Wasteland Rules: Kill or Be Killed (The World After Book 1) (22 page)

June 14, 2029

Near Craighead County Prison

   After leaving the bounty hunters, Maximillian had
tasked a satellite to track them. Then he had gone to Jonesboro to wait for
them to bring him Major Storm, the girl, and the device. At the time he had
been fairly confident in their success. The bounties were outrageously large
enough to motivate them and they seemed well armed compared to the previous
rabble he had used. But as time had passed he grew increasingly concerned.

  The satellite had followed the hillbillys’
vehicles as they had swept the surrounding area. Eventually they had all
concentrated in one area near a small patch of buildings at an old railroad
depot. For some reason the satellite had glitched at that moment and for about
three hours there had been no signal. He wasn’t sure what had caused it,
according to diagnostics there was nothing wrong with the satellite. Maybe
there was interference from the sun or residual radiation from the Collapse.

  When the satellite had gotten a signal again he
could see that all the vehicles were now at a prison complex about an hour away
from Jonesboro. According to the records it was the county prison. Maximillian
assumed they had captured the Major since they were no longer searching and
waited about an hour before growing impatient. He should be beyond that emotion
but this was a critical mission and he could not fail.

  He decided to go to the prison and check it out.
Either the bounty hunters had captured the Major and were delaying turning him
over for some reason, or they had called off the search and needed more
motivation. He activated the van with a thought and directed it to take him to
the prison. One way or another he would move this hunt along.

  The van arrived at the prison and he found the
gates smashed open from the inside and no one in sight. A dead body was barely
visible in one of the guard towers and a trail of blood led from the front
doors to the parking lot. Frustration raged briefly before he got control of
his emotions. Had the Major managed to escape yet again?

   Exiting the van Maximillian walked slowly to the
front doors of the prison. He hesitated before entering the main lobby. The
sterile environment and the sight of the bars triggered an unwanted memory from
his past life in the Special Forces. He was reminded of the last time he had
been trapped in a prison. He had been locked behind bars in a hellhole in China
following a failed operation. Captured as they tried to escape an entire
division of elite Red Guard.

  Badly injured, he had been taken to a remote
prison and thrown into a small windowless cell. He had barely been fed and had
received only minimal care for his extensive injuries. His face had significant
burn scarring and he his left eye was ruined. The broken bones had been set
roughly and the breaks had healed improperly, leaving his limbs twisted and
almost useless. He had barely been able to stand yet alone walk. For a young
man of twenty-five that had been particularly upsetting.

  He had languished in the prison for six months
before he had been traded back. He endured daily beatings and other torture as
his captors tried to get any secret they could from him. But he never broke; he
never revealed anything despite the fact that he felt abandoned by his country.
The Chinese were impressed by his toughness and eventually gave him grudging
respect. He hadn’t held it against them; they were just doing their job. No he
blamed the people who had left him behind on the battlefield.

  The Chinese had told him how the American
commander had managed to get the rest of the team to a chopper and escape.
Leaving Maximillian and a few other wounded behind. When he had asked about the
other wounded, he was informed they hadn’t survived their wounds. A desire for
revenge against the commander, one Major Derek H. Storm, had sustained him
during the beatings, starvation, and torture.

  When he had been traded back, he was not sent to a
normal military hospital. His injuries had been deemed too severe for a regular
doctor to fix and so he had been sent to a special hospital with advanced
specialists. There they had offered him a stark choice. They could reset the
bones and use plastic surgery to fix some of his face, but he would always walk
with a limp and never be normal again. Or, they could replace his limbs and
reconstruct his face with titanium bones and plates. Advanced cybernetics would
replace his muscles and they would grow skin on top of them.

  There were a lot of risk with that option he
wouldn’t be normal then either, but if he survived he would be better. So he
took that option and agreed to the extreme surgeries necessary. With his new
body he would be able to get his revenge. He knew that fire would sustain him
during the surgeries as it had in the Chinese prison. So as he succumbed to the
anesthesia he was excited.

