《The Forsaken America》


 Chapter One

    It was only nine in the morning when KC Homstov began to vomit into her waste disposal unit, and with that she knew she was in trouble. She stared down at the grilled chicken and fried rice chunks that lie in the stainless steel bowl below her chin with the look of pure terror painted across her face. She spent the next ten minute in nausea and turmoil. Once her stomach had been emptied, she rose off the tile floor. Her knees were reddened.


    KC looked at herself through the bathroom mirror. She was a young looking woman of 32 who no one would peg as being older than 25. Her face was almost devoid of age itself. She moved the pure black hair from her face and gazed into her wide blue eyes.


    She thought of her inevitable pregnancy and the repercussions behind it. She knew that bearing a child was punishable by death, as was sexual intercourse in the first place. She once had the option to rid herself of fertility, but she gave it up a long time ago, and it¡¯s far too late to go back.


    She thought of her parents from six years ago, the last time she had ever seen them. They were off to the city on KC¡¯s twenty-fifth birthday with just enough money to get her the legally required dose of Xenopram. She remembered them having to hide their faces under a layer of blanket, disguising their age.


    Her parents had not taken a dose of Xenopram at the desired age and therefore had grown rotten and wrinkled to the point of obvious distinction from youth, which was also punishable by death in Beauland.


    Fearing a similar fate happening to their only child, KC¡¯s parents had saved up enough money to get her a dose. The last day she saw them she promised them that she would take the Xenopram and become a contributing member of society. She promised them that everything was going to be alright. She never said a word about how she would take the money for a train ticket into Lamprey, the slum capital, and live her adult life in hiding, the same as her parents.


    KC thought about where her parents might be today. Probably dead, she thought, as she left the bathroom.


    Her Holo-Screen had begun to turn itself on, and as she enters her living room the familiar jingle of a public service announcement from The Eternal Protectors of Beauland begins. The jingle abruptly ends, followed with the distorted voice of a man. The screen showed the silhouette of a person behind a black background, a ring of white light outlining their figure.


    ¡°The Eternal Protectors of Beauland have inducted Rules 154 and 155 into The Rules of the New World.¡±


    ¡°Rule 154 declares that the Prime Production Period of all citizens has been brought down from 40 to 30, all those who had their dose of Xenopram between ages 30 and 40 must report to the Euthanasia Center immediately, regardless of Eternal Age. Those who do not comply will be declared Rotten Evil to the state.¡±


    ¡°Rule 155 declares that any human presence in The Forsaken America is punishable by death. Presence of the Rotten Evil in the Forsaken America, along with rogue humans attempting to aid their rise to power has been foretold by an Eternal Protector Scout. Eternal Protector Agents have been sent to The Forsaken America to investigate.¡±


    ¡°This has been a message by The Eternal Protectors of Beauland. Now back to your scheduled programming.¡±


    The silhouetted man faded to the image of a single pink pill on a white counter. As the camera pans backwards another voice, this one more feminine and clears, begins to speak.


    ¡°Just because you were brought into this world from The Rotten Evil doesn¡¯t mean that you have to be Rotten Evil yourself.¡±


    ¡°All Rotten Evil between ages 18 and 29 are eligible to volunteer for a dosage of Xenopram.¡±


    ¡°We know how hard it is to be in a world that seems to want you out. But we want you in. Please speak to your local Pharmacist for more information.¡±


    Once again, the image of the distant pill dissipates into the cartoon, Joey and the Other Joeys.


    KC waves her arm in the air, motioning the Holo-Screen to turn itself off. The screen disappears into thin air. KC drags herself to her ordinary table; circular and made from stainless steel, just like everybody else¡¯s.


    She grabs her ordinary cup from her ordinary coffee dispenser. She takes a sip of her ordinary coffee, neither weak nor strong enough. She gets up off her ordinary chair and approaches her ordinary wall, which contains something not so ordinary.


    An incredibly old poster, a photograph of two ancient looking Rotten Evil ¨C you can tell from how old they look ¨C both wearing all white, loose fit clothing. The first Rotten Evil is a male with circular glasses and a long beard with even longer hair. The second, sitting to his left, is a homely looking woman with thin eyes and thick black hair. They are both holding flowers. Behind them are words that KC cannot understand.


    Suddenly, there was a knock at the door; a loud pounding. KC tenses up, how could they already know? She waits for a moment, hoping that whoever is behind her front door will assume she has already left for work. The knocking comes back, whoever they are, they¡¯re not leaving. She approaches the door, attempting to hold in her fearsome trembling. It¡¯s no use. Inhaling, accepting the next few brutal hours of her life and consequential death, she opens the front door.Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Hello there, Kat! Say, shouldn¡¯t you already be headed to work?¡± Said Freddy the mailman, holding out a single white pamphlet. KC looks down at the pamphlet with complete neutrality.


    ¡°It¡¯s KC, Freddy. And I thought I told you not to read my mail?¡± She said, ignoring his question with the upmost irritability.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t read your mail this time. I couldn¡¯t if I¡¯d wanted to. This here pamphlet is a wanted poster from The Eternal Protectors.¡± Freddy says in a very matter-of-fact kind of way.


    ¡°Mm.¡± KC said as she looks over her letter. ¡°Why didn¡¯t they mention this on the morning report?¡±


    ¡°Not sure.¡± Freddy said. ¡°Say, what¡¯s the C in KC for, anyway? There¡¯s no C in your name.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s for Christian. Katherine Christian. KC.¡±


    ¡°Huh. Where¡¯d you get Christian from?¡±


    ¡°It was a nickname my parents gave to me.¡± KC said coldly. Freddy smiles sheepishly.


    ¡°Wow, you still remember your parents? I haven¡¯t seen them in almost 600 years; I don¡¯t think I even remember their names.¡±


    KC said nothing.


    ¡°Well, err¡­ Say, I figured maybe you and I could-¡°


    KC shut the door in Freddy¡¯s face. She looked down at the single sheet pamphlet and opened it up. Inside is a picture of a thin faced man with thick rimmed glasses and balding hair; though he appeared to be in his early 30¡¯s he has the eyes of an ancient, weathered old man. Written around the picture are the following words,


    ¡°WANTED: DEAD OR ALIVE. RAINE POPLIN, WRITER OF THE ILLEGAL MAGAZINE, ¡®THE TRUTH¡¯. RAINE POPLIN, APART FROM HIS OTHER CRIMES INVOLVING THE AID OF THE ROGUE ETERNALS THAT CALL THEMSELVES THE ANGELS, HAS NOW EXCEEDED THE PRIME PRODUCTION PERIOD. HE IS CURRENTLY WANTED AND AT LARGE. HE HAS BEEN SAID TO BE HIDING INSIDE THE COASTAL CITY, WHEREN. ANYONE WITH INFORMATION THAT MAY LEAD TO HIS WHEREABOUTS OR CAPTURE MUST REPORT TO THE ETERNAL PROTECTORS OF BEAULAND IMMEDIATELY.¡±


    KC crumples the paper in her hands and throws it into the Garbage Disposal Unit. She looks up at the clock, 9:45. She should have left for work almost ten minutes ago had she not been emptying her stomach contents into her stainless steel thrown. In a minute flat, KC hastily dresses up and runs out the front door, hoping to make it to the Beauland Transportation System Stop 142 in time.


    ***


    It took a good sprint and one bad fall, but KC Homstov made it to Beauland Transportation System Stop 142. Granted, not without a scraped knee, but on time none the less.


    She gave a quick nod to the operator of the transportation system as she entered the luxurious bus. She held up her Beauland Citizens Card, which was fake. The operator nodded back before looking back at the track.


    KC takes a seat on the Transportation System¡¯s leather chairs, reclining it backwards and setting her work bag to her side. The bus¡¯s patrons are seldom yet obvious. In front of her, two women talk loudly about the state of the government. To her right sits a sleeping man wearing a bandana around his face. Behind her she hears the rustling of leather; she turns around to see a man in tight black clothing and perfect posture staring around the bus.


    She freezes up. Eternal Protectors of Beauland have their own private Transportation System, why on earth is one of them just sitting in this bus booth?


    KC faces forward, trying her best to hide her fear. She can¡¯t tell if she¡¯s succeeding or failing, but god knows she isn¡¯t going to turn around again to check. Just stay on the bus, she thinks to herself, you¡¯re not doing anything wrong. Nothing he knows about.


    Trying to ignore her current anxiety, KC turned her attention to the two women in front of her. The one on the left is blonde and beautiful; the one on the right is ginger and fair.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like we could do any better! Don¡¯t you remember what life was like before it all?¡± asked the blonde, beautiful woman.


    ¡°Well, err¡­ No. I took my dose only about 400 years ago.¡±


    ¡°Oh, Sandra, well let me tell you, it was horrible! The Rotten Evil, oh how they hated Xenopram and the wonders it had done for us! They said that we were to rid the world of its natural resources, when in fact it had been them that spent their meager short lives destroying our natural world!¡± Said the blonde woman, raising her voice significantly; whether or not she noticed the EPoB member behind her, KC was unsure.


    ¡°NEXT STOP, ONE FOURTY THREE¡± said the robotic voice of The Operator over the intercom. Two stops to go.


    ¡°What about the Forsaken Americas? I had been told as a young girl that it was The Eternal Protectors that had sent the nukes?¡± Asked the ginger woman, most intrigued.


    ¡°But it was the American¡¯s who had done it to themselves! They chose to house the Rotten Evil; they chose to threaten Beauland with nuclear war. Sandra, the amount of death and destruction caused by the Americas was astronomical! The world was best without them, even if we did have to sacrifice their soiled land.¡± Said the blonde woman before lighting herself a cigarette; ironically, cancer was one of the few ways you could still be killed after a Xenopram dose.


    ¡°NEXT STOP, ONE FOURTY FOUR¡± said the robotic voice of The Operator once more. One more stop to go.


    Suddenly, KC hears the chair move from behind her. The EPoB agent got up, but she dares not turn around. She hears his steel plated boots clang against the wooden floor of the Transportation booth. She can hear every step gain volume as the agent approaches her from behind. She closes her eyes, surely this is the end.


    The steel boots walk right past her and to her right, towards the sleeping man with the bandana. Without a word of a greeting, the agent rips the bandana off the man, revealing a graying beard and wrinkled skin. The Man wakes up to the agent pulling him out of his seat. His eyes bug open, and he begins to scream.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t do anything! No! STOP!¡±


    The man struggles to loosen himself from the agent¡¯s firm grip, but to no avail. In retaliation, the agent pulls a large steel rod out from inside his coat and begins to whack the Rotten Evil man upside the head with it. Every time it connects a large electric whoosh can be heard emanating from the rod. It only took five hits before the man was no longer moving.


    ¡°NEXT STOP, ONE FOURTY FIVE¡± repeats the robot voice of The Operator. The next stop is mine.


    The agent¡¯s breath is normal and he hasn¡¯t even broken a sweat. He stares down at the motionless, bloody body. He presses a button on his shirt collar.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got a code green on the 140 transport. Yep. Be here soon.¡±


    And with that, the agent takes a quick look around the booth. The two ladies are dead quiet. KC and the agent lock eyes.


    The agent places his rod back in his coat pocket before heading back to his seat, not taking his eyes of KC for a second. Reluctant, KC looks away. The agent smiles before looking back over at the man¡¯s dead body.


    ¡°NEXT STOP, ONE FOURTY SIX¡± says The Operator. KC rises from her seat like a spring, kicking the reclined foot stool back into the chair. Although she does not look at him, she can feel the agent looking back at her. The second Transportation 140 opened its doors; KC was out like a bullet.

 Chapter Two

    Take one look around here and tell me if you see a single semblance of life. There¡¯s no life here, not even when there is. Every tree has been devoid of nutrients and water, every human has been devolved to the primal instinct of wild beasts. Indeed there is no life here. No life to be had, no life to be made. There¡¯s nothing here; nothing but me and my own meandering experience.


    Despite my obvious optimism, I have degenerated into the ultimate coward. Xenopram sounded like a great idea 960 years ago. Now I wish I had more of a choice. How can you live when you¡¯re hated by both the mortal and immortal? You can¡¯t. But how can you die when you have been plagued with immortality and the lack of courage for suicide? You can¡¯t.


    I wish I could tell that at least I have my memories, but that couldn¡¯t be farther from the truth. I don¡¯t remember who my parents were, they never took Xenopram and were killed in the war over half my lifetime ago, and my lifetime has been a lengthy one compared to that of a mortal. I don¡¯t remember who my first wife was, but I have enough nuts and bolts left in there to know that I had one. I don¡¯t remember my children, I don¡¯t know if they died or had made a life for themselves or even existed. I don¡¯t even know my own name, and I especially don¡¯t know how someone could forget something like that.


    I¡¯ve spent every day of the last 200 years wandering this large chunk of Earth left to rot by its immortal de-facto leaders. I have yet to find a single speck of life. I¡¯ve found people, sure, but none who were truly alive. But how would I know what alive is when I¡¯ve never felt it myself?


    My story starts here, on this seemingly average morning. If you could even call it that, average.


    I had just finished setting my camp away as I laid my map out across the dirt and reviewed my route. I was to head north towards an old relic of a city that my map says used to be called ¡°Iqaluit¡±. Running the roads through my head four times over, I put the map back in my blue overalls and headed out towards the infinite wasteland.


    I don¡¯t remember what this place looked like before the war, I wasn¡¯t born here. I was born in a place that used to called ¡®Germany¡¯, but had been consumed into becoming just another part of Beauland. I¡¯ve seen pictures of Old America, though. It looked like quite the beautiful place. A sort of artificial continent; a theme park that spread east to west, from coast to coast, and from city to city.


    One of the better parts of North America¡¯s wasted ecosystem is the lack of vegetation. Granted, this can come as a downside in search for food, most survivors resorting to cultivating and growing seeds themselves, but the lack of trees and bushes make it significantly harder to be snuck up on, and in North America you will be snuck up on.


    As my feet got sore I retrieved a retractable walking stick that I had strapped outside my bag. I pulled the length out accordingly and began to use it. This little stick has saved my ass more times than I would like to admit.


    I approached a small foot hill, and with that I was given one of two choices; walk up the hill or around it. Feeling like I haven¡¯t gotten enough exercise, despite my disposition, I chose the former.


    You¡¯d think with my centuries of experience I¡¯d know when to expect to be snuck up on by a group of four foul smelling raiders, but you¡¯d be wrong. As I walked over the crest of the hill I heard the distinct sound of a hammer cocking behind my head. Walking stick in the hands I raise, I turn around to see the four culprits, dank with the smell of smoke, tar, and body odor.


    ¡°Y¡¯all fucked up now, big guy. Give us the bag.¡± Said the man holding the gun, who I must assume is their leader as guns are so scarce in this wasteland that no one would let anyone handle a firearm over them unless they had authority.


    Seeing no other option in the matter, I slip the bag down my arm.


