Wasteland Rules: Kill or Be Killed (The World After Book 1) (8 page)

  June 10, 2029

  Outside Wichita, KS

  Derek and Rora drove down the highway at breakneck
speed. He was convinced that someone was following them. Whether they were
after the device or not was up for debate. At the very least they would have a
tribe of raiders after them for killing their brothers. Also possibly a pack of
burners and any Night Children survivors. Derek had a knack for making enemies
and it seemed like everywhere they turned was another enemy.

  “What medical device could your father have
possibly made that would get people willing to pay so much money or die to get
it?” He asked her curiously.

  “What makes you think it was a medical device?”
She asked puzzled.

  “He was a doctor, they make medical devices don’t
they.”

  “He was a doctor of neuroscience and had an
advanced degree in engineering, he wasn’t a medical doctor.” Rora replied with
a laugh.

  When Derek didn’t respond, she continued, “My
father worked for the Collective before it became what you know it as today.
Before the Collapse it was a scientific think tank working with the government
to develop so called fringe science into viable technology. Things like life
extension and universal immunity. Its original mission was to improve the lives
of humans all over the world. Doors and several of the government members
twisted the mission and seduced others to their cause. They kept a lot of the
technology for themselves and began working on shadow projects that the U.S.
government was completely unaware of, like cloning. They developed that
completely against all rules set by the government.”

  “This sounds like a bad science fiction TV show.”
Derek scoffed.

 “Unfortunately not. As time went on, the projects
and experiments grew more and more perverse and took a decidedly evil turn.
Plague research and bio-toxins. Splicing animal DNA to human. Mind Control. Dr.
Reinhardt developed the precursor to the technology used to create drones. That
was when my father turned against them and tried to leave. But I was sick and
they were the only ones with a cure. He was forced to work with them until I
was cured and we could escape. He created the device as insurance should they
ever try to come get us. I don’t know what it is, but the Collective is deathly
afraid of what it can do.”

  “How do you know this?”

   “Some of it my father told me and some of it I
remember.”

  “You were probably six years old, how do you
remember it?”

  Rora shrugged, “I just do.”

  Derek felt she was holding something back, but it
wasn’t really his business so he let it go. Rule #6 was mind your own business.
No point in borrowing other people’s trouble. If trouble was bothering someone
else it wasn’t bothering you. There were very few living heroes in the
wasteland. The last time he had intervened had almost cost him his life and it
had been the reason he stopped bounty hunting and had retreated to the summer
camp.

  They had just turned in a bounty in a small town when
a hysterical woman had approached them. She had given them a sob story about
her three starving children alone on her farm. Would they please pick up the
kids and bring them to town? Against his better judgment and in violation of
the rules he had agreed. They had gone to an abandoned farm to get them. The
“children” had turned out to be Drinkers, violent cannibalistic mutants, so
called for their propensity to drink human blood. The blood left a stain around
their lips and on their chins. They had become a huge menace after the Collapse
and subsequent attacks.

  The creatures were stronger and faster than normal
humans. They had sharp teeth and powerful bites. Their limbs were slightly
elongated and ended in razor sharp claws. They were pale skinned and hairless.
Their eyes were yellow irises with black slits for pupils. No one knew for sure
where they came from, but it was assumed they were the result of radiation and
chemical weapon mutations. They were excellent killing machines, and they were
always hungry.

  The three had turned out to be at least thirty.
The monsters had swarmed out of the basement and killed one of Derek’s partners
before they even knew what was happening. Derek and his remaining partner had
managed to drive them back and retreat upstairs. They had barricaded themselves
in a bedroom and held the creatures off until morning. He sometimes still had
nightmares about the howling noises the mutants made and the clawing sounds
they made trying to get in.

  In the morning they had jumped out the window.
Drinkers couldn’t stand the light and typically hibernated during the day so
there were no creatures to stop them. They had burned the farmhouse and all the
outbuildings down. When they had returned to town, the woman was of course
nowhere to be found. Their desire to help someone in need had cost them a
partner, a lot of ammo, and some of their sanity. Never again.

 June 11, 2029

 Near the Kansas-Missouri Border on U.S.-54

  Derek saw the sign for the Freehold of Nevada,
Missouri in the morning. There was also the symbol for the Regulators on the
sign indicating a Station House. Station Houses were bases of operations for an
entire region for the Brotherhood. It had holding cells, a court room, an
armory, and a vehicle pool. He could cash in the bounties there and get some
information on the town the device was located in. Any town large enough to
have a Station House would also have food, stores, and other entertainments. He
had been out in the bush a while, some civilization might be a nice change of
pace. Plus they could trade for some ammo and other supplies.

  He had avoided Wichita even though it was still an
Independent City. It was also an open city, meaning that everyone was welcome.
That included raiders and slavers. In fact, Wichita had the largest slave
auction in North America. The U.S.T.G. maintained an informal presence there
and was rumored to buy slaves for their mining and farming operations, although
the official line was that they liberated those slaves. If they really wanted
to liberate them, they would have taken control of Wichita, but they left it
alone for some reason. Travelling there with a pretty young girl like Rora
would just be asking for trouble.

