Wasteland Wonderland - Part 1 Page 5

  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 one 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.”

  “I’m sorry about that. Really, I am. But you people gave me no choice. And what the hell were you people even doing there? Why the frame? Why the set up? What did you want with the girl?”

  “You don’t get to ask the questions.”

  “I’m a dead man,” I say, trying to reason with him. “You can tell me. You can tell me everything because I won’t tell anyone when I’m dead. And right now, there’s no one else around. It’s just you and me and whatever is lurking in these dark tunnels.”

  “I’m just following orders.”

  “That’s a lie.”

  I shift my eyes to the dark. Off in the distance, I picture something there, something big. And I say, “We think they’re mutants. From the radiation. From all those fucking bombs they dropped during the Great Wars.”

  “You’re not going to scare me.”

  “It’s funny, isn’t it? We were fighting wars over land and food and water. And all the while we were dropping nukes. We were destroying the very things we were fighting over. We were sealing our fate. Or at the very least, we were speeding it up.”

  “The Great Wars led to the Truce, which led to the building of the Arks. The wars were a necessary evil.”

  “Is that what they teach you in Wonderland? Is that what they tell you?”

  He slowly reaches for his fancy gun. Rapid fire. Large mag. Silenced barrel. This guy is carrying around a fortune. A treasure. And he doesn’t even realize. I see him flick the safety off…

  He is sick of talking.

  “There is no escape,” he says. “My partner is waiting in the bar. You are trapped.”

  I smile. “That’s funny, because the way I see it, you’re trapped down here with me.”

  He looks at me like I’m crazy. He looks at me and he can’t figure out why I’m smiling.

  He shifts his weight, stepping back. He swallows hard. It’s right about now that he is starting to feel extremely uneasy. I tend to have that effect on people.

  “You hear that?” I ask.

  Again, I look off into the dark. I picture the monstrosities, the twisted abominations. I picture creatures from the depths of the Wasteland.

  He doesn’t buy my bluff.

  But then all of a sudden there is a noise. A loud thump. An even louder roar. A roar. Maybe there really is something coming this way.

  The Enforcer turns and he raises his weapon. He’s expecting a monster, something from his imagination, from his nightmares. He’s heard the stories. Of course he has. And even though he hides his fear well, I know he is scared.

  But there’s nothing there, nothing but the monsters of his mind.

  The barricades do their job this time.

  Anyway, while the Enforcer is distracted, I move behind him with my knife in hand. I put him in a choke hold. My forearm and bicep lock around his neck. He automatically stands up, he automatically struggles, arching his back. I slide the knife into his spine. His legs go limp. He doesn’t scream. He lets out a weird whimpering breathless sound.

  I let him down gently and relieve him of his weapons.

  A knife.

  The gun.

  Two extra magazines of ammunition.

  If I wanted to, I could trade these items and live like a King in the Buried City. But I don’t want to live like a King. I want answers. I want revenge.

  The Enforcer looks up at me, no longer hiding his fear.

  He’s afraid.

  He’s always been afraid.

  “I’m sorry to do this to you,” I say, half lying, half telling the truth. “But I’m not ready to die. I’ve got stuff to do. And I need answers. So now, I’m going to ask you a bunch of questions. And you’re going to answer every single one of them.”

  He coughs blood and spits it at me. “I’m not answering a goddamn thing.”

  He whispers this through clenched teeth.

  “I just paralyzed you. I can do worse.”

  He tries to act tough but his eyes betray him. “I don’t know anything. I’m just a soldier. I’m just following orders. We were told to bring you in. To find out what you know. To find out who else you had talked to. And then …”

  “Exile me?”

  “No. Not Exile. Execute… publically… as a warning.”

  “I killed maybe a handful of Mercs that you and your people don’t give a shit about. I killed two Enforcers. They attacked me first. They provoked me and I defended myself in the heat of battle. This wasn’t
cold blooded. This wasn’t pre-meditated. The punishment should be Exile.”

  He is shaking his head. “You don’t get it, do you? It’s not about the killing…”

  “Then what’s it about?”

  Again, he clams up. Because whatever it’s about is big.

  Or maybe he doesn’t fully know.

  Maybe this guy has been lied to…

  I’m just a soldier.