    ¡°Go ahead. It¡¯s yours.¡±


    As the man with the gun reached for my bag I swung my stick around, breaking it over his face. He groaned in pain, his neck flying backwards before he slumped into the dirt. Surprisingly, his three goons charged me immediately. I¡¯m used to them running.


    One of them attempted to grab me by the shoulders. I gave him a head butt, and despite the pain it caused to me, knocking him out was a success. The second went for a hit to my groin, so I gave him a knee in the jaw. The third pulled a knife; I dodged two swings before giving him a quick right hook, dropping him to the ground, the momentum sending him rolling down the hill.


    The first of the four, the man who received the blunt end of my walking stick, began to rise up from the ground, gun still in hand. I pressed his armed hand into the dirt with my boot, his gun went off. I pry the gun from his sweaty fingers and examined it. Honestly, it¡¯s a beautiful weapon. I wish I could have kept it for myself, but as I took my boot off his hand I threw his gun back to the ground.


    ¡°You¡¯re lucky enough you have one of those, no need to be robbing decent folk, you got it?¡± I said to him.


    ¡°Yeah! Yeah! I got it!¡± shouted the man formerly holding the gun, who was shaking in either fear or fury. He grabbed onto his gun, rubbing it like a baby as his friends gathered around him. The fourth goon began walking back up the hill. They¡¯re looking at their leader for the plans of attack.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    ¡°Come on, guys.¡± He says to his friends, not taking his eyes off me, and not taking his hands off his gun. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    Listen - usually at this point the guy who I¡¯ve given the gun back to will then try to shoot me dead with it. And yes, I have done this before. It¡¯s gotten me shot, but leaving a man without his gun is suicide. Either way, I have my own gun in my overalls that does the job just fine.


    But here¡¯s the thing; these men actually walked away. It was as simple as that. I¡¯ve almost never had it happen before, but I guess miracles do happen on occasion. As I continued on my path I thought all about those four boys and how my encounter may have brought their lives down a better path.


    That¡¯s the good part of my existence ¨C making a difference. I don¡¯t feel like I do it very often, but sometimes there¡¯s a good feeling in my heart that the world might be a better place through charity and good will towards others. It¡¯s all I got going for me, so it¡¯s all that matters.


    But sometimes one¡¯s judgment can fool them. In my case I found those same raiders no more than an hour later, harassing a young girl of questionable age.


    They had her surrounded in the car lot. She was on the ground, crawling away from them. One of them, the one with the gun, was muttering something at her; I couldn¡¯t quite make it out. Regardless, I wasn¡¯t going to take the time to eavesdrop, so I approached them.


    It was one of his goons, the last one I hit, I believe, who pointed me out to the others. Surprisingly, my last encounter with them hadn¡¯t instilled the slightest bit of fear of my presence. They figured since they were the ones with the gun that they also had the upper hand. But this time they took no vocal approach and instead began shooting me on site.


    I began to sprint straight towards them, which consequentially threw me right into the line of fire. Luckily this man wasn¡¯t the best shot and only one bullet hit, flying through my bicep. My left bicep, thank god.


    The second I got my hands on that little shit I wrapped my hands around his neck and squeezed with all my might. Although my left arm was weakened, I had been practicing this move for over 400 years and my grip has become quite strong. I snapped his neck in seconds. Prying the cold revolver from his even colder, dead hands, I disassembled the gun piece by piece, keeping the cylinder in my back pocket. I pull out my own gun, a rusty old Beretta, and faced the three others. They were frozen, scared, just how I wanted them. The goon who alerted the others was the first to talk.


    ¡°Don¡¯t kill us!¡± He said. Now that¡¯s funny. One of the others even chimed in a ¡°Please!¡±


    ¡°Or what, is your leader going to kill me?¡± I said, pointing my gun at the man with the snapped neck and gun parts all around him. I pointed my gun back.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to get as far away from here as possible. If I ever see you again, I¡¯ll kill you all.¡±


    They all began nodding frantically. Then, there were a few moments of ugly silence. The young girl they had been harassing lunged forward, taking me by surprise. She ripped the Beretta from my hands and began firing off at the three goons. Four bullets went off before I got a hold of her. One of these bullets went through a goon¡¯s skull. He fell to the ground like a ragdoll. The other two were out of sight.


    It took me a while to wrestle the gun out of this poor girl¡¯s hands. I was half scared to death that the gun was going to go off on me; or worse, her. Usually I would have just given her a quick shot to the head and got the gun back, but she was crying hysterically.


    I don¡¯t remember how, but I¡¯d felt it before. The burning rage of vengeance, it was eating her up inside. I¡¯d felt it before, but I couldn¡¯t let her go through with it. Not with my gun at least.


    ¡°Listen, you need to calm down.¡± I said, finally yanking my weapon back. She looked at me with anger and tears flooding her eyes.


    ¡°Calm down? Do you know what they did to me, Mister? No one can be let go for something like that!¡± She screams. At this point I examine her closely. Her clothes are ripped apart, half held on by her hands clutching the fabric together.


    I also realized I was still wearing my old war gas mask. I thought about taking it off, but decided ultimately not to. I just put my head down.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Marley Burrows.¡± She said.


    ¡°Where do you live, Marley?¡±


    She leaned back, holding her breath.


    ¡°Why?¡± She said quickly.


    I look down at my bicep, blood soaking the overalls.


    ¡°I¡¯m shot.¡±


    She looked at my arm and her mouth fell open as if she hadn¡¯t taken a look at my bloody arm. I wouldn¡¯t doubt she hadn¡¯t.


    ¡°My father¡¯s a doctor. Well, not really a doctor. But I can take you to him. He could help you.¡± She said frantically.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡± I asked. The rage began fuming in her eyes again.


    ¡°Okay, okay! I got something for you.¡± I took off my backpack and reached into it, pulling out a bottle of dirty water. I tossed it towards her. ¡°Drink this.¡±


    She eyed me suspiciously before downing the water like a drain. The whole bottle was gone in seconds.


    ¡°How long were they holding you?¡± I asked.


    ¡°What? Oh, err¡­ Two days. They took me out here to kill me, finally finishing me off. One of them said they had their fun and I was no use to them anymore.¡± She said


    The last of her words were drowned out by her crying. I helped her up.


    ¡°Take me to your father, the doctor.¡± I said.


    ¡°He¡¯s not really a doctor¡± She repeated.


    She sniffled and began to head south, so I followed. She looked at my face.


    ¡°Why do you wear that strange mask?¡± She asked.


    ¡°So nobody can see my face.¡± I said.


    ¡°Why? Are you ugly or something?¡±


    ¡°Nobody has said I am.¡±


    ¡°I thought you said nobody¡¯s seen your face?¡±


    ¡°No ¨C Listen, some people have seen my face, but I don¡¯t like everybody to see it, understand?¡± I said, clearly agitated. I didn¡¯t mean to be, especially to the poor kid, but it had been a rough day. Plus, my arm was killing me.


    ¡°Oh.¡± She said.


    There were a few moments of us walking silently before I heard her inhale sharply, signaling an incoming question.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± She asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t have one.¡± I said.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have one?¡±


    ¡°No. Well, I don¡¯t remember it.¡± I said. For some reason, Marley Burrows smiled at me.


    ¡°You should call yourself The Mechanic, my father, the doctor, well he¡¯s not a real doctor, and he¡¯s not my real father, did I mention that? Anyway, he¡¯s a very old man and he has very old pictures. He showed me these guys who dressed like you, they were called Mechanics. They weren¡¯t wearing that mask, though.¡± She said, giggling. I smiled back at her.


    ¡°The Mechanic, I like that name, Marley. Maybe it¡¯ll stick.¡±

 Chapter Three

    KC had gotten to work at 10:27, almost a half an hour late. As expected, her boss was waiting for her. He was a short stout man with a young face but old and greedy eyes. His face was painted with upset.


    ¡°Katherine. Late again, I see.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I know.¡± She said, walking towards him. ¡°Listen, I didn¡¯t sleep in this time. It¡¯s just that, you know.¡±


    ¡°What? I know what?¡± Her boss said, his face getting pink.


    ¡°Well, it¡¯s just¡­¡± She grew her voice to a whisper. ¡°I had gotten sick this morning.¡±


    The anger fled from her boss¡¯ face. Her grabbed onto her shoulder and pulled her away from the factory workers who were standing about twenty feet away.


    ¡°You¡¯re sick? What do you mean sick? Like¡­¡± He said. She nodded. His eyes began to fly around the room. Suddenly, all emotion dropped, and he stared KC straight in the eyes.


    ¡°I want you gone.¡± He said coldly.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re sick, Katherine? Sick? Nobody but the Rotten Evil has gotten sick in centuries! It¡¯s not exactly inconspicuous, now is it?¡± He said. ¡°You¡¯re sure to get the EPoB snooping around here, and I can¡¯t have that. I¡¯m sorry, you can come by to collect your final check, but I need you gone.¡±


    KC¡¯s face began to grow pink. No, it went straight red.


    ¡°After all I¡¯ve done for you, you¡¯re just going to throw me away? I¡¯ve been working here almost six goddamn years! How else am I supposed to get money?¡± She said, her voice rising.


    ¡°Listen, that¡¯s your problem, not mine. If you think you¡¯re going to make a fuss about it, I¡¯ll get a hold of EPoB myself.¡± He said, pointing over her shoulder. ¡°Now get the fuck out of here.¡±


    KC began to clench her fists. Nothing would satisfy her more than to beat this sucker to the dirt, but she knew better. She relaxed, looking at the ground.


    ¡°Alright, but I need to go get my things first.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    KC walked past her boss, down the hall to the right of the factory workers, and into the locker room on the left. On the right was the boss¡¯ office, which he promptly entered behind her.


    KC opened her locker, inside was a pair of black shoes, a few hair nets, and a black bag. She put the nets and shoes in the bag and put the bag around her back. As she headed for the door, she heard the sound of the office door opening first.


    Her former boss had just swung out of the office, steaming and storming towards the factory. Sure to be giving hell to a worker, KC focused on the office door, slowly closing. She quickly jumped out through the locker room door and put her foot between the office door and its frame, propping it open. She slipped inside.


    Looking around the immaculate office, KC began rummaging around everything. In the third drawer of the desk were several envelopes full of food tickets and recreational pay, the factory¡¯s earnings and employee¡¯s salaries, certainly. KC threw it all in her black bag. She jumped up and headed for the door. Opening it, the sound of her former boss screaming at some poor employee echoed throughout the walls.The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Heading out of the hallway and through the factory, her boss and KC locked eyes. She winked at him, and his jaw dropped. With that, KC left the factory and never came back.


    ***


    KC got on the Beauland Transportation System on stop 146. She flashed her Citizen¡¯s Card to the Operator, who nodded nonchalantly. She rushed to the closest seat and sat down. Looking around, the booth is completely empty. No more EPOB, no more old ladies, no more dead sleeping man. KC was finally at ease.


    The bore of the Transportation System drew her to the window. She observed the beautiful cityscape with its glass high rise buildings that stretched beyond the clouds, its luxurious but identical houses, and the beautifully recreated wildlife exhibits. She stared up into the baby blue sky, watching the ominous clouds move past in slow motion, and that¡¯s when it all became blurry, the clouds. They turned from defined objects in the sky to blurs of white paint upon a blue canvas, slowly getting engulfed in the darkness coming in from above and below, a world for the birds, disappearing before her very eyes¡­


    ¡°NEXT STOP, ONE EIGHTY ONE¡± says the robotic voice of the Operator. KC Homstov had fallen asleep. She had also missed her stop. She instinctively jumped up from her seat and ran out of the door, giving a quick nod to the operator as she left.


    Her intended stop was One Eighty, so although she had arrived to her intended destination, the coastal city of Wheren, but she was a half mile from the heart of the city. Ready for the walk, she adjusted her black bag. She began to head off before a voice yelled from behind her.


    ¡°Hey, wait!¡±


    KC stopped dead in her tracks, turning around, she saw two men in tight black clothing approaching her.


    ¡°What are you doing out here? All citizens should be at work right now.¡± The first man said, taller and with dark, well kempt brown hair.


    ¡°I tried to get on the bus. I didn¡¯t have my Citizens Card on me. I need to go home and get it.¡± KC said, lying. The two men looked at each other.


    ¡°That¡¯s funny. I didn¡¯t see you get on the bus.¡± The second man, short with blonde, equally well kempt hair, said.


    ¡°I got on at the last stop. The operator said he forgot to check for my card and that¡¯s when I realized I didn¡¯t have it. He let me off here.¡± She said. The two EPoB looked at each other again.


    ¡°You live around here?¡± Asked the first EPoB.


    ¡°Yeah, not too far away, just a few blocks.¡± She said.


    ¡°Do you mind if we escort you home?¡± Asked the first EPoB again.


    Before KC had time to respond, another voice was heard yelling behind her.


    ¡°Eh! Samantha!¡± shouted a strange man in a bright yellow button up shirt, cargo shorts, sandals, green sunglasses, and a straw hat. ¡°I knew I¡¯d find you somewhere around here! Its okay, gentlemen, I have it from here! Hey! Wait!¡±


    The two EPoB agents threw the strange man against the wall.


    ¡°Who the hell are you and what aren¡¯t you doing at work?¡± Demanded the first of the agents. The strange man simply scoffed.


    ¡°Listen, listen. Perhaps I came on a little too strong. Here.¡± He reached into his shirt pocket, pulling out a bright red card. The first agent held it up, and his face went from intimidation to fear.


    ¡°I¡¯m¡­ I¡¯m sorry, I didn¡¯t know.¡± The first agent said. The second agent glanced over at the card and froze up.


    ¡°Its fine, these things happen.¡± The strange man said, grabbing his red card back from the agent and placing it in his pocket. ¡°But just for your own unease, I will indulge you. My name is Estaban Fritz; I work as a Supreme Undercover Agent for The Eternal Protectors of Beauland. This woman you have been harassing is Samantha Rigby, my Recommended Roommate. I thank you for you¡¯re investigating, I will recommend you to your Lot Leaders, err¡­¡±


    ¡°Protector Harding.¡± Said the first agent.


    ¡°Protector Roswell.¡± Said the second.


    ¡°Right.¡± Said the strange man. ¡°But because I believe this situation would be a lot easier this way, I¡¯ll escort Miss Rigby home myself.¡±


    ¡°But¡­ You don¡¯t think we could come along?¡± asked Protector Roswell in a whisper. ¡°I mean, we don¡¯t often get to meet a Supreme Agent, especially one special enough to be working undercover.¡± Protector Harding seemed equally delighted to the idea.


    ¡°I appreciate the sentiment, gentlemen, but you two need to be on patrol, guarding the front line from the Angel renegades. But I¡¯ll give you my card; call me on your free day.¡± The strange man said, pulling two white cards from his shorts pocket and handing it to the two officers. As if handed a celebrity¡¯s autograph, the two officers walked away, somehow pleased and somewhat happy. KC looked over at the strange man, completely shocked.