  The truth of it had turned out to be very
different. He had awoken to excruciating pain running throughout his entire
body. He had been told his body was rejecting the cybernetics. Pain meds had
been unable to lower the pain and he was unable to move. Lying motionless and
in excruciating pain he had been forced to agree to another set of experimental
surgeries to implant computer chips in his brain to help control the pain and
the new limbs.

  They had moved him to another facility for those
surgeries and the doctors hadn’t been military. The facility had looked much
more high tech and had a much more modern architecture and appearance. These
doctors hadn’t spoken to him prior to surgery; but a tall, well dressed man
wearing a surgical mask had come to him just before they gave him anesthetic.

  Even with the mask, Maximillian knew who the man
was. Stefan Doors was on the cover of many magazines and the subject of
documentaries and exposés. He was the face of Silicon Valley and the tech
revolution that had created the digital age. Maximillian didn’t know much about
the man, but he was an American icon. And according to him, he was
Maximillian’s benefactor.

  “You are blessed young man. You will be the First.
The first of a new age of humanity, reborn marrying the perfection of
technology to the imperfection of the human form. You will be stronger, faster,
smarter, and more intelligent. You will be the next step in the evolutionary
process. You will no longer be human, you will be better, you will become Humek.”
Doors rapturously informed him as the anesthesia took effect.

  Maximillian woke up without pain. He could move
his arms and legs and they were perfectly formed. There were surgical masked
nurses in the room but they didn’t move to help him as he leapt out of bed.
Ignoring his nakedness he flexed his muscles and exercised his limbs. He was
made whole again. He felt stronger, and he could see out of his left eye! He
was excited to be a man once again. Now he could exact revenge on his former
commander.

  “There will be time for that later. Now you have a
purpose.” A voice spoke in his head.

  Startled, Maximillian had looked around the room,
but none of the nurses had spoken or even moved. The voice spoke again, and
this time he recognized it as belonging to Doors. “I am speaking to you through
the chips in your head.”

  “That’s not possible.” Maximillian had replied.

  “The impossible has become possible. The chips in
your head are hardwired into your brain. Once you learn to use them properly
you will have almost unlimited access to information and processing power. Your
brain will in effect become part of the network. I call it the LINC. Eventually
everyone will be connected and we will have Utopia. You are the First and you
will be my messenger, my herald; and you will bring my vision to the world. We
will remake the world to be more efficient, more productive, and give everyone
a purpose. There will be no war, no hunger, and no poverty. You will show them
the joys of the Collective.” Doors had preached, becoming more passionate with
every word.

  Then he had activated the LINC. The unbelievable
flow of data had almost overwhelmed Maximillian. Images from satellites,
security cameras, and cell phones flashed before his eyes in a dizzying blur.
Account information, train schedules, and even Wikipedia had crammed themselves
into his mind all at once. Even the nurses in the room seemed to be connected
to the LINC and he could see himself through their eyes kneeling on the ground
clutching his head.

  It had taken several years but he had learned to
control the flow of information and use the LINC to multi-task mentally. Father
had taught him how to control his emotions and rely on the logic of the LINC.
He had learned to command the drones and control the UAVs and UGVs of the
Collective. He had helped create more Humeks and brought more people into the
Collective. As the First, he had served his creator faithfully and brought his
vision to the world, whether they wanted it or not. He had never failed until now.

  He reviewed the satellite imagery again and he
realized that the lost signal wasn’t a glitch. It was the device preventing him
from “seeing” the Major. There was another loss of signal about forty five
minutes before he arrived. It lasted just long enough for someone to come out
of the prison take a vehicle and leave. Before the signal was lost there were
six vehicles and the gates were still standing. After the signal returned there
were five vehicles and the gates were wrecked. The effect must have ended when
Storm entered the prison since he could no longer be seen and then then
restarted when he was briefly in range outside again.

