Wasteland Rules: Kill or Be Killed (The World After Book 1) (2 page)

  June 4, 2029

  Rocky Mountain National Park

   It was a red plastic case about the size of a
large briefcase. He had circled it and then poked it with a long stick. You
could never be too careful, it could be a bomb or some other device intended to
disable or kill him. He had a number of enemies, although few would have been
able to locate him or come up with something sophisticated like this, or had
the resources to send a helicopter. That left really only one possibility, one
he wasn’t sure he liked. Someone in the United States Territorial Government or
U.S.T.G. was trying to contact him. The amount of resources needed to locate
him and send a helicopter out to him seemed far too great given his small role
working for them before his exile.

  With great reluctance, his curiosity got the
better of him, and he opened the case. Inside, cradled in foam, was a single
device that looked like a very small smartphone and an earpiece. When he picked
it up, it immediately started vibrating indicating an incoming call. The caller
ID displayed simply “The Voice”. Unsure what else to do, Derek answered it.

  “Hello?”

 The voice on the other end was smooth and cultured.
The speaker sounded middle aged and well educated, but technology could fake
anything.  “Major Storm, we have never met but I am a big fan of your work. The
attack in Savannah was impressive and I wish I could have been there when you
punched the General.”

  Hmm, so this person was very familiar with his
military record, including the top secret black ops. Interesting. Not wanting
to give anything away, Derek kept it simple.

  “What do you want?”

  “To the point, I like that. The government needs
your help. In return you will receive a full pardon and you can return to the U.S.T.G.
as a civilian or even active duty if you like. On top of that we will pay you
five hundred thousand dollars on completion of the task.”

  “I want a million in gold. Half now and half on
completion.”

  “One million in U.S.T.G. dollars deposited in
account here and ALL on completion. Plus your pardon.”

  Derek pondered the offer. It was a pretty sweet
deal. He would be allowed back into civilization and have enough money to live
like a king. But he really hated the U.S.T.G. and what they stood for. The U.S.T.G.
was nominally the remnants of the United States of America’s government and
military prior to the Collapse. Most of the legitimate government had been
wiped out in the fighting and attacks following the Collapse. A small cadre of
high level military had seized control and installed Rickard Channing, a former
VP, as President.

   The President, Vice President, and most of
Congress had been wiped out by the nuclear strikes on the Northeast. A
terrorist attack had taken out Cheyenne Mountain and most of the top military
leaders. A few Cabinet members had been out of Washington but they never
reappeared after the Collapse. A few Senators and Congressmen had tried to
rally people to their banners, but the U.S.T.G. had eliminated them. Some just
disappeared and others were embarrassed by scandals, the rest dropped their
bids and quietly joined the U.S.T.G..

   Based out of Chicago they had ruthlessly
consolidated power and expanded their area of control. Most of the military had
declared loyalty to them after they revealed they had massive stores of food. Democratic
institutions had been reinstated, but they were really more of a sham designed
to give the illusion of democracy where there was none. There was only one
recognized political party, the Neoconservative Party, run by Channing and his
cronies.

  Party membership was limited to the rich and
powerful, and you needed to be sponsored to join. Joining was essentially a
ticket to becoming rich and powerful. All ownership of “private” industry was
by Party members. They lived in special gated enclaves with access to better
food and medical treatment and special schools. Everyone else worked for the
betterment of the state, providing the goods and services needed to keep
everything running.

  There was an Executive branch, a Legislative
branch, and a Judicial branch; like before the Collapse. But the Justices and
Judges were party members and just rubber stamped any legislation passed by the
Senate, which was in turn controlled by Channing and his inner circle. Senators
were elected by popular vote, but there was never more than one choice for each
seat and they served ten year terms. Governors were appointed by the President
and they in turn appointed Mayors. Otherwise there were no local legislatures
or judiciary. Federal law was supreme in the U.S.T.G.. And federal law was set
by the Neoconservative Party and its leader Rickard Channing.

  The U.S.T.G. was currently under a form of martial
law enforced by the Federal Police. They were very ruthless and swiftly cracked
down on any dissent. Since it was illegal for any citizens, except Party members,
to own guns or cars it was easy for them to maintain control. In Derek’s
opinion they maintained a fascist police state controlling the population
through fear and intimidation. They also did not hesitate to expand through
military force, including the use of chemical weapons.  He wanted the money but
didn’t want to go back to living there.