    ¡°Samantha? Shall we go?¡± said the strange man, holding out his hand. KC approached him and the two headed off North down the streets of Wheren.

 Chapter Four

    Those raiders really took this poor girl far. We had been walking for almost three hours before coming up to a house buried inside the dense dead trees.


    ¡°This is it, up here!¡± Marley said with excitement. She had cheered up significantly over the last few hours.


    As we got closer to the house, the door flew open. Standing inside was a man with one leg, a lab coat, and long blonde hair. There were food stains on his stubble.


    ¡°Oh my god, it¡¯s you! It¡¯s really you!¡± Cried the one legged man. Marley ran up and jumped into his arms, knocking him over. They both fell over on the wooden porch in embrace. Her father groaned upon hitting wood below.


    ¡°Oh no, Papa, are you okay?¡± said Marley. The one legged man laughed.


    ¡°Of course I am, now that you¡¯re back! My god, I thought I would never see you again!¡±


    The two hugged each other for a few minutes. I decided then to take my mask off. This drew the attention of Marley and her father.


    ¡°Papa, this is The Mechanic. Well, that¡¯s not his real name. He doesn¡¯t have a name. But he saved my life! These men, oh these horrible men, they kept me for days, Papa! They would have killed me if The Mechanic hadn¡¯t come along! He got shot trying to save me, though, and he needs you to help him!¡± blurted out Marley before her father had a chance to talk. I approached him, holding out my hand.


    ¡°It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, sir.¡± I said to him, chuckling as to seem appropriate. He took my hand, and Marley helped me bring him to his feet.


    ¡°Likewise, young man! Thank you so much for bringing my daughter back to me! Lord knows that not many others would do the same.¡± Said the one legged man, his eyes filled with glee.


    ¡°My name is Hanson, by the way, Hanson Burrows.¡±


    ¡°Pleasure to meet you, Hanson, but if you could just fix me up and send me on my way, that would be great.¡±


    Hanson Burrows laughed at me.


    ¡°Son, you¡¯re not going anywhere! You¡¯re staying for some supper!¡± Cheered Hanson, holding his daughter in his arms; I couldn¡¯t help but smile.


    ¡°Sure, I¡¯ll stay, what are you cooking?¡±


    ¡°Oh, nothing but the best! The Hanson Special! It¡¯s a surprise, really, but you¡¯re going to love it! Marley, sweetheart, help me to the kitchen¡­¡±


    Inside the house was beautiful, old couches and desks and tables, totally wacky and unusual, but that¡¯s what gave it such charm. I took a seat on their old green tinted leather couch next while Hanson fixed my arm cooked us dinner.


    In about a half an hour I was called to the table only to see what appeared to be brown, green, and red mush sprawled out onto a plate. I couldn¡¯t help hide my look of utter disgust. Hanson laughed as he seemed to do.


    ¡°It¡¯s not as bad as it looks, trust me.¡± He said. I was starving so I had no choice but to take his word for it. It was delicious, it tasted like gravy filled stuffing with a hint of sour hard candy. Sounds disgusting, but I swear it was the best thing I¡¯d had in decades.  I couldn¡¯t help hide my look of utter surprise. Hanson, once again, laughed.The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°So where did you come from, Mechanic?¡± asked Hanson.


    ¡°Yeah, I want to know.¡± Marley added.


    ¡°It¡¯s not much of an interesting story and not much of one I can remember.¡± I said solemnly.


    ¡°Oh, come on! You don¡¯t look all that old! You¡¯re a handsome young man! Why can¡¯t you remember?¡± asked Hanson.


    ¡°Well¡­ here¡¯s the thing. And listen, you have been great company, but I¡¯m no mortal. I¡¯ve been around since before Xenopram had even been invented.¡±


    Today has been just full of surprises, because Hanson couldn¡¯t be happier to hear this. He placed his palm to his heart.


    ¡°As have I, brother. As have I. Marley here is my adopted daughter, I found her a few years back and took her in as one of my own.¡± Hanson said. I knew better than to ask where Marley¡¯s real parents were.


    ¡°That¡¯s great to hear. I don¡¯t see much of us around anymore.¡± I said.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s because most of us were above their Prime Production Period and were killed right off. You and I were young, but more fortunate now. We could probably hide in Beauland undetected.¡± Hanson said, sucking back his food.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure, I¡¯ve heard over the last couple decades they¡¯ve managed to lock the place down. They¡¯re more progressive though, I¡¯ve heard.¡±


    ¡°How is that so?¡± Hanson asked.


    ¡°Well, the Rotten Evil, they¡¯re allowed to get Xenopram shots as long as they fall under that damn Prime Production Period. Some refugee told me about that some 30 years ago.¡± I said, taking another bite of the delicious slop.


    ¡°I¡¯m not going to take Xenopram, I¡¯d like to get old!¡± cried out Marley. Hanson darted his glare at her. I kept looking between the two.


    ¡°Oh yes you are! You¡¯re going to take your pill and go to Beauland someday!¡± shouted Hanson.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to go! It sounds terrible!¡± growled Marley.


    I put my hand up politely and waited for the two to calm down.


    ¡°Listen, Marley. I¡¯ve lived in Beauland most of my life. It¡¯s not that bad of a place. Not much worse than it is here, believe me. It¡¯s safer for you. Funny enough, the only way you¡¯ll be able to get old is by being safe.¡± I said calmly.


    ¡°I want to get old. Being alive forever doesn¡¯t sound fun.¡± Marley said.


    ¡°It isn¡¯t. But it¡¯s for your own good.¡± said Hanson. ¡°Anyways, Mechanic, how long have you been living here? America, I mean.¡±


    ¡°200 years, how about you?¡±


    ¡°Shit.¡± said Hanson. ¡°I¡¯ve only been here about 50. And you¡¯ve just been surviving this long all by yourself?¡±


    ¡°I had some help every now and again, I must admit.¡± I said.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s still quite the accomplishment! I couldn¡¯t imagine being here today without my little Marley.¡± Hanson said as he leaned forward and ran his fingers through Marley¡¯s hair, giving her a chance to talk.


    ¡°Mechanic?¡± asked the young Marley.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°If Xenopram is so good, why are you and Papa here? Why around you in Bow-land?¡±


    I stopped at the question. Never before had I wanted to lie to a kids face, but in this context it seemed necessary. But I didn¡¯t want to not tell the truth either.


    ¡°Err¡­ I¡¯m not so sure about your father.¡± I said upon noticing the look Hanson was giving me.


    ¡°But in my case, I didn¡¯t feel like I was much help in Beauland. There are a lot of people here in need, people in the same situation you were in for the last few days, they need my help.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­ Ok.¡± Marley said, clearly unsatisfied.


    The rest of the dinner was rather uneventful. Hanson and I talked about women and the past few centuries; as much as we could remember, anyways. Hanson even pulled out an old, few hundred year old bottle of Rye that he said he was saving for a ¡°special occasion¡±. I only had half a glass, it tasted poisonous. Or maybe that was just how liquor tasted. I don¡¯t remember. Hanson offered me a bed to spend the night in, and I would have been a fool to decline.


    I hadn¡¯t had a dinner as fun as that in a long time. Not just as fun, but as relaxing and homely. It was even longer since I had a warm meal, and despite its unusual appearance it was not all that bad.


    I¡¯m sure I would have loved to know Hanson and Marley Burrows more if the raiders hadn¡¯t shown up.

 Chapter Five

    KC and the strange man had been walking for two blocks without saying a word to each other. Finally, the strange man opened a large steel door in a grimy back alley. He motioned for KC to enter. She didn¡¯t feel like she had any other choice.


    KC enters the room, a beautiful and entirely unordinary living space. Sculptures and paintings make up most of the decoration; in the middle of the room are two couches, one larger than the other, and a coffee table. In the middle of the table is an ashtray piled high with cigarettes.


    The strange man shut the door behind them, walking past KC and taking a seat at the larger sized couch. He pulls a pack of ancient looking cigarettes out from his coat pocket; pulling out a smoke and lighting it between his lips. He proceeds into a quick coughing fit.


    ¡°Come.¡± The strange man says, motioning towards the couch. KC obeys. The strange man removes his sunglasses, revealing ancient, weathered old eyes. He places his shades on the table, along with his hat, revealing a thin faced bald man. KC¡¯s eyes open.


    ¡°You¡­¡±


    ¡°Yes, me. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve seen my photograph in the wanted posters?¡± asked Raine Poplin, journalist, rogue immortal, and aide for The Angels.


    KC wasn¡¯t sure what to say.


    ¡°Yes, I have¡­ Why?¡± asked KC.


    ¡°Why what?¡± asked Raine.


    ¡°Why did you save me? The poster said you help The Angels.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Raine said.


    ¡°The Angels don¡¯t help mortals.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a mortal?¡± Raine asked, genuinely shocked. He stared her down as if he were about to get up right there and contact the authorities. All color flushed from KC¡¯s face. Raine smiled.


    ¡°I¡¯m just kidding!¡± Raine said as his laughing subsided. ¡°Of course The Angels help mortals! We aide all that want to exile from our ¡®Eternal Protectors¡¯; mortal or not.¡±


    KC gave a weak smile.


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, don¡¯t mention it.¡± Raine said nonchalantly, taking another drag of his cigarette. ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡±


    ¡°KC Homstov.¡±


    ¡°Casey Homstov?¡±


    ¡°No. KC Homstov, its short for Katherine Christian.¡±


    ¡°Katherine Christian Homstov, eh?¡± Raine said, observing KC like a psychologist would their patient.


    ¡°Well KC, I hate to make you feel any less special than you already do, but I¡¯ve been doing this a long time. You¡¯re not the first person I¡¯ve saved from certain death, and you won¡¯t be the last.¡±


    KC looked right into Raines old eyes.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t matter to me. You saved my life. I don¡¯t care how much it mattered to you, but it meant the world to me. Thank you, Raine.¡± KC said, Raine looking down at the ashtray.


    ¡°Like I said, don¡¯t mention it.¡± Raine said as he put out his half finished cigarette. ¡°Would you like a drink?¡±


    ¡°What have you got?¡± Asked KC. Raine rises from his couch and retreats to his kitchen, opening his yellow stained refrigerator.If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°We¡¯ve got Whiskey, White Rum, Dark Rum, Spiced Rum, Vodka, Gin, Tequila, Grapefruit Juice, Milk, and Water.¡± Says Raine; quick as a bullet.


    ¡°Err¡­ Grapefruit juice is fine.¡±


    In no more than fifteen seconds Raine is exiting the kitchen; a glass of vodka in one hand and a glass of grapefruit juice in the other. He hands KC her cup and returns to the couch. He grabs his half finished cigarette from the ashtray. ¡°Smoke?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Oh, no thank you.¡± KC said.


    Raine shrugs, lighting his smoke.


    ¡°So what¡¯s your story?¡± Raine asked. KC doesn¡¯t respond.


    ¡°Come on, you owe me that, at least. I¡¯ll be honest; I thought you were an immortal. But what on earth is a mortal doing in Wheren?¡±


    KC sighed before telling Raine everything. She told him about her parents, about the money she stole, about her pregnancy and the firing from her job. Raine listened the whole time; never breaking eye contact as he stared intensively into her eyes. After she finished her story, Raine took a few seconds of silence.


    ¡°You can stay here tonight, if you need to. It seems you¡¯ve had a long day. I have a spare bedroom, it¡¯s a little messy, but it¡¯s better than a prison cell.¡± Raine said with an endearing smile. KC finally smiled back.


    ¡°That would be great. Thank you.¡± KC said before being subjected to several moments of awkward silence. KC decided to break it. ¡°So what¡¯s the plan?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got that figured out, don¡¯t worry about that. Just take it easy for the night.¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t.¡± said KC bluntly.


    ¡°Why not?¡± asked Raine.


    ¡°I¡¯ve spent the last six years of my life with the constant thought that if a single person decides to let loose of my heritage I¡¯ll be euthanized by the EPoB. Running from my past and hiding from my enemies is not something new to me. It¡¯s what keeps me going; it¡¯s what gives me sleep at night, knowing that every day might be my last. If I take it easy I¡¯ll finally have time to be scared.¡± KC swallows. ¡°So, what¡¯s the plan?¡±


    ¡°The Forsaken America.¡± Raine says. KC¡¯s eyes widen.


    ¡°Listen ¨C The Angels have headquarters there. It¡¯s not as bad as EPoB makes it out to be. America, I mean. Sure, there¡¯s certainly a lack of vegetation, but believe me, it¡¯s safer there.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s a boat, it leaves from Wheren harbor north to the top of the America¡¯s. It¡¯s where the weather¡¯s most mild. The owner of the boat, his name is Otto, he carries on fugitives and refugees, other people like you. I can get you on that boat.¡±


    KC takes a few moments, staring into Raines intense old eyes.


    ¡°Okay. I¡¯ll go. When are we leaving?¡±


    ***


    KC spent the next month living like a prisoner. She was told by Raine to remain at the property at all times and to never answer the door. Raine brought her food and luxuries. He told her that he wanted her safe while he figured things out, for the sake of her unborn child. She couldn¡¯t agree more, but couldn¡¯t argue that reading old books all day was not very much fun. One day someone came knocking at the door, but KC ignored them and they eventually went away. When she told Raine about it he said that it was probably just a bum.


    It was 43 days after her arrival when Raine gave her the good news that bright and sunny morning. KC entered the kitchen to see Raine talking with four strangers, two men and two women. They were all so young and beautiful. They all stopped the conversation and looked at her when she walked in. They all smiled.


    ¡°KC, come, have a seat!¡± Raine called.


    KC slowly moved to her chair, observing the only humans she¡¯s seen other than Raine in over a month. They were dressed incredibly casually with nothing too special about them other than their stunning beauty. One of the men, tall, black, and bald, took his hand out.


    ¡°Katherine, it¡¯s a pleasure to meet you.¡± The man said as he shook KC¡¯s hand.


    ¡°She liked to be called KC.¡± Raine said quietly. The man smiled.


    ¡°KC, we¡¯re The Angels.¡± He says. The other three smile warmly.


    ¡°They¡¯re going to be on the boat with you and the others. They¡¯re going to protect you while you go to America. Would you like some toast?¡± Raine asked.


    ¡°No, I¡¯m fine¡­¡± KC said. ¡°But me? I thought you were coming too, Raine. You¡¯re a wanted man here. I thought you said it was safer there.¡±


    ¡°It is. Believe me, it is. But it¡¯s like I said when we¡¯d met, you¡¯re not the first and you¡¯re not the last. Well, you¡¯re the first pregnant mortal we¡¯ve ever had to deal with, so with that I¡¯d been paying special attention. But there might be more pregnant mortals out there who need my help.¡± Raine said, smiling.


    ¡°Do you have all of your things?¡± One of the female angels asked, blonde with dreamy blue eyes.


    ¡°Yeah, I don¡¯t have much.¡± KC said.


    ¡°Perfect. We¡¯ll leave within the hour. It¡¯s best we get you there as soon as possible.¡± The black Angel said.


