head. A big fucking price. And we’re in the business of getting paid.”

  There’s ten… maybe twelve guys in this carriage. I don’t want to fight them all. I don’t want to kill them all.

  Not yet.

  I show them the gun in the waist of my pants.

  Will stumbles back.

  And everyone stumbles back.

  None of them are packing heat like this. They can’t afford weapons. Or ammo. And it looks like the Enforcers aren’t supplying these guys, at least not with guns.

  I take my brother’s exquisite gun out and show them the barrel. I give them a good look at it.

  I point the gun at Will. “Forget the price on my head. If you don’t give me some answers, there’ll be a big fucking hole in your head.”

  Will has his hands up. Self-preservation is a wonderful thing. He points towards the back of the carriage, sitting at the far end of the bar is a man who has to be an Enforcer. I say he has to be because he’s the only on
e who’s not afraid of the gun.

  The Mercs leave us alone for the time being. I know they won’t leave me alone for good. I saw the desperate look in their eyes, in Will’s eyes. They want to get paid. They need to get paid.

  I know I will have to deal with them eventually.

  Anyway, me and my new best friend exit the rear of the car. And now that we’re in the tunnel, moving away from the train, it’s getting darker. Somewhere ahead, a few miles maybe, is a reinforced concrete slab and a brick wall. Maybe a few other traps.

  This is supposed to make everyone in the Buried City feel safe.

  It doesn’t.

  “You ever been down here?” I ask the Enforcer. “You ever seen the barricade fail?”

  He shakes his head.

  “The things that come out of the tunnels,” I say. “Out of the dark… it’ll make a grown man cry. Hell, it’ll make a grown man piss his pants.”

  “Then it’s a good thing I’m packing heat,” he says, showing me a kind of gun I’ve never seen before.

  “Must be nice,” I say. “Living in Wonderland. Having access to weaponry like that.”

  He ignores me, ignores my small talk. I am not offended.

  “You took your time getting here,” he says.

  “I didn’t realize I was on a schedule.”

  “Who else did you talk to?” he asks, getting straight down to business. “Where have you been? And where did you get that gun?”

  “This is my gun. I’ve always had this. Had it since I was a pup.”

  “We know who is packing. We track those kinds of weapons. And you, you have never owned such a fine piece of hardware.”

  “How could you possibly track something like this?”

  He doesn’t answer me. He doesn’t want to give away information that he’s not supposed to. But what he doesn’t realize is that while he’s bragging about his fancy gun and his people’s abilities to track weapons and keep tabs, he’s giving away good solid intel.

  Giving it away for free.

  Which means… he’s either dumber than he looks, or he doesn’t care what he tells me because he’s about to put two bullets in my chest and one in my skull.

  “You killed Enforcers,” he says. “Good men. Good citizens of Wonderland. They were my friends. Usually the punishment is Exile. But not in this case.”