  So he gave his counteroffer. “You went to great
lengths to find me, so you obviously need me…One million in gold on completion
and the pardon. Or I hang up and destroy the phone.”

  There was silence for a few moments before the
response. “Fine. We will deliver the gold to you in exchange for delivering the
package.”

  “Package?”

  “We need you to go to the location on your phone
and retrieve a device for us. I will give you an exchange location once you
have the device.”

  “What is the device?”

  “You don’t need to know that to complete the
mission. Go to the location and retrieve the device from Doctor Andrew Carter.
Take it by force if necessary.”

  “How will I know what it looks like?”

  “There is a picture of the doctor and the device
on your phone. Don’t lose the phone, it is our only connection. It is
completely secure including against Collective eavesdropping. ”

  Interesting. The Collective were possibly involved.
The Collective was in control of the world’s satellite systems including spy
satellites. Their seizing control of the satellites had triggered World War 3,
with every nation panicking as they lost their eyes in the sky and launching
every weapon they had at their supposed enemies. The U.S. had survived with
minimal destruction due to a secret land based missile shield. Most of the
Northeast had been wiped out from Norfolk to Boston, but everything else had
been untouched. Somehow the shield had failed in that section of the country;
no one knew why only that section failed.

   The Collective had seized control of Seattle and
imposed their form of society. They had quickly moved down the coast into
Northern California and up into Vancouver. Former U.S. military assets
stationed in Washington and California had attempted to stop them. They were
slaughtered when their weapons systems turned against them, being operated by
remote control. The Collective sealed their borders and no one was allowed in
or out. A few people escaped early on and brought stories of cyborgs and robots
controlling things, which were mostly dismissed as fantasy. Little was known of
their leadership other than that Stefan Doors, a former Silicon Valley genius,
was in charge.

  Stefan Doors was the founder of Macrowave
Corporation, which had become the world’s largest software company. Their
software was used by almost every company, government agency, and person on the
planet. Charismatic and a brilliant businessman, he had only been an above
average programmer who was often accused of stealing his competitor’s ideas.
Prior to the Collapse he had been diagnosed with inoperable cancer and had
practically disappeared from public view while he had attempted to find a cure.

  The Collective rarely interacted outside of their
borders and were considered self-sufficient. The U.S.T.G. had some
communication with them, but all other attempts had been rebuffed. All attempts
to penetrate their border had been met with overwhelming force. It was widely
known that they used the satellites to monitor all activity in North America
and possibly the world. Derek believed they were the ones who had disabled all
the satellites precipitating the Collapse.

  From his time working black ops for the U.S.T.G.,
Derek did know more than the average person about the Collective. They did
indeed have cyborgs, humans who underwent “improvements” to become “more
perfect” versions of humanity. Those cyborgs were the elite and ran the place.
Their tanks and vehicles were operated by remote control using advanced
technology. And worst of all they lobotomized the average person and turned
them into what they called drones. People operated by remote control via a chip
in the base of their skull. They were the perfect worker or soldier, mindlessly
obeying orders. Derek had also heard rumors that Doors had once worked with the
U.S. government prior to the Collapse on these technologies and other fringe
science. So who knew what else they had created or developed without any
oversight?

  The Voice continued, “If you leave the earpiece in
I can hear what you hear and you can subvocalize to call me and speak to me. It
also has a GPS so I can see where you are at any time. If it stays in one place
for too long or stops working I will assume you are dead and we will move on to
the next job candidate. If you need help with anything call me. You have three
days to get to the doctor and retrieve the device. The faster the better.
Assume that others will be coming for the device as well. Understood?”

  “Yeah, I understand. Get there and get it quickly
or else I don’t get paid.”

  “Correct. Good luck.”

 With that the call ended. Derek put the phone in
his pocket and began gathering his gear. To the average person the whole event
would probably have been disconcerting, but years working black ops for the government
had left him jaded. Weird stuff happened all the time and secret missions
popping up, seemingly randomly, was a common occurrence for them. This whole
thing stank of GIA involvement. The Government Intelligence Agency, or GIA, was
the successor of all of the former U.S. Intelligence agencies. The U.S.T.G.
believed in a very centralized command structure and had consolidated all the
agencies into one massive super agency. They were just as secretive and
byzantine as the original agencies though, and spent a lot of their time
keeping everyone out of the loop.