    Raine Poplin leaned over the table and took both of KC¡¯s hands; she stared deep into his ancient, weathered old eyes. He smiled, warping the stubble that had grown on his face.


    ¡°KC it was a pleasure to have you as my roommate. I¡¯m sure we¡¯ll never meet again.¡± Raine said. ¡°And read ¡®The Truth¡¯!¡±


    KC smiled.


    ¡°If they even sell The Truth in America.¡± KC said. Everyone laughed.

 Chapter Six

    I had been asleep when the attack happened. I was resting off my arm on the floor of the bedroom while Marley slept in the bed. Hanson stayed up on night watch. They must have snuck up on him.


    I woke up to the sound of struggling outside of the homestead. I jumped out of my sleeping bag, Marley was already awake. I put my finger up to my lips.


    ¡°Stay here.¡± I said to her. I walked over to my overalls and pulled my rusty Beretta out from the pocket, sneaking my way out of the bedroom.


    As I entered the hallway someone began pounding on the front door. They were trying to get in. Entering the kitchen, I grabbed a small steak knife off of the counter. As I approached the front door, the pounding stopped, but a small shuffling continued. Suddenly I heard the sound of a key entering the front door and a shotgun blast going off. Surely they had just blown Hanson¡¯s face into oblivion. As the door swung open, I threw the knife. It plunged itself right into a raiders neck. Gurgling, gasping for breath, he hit the floor. This drew the attention of the other five raiders, who began sprinting for the house, guns a blazing.


    I tried to shut the door, but the raider was in the way and I had no time to move the body. I turned around and ran down the hallway and into the bedroom. Marley was shaking.


    ¡°What was that noise?¡± She whispered.


    I didn¡¯t answer. I just ran to the window and opened it up, jumping outside and reaching my hands back through.


    ¡°Marley, come here!¡± I hissed.


    As she got out of the bed, the door flew open. Next thing she knew she was surrounded by all five of these brutes. The bullets flying at the window made me fall over. One of the bullets grazed my hair.


    I ran, it¡¯s all I could think to do. I couldn¡¯t kill all of them. The worst of it all was Marley¡¯s screams as I ran farther and farther away, eventually silencing them through distance alone.


    In the cold dead woods in nothing but my underwear, I walked through the forest pistol in hand. God knows what a man could come across at this time of night.


    The sun had just begun to spot over the horizon when I noticed a man riding a horse in the distance. He spotted me and started to approach. I gripped onto my weapon tight. As the man approached me in his horse, I noticed that this man looked like something straight out of an ancient book. He wore a black dress coat, a white dress shirt, a black bowtie, a top hat, and tight black dress pants. Surely I had gone mad.


    ¡°Why, hello there!¡± The jolly chap said, his mustache wrinkling.


    ¡°Help¡­ I need help¡­¡± I said feebly. Although immortal, walking all night still does a number.


    ¡°And what do you need help with, son?¡± He asked me.


    ¡°Back¡­ Back there¡­¡± I said, pointing behind me. ¡°There¡¯s a girl in danger.¡±


    The jolly chap seemed shocked yet excited upon hearing this.


    ¡°What? A girl? In danger?¡± He said as he pulled a rifle out from the saddle. ¡°Well hop on back, old boy, we¡¯re going for a ride!¡±


    I got on the back of the horse, and he handed me the rifle, pulling an identical one out of the other side of the saddle. Surely I had gone mad.Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    It only took an hour before we got back to the homestead, and the sun had already come up. I got off the horse and ran into the house. It was dead quiet.


    Blood had been stained all across the walls. Everything was destroyed. Half of one room even looked like it had been set on fire.


    Then I got to the bedroom; Marley¡¯s body was on the ground, skinned from head to toe, blood pooled all around her. Her clothes were completely missing and her breasts and vagina had been cut off. The sheer amount of cuts sprawled across her small body was terrifying. This poor girl spent the last few hours of her life in agonizing pain, constant suffering, wishing she would just die.


    I hadn¡¯t cried in years. I fell on my knees and broke down right there. No amount of time on this world can prepare you for seeing the kinds of horror that humans are capable of. As I flooded the floor with my tears, the jolly chap had entered the room behind me.


    ¡°Oh my god.¡± He said, all humor drained from his voice.


    ¡°God?¡± I said. ¡°There is no god. Nobody would let this happen if they could stop it. Nobody.¡±


    The tears came back. The jolly chap stood in silence behind me the whole time. I cried for what seemed like an eternity, occasionally screaming to the heavens in pure agony. After I had quieted down, the chap began to speak.


    ¡°We need to bury her.¡± Is all he said, and he was right. We spent the next few hours retrieving some shovels we found in a shed and burying two graves; one for Marley Burrows and the other her headless father. We found old pieces of wood and made two gravestones with 2x4 and nails. I wrote ¡®Hansen¡¯ and ¡®Marlie¡¯ on the headstones by accident.


    ***


    The Jolly Chap told me over supper that his name was Emmanuel Stevenson IV; he was an explorer from a wealthy family and one of the rare mortals born with a silver spoon. He told me his life story of how he has dedicated his life to roaming the wasteland with the sole purpose of helping others and bringing justice to a lawless land.


    For a young man of only 29 I told him he was doing a great job.


    ¡°Thank you, sir! I really appreciate that!¡± He said to me, sipping on a cup of tea. ¡°And you call yourself The Mechanic, you said? Now how did you get such a silly name like that?¡±


    ¡°That girl you saw earlier. She gave me that name.¡± I said bluntly. He looked incredibly guilty.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ I¡­ I didn¡¯t know.¡± He said.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay.¡± I said before cracking a weak smile. ¡°You know, it is kind of a silly name.¡±


    He and I both shared a laugh, that¡¯s something you don¡¯t often get to do in this world. Not with others.


    ¡°So you¡¯re a guy like me, just trying your best to help the small guys.¡± He said very matter-of-factly.


    ¡°I guess so, except I¡¯ve been doing somewhere around two hundred years. But to be honest, I¡¯m not much better at it then you.¡± I said.


    ¡°Well, hold on, you haven¡¯t even seen me in a firefight yet. For all you know I could be a piss poor shot.¡± He joked.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re not that bad.¡± I said as I ate into a hot meat sandwich.


    ¡°Eh, maybe not. I¡¯m still alive today so I guess I must be pretty good.¡± He said, continuing with his tea.


    We shot the shit for the next few hours as the sun died down. Emmanuel made us a good fire outside the homestead and we sat and drank some mead that he had in his saddle, it tasted much better than the alcohol that Hanson offered me. In the saddle was also an acoustic guitar that he played and sang as the early morning hours came around. One song in particular I found quite beautiful. He told me it was called ¡°Don¡¯t think twice, it¡¯s alright¡±.


    As the night went and our intoxication grew, our conversations grew increasingly meaningless.


    ¡°¡­ A Mechanic is someone who works on Cars; they were a mode of transportation before the war.¡±


    ¡°No¡­ Immortals can¡¯t have sex because Xenopram makes them impotent. Losing the reproduction eventually loses the pleasure.¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t¡­ No, there¡¯s no woman out there for me.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know where my overalls went, actually¡­ I tried looking for them when I got back, but I guess one of them must have stolen them. It¡¯s good there¡¯s a fire, though.¡±


    I guess Emmanuel must have felt bad for me, because he reached into his seemingly bottomless saddle and handed me a pair of clothes. It was cool because I actually looked pretty snazzy. It was lame because I was dressed exactly like Emmanuel.


    ¡°What do you think?¡± He asked me.


    ¡°It looks awesome.¡± I said, which was the biggest lie I think I had ever made. They were clothes, but if it weren¡¯t for any clothes at all I wouldn¡¯t be caught dead wearing this get up. We danced and drank until all the mead was gone. We both passed out beside the fire with no sleeping bags, with nothing but the moonlight and burning wood to keep us warm.

 Chapter Seven

    KC and the four Angels met with Otto the sailor around noon on the docks. Otto was dressed in knee high rubber shoes, a bright yellow rain jacket, pilot goggles, and a backwards baseball cap.


    ¡°You must be Otto.¡± KC said as she shook the sailor¡¯s hand.


    ¡°That¡¯d be me miss, you must be KC and the angels.¡± Said Otto, mimicking KC¡¯s dialect; nobody laughed but Otto.


    ¡°Alright, come around you guys, I¡¯ll show you the boat.¡± Otto said.


    ¡°Not without me, I hope.¡± A voice spoke behind them.


    Otto, KC, and The Angels turn around to face The Eternal Protector of Beauland standing behind them, hands behind his back, cheeky smile printed across his smug face.


    ¡°Oh, Protector Mitz, it¡¯s always a pleasure.¡± Otto said sarcastically. Mitz chuckled as he swaggered over.


    ¡°And who might these people be? Some of your workers?¡± Mitz asked, matching with sarcasm.


    ¡°Well, believe it or not, they actually are!¡± Otto cheered, Mitz raised his thick black eyebrows.


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe it. I¡¯ll need to see all of your Citizen Cards.¡± Mitz said.


    Before anyone had a chance to do anything, Otto continued.


    ¡°They¡¯re on the boat! We just got off, actually! So we¡¯ll have to go on the boat to get them.¡± Otto said. Protector Mitz squints his eyes, staring into Otto¡¯s soul.


    ¡°Alright, well since I¡¯m here for cargo inspection, I might as well escort you to your Citizen Cards anyways.¡± Mitz said. Otto frowned.


    ¡°Please, lead the way.¡±


    Otto leads with Mitz following close behind. KC and The Angels walked together in the back. The entire ship was filled with shipping containers, enough that it would take hours to go through all of them. KC wasn¡¯t sure where Otto was taking them.


    ¡°Alright!¡± Mitz shouted. ¡°We¡¯ve been walking in circles!¡±


    ¡°I forgot where the office was, it¡¯s a big ship!¡± Otto screamed. Mitz pulled out his baton.


    ¡°Take me to the office right now, or you¡¯re dead.¡± Mitz said inches away from Otto¡¯s face. Otto stood frozen for a moment before turning left and continuing through the shipping containers. Sweat began to pour down KC¡¯s face, she prayed that Mitz won¡¯t turn around and notice.


    An office appeared on the side of the ship, Otto lead the way inside.


    ¡°Stay out here.¡± Mitz demanded, shoving Otto out of the way. Otto held his hands, hunched over, staring at the ground. KC began to untie her shoelace.


    Mitz cleans out the office, pouring out drawers and ripping down shelves in order to find any of the Citizen Cards. He couldn¡¯t find a single one, and as his frantic searching gained aggression he realized he had been duped. Baton in hand, he storms outside.


    Otto begins flinching before Mitz even connects with the baton. Mitz smashes the baton against Otto¡¯s ribs. Otto shouts as the electric pulse of the baton rattles his bones.Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    Mitz begins to use the baton on Otto¡¯s back, one¡­ two¡­ three times. Otto¡¯s cries turned into agonized squeaking.


    And then there was a knocking sound in one of the shipping containers. Everybody froze up.


    Mitz reached into Otto¡¯s pocket, pulling out a key ring and walking towards the container door. Otto is out cold.


    Mitz cycles through the keys, using each one on the shipping container lock. The second to last one is the one that unlocks the container. Mitz smiles.


    He throws the lock to its side and pulls open the metal hinges, the container door squeaking madly as it slowly turns itself open. Mitz grips onto his baton tight.


    Inside of the container, shrouded in darkness, is a homely looking woman in her 40¡¯s, and two children. Mitz smile grows insanely wide.


    ¡°Oh, Otto, you are so fucked.¡± Mitz says before KC jumps up behind him with shoelaces wrapped around her wrists. She places the lace against Mitz¡¯ neck and pulls with all of her might, throwing the agent down to the ground. He drops the baton, which is immediately picked up by the black Angel. The woman and her children run off down the boat.


    Mitz chokes as he attempted to grab hold of KC, he manages to grab her foot for a second and bending one of her toes, but the force against his neck bears to strong and he eventually falls unconscious. KC let¡¯s go and stand¡¯s up, limping.


    ¡°Oh shit, I think I broke something.¡±  KC said.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you kill him?¡± The female Angel asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never killed anybody.¡±


    All the angels stared at her, not a word spoken. The black Angel speaks.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry you have to see this.¡±


    Without another word or response or protest, the Angel grabs the weapon off of the agent¡¯s gun belt and points it point blank at his head. A second before the trigger was pulled; the agent opened up his eyes and muttered,


    ¡°Wait¡­¡±


    His brains were blown across the floor, and motionless he was. Silence overtook the group as they all observed KC¡¯s traumatized reaction. The silence was broken by Otto¡¯s pained groans. The group rushes towards him.


    ¡°My¡­ my back.¡± Otto grunts.


    The black Angel looks at his companions.


    ¡°We need to go now. Raise the anchor, get us out of here.¡±


    Nodding, the other three run off. The black Angel, dead serious, looks at KC.


    ¡°You need to watch over him.¡± He says.


    ¡°I can¡¯t. I¡¯m not a doctor!¡± She cries.


    ¡°Then clean up the body.¡± He says before getting up and walking down the shipping container hall. Moments later the ship began to move. KC stared at the body of Protector Mitz. His eyeball swimming in a pool of blood, his skull shattered like broken glass.


    ¡°Help me¡­ my back¡­¡± Otto says. KC, still looking at Mitz corpse, kneels down next to Otto.


    ¡°What can I get you?¡±


    ¡°Blankets¡­ I need a blanket¡­¡± Otto whines. KC nods her head.


    ¡°Sit tight, Otto. I¡¯ll get you those blankets.¡±


    KC rises off the floor and heads down the shipping container hall, aimlessly for the blankets Otto spoke of. Maybe she should have asked where they were¡­


    ¡°KC.¡± The black Angel said, standing behind her.


    ¡°Yeah, what?¡± KC asked.


    ¡°What are you doing? I told you to be looking after Otto and cleaning the body.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m looking for blankets! I don¡¯t know where they are!¡±


    The black Angel sighed. His smile at Raine¡¯s house was long gone.


    ¡°They¡¯re in the office lying on the floor.¡± He said. ¡°The office is back that way.¡±


    ¡°Thanks.¡± She said quickly before turning around and sprinting towards the office. Inside she found a mess of papers and rubbish. In all the destruction lied two crusty burgundy blankets. KC took both of them and ran back towards Otto, who was now lying motionless on the ground.


    KC threw the blankets down and frantically searched for Otto¡¯s pulse. A pulse she soon found out to be nonexistent. Sullen and shocked, she began aimlessly wandering the boat until confronted once again by the black Angel.


    ¡°KC, what did I say about-¡°


    ¡°Otto¡¯s dead.¡± KC says. The black Angel freezes.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. He was a good man. Listen, I¡¯ll take care of the bodies, you just-¡°


    ¡°No.¡± KC said firmly. ¡°I¡¯ll do it. I just wanted to tell you.¡±


    She glided back to the bodies, and using all her might she managed to lift both Otto and Mitz up and throw their bodies overboard to the water below. She gave a quick salute after dropping Otto. She kicked Mitz bits of skull and brain off the boat.