  In anger, another emotion he had thought long
gone, Maximillian brought his fist down on one of the steel tables in the
visitor’s lounge. The table bent in the middle at the force of the blow and his
fist and arm left an imprint in the solid steel. This was unacceptable, the
entire vision he had been working towards was in jeopardy. He could not fail.

  As if reading his thoughts, he heard Father’s
voice in his head. “You haven’t failed yet, my son. The device may be blocking
our attempts to stop them, but we have other assets we can use. They cannot get
to NASA, we have seen to that. The rabble and scum you already used were
expendable anyway. We would have eliminated them at some point anyway.”

  “Yes Father.” Maximillian agreed, somewhat
mollified.

  “There is only one way for the device to reach me,
go and make sure that can’t happen. Go and collect the asset in the West. He
will bring too much force for one man to defeat. His righteous fury should
prove too much for Derek Storm.”

June 15, 2029

Near Memphis, Tennessee

    The bleak countryside flew by as Derek and Rora
headed southeast towards Birmingham, Alabama. She stayed on main roads but had
detoured around Memphis after remembering Derek’s comment about the Drinker
swarm attacking there. She also avoided stopping at any freeholds or Express
Stations and detoured several times to bypass roadblocks or manned checkpoints
after they entered Alabama. The checkpoints had started at the
Alabama-Mississippi border and she had stopped to check the first one out
through the scope of Derek’s M-14.

   It had consisted of concrete barriers blocking
the road and for several thousand feet on either side. Gray uniformed men
carrying M-16s had manned the blockade. They had an armored vehicle parked to
the side its guns facing Mississippi. She saw a flag painted on the side of the
armored car. It had three stripes; two red ones, one on either side of a
central white one. In the upper left corner was a blue square with twenty white
stars in a circle. A small line of cars waiting to enter Alabama led up to the
blockade. The soldiers were inspecting each car and sometimes forcing people to
empty out the vehicle.

  She didn’t know who the soldiers worked for or who
the flag belonged to, but Rora figured they probably wouldn’t like the small
arsenal she and Derek had acquired. Unsure on where to go she had looked at the
phone’s satellite map. Without knowing how many more checkpoints there were and
what other capabilities they had she was at a loss. Maybe this “voice” that
Derek had been talking to could help her. She scrolled to the call log and
selected the entry that simply said Voice. Pushing the call button she waited
as it rang for a second.

  “Major, where have you been? I’ve been trying to
reach you for hours.” The Voice came on the line, almost sounding frantic.

  “He is unconscious…” She explained.

  There was a pause and the Voice resumed in a much
colder manner. “Who is this?”

  “Rora, I’m Dr. Carter’s daughter.”

  “Prove it to me. Push the icon of the face in the
corner of the screen.” He demanded.

  “What will that do?” She asked.

  “It will let me see through the camera so I know
you are who you say you are. Do it.”

  Reluctantly she pushed the icon. A box popped up
in the corner of the screen showing the live feed from the phone’s camera. She
could see her face and some of the truck’s cab.

  “Ok, now turn it so I can see Major Storm.”

  She complied and turned the camera so the Voice
could see Derek slumped over and breathing slowly but steadily. “Do you believe
me now?”

  “Yes, what happened?”

  “A group of bounty hunters ambushed us and captured
us, but we managed to escape. During the escape he was wounded pretty badly. He
has been unconscious for the last few hours.”

  “And the device?”

  “We still have it.”

  “Good. Bring it to Jacksonville. I have set the
route in the phone.”

  “I know. I was following it, but there is a
barricade manned by soldiers blocking the road at the Alabama border. I need
help to get past it.”

 “Probably Confederated Cities troops out of
Birmingham. They probably would let you through, but why take a chance. I’m sending
you an alternate route to follow. Don’t waste any time and when the Major wakes
up have him call me.”

  “What about Derek?” Rora asked, but there was no
response as the line clicked closed.