  He didn’t have much gear since he had moved out to
the abandoned camp site a year ago. It had been an old boy scout camp that had
fallen into disuse following the collapse. Once in an old growth forest, it was
now surrounded by the bare sticks of dead trees. It had shelter, water, and
bathrooms. Of course the shelters were Adirondacks which needed some repair,
the water a well with a pump, and the bathrooms were latrines. But it suited
his needs, which were simple, and it was remote. No one should have been able
to find him there.

  He grabbed his backpack and started off into the
wastes. Using the GPS on the phone he headed East. An interstate was just
twenty miles away and he could probably find a ride there. A passing big rig
might pick him up, but more likely he would need to find an Express Station to
purchase a ride. Express Stations had popped up several years after the
Collapse. They were fortified gas stations that provided food, supplies,
repairs, and gas at very high prices.

   After a few minutes Derek upped his fast walk to
a jog. He didn’t have much time to get there and he wanted to loosen his
muscles for what would probably be a crazy ride. It felt good to get back into
action; and as much as he hated to admit it, the hermit life probably wasn’t
for him. He was made for action.

  June 8, 2029

  Near Lamar, CO

  With the bike Derek was able to make good time. He
stayed off the main roads and used side roads and even dirt back roads. The
bike roared across the broken roads and easily slipped past blockades of broken
down cars and trucks. He saw a few other vehicles but made sure to avoid or
ignore them. No point in seeking out additional trouble. He had stopped only to
camp for the night and take bathroom breaks. He was almost out of gas but he
figured he could buy or steal some at the Doctor’s. Including the half a day it
took him to detour around Denver and the couple of hours stripping the biker’s
Harleys; he made it to within ten miles of the location in less than two days.

  Denver was a smoking ruin after the battle of
Denver in 2022. The U.S.T.G. had acted quickly to crush a small group of U.S.
Senators who had tried to rally troops under the flag of the United States.
Worried about the legitimacy of the Senators and the fact that some troops from
the West had rallied to them, the U.S.T.G. had used chemical weapons and
firebombs to soften up the forces gathered there. Fierce fighting between the
survivors and the U.S.T.G. forces had resulted in the complete destruction of
the city and surrounding areas. It was still a toxic mess full of Ferals and
rogue troops.

  Ferals were formerly civilized humans that had
returned to a primitive subsistence lifestyle. They eschewed modern technology,
believing our dependence on it to be the cause of the Collapse. They used bows
and arrows and melee weapons like spears and machetes instead of guns. Not that
they weren’t dangerous, they were ferocious in their defense of their territory
and generally somewhat insane. They often lived where normal people wouldn’t
dare.

  Derek stopped and concealed the bike a few miles
away from his destination and moved in through the brush. He wanted to scout
the location before he entered. You could never be too careful. As he got
closer he became concerned as he saw a lot of smoke rising from the vicinity of
the location on his GPS. It was black and oily, and way too much to be cooking
fires. He dropped to a crouch and approached even more cautiously. His stomach
dropped as he crested a small ridge and could see the location.

  It had been a small village of five houses with a
couple of barns and animal paddocks. It looked like it had once been a cul de
sac in a suburban development. The other houses had been either stripped to
provide construction materials for the village or burned out previously. They
had rigged up heavy tarps on ropes and pulleys to cover a small vegetable patch
from storms. The crop virus had burned itself out after it had killed over
ninety five percent of the plant life on Earth. So it was possible to grow food
if you had clean water, seeds, unpolluted soil, and could protect the plants
from the harsh storms. A low fence surrounded the village to keep out
predators. But it hadn’t kept out predators of the two legged kind.

  The houses smoked and burned and the paddocks
stood open and empty of animals. The attackers had probably taken the animals
for food. Fresh meat could be scarce at times and it was always highly valued.
They were probably goats. Goats had done well surviving the Collapse and the
Aftermath. They could eat just about anything and they could survive in almost
any climate. Larger varieties had been bred for a food source and they were by
far the most common herd animal in North America. The U.S.T.G. had vast ranges
covered in them near Indianapolis.