    Returning to the Angel for a third time, he waited patiently for KC to speak.


    ¡°I got the bodies cleaned up, but there¡¯s still some blood on the deck. I¡¯ll need a mop.¡± She said.


    ¡°Its fine, KC. It¡¯s been a long day for all of us. Besides, you need to meet the others.¡± He said.


    ¡°The others?¡± KC asked. The Angels smile returned.


    ¡°Yeah, didn¡¯t Raine tell you? You¡¯re not the only passenger on this boat. Come with me, I¡¯ll show you everybody.¡±

 Chapter Eight

    I was long in slumber when Emmanuel woke me up, the fire was out and the moon had disappeared. He was scared.


    ¡°Keep your head down. It¡¯s the EPoB.¡± He whispered to me. I woke right up, but stayed low. It was so dark, I couldn¡¯t see a thing. I heard the sounds of footsteps in the grass over yonder.


    ¡°Listen, we need to crawl into the tall grass.¡± He whispered. I could hear his voice from my right. I looked that way and nodded.


    ¡°Follow me.¡± And with that he began to crawl slowly through the dirt and into the tall grass. The footsteps gained volume as the agents grew closer; it sounded like there were dozens of them. I could feel the sweat falling down my chin. I had never been more scared in my life.


    Listen ¨C dealing with raiders in these wastes is one problem, but they are mosquitoes compared to the threat of the agents. These were people who had spent lifetimes dedicated to athletics, martial arts, and firearms training. One of these agents could destroy entire cities singlehandedly. Even with my immortal being, Eternal Protector Agents are incredibly difficult to kill. I have never heard of a single soul who had survived an encounter with more than one. Two of us versus twelve of them would be a massacre on our end.


    Emmanuel and I lied down in the tall grass against the hillside around a hundred feet away from our campsite. There we would lie low and observe the agents, we were too close to flee.


    As my eyes adjusted to the darkness I had realized that my abrupt arousal and fear had exaggerated the threat. Standing at our campsite was four agents.


    ¡°Wood¡¯s still smoking.¡± The tallest agent said, staring at the fire pit.


    ¡°It seems like they planned on spending the night.¡± The shortest agent said, holding up my sleeping bag.


    ¡°Maybe they¡¯re still around.¡± The fattest agent said, doing nothing.


    ¡°That¡¯s a good idea. Why don¡¯t you go look?¡± The skinniest agent said. He had already begun scanning the area. Emmanuel and I made sure to keep our heads down. We heard them scanning around the area for what felt like an eternity, though probably no longer than a minute.


    ¡°Hey, wait a second¡­¡± The tallest agent said.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Did anyone of you nitwits care to note the large disturbance of dirt leading into that pile of large grass?¡±


    All the agents looked right at the grass surrounding us.


    ¡°Oh, fuck.¡± The fattest agent said. He was right. Oh, fuck.


    The four agents began to walk straight for us, the tallest and fattest pulling out their electrified batons, and the thinnest and shortest brandishing pistols. We had no choice but to get up and run.  I looked over at Emmanuel, who had taken his rifle out, ready to go. He looked at me. I shook my head no. He looked back at them and fired. And that¡¯s when I ran.


    I ran up the hill as hard as my legs could take me. I swung my arms for momentum despite my sore arm. Shots rang out behind me as I heard the bullets whizzing past my neck. I kept my head down. I heard Emmanuel laughing, maybe he had shot one, and maybe he was laughing in the face of death. I¡¯ll never know. I never saw him after I went over the crest of that hill and I knew it.


    I fell on my ass, sliding and tumbling my way down the hill. I could hear the fabric of my clothes ripping. I could feel my bones hitting the dirt and rocks. I could feel my bullet wound opening up.


    I landed on my back as I stopped rolling at the bottom of the hill. I immediately got up and ran. The gunshots had stopped, but that didn¡¯t mean my running would, too. I wasn¡¯t going to turn back around to find four agents and a dead Emmanuel. In that case I¡¯d be joining him sooner than expected.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    I ran for hours. I ran until the sun came up. I ran until exhaustion and dehydration took over my immortal body and collapsed me into the dirt. I ran no more.


    A rustle in the dirt behind me, once again I had been snuck up on. With all my remaining energy I turned myself over and went for my Beretta, which I now realized I must have lost in the fall.


    Standing in front of me was a young, blonde haired, bearded man. His hair was messy and his beard tangled. He looked like he hadn¡¯t washed in days. He was wearing all white robes and holding my rusty Beretta like a plate.


    ¡°Is this yours?¡± He asked in a calm and soothing voice. I was so dehydrated that breathing felt like my throat was getting fucked with sand, so talking deemed impossible. I only let out a heavy breath grunt. The man knelt down beside me.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡± He said as he examined my body. Touching me, I tried to squirm away, but I was too weak.


    ¡°You¡¯ve been shot.¡± He said, feeling my wounded arm. I groaned as he felt the sore spot. He moved his face up so I could see him.


    ¡°I need to get you help, but I will be back. You need to stay alive.¡± He said, his voice never losing its cool. I simply nodded, and off he was. It sounded like he was sprinting away.


    I lied down in the hot sun for the next few minutes, and it all became clear that I had just hallucinated. Of course I had. I had my Beretta on me the whole time; no blonde bearded man in white robes guaranteed my safety. That was all in my head, like right now I see the headless body of Hanson Burrows carrying his own head by the hair, next to him is the young little Marley Burrows, skin missing, naked and all.


    They were staring at me but they weren¡¯t saying anything. It all became too much. I tried to scream, but my voice was too worn out and dry. It was no use. Marley began to approach me. I tried to move away but felt as if binds were restraining me to the ground below. He straddled on stop of me; I could feel her bloody skin sticking to my clothes.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t save me.¡± She said.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t.¡±  I said, my voice suddenly back to normal.


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you save me?¡± She asked, putting her bloody hands on my face. I could feel the bones.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t!¡± I shouted. I looked deep into her eyes. She was going to kill me.


    ¡°We trusted you. We named you. We took you in. You were supposed to protect us.¡± Hanson said, standing behind Marley and watching over me.


    ¡°I had no choice! I had to protect myself!¡± I shouted, trying my best to move, but to no avail.


    ¡°You don¡¯t deserve to live. You don¡¯t deserve to be alive.¡± Marley said, her voice echoing.


    ¡°I don¡¯t! I don¡¯t! I don¡¯t!¡± I began to shout over and over again.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. I can help you.¡± She said, smiling. She grabbed around my hand, which was held around my Beretta, and began to bring it to my head. I started to cry.


    ¡°It¡¯ll all be over soon.¡± She said. Her voice seemed to echo through my body.


    I was lying on the ground, grunting to myself, tears down my face, gun to head. I was shaken awake by the blonde, bearded, white robed man. He had a sack carrying a blanket, a pillow, water bottles, food, and first aid. He threw the gun out of my hands.


    ¡°What was all of that about?¡± He shouted. I had no energy to argue.


    ¡°Look, I brought you some things.¡± He said, laying the items out in front of me. He took the pillow and put it under my head, rolling me on top of the blanket. I was still weak, but at least I was comfortable. This comfort was immediately subsided when he started to stitch my wound.


    He gave me water from a canteen, and when I was finished he set it next to me. He tried to feed me, but I wasn¡¯t ready for that yet. First I drank a whole lot of water. It was then I had the strength to sit myself up.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± I said.


    ¡°Everything is okay.¡± He said distantly, as if he was talking to himself.


    I finally asked him for some food, so he and I talked over bread, cheese, and water.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± I asked.


    ¡°My name is Solomon. I am a member of The Angels.¡± He said. My eyebrows peaked.


    ¡°I think I¡¯ve heard of The Angels, think I might have met a few, too.¡± I said.


    ¡°Mm.¡± He said, taking a huge bite from a block of cheese.


    ¡°Who are you?¡± He asked me as he swallowed his cheese.


    ¡°I¡¯m The Mechanic. Well, that¡¯s what they call me, at least. That¡¯s what Marley called me.¡±


    ¡°Was Marley your wife?¡± Solomon asked. He thought I was mortal, no immortals are married. There¡¯s no point. I chose not to tell him of my immortality.


    ¡°No¡­ She was¡­ Someone I helped.¡± I said.


    ¡°Oh, so you help others, sort of like us?¡± He said, meaning him and The Angels.


    ¡°Yeah, sort of. Do you guys help the mortals?¡± I asked.


    ¡°We try our best. We¡¯ve been trying to occupy territory in Beauland, but to no success.¡± He said.


    ¡°If you help anybody, that¡¯s success in my book.¡± I said, raising the canteen. We gave solemn cheers and continued with our meal.

 Chapter Nine

    KC met the other refugees throughout the day; they were all distributed through various shipping containers.


    Container K-129 was where the frail Rotten Evil woman and her two children lived. She told KC about her life before going on the run. Like her, she was living in hiding, but for an entire forty years. She had been hiding in Wheren for as long as she could remember, and has just now decided to head for The Forsaken America. The woman was neurotic and uneasy, unlike her children, who knew no better.


    Container S-001 was the living space of Oscar Renton, a young immortal of 50 years who has decided to join the fight for freedom in America. A chipper and enthusiastic young man, Oscar offered to help KC with her belongings. When he was told she didn¡¯t have any, he offered her some things of his.


    ¡°I only really have blankets and books, but there¡¯s a bit of personalization here.¡± He said excitedly.


    Container F-091 was where Otto¡¯s wife lived. Otto, despite being immortal, had married a young widow named Daisy. She had a child, an 11 year old named Jason, who was taken away from her by the EPoB. Escaping from authorities, she took shelter on Otto¡¯s boat. She told KC that Otto had started saving fugitives when he had met her. Her Container was the most luxurious, built up over years of staying there. Daisy, distraught over the loss of her husband, spent most of KC¡¯s visit crying into her shoulder.


    Container A-111 was where Todd and Landon Hicks lived. Two Rotten Evil brothers, they used to own a farm with their family in rural Beauland, but had since gained interest of the EPoB. During a gunfight at their barn, Todd and Landon were the only two who made it out alive. Deciding to live a better life elsewhere, they met Otto.


    Todd and Landon were tall and muscular young men. They were arrogant and annoying, but they made up for it with their strength and combined willpower. Alone they were a bore but together they were a force to be reckoned with.


    Container F-090 was where Otto had set up a personal office, which the four Angels were spacing out for their own living. They decided to take the death of Otto as their own responsibility, vowing to the fugitives that, although they will not be returning to Beauland, they will reach America safely. The fugitives seemed mildly reassured.


    Container Z-028 was KC¡¯s cell, completely empty. She took the blanket and books that Oscar had gifted her and tossed them onto the floor. She fell atop the blanket, holding her stomach. She closed her eyes, ready for rest.


    She had only been asleep fifteen minutes before The Black Angel began knocking on her door. She barely woke up.


    ¡°Hello?¡± She asked casually, the container door drew open, filling it with sunlight and piercing KC¡¯s eyes, which she promptly shut.


    ¡°There¡¯s a meeting.¡± The Black Angel said.


    KC rose slowly, holding onto the container walls for support. The Black Angel helped KC out of the container.


    ¡°Come.¡± He said. Down the hall of shipping containers and in front of the office were all the angels and fugitives, sitting in a circle. The frail woman was having trouble keeping her children down, but one mean look from Todd and Landon and the kids sat down quietly. Oscar chuckled. The Black Angel began to speak in a booming and powerful voice.


    ¡°My name is Jameson; I am a member of The Angels. It has come to my great displeasure to tell any that have not heard; your Captain, Otto, has passed away. He had been bludgeoned to death by an Eternal Protector. Since his passing we have decided to operate the boat ourselves in the hopes of getting you all to America safely.¡±


    ¡°On this boat the differences between immortal and mortal are thrown away. On this boat we do not look at one another through the wrinkles of their skin but through the strength of their character. On this boat there is nobody but humans.¡±


    ¡°We have several communities in America that we will make sure you are all brought to and settled down in. In our communities we have no prejudice, we have no crime, and we have no government. We rely purely on the strength of the people, the strength of you.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s going to be a long ride over these next few months, and I want all of you to stay strong. All of you.¡± He said, looking directly at KC. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    As Jameson the Black Angel sat down, he was received a small applause, namely from Oscar and Daisy. As the small applause settled down one of the frail woman¡¯s children¡¯s voices could be overheard.


    ¡°Why is her belly sticking out like that? Is she only fat in her belly?¡± One of the kids asked the other. Everyone looked over at KC, who was completely unsure of what to say.


    After the meeting everyone enjoyed a quick meal of mashed potatoes and corn before returning to their containers just before sunset. To KC¡¯s surprise, Landon was standing in her container.


    ¡°Hey.¡± Landon said.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± KC said, not trying to sound rude.


    ¡°Oh¡­ Err¡­ I just¡­ I never caught your name.¡± He said.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    ¡°It¡¯s KC.¡± She said.


    ¡°KC. Hmm. I¡¯ve never heard that name before.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fairly common.¡±


    And dead silence. KC could tell that Landon wanted to tell more, but why won¡¯t he just say it?


    ¡°Listen, KC¡­ You know, it¡¯s going to be a long trip¡­ and I figured¡­¡±


    KC¡¯s eyes bugged open. Is he asking what he¡¯s asking?


    ¡°You figured what, exactly?¡± KC said, rather annoyed.


    ¡°Well, there are not a lot of good looking women on this boat, and¡­¡± Landon said, hands clasped together; and that was when KC threw her shoe at him.


    ¡°How dare you? Does that approach work for you often? ¡®Not a lot of good looking women on this boat¡¯?¡± She asked, her voice rising in pitch and anger.


    ¡°No! No, I didn¡¯t mean it like that!¡± And then KC began smacking him with her other shoe.


    ¡°Get the hell out of here right now! Get out! Its men like you who got me into this mess! Leave me alone!¡±


    Landon tried to resist her shoe smacks, but it proved too painful, and he began backing out of her container. As he stepped out, she threw her shoe after him and began pointing at the bump in the stomach.


    ¡°Do you know what this is? Do you have any idea what this means to me?¡± She hissed. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be stuck here with dogs like you if it wasn¡¯t for dogs like you!¡±


    Landon looked genuinely confused. Before he had a chance to defend himself further, KC threw the container door shut.


    KC sits on her blanket, staring into a book she is not reading; it was pitch black, far too dark to read. She thought about the first time she had met Kyle. Kyle worked with her at the factory, he was a young and handsome Rotten Evil who KC had grew to fancy. They spent every available moment together for months, and half the time they were having sex.


    Sex was one of the pleasures that immortals would never know; the feeling of another¡¯s skin rubbing against your own, engaged in an act of love in its truest form. This has been stripped away from them, leaving them loveless and bitter.