  A few miles short of town, Derek pulled the SUV to
a stop. He got out and started going through his gear to take a quick
inventory. He unloaded all the shells from the pump action and put them in his
bandolier. He would sell or trade the pump action, his sawed off was much
better in close quarters. He rifled through the truck just to make sure there
wasn’t anything of use and was surprised to find some gear in the very back. A
box of 9 mm ammo, a crowbar, and several small improvised explosive devices.
All of that went into his backpack, which was practically bursting at this
point.

  “What are you doing?” Rora asked curiously.

  “Checking what we have for sale or trade. We
cannot stop for too long to get supplies. I think someone else is tracking us.”

  “The slavers?”

  “No. I think the slavers, the burners, and the
raiders were working for someone else who wants the device. It is too much of a
coincidence that they all ran into us in such a short time.” Derek replied
grimly.

  “Who do you think it is?”

  “I don’t know, but I’m not waiting around to find
out. We have to get to the device first.”

  “The tank is full, why are we stopping?”

  “Because the location you gave me is inside the
New Republic of Texas no man’s land, we need permission to go in there. This
town has a Regulator Station House. I have some old contacts in the Regulators
and they may be able to help us.”

  “What is the no man’s land?” Rora asked.

  “After the U.S.T.G. attack on Atlanta, Texas
established a fifty mile deep zone around their territory to prevent any sneak
attacks. They have sensors set up all along the border. Anyone entering it is
met with lethal force. But, the Regulators have transponders that allow them to
come and go from the zone since they might be chasing criminals who enter the
zone. We either need a transponder or a ride with someone has one.”

  Derek climbed back into the truck and handed Rora
one of the 9 mm pistols and an extra clip. She looked at him with a confused
expression on her face. “What are these for?” She asked.

  “These are yours. We’ll get you a holster in town.
You need to be able to defend yourself out here. I’m going to teach you to
shoot and fight. Otherwise it’s just a matter of time before you get raped and
killed.” He replied matter of factly.

  Rora grimaced, but didn’t argue. She gingerly put
the gun and clip in her backpack. Derek chuckled at her discomfort. She had a
lot to learn about her new environment. Keeping her isolated in their little
village, separate and safe from the real world, hadn’t done her any favors. She
would either adapt or become another victim of the harsh world of the
wasteland. He threw the SUV into drive and resumed their trip into town.

  As they got closer he could see signs for parking
and some billboards proclaiming all sorts of pleasures and entertainments. Some
were fairly obscene and the look on Rora’s face, as she processed what they
were, was priceless. She became visibly more horrified with each billboard.
Derek turned off the highway and down the road that led to the town.

  They finally arrived at the outskirts of town and
the parking lot. There was a large fenced in lot with armed guards and barbed
wire just outside the entrance to town. The town itself was ringed by a large
reinforced concrete wall with guard towers all along it. Searchlights and
snipers were located at every tower. All brush had been cleared away for at
least a mile. Despite the apparent wild nature of the town, they took security
seriously.

  A guard waved Derek over to the entrance to the
parking lot and gestured for him to roll down his window. The guard was in blue
jeans, a green plaid shirt, and cowboy boots; but he also had on body armor, a
Kevlar helmet, and he was carrying an M-16 assault rifle. Several other
similarly dressed guards stood nearby with their weapons ready but pointed
down. Derek had no doubt that if they sensed a threat that they would not
hesitate to open fire. For freehold guards they seemed very professional and
well trained. He assumed the Regulators had something to do with that.

 The guard approached his window and addressed him.
“You have to park the vehicle in the lot and go into town on foot. No
unauthorized vehicles are allowed inside the wall. It’s free to park and the
lot is secure. We do reserve the right to search the vehicle at any time for
any reason. We will give you a ticket to come reclaim the car when you are done
in town. Any questions?”

  It was obvious to Derek that this was something
the guard said a dozen times a day based on his mechanical delivery. The lot
was full of other cars and Derek didn’t see any other option, so he agreed. “I
got it, no questions.”

  “Great. Here is your ticket, don’t lose it.” The
guard replied. He stuck a laminated red card inside the truck on the dash and
handed Derek a matching card.

  Derek and Rora parked in the lot next to a beat up
Ford Mustang and gathered their gear. The lot was half full and had about
thirty beat up vehicles of varying makes and models parked in it. Derek did
notice two immaculate matte black Humvees parked by themselves at the back of
the lot. Somebody here had some serious cash or connections, or both.

  As they exited the lot, the guard waved them
towards another group of guards at the entrance to the town. A large steel gate
braced by a concrete blockhouse on either side blocked their way. The gate
stood over eight feet high and was broken up by an open door that a few people
were lined up in front of. Guards were searching them and then passing them
through. Derek and Rora joined the short line and waited their turn.

  When it was their turn, the guards searched their
packs thoroughly and pulled out the IEDs that Derek had acquired from the
raider vehicle. They put them to the side and then patted both Derek and Rora
down. Then one of the guards with a blue hash on the front of his helmet,
obviously some sort of rank identifier, addressed them. “No explosives in town,
you can have them back when you leave. You can keep your other weapons, but
they have to remain holstered. If you draw them, expect any guards to open fire
on you. Brawling is ok, but no weapons. Entrance is free. We maintain strict
order in town. Be on your best behavior or face harsh punishment. Stores are on
the left, entertainment on the right, stay out of the private parts of town.
Now move on through.”