  “You had nothing to do with her death, did you?” I say, thinking out loud, talking to myself. “Whoever killed Ruby was no Enforcer. No butcher. She was poisoned. She was poisoned with something I’ve never seen, never even knew existed. She didn’t suffer. She was in no pain. You wouldn’t even know she was dead if you saw her. You’d have to feel for her pulse. It was almost like she’d been preserved. A beautiful work of art for the whole world to see.”

  “What the hell are you talking about?” he asks. “What did she tell you?”

  He asks this question like he is genuinely interested, like he really, really wants to know. He is genuinely curious. He is curious because he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know a goddamn thing.

  “She didn’t tell me anything,” I say.

  She didn’t get a chance. She was scared. She said she knew secrets. And those secrets got her killed. Information and knowledge that she possessed but wasn’t supposed to.

  I’m slowly figuring this out.

  I’m slowly realizing that this is big… that it goes all the way to the very top. That not even the Enforcers know what’s going on.

  They are in the dark as well.

  We all are.

  “We tracked her here,” the Enforcer says as he struggles to breathe. “She made it through the tunnels, through the Long Tunnel. Don’t know how she got out.”

  “Wait. Are you saying there are tunnels connecting this place to Wonderland?”

  “Of course there is. How do you think we move around so freely?”

  “Why the hell does no one else know about these tunnels? Do you realize how much easier it would be to transport people through an underground tunnel? Would’ve made my job a whole lot easier. It would’ve saved lives.”

  “This tunnel isn’t for Wastelanders.”

  “Figures. Typical Wonderland bullshit.”

  “It’s not bullshit. It’s necessary. We need to secure the borders. The gates. The more gates we have to secure, the more at risk we are of being overrun. If we become overrun, the whole system breaks down. If the system breaks down, then no one is leaving Earth.”

  I see blood beginning to pool underneath him. The pool is growing. “Look, you don’t have long. Who was she?”

  “I… I don’t know. But I do know she was someone important. She belonged to the Collector. But it makes no difference. She was the first to leave Wonderland. Things are going to change now.”

  “What things?”

  “What do you care? You’re a dead man.”

  He’s right. No point in worrying about things that won’t affect me. “How many Enforcers are in the city?”

  “A lot. A small army. Too many for even you.”

  And I think maybe this guy has heard of me. “Who poisoned her?”

  “What do you mean?”

  I hold the knife in front of his face. “Do not lie to me. Do not play dumb.”

  “I was just on clean up and containment duty. Orders were passed down the line. From the top. The very top.”

  “Just give me a damn name. I want a name. And I want a reason. Why was she killed?”

  “What are you playing at?”

  The Enforcer is genuinely confused…

  “I just want the truth,” I say. “Who killed her?”

  “You did! You crazy son of a bitch. You killed her, you goddamn psychopath!”

  The frame is good. This guy still believes it…

  “What did they tell you?” I ask. “What were your orders?”

  “Like I said, we were told to bring you in. Dead or alive. Preferably alive. Find out if you talked to anyone.”

  This guy knows nothing. He doesn’t know the why of it and he doesn’t know who the killer is. Hell, he thinks I’m the killer. I guess a lot of people think I’m the killer. Maybe everyone. Well, not everyone. Not whoever set this frame up.

  “You killed a very important person,” he says. “A highly prized possession of the Collector. We can’t have people finding out there’s a leak coming from Wonderland. That she escaped. That she wanted to leave.”

  He’s giving away more good intel. I think he knows he’s dying. And I know he’s telling the truth. He’s telling the truth because there’s no rhyme or reason in keeping secrets at this point.

  “She escaped?” I ask. “Why did she escape? What did she escape from?”

  “Isn’t it obvious?”

  I shake my head. “No. Why would anyone want to escape from Wonderland?”

  He closes his eyes. “You really don’t know. No one knows.”

  “Knows what?”

  “Trust me, you’re better off not knowing… you’re better off. Everyone is better off.”

  “Who’s the tall guy with the scar over his left eye?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “Yes. I do.”

  I pick him up by his shoulders. He goes limp. I shake him. But he’s dead. His eyes roll back in his skull, white and lifeless. There’s a massive pool of blood on the ground.

  I lay him down gently because there’s no point in disrespecting a dead man.