  Derek moved in to examine the village and see if
he could recover anything. Evidence scattered about the village showed a brief
firefight had taken place, but that the villagers had been overwhelmed. There
were empty shell casings inside the houses where he could see some of the
villagers put up a fight and hundreds of empty casings around the perimeter of
the village showing a large group of attackers had surrounded the village. Some
the casings were large enough caliber to have come from machine guns, probably
vehicle mounted based on tire tracks. It looked like the villagers had been
burned out and forced to surrender. There were a couple of dead bodies in the
burning buildings, all with multiple gunshot wounds.

   Since all the people were gone as well as the
animals, Derek assumed they were attacked and taken by slavers. Tire tracks
from wide bodied tires, typically used by the slaver wagons, led away from the
village. Slavers had become a scourge of the wastelands following the Collapse.
Human trafficking gangs had easily transitioned to kidnapping defenseless
people and selling them to warlords and other scum, brothels, rich people, even
the Collective and the U.S.T.G.. As they became more organized and survivors
started banding together and arming themselves the slavers upgraded their capabilities
and began targeting small convoys and settlements. Rule #13, the weak serve the
strong.

  Derek went through and ransacked the burning
buildings hoping to get lucky and find the device. But the buildings had been
stripped clean of any valuables, with even a safe broken open in the center of
the street. He did find some canned food stashed in a barn and a half empty gas
can next to a car up on blocks. It looked like they had been working on the
engine so he took spare parts from the car and grabbed a few loose tools. Rule
#9. He also filled his water containers from a well the villagers had sunk. They
had installed some sort of filtration device he had never seen. Rule #8, water
is life. Sources of clean water were rare in the wasteland.

  He debated what his next step should be. There was
still half a day until the deadline to retrieve the device and the attack
looked fresh. He could still retrieve the device from the slavers and fulfill
the requirements of the mission. The Voice had said there would be others
coming for it. He didn’t need to know Derek hadn’t gotten there first. OR he
could call the Voice and let him know the situation and see what he wanted
Derek to do?

   He decided to go after the slavers and retrieve
the device without letting the Voice know. He didn’t want to take a chance on
having him cancel the mission and void the contract. That money and pardon were
Derek’s retirement plan. Killing a few slavers to accomplish that wouldn’t
bother him one bit. In fact, when he had been a bounty hunter he had reveled in
killing scum like slavers. They weren’t too far ahead of him; he could probably
catch up by night fall. Then sneak into their camp and retrieve the device by
slitting a few throats.

  He quickly checked his weapons. His double barreled
twelve gauge shotgun was loaded and slung over his shoulder. Twelve shells were
in the bandolier and he had more in his pockets. Derek had gotten the gun off
of the first punk who had tried to rob him after his exile. He had taken out
his frustrations on the kid by disarming him and then beating him half to
death. His combat knife was in a sheath on this left thigh. That he had gotten
when he started his special forces training in the Army Rangers. It had served
him well over the years and had slit dozens of throats. Made of carbon steel it
still held a razor sharp edge. And he had his Glock 22 strapped to his right
thigh in a tactical holster. An extra thirteen round clip was in the holster
and two more were on his belt.

  The pistol was a gift from a grateful Patrician in
Nashville, head of one of the powerful families that ran the city. Derek had
saved his entire family from raiders. It was chambered for forty caliber rounds
which were harder to come by, but it did a lot more damage than the ubiquitous
nine millimeters. He took two grenades out of his back pack and clipped them to
the bandolier. His last two grenades, hopefully he wouldn’t have to use them,
but better to be prepared. Those he had bought from an arms dealer in
Indianapolis with some of his bounty money. He was ready. At the last minute he
also grabbed the two pistols and knives he had taken off the bikers. If it did
come to a shoot-out, more weapons were always better.

  He then jogged back to his bike and set off after
the slavers. Derek caught up to them just before night fall. He stopped a few
miles away so they wouldn’t hear his bike and snuck closer. The slaver’s had
made camp right beside the cracked road bed. They had circled their vehicles to
make a rough perimeter with the two slave wagons and a panel truck with their
supplies and loot in the center, but there were minimal sentries. And the
sentries looked half asleep or very bored. They obviously didn’t think anyone
was going to mess with them. Derek smiled; the arrogance and incompetence of
scumbags always amazed him. Constantly pushing people around made them forget
there was always someone badder than you out there. They were well equipped
though. All the slavers had assault rifles or modern pump shotguns slung over
their shoulders and pistols on their hips. Some had body armor or bulletproof
vests on over their clothes. There were too many to fight, but he could use
their arrogance against them to sneak into the camp.