    Kyle was KC¡¯s one true hope in her miserable and decaying world. He was the light that dragged her out of the depths of hell and held her up with the sun, illuminating her over the world below, showing to everyone who had ever lived the power that lied beneath her. That was, until he got her pregnant.


    KC should have known something was up, maybe after a few too many inseminations Kyle had grown weary of KC¡¯s womb. He had disappeared one day, from the factory, from town, and from KC¡¯s life. It had been four months now and she hasn¡¯t heard a word since.


    As dark as it sounds, sometimes she had hoped that the EPoB had found out about Kyle¡¯s true identity as a Rotten Evil and had him killed. At least in that case she knew that he wasn¡¯t gone because of her.


    After an hour of stewing on this, KC heard an audible click outside of her container door. Suspicious and thoroughly annoyed, she jumped up off the container floor and went to investigate, only to find that her container door had been locked from the outside.


    She began pounding on the door,


    ¡°Come on, Assholes! This isn¡¯t funny! Let me out!¡± She screamed, but to no avail. Whoever had locked her in either wasn¡¯t around anymore to let her out, or simply didn¡¯t care.


    After twenty minutes of wearing out her voice from screaming and her fists from pounding on the steel container door. It was useless. Anyone on the ship was in their own container at this pound. No one would find her until the morning, and that is if they even find her then. She reassured herself that she¡¯ll just have to sleep it off and Jameson will come looking for her in the morning. She knows for sure that once she¡¯s out of this box she¡¯s going straight for Landon¡¯s throat. And that¡¯s when the guns started to go off.


    The ship filled up with the sound of bullets and screaming. Who was fighting who was unsure; but surely the EPoB had gained access to the ship. Maybe Oscar had been an agent; he had seemed far too enthusiastic and clean cut to be a freedom fighter. KC could have sworn she heard Daisy screaming for help. After a few seconds of screaming and the blasts of guns, her voice fell silent. The Angels could be heard muttering commands to one another, with the Angel women giving some sort of war cry before it abruptly ending.


    KC fell back into the far corner of her container, staring at the door, trying to get this horror out of her head. But it wouldn¡¯t stop the guns, or the blood curdled screaming of the frail woman¡¯s children, or the ricochet of bullets. It went on for hours, losing momentum at times but it had never went more than a minute without a gun going off.


    KC felt around for a weapon; her shoes would no longer be adequate. She took the book Oscar had gifted her and wrapped her blanket around it, using it as a mace.


    She moved up close to the container door, waiting, mace in hand. She wasn¡¯t ready, but she was as prepared as she could be. She stayed up until the bullets stopped. Whether the sun had rose or not, she did not know; there were no windows in the container.


    After a half hour of silence, as she began to let her fatigue get the better of her consciousness, another loud click was heard outside of the container door. It woke her right up.


    The container door began to slide open, and momentarily blinded by the sunlight, KC found Landon, Todd, and Oscar standing outside of her container, guns aimed at her. Landon was angry. Todd was smiling. Oscar was guilty.


    ¡°Out of the box, sweetheart.¡± Todd said.


    ¡°Fuck you.¡± KC snarled.


    Todd fired his gun over KC¡¯s shoulder, the sound of the bullet bouncing off the container walls was deafening. KC screamed, and Oscar winced. Nonetheless, it was a miracle that the bullet had not hit her. Todd nodded his gun, and KC walked out silently.


    Outside of the container she could see the bullet ridden bodies of one of the female Angels, and one of the frail woman¡¯s children. KC began to shed tears.


    ¡°You monsters, what the hell is wrong with you?¡± She cried.


    ¡°What the hell is wrong with us?¡± Todd said, insulted. ¡°What the hell is wrong with the world, KC? Survival is no longer guaranteed, we need to look out for ourselves. The Angels, they¡¯re magnets to the EPoB. There¡¯s no doubt in my mind that agents would have been waiting for us in America. At least with us we can try to pass as EPoB agents. Or maybe we could just give you to them.¡± Todd smiled widely. KC spit in his face. Todd punched her in the face. KC swung the mace at him, but Landon tackled her to the ground, the mace falling out of her hands.


    Landon pinned her to the floor, holding her down by her hands. KC growled at him.


    ¡°Get off her, Landon, for fuck sakes.¡± Oscar said.


    ¡°Shut up! You don¡¯t know anything!¡± Landon snarled. Todd put his hand on Landon¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°Landon, seriously. Not yet.¡± Todd said, calmly. Landon, resent in his eyes, let KC go and stood up, holding out a hand to help KC up. She got up herself.


    ¡°Alright, KC.¡± Landon said, ¡°It¡¯s time to join the others. Follow me.¡±


    Todd led the way back towards Otto¡¯s office, Landon pressing his rifle against KC¡¯s back. She followed in front of him, behind Todd. Oscar sulked around in the back.

 Chapter Ten

    Over the next few days Solomon nursed me back into health. By the time I was up and walking I was just as soon helping out with gathering firewood and hunting for food. We spent many nights with bellies full of radiated rabbit and poisonous alcohol, sharing conversations we would never remember. Solomon had sewn my tacky jacket back into shape. I wrapped the tie around my arm as a bandage and unbuttoned the shirt. As ridiculous as I thought I looked, Solomon said I looked rather posh. He even began referring to me as Fancy Pants on occasion.


    Solomon told me about the various communities that The Angels oversee. I¡¯d heard of these communities before, but I believed them to be mere myths; throughout two centuries of roaming this land, I have never seen a single one of them.


    He told me of Huntington, a small village a few miles away. He decided that I would be an asset to this community and wanted to introduce me to them.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know, honestly.¡± I told him.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know? How could you think such a thing?¡± He said in his soothing voice.


    ¡°Well¡­ I don¡¯t know.¡± I said, laughing at myself. ¡°That¡¯s the strangest thing about it. You know, Sol, I¡¯ve been a part of this world since it all went to shit. I remember what music was, what we used to use as transportation, what we used to be like with each other. We had always complained of how terrible our world was, and we always strived for perfection; for a perfect world. Well, we got what we wanted, didn¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°What does that have to do with anything? We¡¯re here because we want to make a perfect world, but we¡¯re not like the EPoB. We don¡¯t kill those who criticize us.¡±


    ¡°But can you really make a perfect world? There will always be something terrible that happens. There will always be death. There will always be evil. There¡¯s no point in trying for a perfect world.¡± I said to him.


    ¡°You said you help people. Why do you fight for a perfect world?¡± He asked calmly.


    ¡°I don¡¯t. I¡­ I just think everybody should be happy with what they have. They shouldn¡¯t strive for more than they need.¡± I said.


    ¡°Maybe what you need isn¡¯t what you want.¡± He said.


    ¡°Maybe.¡±


    ***


    Solomon and I arrived at Huntington a week later. I was not there to live, but Solomon said I might as well stop by to help him check out the village. Solomon led me into the mountains and through an incredibly narrow cave. It was so narrow I had no walk sideways. It went on the length of three hockey rinks. As the narrow walls grew out we were introduced with a large stone fence. An old graying bearded man with a white t shirt and blue jeans holding a rifle was standing on a perch.


    ¡°Halt!¡± He shouted, gun pointed at us. Solomon raised his hands, so I did too.


    ¡°It¡¯s me, Charlie! It¡¯s Solomon!¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I know that, Sol! Who the hell is that behind you? Your butler?¡± Charlie said. I then realized that the rifle was only pointed at me.


    ¡°This is, err¡­ What did you say your name was again?¡± Solomon whispered to me. I would have been more insulted if I had a name. I told him in a whisper. ¡°The Mechanic!¡± He finished.


    Charlie narrowed his eyes at me.


    ¡°You don¡¯t look like a Mechanic.¡± He said to me.


    ¡°I used to!¡± I responded.


    After a few moments, Charlie set the gun to his side, a smile forming on his face and laughter roaring from his lungs.


    ¡°Alright, come on in, you too!¡± He said before the stone wall lowered itself down with chains.


    Solomon and I walked in, and inside were houses and cabins made from wood going down as far as the eyes could see. Large torches were lit down the cave, illuminating the houses, the walls, and the people walking through the cave. Oh yes, there were people here. More people in one place I had ever seen since Beauland.


    They were all dressed casually, just how they did in the old world, and they were not skeptical, they all smiled and waved at us as we walked by. A few young girls giggled after walking past me and staring at me as if I was some sort of alien.


    I didn¡¯t want to admit it at the time, but this place was beautiful. Only a fool would not want to live here. It was perfect.


    Charlie caught up to us as Solomon and I were walking down the strip.


    ¡°So, what has you visiting us today, Sol?¡± Charlie asked.


    ¡°Just a regular check up, you know how it is. Where would I find Amanda?¡± Solomon asked.


    ¡°Who? Oh, Mandy. Yeah, she should be at home. I¡¯d check there.¡± Charlie said.Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.


    ¡°Thank you, Charlie. Will you be coming with us?¡± Solomon asked.


    ¡°Err¡­ No thank you.¡± He said quickly before heading back to his post.


    ¡°Who¡¯s Amanda?¡± I asked him.


    ¡°She¡¯s their elected leader. She makes no rules or laws but manages production and distribution of goods. All elected leaders must be elected unanimously.¡± He said.


    As we walked down the cave Solomon approached a small wooden shed on our right. He knocked on the door.


    ¡°This is her place?¡± I whispered to him.


    ¡°It must be so.¡± He said calmly.


    The shed door opened up and a tall, brown haired woman with an intense gaze was standing on the other side. She looked like she had just woken up, as she was wearing nothing but a housecoat. In the shed were a bed, a nightstand, a lamp, and a few books. Nothing else.


    ¡°Oh my god. You live here?¡± I couldn¡¯t help but ask.


    ¡°That¡¯s right, pal.¡± She said, yawning. ¡°Sol, buddy, what can I do for you?¡± She asked.


    ¡°Just wanted to check up, see how things have been doing. I¡¯d also like to introduce you to The Mechanic here.¡± She said, gesturing towards me. She looked at me like I was a child.


    ¡°And that¡¯s your name?¡± She said. Solomon continued before I could respond.


    ¡°He¡¯s just helping me with the inspection but I have been trying to convince him to live here. He¡¯s a hard working man, I can tell you that. First time I met him he was bloodied up, lying in the dirt, and he still wanted to carry on. For the most part, that is.¡± He said, casually referencing my hallucination induced suicide attempt.


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re cute, I¡¯ll give you that.¡± She said to me. A strange feeling passed through my body.


    ¡°Well, thank you, Amanda.¡± I said to her.


    ¡°Listen, honestly though, you seem like a decent guy, but we got a real problem with trust here. People seem to get feelings of superiority or entitlement that we don¡¯t tolerate. Everyone gets what they need, nobody gets anything more.¡± She said to me sternly.


    ¡°Maybe what you need isn¡¯t what you want.¡± I said to her, quoting the calm man to my side.


    ¡°Maybe.¡± She said, quoting me in a conversation she¡¯d never heard. ¡°We¡¯ll talk over dinner tonight; I¡¯d like to get to know you.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± I said excitedly.


    ¡°Yeah, you know, in case you¡¯d like to stay here.¡± She said to me.


    ¡°Well I don¡¯t think there¡¯s much room for both of us in there.¡± I said, joking. I forced myself to laugh because nobody else would.


    ¡°You¡¯ll have your own place.¡± She said quickly.


    ¡°I know.¡± I said, my smile quickly fading.


    After seeing Mandy it seemed like time flew to the time that we were having dinner. It was all I could think about. Solomon left to observe the community while she and I went off alone. We sat at this little bench at the end of the cave, eating beans and slices of meat out of strips of parchment paper.


    ¡°How long have you been in America?¡± She asked me.


    ¡°A long time.¡± I said.


    ¡°Your whole life, huh? Born and raised here, myself.¡± She said.


    ¡°Who were your parents?¡± I asked before she had time to ask me another question.


    ¡°Well¡­ They were farmers.¡± She said bluntly. ¡°Who were your parents?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t remember them.¡± I said.


    ¡°They must have left early.¡±


    ¡°They did.¡± I said.


    ¡°How old are you?¡± She asked after an ugly moment of silence.


    ¡°How old do I look?¡± I asked her.


    ¡°I¡¯d say somewhere around 30, maybe 35. But you could be an immortal for all I know.¡± She said.


    ¡°Does it matter? Solomon said there was no discrimination here.¡± I said.


    ¡°No, no, there isn¡¯t¡­ You¡¯re right. I¡¯m sorry.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine.¡±


    Another ugly moment of silence falls upon us. We look into each other¡¯s eyes with no words to say.


    ¡°Have you ever been married?¡± I asked her.


    ¡°What? What kind of question is that?¡± She said aghast. I said nothing.


    ¡°No. I haven¡¯t.¡± She said seriously.


    ¡°Me neither.¡± I said, and a spark shot through her eyes and into mine. Love wasn¡¯t often found in these wastes, especially in the sake of an immortal like me.


    ¡°I think I¡¯ll like it here.¡± I said, smiling.


    ¡°I think you¡¯ll like it here, too.¡± She said, a beautiful smile forming on her intense face.


    I told Solomon my decision to stay. Mandy showed me my shack, which was much bigger than hers. Solomon left that night back to camp; he gave me a hug goodbye and said I¡¯d see him next month.


    The shack came complete with a mattress, a blanket, a pillow, reading material, cooking supplies, food to eat, and a single lamp. I couldn¡¯t have asked for more. Hell, I should probably ask for less.


    Life in Huntington was a simple one, but one I couldn¡¯t complain too. I realized after the first month the reason as to why Charlie had been to apprehensive towards me. His job is easily the most boring in the entire community. After months of living there I had not seen a single stranger make their way through that narrow cave passage. Seeing me might have been the first action Charlie had in years.


    He and I gained a rather strange bond. Charlie loved to get drunk and tell jokes during the night time and I was always there to listen. Since I had no longer been saving lives, it was the least I could do. And besides, he wasn¡¯t half bad company.


    There were weekly music nights, where the musicians of the company played music on half working salvaged instruments. The tunes were subpar, but soul gripping none the less.


    Mandy and I would see each other weekly for the first month. We began to see each other daily for the next three months. We could not get enough of each other¡¯s company, and I could not get enough of her beauty. With a plague of impotence it takes a lot to take me off my feet, but this woman was like no other. She was the woman who fights back, the woman who doesn¡¯t need a protector, the woman who could save the world.


    We first kissed after five months of living in Huntington. It was during one of our usual dinners together. She was stressed about who should get how much food, since we were running on rations. My voice was silent but my kiss said everything I could have. Her eyes shot open, but slowly closed as she brought her hand to my cheek.


    Solomon would come to visit every month, asking Mandy about the well being of the community and myself about how I¡¯m enjoying Huntington. I said it was alright, but in my heart I could not be happier. When we told him of our partnership, he could not have been happier for us, and despite knowing of my immortality, he said nothing of it.


    Life was easy but nothing could stop the nightmares.