  With that they were ushered in to town. Again, the
guards had been efficient and practiced. This place must get a lot of outside
traffic. Once inside they could see that the main street stretched out ahead of
them. Bright neon lights lit the stretch advertising goods and services. Shills
stood outside the entrances trying to lure in customers. The side roads that
intersected the main street were blocked off by wooden walls with large double
doors in the middle of them. The citizens of the town must live behind there,
safe from the visiting mobs. More guards patrolled the main street, similarly
attired except they carried shotguns slung over their shoulders and what looked
like cattle prods on their belts.

  Derek noticed the street was surprisingly clean
and empty of any drunken loiterers or bums. At the very end of the street was
the Station House. It was a large imposing building of granite and steel. It
was larger than the usual Station House and looked well-fortified. He could see
several Regulators standing guard outside. There was also an armored vehicle
stationed out in front. It stood out because there were no vehicles at all on
the main street. He decided he needed a drink before he tried to finagle a
transponder.

   He glanced over a Rora. She stood there with her
mouth hanging open in awe. This was probably the most civilization she had ever
seen. He laughed to himself and shook his head. What had he gotten himself
into? She would probably get him killed trying to take her to NASA. But, he had
made a promise. One he had modified slightly, but one he would still try to
keep.

  First step was to trade in some of their loot for
ammo and cash. Derek located a shop with a flashing neon gun above it and
dragged the girl with him. She didn’t resist and followed along looking around
at everything trying to take it all in. The shop was small and very clean.
There was a tiny vestibule for the customer to stand in surrounded on three
sides by counters covered with bulletproof glass. On the walls behind the
counter guns of all makes, models, and calibers were displayed.

  An older man with a burned in tan, simple but
clean clothes, and neatly trimmed beard addressed them. “May I help you?”

  “Yes sir, I would like to trade for some ammo.”
Derek replied respectfully.

  “What have you got?”

  Derek pulled out the 9 mm pistols and the shotgun
and placed them in a drawer on the counter. He added the extra clips which he
had emptied of ammo on the counter as well. The shopkeeper slid the drawer in
and inspected the weapons. Derek had cleaned them and checked them out so he
knew they were in good shape. The man checked each clip and dry fired the
weapons before he was satisfied. He looked at Derek and asked him, “What do you
want for them?”

  “I need forty caliber auto rounds and twelve gauge
shotgun shells.”

  “I don’t have a lot of either. The forties are
hard to come by and the twelve gauge rounds are very popular. I can give you
twenty 40 cals and eight twelve gauge shells, plus some cash for these guns.”

  “How much cash?”

  “Two hundred New Republic dollars.”

  Derek hated bargaining. “Those guns are all in
good condition, four hundred or I’m walking out.”

  “I can only give you three hundred friend, there
are plenty of 9 mm pistols and shotguns out there.”

  It was probably below value, but Derek agreed.
There weren’t a lot of places to trade and the ammo from here would be
guaranteed to be good. He checked the traded ammo and pocketed the cash. The
ammo looked to be in pristine condition. He nodded to the man and then they
left.

  The next store down was the general store with
gear and clothing displayed in the window behind a steel security grate. Rora
moved towards the door and Derek followed. He needed to trade for supplies
anyway. Might as well let her think it was her idea to go in. She breezed
through the door and went right to the brightly colored clothing on display. He
laughed to himself. They looked nice, but bright colors were a bad idea in the
wasteland. Keeping a low profile was one of the keys to survival and that
clothing would really make you stand out.

  The store was not large but it was packed full of
gear and supplies. Tents, lanterns, MREs, and all sorts of military surplus
lined the walls. Racks of coats and jackets hung behind the pretty clothing Rora
was admiring. Shelves contained blankets, sleeping bags, camp chairs, and all
sorts of survival gear. Knives and tools were in reinforced glass cases along
one wall that doubled as the counter.

  He let her browse and moved to the counter. A
young woman leaned behind there watching Rora shop with a half smirk on her
face. Probably laughing to herself at the “rube’s” reaction to the pretty
things. Derek checked her out quickly. Attractive, but way too young for him.
Just like the older man at the gun store she was dressed simply and very clean.
Her hair cut short and she wore no makeup. When she noticed him standing at the
counter she straightened up and focused her attention on him. She blushed
slightly when she realized he saw her laughing at Rora.

   “What can I get for you today.” She asked, “Maybe
a pretty shirt for your woman?”

  Derek snorted. “She’s not my woman. I’m just doing
a favor for a friend.”

   The woman made a face that said she didn’t
believe him, “Right…”

  In way of response he plunked the backpack full of
loot on the counter and started taking parts and tools out. The woman’s eyes
widened when she saw the amount of gear he was pulling out. She looked back
towards an open door behind her and called out, “Dad, I have a gentleman here
who wants to trade.”