  They had three technicals, large pickup trucks
with machine guns pintle mounted in their beds. All three looked to be in
pretty good condition considering they were made twenty or more years ago. They
had three more SUVs in the ring and what looked to be a limousine parked inside
the ring of vehicles. The leader or leaders apparently liked to travel in
style. All of the vehicles had hillbilly armor on them. Hillbilly armor was
metal plates welded or screwed on them and grates covering the windows. It gave
them a Mad Max look. The device would be in that limo or in the leader’s tent.

    Despite the fact they were lax keeping watch,
the camp was fairly organized. Men and a couple of women moved around a
grouping of tents cooking food, checking equipment, or quietly playing cards.
Torches burned on poles around the periphery of the camp. The tents were in
good shape and all the same style except for one larger one that looked
slightly nicer. That had to be the leader’s tent. Of course it was in the
center. Derek also noticed that the slavers all wore basically the same outfit.
They all had on work boots, jeans, and a jacket or sweatshirt in varying shades
of red. Clever, it made it easier to determine who was on your side during a
fight. That could be used against them in this situation though.

  Derek targeted a sentry on the far side of the
camp. He was bigger than Derek so his jacket would fit over his gear. He
silently stalked the sentry as he wandered back and forth beside one of the
SUVs. When the man turned to look into the camp Derek struck. He covered the man’s
mouth with his left hand and slit his throat with the knife in his right. He
quickly dragged the man behind the SUV and stripped the red jacket off him. He
shoved the body under the SUV and slipped the jacket over his camouflage
jacket. Then Derek calmly walked into the camp like he belonged there. No one
even spared him a glance.

  He figured he would try the limo first since it
wasn’t in the middle of the camp. He wandered over to the car and
surreptitiously tried the door. It was open, so he glanced around to make sure
no one was looking and slipped in. The inside was in surprisingly good shape.
There was even liquor in crystal decanters in the mini bar, but no device. It
was either in the tent or maybe the doctor still had it. Either way, he would need
a distraction to get it.

  Derek slipped back out of the limo and made his
way to the wagons. He identified the doctor from his picture. He looked older
than the picture. It was probably from before the Collapse, possibly a work ID
or driver’s license photo. Now he had gray hair instead of light brown and it
was cropped very short. He was definitely thinner, of course who wasn’t. Food
wasn’t exactly plentiful now. Still he didn’t look to be in good shape.

  The doctor was in a wagon with six other people.
Three men, one of whom looked badly wounded, one woman, and a girl. The doctor
was huddled with the girl in the corner and the others were clustered around
the wounded man. Maybe it was his wife, but more likely it was his daughter.
All of the villagers were clean shaven and dressed in simple work clothes. The
wagon was formerly a flatbed truck the slavers had constructed a six foot high
cage on. It looked like they had placed straw and some mattresses on the truck
bed for the prisoners. All the prisoners looked tired and very scared.

  Derek slowly made his way to the wagon and stood
near the corner the doctor was in with his back to the wagon. He whispered to
the doctor. “Doctor Anders. I’m here to help you.”

  He heard rustling behind him and assumed the
doctor was moving close to the cage bars so he could whisper as well. “Who are
you?”, came in a slow whisper.

  “Not important. I’m here to get you and retrieve
the device.”

  “It is important, are you Collective or U.S.T.G.?”

  “Neither, and it’s not important. Do you want to
get away from the slavers or not?”

  “The device cannot fall into the wrong hands. The
fate of humanity could depend on it.”

  “Doctor, you are being melodramatic. You are not
in a position to argue. Give me the device or tell me where it is and I will
get you out of here.”

  “It isn’t here.”

  “WHAT?” Derek snarled.

  Whoops, that was a mistake. He noticed one slaver
glance his way. He was running out of time. Soon there would be a sentry change
and they would find the body. Plus he was standing to near the wagons for too
long. Someone was bound to notice. He decided to try something different.