  She tried to remember what the Confederated Cities
were and it came to her in a flash, maybe a history lesson her father had given
her. The Confederated Cities of America were a loose confederation of
independent cities, mostly in the Southeast, formed for the common defense
following the betrayal and annihilation of Atlanta and the use of chemical
weapons on Cincinnati by the U.S.T.G.. It had grown to include trade and
economic cooperation and had formed a loose alliance with the New Republic of
Texas. Each City maintained their own army and air force and had their own
government and set of laws. She was unaware of them having a flag though.

  With no real choice, she started following the
alternate route. Along the way she had to avoid a few smaller checkpoints but
had made it almost to Birmingham when a tone sounded. She noticed a red light
was now lit on the dashboard. It was some sort of rectangular icon but she
couldn’t figure out what it was. But anything red couldn’t be good. She slowed
the truck and shook Derek vigorously. He slowly came awake with a groan.

  “What?” He asked grumpily.

  “What does this red light mean?” She asked
pointing to the dashboard.

  He looked at her a little suspiciously before
answering. “It means we are almost out of gas. How long have I been asleep?”

  “Almost five hours.” She replied. “I couldn’t wake
you up earlier so I just let you sleep.”

  “Where are we?”

  “We are getting close to Birmingham.”

  “Hold on. How did you know where to go?”

  “I used your phone for the directions.” She
answered slowly.

  Sensing there was more; Derek turned and looked
her in the eyes. “How did you get past the check point at the Alabama border?”

  She hesitated. “I called the Voice.” She offered
quietly.

  “WHAT?” Derek’s angry response was very loud in
the enclosed space of the SUV.

  Rora shrank back a little at his anger. “I
couldn’t wake you up and I didn’t know what to do so I called him.”

  “That is my phone. You don’t use it. What did he
tell you?” Derek demanded.

  “He just gave me directions on how to avoid the
checkpoints. That’s all. He isn’t much for conversation.”

  That seemed to placate Derek a little bit. He
snatched up the phone and fiddled with it for a little while before staring out
the window in silence.

  “I’m sorry I broke rule #6.” She offered.

  “What?”

  “Rule #6, mind your own business. I’m sorry I
broke it.”

  He laughed, breaking the tension. “Fortunately for
you I’m not going to shoot you for breaking it.” He joked. “But next time…”

  He smiled to show he was kidding and Rora was
greatly relieved. She hadn’t meant to betray him in any way. The only reason
she had used his phone was because the situation had necessitated it. It seemed
like he understood and forgiven her so she moved on.

  “So what do we do about running out of gas?” She
asked.

  “The light means we have about seventy miles
before we run out. Based on the route map, we are about fifty miles from
Pelham, Alabama. There is a large road house there right off the old interstate
with gas and lodgings. We can get gas and spend the night there before heading
to Tallahassee, Florida. It will be nice to spend the night in an actual bed
for once.”  

  That sounded good to her too. The prospect of
sleeping in a bed raised her spirits as well. The next forty five minutes
passed quickly. They were on old Interstate 65 which was still in good shape.
She could see where the road was being maintained. There were fresh patches of
blacktop and brush had been cleared back on the sides. There were a few other
cars, and it was the first time Rora had seen other vehicles on the road with
them that weren’t trying to kill or capture them. This must have been more what
it was like before the Collapse.

  As they got close to where Derek said there was a
roadhouse, it became very obvious. There were massive signs indicating the exit
and advertising hot food and cool sheets. They signs also had the Hauler’s
Guild logo on the sign. When she asked Derek about it he explained that this
was a major truck route. Almost all goods moved from the Midwest and West to
Florida and the Gulf Coast came through Birmingham. After the Collapse air
travel had become very dangerous due to the violent storms, so rail and truck
traffic had increased.

  The city of Birmingham and the surrounding area
had been hit hard by rioting during the Collapse and more had died during the
Aftermath when from storms and the occasional heatwave. Without the early
warning radar to warn of tornadoes and power for air conditioning, many people
had died. The population was one fifth of what it had been prior to the
Collapse.