    Images of death, fire, and brimstone plagued me every night. The sounds of screaming and smell of blood was all too real to be ignored, and some nights I spent restless, terrified of returning to my hellish slumber.


    Young, skinless Marley Burrows was on my mind every night. She reminded me the flaws of my past. She reminded me of my weakness of my present. She reminded me the mistakes of my future. She has been branded into my mind, swelling it with agony and guilt. I woke up nights hoping that my screams had just been in my dreams as to not wake up the neighbors.


    Night was hell but day was my heaven for those six months. Things had finally made their way around. For the first time in almost a millennium I had felt truly happy.

 Chapter Eleven

    The sound of Landon, Todd, Oscar, and KC¡¯s steps echoed through the container hallway. On occasion there would be the sound of a rustling gun, or someone stepping over a dead body, but the only noise apparent was the rhythmic clanking of boots to the steel floor below.


    Leading into the office area is a massacre. Two dead angels and a child misshapen with bullets are sprawled on the boat floor. Oscar throws up.


    ¡°Oh, come on, Oscar. You were the one who shot the kid.¡± Todd said. Landon laughed.


    Inside the office sat Daisy and the frail woman. They were shaking, battered, and completely terrified. As they approached the office door there was movement amongst the floor. Jameson, bleeding but alive, was crawling towards the corpse of another angel.


    ¡°Oh shit, Jameson is still alive.¡± Landon said.


    ¡°Oscar, take him out.¡± Todd demanded. Oscar looked down and frowned. He slowly crept up behind Jameson and put the barrel of his rifle right against his bald head.


    ¡°Oscar, what are you doing?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± He said before pulling the trigger, spreading Jameson¡¯s brains across the boat floor. KC sprinted at Oscar, pushing him to the floor. Landon ran up and pulled KC off.


    ¡°You bastard, he trusted you!¡± She screamed. Oscar wiped Jameson¡¯s blood off the top of his head.


    Landon rustled KC into the office, shutting and locking the door behind her. She faced the other two captives.


    ¡°Why are you two still alive?¡± KC asked.


    ¡°Why are you? We¡¯re the ones who aren¡¯t pregnant!¡± The frail woman snarled.


    ¡°Excuse me?¡± KC said before Daisy put her hand up.


    ¡°Listen, what she means is that Todd and Landon might want to use us to birth children. That¡¯s why they kept the Rotten Evil, err¡­ I mean, mortal women alive.¡± Daisy said.


    ¡°Then why keep me alive?¡± KC asked. ¡°I can¡¯t bear a child if I¡¯m already bearing one.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I¡¯m wondering.¡± Daisy said, rubbing her chin.


    The three women sat and discussed their captor¡¯s motive further. KC thought they were going to be sold off to the EPoB. Daisy figured they were to be sold to prostitution in America. The frail woman didn¡¯t want to think about what they were going to do to them.


    After a half hour, the office door opened. Todd walked inside, and the door shut behind him.


    ¡°Hello, ladies.¡± Todd said smiling wide.


    None of the ladies responded. They just stared at him; some with fear, others with hate.


    ¡°For the sake of transparency, let¡¯s just get to the point. You women, you¡¯re ours now. Anything you do is our choice. You do as your told and you always do as we day. Any exceptions and you will end up like that skinny bitch¡¯s children.¡± He said, pointing at the frail woman. She began hollering out crying.


    ¡°Now, listen¡­ You will¡­ You will all have to¡­ You will all have to be¡­¡± Todd tried to say above the frail woman¡¯s hollering.


    ¡°Shut up!¡± He screamed, running forward and gripping her by the shoulder as he dragged her out of the office, shutting and locking the door behind them. Whatever they did to her, her screaming could be heard in the distance for hours.


    She was brought back into the room wearing nothing but Oscar¡¯s coat. She was shaking and her hair was more a mess than usual. She said nothing. Todd strolled in behind her, his hair equally messy.


    ¡°Now, listen, as I was saying. You will all have to be thoroughly searched before we decide if we trust having you on bored. Miss, err¡­ What was your name sweetheart?¡± He asked the frail woman. She said nothing. Daisy nudged her shoulder.


    ¡°She asked you what your name was.¡± Daisy whispered to her.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    ¡°Hen¡­Henrietta.¡± She muttered.


    ¡°Henrietta!¡± He repeated. ¡°So, she¡¯s already been searched, so next we¡¯ll need you, Daisy.¡±


    Daisy froze up. She knew very well of the horrors to come. Despite this, she kept a straight face and slowly walked out, emotionless. She didn¡¯t make a sound. They brought her back only a half hour later.


    She sat back where she left; her straight face hadn¡¯t faded in the slightest. Todd was panting.


    ¡°Alright, now, you¡­¡± Todd said, beckoning KC over. KC got up and walked up slowly to Todd. She kicked him in the balls and began punching him in the back of the head. The office door swung open and Landon came charging in, picking KC up like a child and dragging her out of the office.


    He carried her over through the wall of containers, and in the middle of a four way stop there was a blanket and a few pillows lied out on the ground. Oscar was standing there in his underwear.


    ¡°So, you wanted her, right?¡± Todd asked.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah, that¡¯s her.¡± Oscar said, out of breath.


    ¡°Okay, you go first, but she¡¯s got a child, so take it easy on her. We want a turn after.¡± Landon said. KC was furious.


    ¡°You¡¯re sick! All of you!¡± She screamed, her last syllable matching with the horn of a distant ship. All four of them stopped and look out to the sea, and approaching them at a top speed is a boat with the words ¡°ETERNAL PROTECTORS OF BEAULAND¡± written on the side.


    ¡°Oh my god.¡± Todd said. Landon dropped KC at once and ran away to god knows where.


    ¡°Landon, get back here! Fuck! Okay, Oscar, grab the rest of the women and take them to container Z-028!¡± Todd demanded. Oscar nodded, shaking away towards the office. Todd grabbed onto KC and began dragging her to the container. She threw her hands at him, wrestling him to the ground. Alone on the blanket the two of them punched and kicked at each other, clawing at eyes and pulling hair. KC threw her face forward and took a bite out of Todd¡¯s neck. Blood began shooting out like a geyser, covering her from her head to her stomach. Todd¡¯s grip dissipated and KC broke free, sprinting back towards the office, the sound of the EPoB ship¡¯s engine was gaining volume. They were getting closer. As she ran into the office area, she saw Oscar struggling to lure Daisy and Henrietta out of the office. As his struggle began to seem futile, a mortar flew through the office and exploded, sending their bodies flying into the ocean. KC fell back, the heat blast scorching her hair.


    As she got back up, she began running in the opposite direction. The boat was so close she could hear the screaming of men. There she saw Landon shutting himself into container Z-028. KC noticed the lock sitting on the ground next to the door. It was unlocked. She locked the container shut with Landon inside.


    The sounds of footsteps began on the deck, the EPoB were on the ship, and KC sprinted back to the destroyed office, hiding under a pile of rubber, pretending to be dead.


    She paid attention and listened to the sounds of the ship¡¯s anchor dropping, the sound of the lock of container Z-028 being shot open, and Landon¡¯s subsequent execution. His last words sounded like, ¡°Hey, wait¡­¡±


    All KC could do was lie there and wait, wait and hope, hope that they won¡¯t destroy this ship on their way out. Hope that they wouldn¡¯t find her. The agents, a dozen of them, gathered in the office area, a mere few feet from KC¡¯s body.


    ¡°Well, I think that¡¯s the rest of them.¡± One of the agents said.


    ¡°Alright boys, let¡¯s burn it down.¡± He said, spiraling his fingers and walking back to the EPoB ship. The other agents began to dump a clear, smelly fluid over the surface of the ship, each heading back to their ship after their bottles had been emptied.


    As the last one enters their plank, he lights a match and tosses it on the ship, setting the boat, and KC¡¯s leg, on fire. KC tried her best not to scream or move as she felt the fire engulfing her and cooking her skin. The second the anchor raised and the EPoB ship began to move; KC slithered to the side of the ship and dropped into the ocean below.


    The cool water immediately soothed her damages of the fire, which included her short burnt hair and exposed flesh. She sighed in relief, but soon realized that the ship was to capsize right on top of her. Instead of swimming out of the way, she swam down into the abyss.


    Ten seconds later the ship fell, missing her by mere meters. The metal railing then grabbed hold of KC¡¯s shirt and began to drag her deeper, now she had to swim out of the way.


    She tried her best, her vision growing darker and head building with pressure, and she finally broke free so deep in the water where the sun no longer shines.


    Terrified, she swam back up to the surface, the pressure to her head slowly reducing. Shipping containers galore sank around her; she even barely missed a few that would have landed on top of her otherwise.


    Looking through the lens of air once more she sees floating debris and dead bodies amongst the wreck, the EPoB ship was now quite the distance away. She grabbed onto the first thing she could find, a large unscathed window. She dispensed her weight on the glass and floated along, resting.


    Splashing and panicking could be heard around her. There in the water, flailing about, was Oscar Renton, his face half burnt off with parts of his skull exposed and his entire right eye missing. He was trying to scream, but was too tired to. KC paddled towards him.


    ¡°Why did you do it, Oscar?¡± She asked him. He tried to respond but could only muster a short grunt. KC paddled around him, moving anything he might grab on to out of the water. There¡¯s no way he could reach them, he obviously can¡¯t swim.


    KC spent the next few minutes watching passionately as Oscar drowned himself, his gurgling begs of mercy and death neglected by her cold, vindictive eyes. She stared down into the dark ocean to watch Oscar¡¯s body consumed by an eternal darkness. She then lied back on her side and closed her eyes, staring at the overcast sky above, certain of her death at sea. She saw what appeared to be an island in the distance, but it was much too far to swim, not like she had the energy anyways. Exhausted and in pain, KC took a moment to rest.

 Chapter Twelve

    We had a celebration that night; it was Old John¡¯s birthday. He had just turned 70.


    We started the party at five in the afternoon with a mouth watering feast of chicken, potatoes, corn, grits, bread, cheese, cold cuts, various fruits, and ten bottles of wine shared between us.


    Looking at those around me I could tell that most had never eaten this well in their lives. With this in mind, I had my fill but did not pig out as to save the pigging for the others.


    After dinner Mandy made us several pies, all the way from apple to pumpkin. There was even whipped cream on the top. Most of us were too full to even think about dessert, but we ate anyways, knowing that a meal like this would not come for a long time. Mandy told me that they saved up food for three months for this night.


    After the food we went straight for the alcohol. Ales, rums, and wine were passed around from person to person. A large bonfire was lit at the far end of the cave, and a band had formed from a group with salvaged instruments; Charlie was playing the conga drums.


    We danced and sang well into the night, making up the moves and words as we went along. We didn¡¯t have sheet music or dance sheets; all we had was ourselves and our imagination.


    As we all tired out, sweating the alcohol out of us as we danced the night away, we resided to the fire for tales, stories, and drunken discussion.


    Charlie was the first to talk, a half empty gallon of rum in his hands.


    ¡°You know¡­ I don¡¯t think the worlds half bad.¡± He said.


    ¡°That¡¯s because you¡¯re drunk, Charlie.¡± Mandy said, garnering a chuckle from the others.


    ¡°He¡¯s right, though.¡± I said bluntly, and everyone looked at me.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been in a living hell for a long time. This here, what we all have, it¡¯s something that hasn¡¯t been seen in centuries. We need to know what we have and especially know that we could lose it at any second. If we forget, we¡¯ll get too comfortable. If we worry about it too much, we¡¯ll never enjoy it.¡±


    ¡°Fuck¡­ Fucking A.¡± Charlie mumbled drunkenly, led by a humble applause from the rest of the villagers.


    Charlie threw up approximately five minutes later. His projectile vomit almost put out the fire, a foul smelling steam rising up from the burning wood. Mandy brought him to bed, and in the meantime I had heard the villagers tell tales of who they called ¡®The Great One¡¯. I asked Valoria Kensington, a local farmer, who The Great One was.


    ¡°Well, that¡¯s the crazy thing; we don¡¯t know.¡± She said, tipsy and smiling. ¡°He has been a man of myth for decades in The Angels communities. He¡¯s the one who will save us from a life of eternal suffering. He has been prophesized to lead the mortals into rebellion and sacrifice his life for the good of mankind.¡±


    As much as I¡¯d like to tell the pretty Valoria Kensington that her story was nothing more than complete bullshit, I was drunk and feeling a little intrigued.


    ¡°Well, if he¡¯s been prophesized to do this for decades why hasn¡¯t he come yet?¡± I asked her.


    ¡°We believe that he has yet to be born. We hope it is soon, though.¡± She said much more seriously, garnering a murmur of concurrence from the others.


    ¡°I¡¯d like to see that.¡± I said sarcastically.


    ¡°We all would.¡± Mandy said, stumbling back to the fire pit conversation and giving me a sloppy kiss on the cheek. I smiled and wiped my cheek with my sleeve. ¡°Charlie¡¯s been put to bed, he wanted me to say that he loves you all.¡±


    Everyone awed at the sentiment, though some sarcastically. We went back to the conversation of The Great One, a myth that to my pleasant surprise had not fooled Mandy.


    ¡°It¡¯s all a load of horse crap, if you ask me.¡± Mandy said, spilling some of her wine. ¡°It was an old story created by ancient immortals in an attempt to keep us docile. As long as we expect The Great One we won¡¯t bother starting the revolution ourselves. Its stories like The Great One and the amount of those who believe in it that got us where we are today, lost in a wasteland.¡±


    Some murmured, no one wanted to offend the leader of their village. That would risk exile.


    ¡°You are too hateful, Amanda.¡± Said Old John calmly, taking off his paper cone hat with the words ¡®birthday boy¡¯ written down the front.


    ¡°You need hate to survive in this world.¡± Amanda retorted. Old John gave a smile, one of those smiles that only an old person can do, one of those smiles that reads ¡®kid¡¯s these days¡¯.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been living in this world 70 years and I¡¯ve never had to use a hateful bone in my body. What¡¯s your excuse?¡± Old John said smiling.


    It was simple ¨C Mandy had no excuse. She leaned back, contemplating the thought. In this time, Old John slowly stood up from his seat. It had not occurred to me until now but Old John hadn¡¯t had a sip of liquor.


    ¡°If I leave this world tonight I want the world to know that there will be a tomorrow. Whether I¡¯m there or not, and whether it¡¯s a good tomorrow or a horrible one, it will always be there. I think that¡¯s something that we should all cherish, young and old.¡± Old John said, staring at the ground. The drunken audience gave Old John a standing ovation as he smiled, raised his hand, and sat back down.


    ***Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation.


    As the hours passed and the crowd around the fire had shrunk, Mandy and I looked at each other and knew it was time for bed. The only people around us were Valoria Kensington, who was sleeping, and Old John, who was staring into the fire.


    ¡°You two love birds go ahead on home. I¡¯ll put out the fire.¡± Old John said, giving one last hearty smile and a humble nod. We gave our thanks and we began to walk for Mandy¡¯s shed.