  The local economy had come back with the influx of
rail traffic and the population had started to recover. Birmingham was a major
railroad hub before the war and that was still the case. It connected the West,
North, and what was left of the Southeast. Trucks picked up cargo here and
distributed it south and east where no railroads reached. That meant a lot of
the traffic and travelers were truck drivers working for the Hauler’s Guild.
The logo on the sign let them know this was an approved stop. The roadhouse
probably paid a lot of money for that stamp of approval, but it was worth it to
get the business.

  When they got there, she realized how true that
was. The parking lot of the roadhouse was filled with big rigs. There were only
a few other vehicles parked there. The road house was very large and actually
encompassed multiple buildings. A high concrete wall about ten feet high and
topped with barbed wire surrounded two hotels and what looked like an old
Mexican restaurant. The area between them was completely cleared for vehicles
to park. Rora could make out Fairfield on the faded marquee of the hotel on the
right. A large gate provided the only access.

  The gate was swarming with armed guards in
butternut gray uniforms and body armor who waved them to a stop at gunpoint a
good distance from the entrance. All of the guards kept their rifles, a mix of
M-16s and AK-74s, trained on Rora and Derek as they approached slowly. The
guards ordered them out of the vehicle and disarmed them before searching the
vehicle. Derek’s heavily bandaged appearance drew a lot of interest from the
guards as he slowly climbed out of the SUV.

   Derek and Rora sat for a few minutes until
another guard, a little older than the others and with a flag patch on his
shoulder like the one she saw at the checkpoint, came out from the road house.
The man was in his early fifties and sporting a neatly trimmed gray beard. He
inspected them for a few minutes, walking around them and the truck. He looked
in the truck and sorted through their belongings. Then he began to interrogate
them. 

  “Where did you get the truck?” He inquired.

  Derek gave her a look telling her to be quiet, and
then he answered. “We took it from some raiders who were trying to kill us.”

  “Really, where did that happen?” The man asked,
obviously doubting the story.

  “Near Jonesboro. They attacked and disabled our
vehicle so we took theirs.” Derek answered matter of factly. He wasn’t exactly
lying, but it was a modified version of the truth.

  “Uh huh.” The guard said doubtfully. “Is that
where you got those wounds?”

  “Yeah, it was quite a battle. We barely got away
alive.”

  The guard took a closer look at Derek’s wounds
before straightening up and stepping back. 

  “You’re ex-Special Forces?” He asked pointing to
the tattoos on Derek’s arm.

  “Yes, so?”

  “Me too.” The guard replied, showing a similar
tattoo on his arm. “Did you stay in with the U.S.T.G.?”

  “I did. But they discharged me by throwing me out
of a helicopter at one thousand feet over the wasteland.”

  The guard laughed. “Hell of a parting gift.”

  Derek smiled. “Hey, what’s with all the questions?
Last time I was here no one interrogated me.”

  “We have had problems with U.S.T.G. infiltrators
lately, so we are checking everyone.”

  “Is that really much of an issue this far south?”

  “The U.S.T.G. has been moving troops and armor
close to the border. As I’m sure you know Birmingham is a major supply and
transportation hub for the CCA. So if the U.S.T.G. were to invade, most of the reinforcements
and supplies from the other cities would come through here. But if the rail hub
was sabotaged…”

  “The U.S.T.G. could overrun the border cities
before reinforcements could arrive.” Derek said nodding.

  ‘That’s right. So we have to be careful. That’s
why we have the checkpoints at the border that you managed to avoid.” The guard
said while looking Derek directly in the eyes.

  Derek actually managed to look sheepish. “Yeah, my
experience with soldiers hasn’t been good of late. I thought it was a shakedown
so we went around it.”

  “Where are you going?” The guard pressed.

  “I’m taking the girl to NASA. I promised her
father right before he was killed by slavers.”

  The guard seemed intrigued. “Seriously? You know
everything east of Tallahassee is Reaper territory right?”

  “I know. But a promise is a promise.” Derek
answered. “You aren’t just a guard are you?”

  The man smiled. “No, I’m an officer in the new CCA
Military Intelligence unit. What gave me away?”