    ¡°This was an amazing night!¡± She said to me.


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t agree more.¡± I said as I squeezed her hand, kissing her cheek, and walking back towards my own shack.


    ¡°Wait!¡± Mandy called. I turned around, only about five feet away from her.


    ¡°Would you like to spend the night with me?¡± She said, giving me the look.


    ¡°Not tonight, Mandy¡­ Maybe some other time.¡± I said hopefully.


    But that wasn¡¯t enough for her; not tonight. Her face bled of disappointment, and with that she began to approach me.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you ever want to spend the night? Half a year, it¡¯s been a whole six months since we¡¯ve been seeing each other. You¡¯ll kiss me and hold my hand, but you won¡¯t sleep in the same bed. Don¡¯t you love me?¡± She asked.


    ¡°I love you, Mandy, but you wouldn¡¯t understand.¡± I told her. She put her hand on my cheek.


    ¡°I understand you. I might not know your past or even your name, but I know that I understand you. You¡¯re a hardworking, smart, altruistic man. You have nothing to hide from me.¡± She said with all heart in her voice.


    I know she meant no harm, but I know that she wouldn¡¯t understand. It¡¯s impossible for a mortal to love an immortal. I¡¯ve seen it happen before, it leads to the mortal killing their immortal partner, or the mortal partner seeking Xenopram in order to become immortal too. Regardless, the relationship will end nonetheless. Immortal or not, everybody dies.


    Then why would I lie to her? It¡¯s a question I could only answer through my own cursed cowardice. I loved the idea of Mandy more than Mandy herself, and I could not trust her.


    But then she grabbed my hand and began to lead me into her shack. There was only enough room for us both to sit on the bed, so I took a seat as she closed the door behind us. Immediately she jumped on top of me and began kissing me. The smell of alcohol reeked through her breath.


    ¡°Mandy, I can¡¯t¡­¡± I said as she began unbuttoning my white dress shirt. She wouldn¡¯t listen, unbuttoning the bottom and final button; she pulled my white dress shirt and black coat off at once. I couldn¡¯t stop her; maybe I liked it more than I wanted too.


    She stopped kissing me and stared down at the scars riddled across my chest.


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing.¡± I said casually, leaning in for a kiss.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not.¡± She said, leaning back, looking at my scars more observantly. She jumped up off the bed and lit her candle, holding the flame closer to my chest. I lay there on the bed, awkward and half naked.


    ¡°These scars¡­ There¡¯s so many¡­¡± She said curiously. ¡°Almost every inch of your body, there¡¯s no way you got all these in one lifetime, you would have died.¡± She said in disbelief.


    ¡°Listen, don¡¯t worry about it.¡± I said as the tears began welling up in her face.


    ¡°You¡¯re immortal.¡± She said. I froze. I didn¡¯t know what to say back, but after this long of loving her, I could not lie. I nodded. She jumped up, holding her mouth shut and dropping the candle on the dirt floor. She started to cry.


    ¡°You bastard¡­¡± She managed to get out through her broken voice. ¡°You lied to me.¡±


    I got up, holding my hand out.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t lie to you.¡± I said, and then she slapped me hard across the face.


    ¡°Bullshit, you didn¡¯t! You knew that this would never work but you led me on anyways! I¡­ I thought I loved you!¡± She cried out. I tried to get my two cents in, but she continued.


    ¡°It all makes so much sense now. You don¡¯t know your name and you said you¡¯ve been wandering America for a long time. How old are you, really?¡± She asked accusingly.


    ¡°Err¡­ I¡¯d say somewhere near a millennium.¡± I told her. ¡°I¡¯ve been here since before America went to shit.¡±


    ¡°Oh, well isn¡¯t that great!¡± She screamed, ¡°You know what, you can go back to your bed!¡±


    I had no choice; I wasn¡¯t going to argue any further. In the back of my head I knew this was going to happen. I grabbed my coat and my white dress shirt and headed for the door.


    I walked out, heading down the cavern hallway and towards my slightly larger shack. But I heard Mandy¡¯s door open again and her footsteps as she came up behind me.


    ¡°In fact, you can pack your things tomorrow and find a new village!¡± She shouted.


    ¡°Now, why would you do that?¡± A voice said from behind us.


    We turned around, and standing there in his trademark white robes was Solomon the Angel.


    ¡°What are you doing here so late?¡± I asked him.


    ¡°I came to wish Old John a happy birthday. I had saved him when he was a young boy just as I had saved you.¡± He said. ¡°Now, Mandy, what is this about kicking The Mechanic out?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s immortal, Sol! We can¡¯t have him here!¡± She shouted.


    ¡°What does that have to do with anything? This village was founded on the principle of mortal and immortal holding equal ground. I¡¯m immortal; does that mean you can¡¯t have me here?¡± He asked in his smooth and calming voice.


    ¡°He lied to us, Sol! He never told us what he really was!¡± She said, pointing at me, shaking her fist.


    ¡°That was his choice to disclose that information. He told me he was immortal.¡± He said.


    ¡°You¡­ you knew? And you didn¡¯t say anything?¡± She told him. He shrugged.


    ¡°You two were in love.¡±


    She imploded. Her face turned bright red and her neck tensed up. Her intense eyes were no longer intense but completely fierce and violent.


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe it.¡± She said.


    And with that the gunshots rang out from the front of the cave, followed by confused murmurs and screaming from the wooden shacks around us. Solomon immediately drew his firearm and ran for the front. Mandy ran into her shack, and here I was like a sitting duck.


    Valoria Kensington began sprinting towards me from the front of the cave, she was carrying two rifles. She ran up to me.


    ¡°Mechanic! Arm yourself, goddamn it!¡± She said, tossing me a rifle. Before I could catch it, Mandy¡¯s hand swung by and she grabbed it herself. She pointed the rifle at me.


    ¡°Go.¡± She said.


    ¡°What the fuck?¡± Valoria said. ¡°What the hell is going on?¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t need your help.¡± Mandy said to me, her eyes fueled with hatred. ¡°You lied to us. You lied to me. I want you gone, and if you don¡¯t go I will end your pathetic precious eternal life.¡±


    Mandy wouldn¡¯t let up; she just stood there with the gun pointed at me.


    ¡°Fuck this.¡± Valoria said, running to the gunshots and screaming. Smoke began pouring into the cave.


    ¡°I¡¯ll kill you, I swear to god.¡± She said, tears running down her face. I turned around to walk down the back of the cave, but to my unpleasant surprise I saw several men dressed in all black holding fully automatic assault rifles charging straight for us. Their guns rattled off and bullets flew through our bodies. We slumped to the ground.


    Mandy fell on top of me and I could feel her warm blood running onto my body. My left leg and my left leg only began flaring up. I ignored the pain and lied there motionless as I heard the EPoB take Mandy¡¯s gun off the floor and continue towards the front of the cave.


    I heard it all. I heard every person in that cave killed, I heard Charlie being beating to death in his sleep. I heard Old John get thrown into the smokey ashes of the bonfire and executed. I heard the agents rendezvous at the front of the cage and talk loudly of what to do with the corpses. When burning them became the most practical option in their minds, I tossed Mandy¡¯s cold body off of me and ran deep into the pitch black cave. I ran so fast that I wasn¡¯t even focused on if they had detected me or not. I didn¡¯t care how much my leg stung as I put pressure on it. I just ran and ran and ran away.

 Chapter Thirteen

    KC opened her eyes to a complete blur; she could barely make out the world around her. There was little she knew for certain. For one, she knew she was no longer in the water, as she could feel her feet dragging against the wet sand. Secondly, she knew she was not providing herself with mobility and she was in fact being dragged backwards through the ground. Looking at the ground below her, she realized that she was lying down, her head lifted barely above the ground.


    ¡°What the hell¡­¡± KC muttered to herself. She could hear someone breathing heavily as they pulled her in small segments, but they said nothing in response.


    Her vision gained sharpness as she saw the densely packed trees closing in around her as she was dragged deeper into the forest. She tried to escape, but her muscles were no use to her. She looked down at her skin which was sun burnt to a crimson shade. She could not see her fire damaged leg, but she could sure feel it dragging against the ground.


    After a few more minutes of walking, KC was set down beside a tree trunk. She watched as her captor, a well dressed man in a top hat, broke branches off trees and built a shelter around her motionless body. She watched him build the shelter, build the fire, nurse her leg, and cook some food; the intoxicating smells of the stew bringing KC back to life.


    She lifted herself off the ground, rubbing her head. The well dressed man smiled upon seeing her.


    ¡°Alive! Blessed woman, you are alive!¡± He cried out.


    ¡°I don¡¯t feel so alive.¡± KC said. The well dressed man laughed.


    ¡°Well I hope you¡¯re feeling hungry, because I¡¯ve got us some potato chowder steaming up right here.¡± The well dressed man said before scoffing at himself. ¡°Silly me, I forgot to introduce myself, Emmanuel Stevenson IV.¡± He said holding out his hand. KC reluctantly shook his hand.


    ¡°Are you an angel?¡± She asked him. He laughed again.


    ¡°No miss, you are far from dead! I found you lying on the shore, half drowning in water.¡± He said casually, as if a simple misunderstanding.


    ¡°Not that kind of angel. Are you one of the angels?¡± She asked. He laughed once more.


    ¡°The Angels are only a myth, my dear woman.¡± He said.


    ¡°You¡¯re wrong.¡± She said.


    She proceeded to tell him her encounter with The Angels. She told about Jameson and the massacre on the boat. She told about the baby, which put Emmanuel into a state of shock.


    ¡°You¡¯re¡­pregnant?¡± He asked carefully.


    ¡°Yes.¡± She said bluntly.


    ¡°Poor, poor girl¡­ What are you to do when you go into labor?¡± He asked.


    ¡°I guess just pop the baby out and hope things go okay.¡± She said.


    ¡°It¡¯s not that easy. Child birth can kill you. You need to prepare yourself. I knew a man from a few months back, he said he helped people, but he was just looking out for himself. He¡¯s probably dead now and that¡¯s because he never prepared for what was to come. He just sat idly by and ran when it caught up to him. Don¡¯t be like him.¡± Emmanuel said.


    ¡°I¡¯m not him. I don¡¯t care if I live or die, I just need to make sure this baby is born.¡± KC said with all seriousness.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°You¡¯d better care if you live or die, because that baby is going to need a mother.¡± He said.


    She took a second to think about it. Gazing into a puddle of water she saw a short haired sun burnt face she no longer recognized as her own.


    ¡°What¡¯s your name?¡± Emmanuel asked.


    ***


    Emmanuel took it as his personal responsibility to help KC prepare for the child. They made camp in an old abandoned bus, decking it out with blankets and tapestries they had found in abandoned buildings. Inside they stripped the seats and replaced them with beds and a pantry.


    Outside they built a small fire pit and a stove where they had their meals three times a day.


    They would spend the morning gathering firewood and food, working on anything they possibly could. After a few months it became harder for KC to walk so Emmanuel took on most of the physical labor while KC resorted to cleaning and cooking ¨C despite how much the smell of cooked meat nauseated her.


    They spent the night eating dinner and swapping stories. It wasn¡¯t an exciting routine but it was one that they would do for months to come. One night while spinning yarns around the fire, KC brought up the great philosophical question.


    ¡°What do you think there is to life?¡± She asked him. Emmanuel seemed unfazed by the question.


    ¡°To live, there¡¯s not much else to it.¡± He said.


    ¡°What about the future?¡± She asked. ¡°Do you just want to live in the moment? What happened to being prepared?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t need to be reckless to live. Staying alive, making sure we¡¯re fed and sleeping well and not dying, that¡¯s all there is to life. So many of us strive for lives of great adventure and merit, when sometimes I think we should learn to appreciate the value in what we have and use that as a tool for success; whatever your own personal meaning of that is.¡± He said, taking a long swig of water.


    ¡°What greatness is there to be found here? This world has been ravaged by war and destruction to the point of desertion. Those living in America are constantly fighting to survive, and there is never a moment that goes by where I don¡¯t worry about my own life. And this doesn¡¯t even account for what¡¯s going on in Beauland. It¡¯s a disaster there, and we¡¯ll never be able to fix it.¡± She said.


    ¡°Maybe not, but at least we can fix ourselves. You are carrying life with you; you are one who will keep mortality alive. We need to make sure things are as good for you as they can be before we worry about the greater good.¡± He said. There was a silence before KC chuckled.


    ¡°You know, maybe this baby, maybe they¡¯re the greater good.¡± She said, smiling.


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Emmanuel said. ¡°What will you name them?¡±


    ¡°Hmm¡­¡± KC thought to herself. ¡°Katherine Jr. if it¡¯s a girl, and Christian Jr. if it¡¯s a guy.¡±


    They both laughed.


    Life was good for a while. KC¡¯s stomach expanded, and as did the work put on by Emmanuel. They were feeding for three now, and Emmanuel tried his best. Sure, there were the cold, wet days where the food was low but those days became more seldom over time. They were livable, and as the time of her labor came closer they prepared more than ever. Emmanuel tried searching for ancient books about child care, and the only thing even close he found was a cover of an old magazine called ¡®Vogue¡¯.


    They were excited, and they were terrified. Not a moment went past where the thought of the baby didn¡¯t cross either of their minds. KC¡¯s morning sickness and mood swings did not help either, and though Emmanuel could feel unappreciated at times he still stuck through.


    Life could have been better, but it certainly could have been worse.


    As the months flew by they found more time for leisure, and took to falling asleep earlier, replacing tales over the fire with walks through the wasteland. There was the occasional run around with raiders or rabid animals, but it was nothing that Emmanuel and KC couldn¡¯t handle.


    Despite his tacky clothing, KC liked Emmanuel. Not as a lover, but as a friend. Emmanuel was quite fond of KC as well, and took to feeling as a sort of father figure to her despite being three years younger.


    Some days they would spend the afternoon lounging in the bus, Emmanuel and KC feeling her belly for kicks from the baby.


    ¡°Oh, children¡­ The little devils, they are.¡± Emmanuel said smiling. KC laughed.


    ¡°Did you ever meet a child?¡± KC asked.


    ¡°Well, of course. I was one once.¡± He said laughing.


    ¡°No, I mean, out there, in the wasteland.¡± She said. Emmanuel¡¯s smile faded.


    ¡°Not exactly¡­¡± He said. ¡°But this one time I met this man, I think I¡¯ve told you about him, but the first time we¡¯d met I had found him in ruins. He had just escaped a nasty raider ambush, they¡­ they killed a little girl. She was no older than fourteen.¡±


    Emmanuel looked down at the ground. KC put her hand on his shoulder.


    ¡°It¡¯s a fucked up world.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got that right.¡± She said.

 Chapter Fourteen

    I was all alone.


    The cold air touched against my skin. I looked around at the devastation around and inside me. What were once beautiful green trees have been reduced to dead grey pricks in the copper dirt that had once been grass. I look to my right and see what had used to be a lake but was no more than a dried up crater. I turn my head up and gaze into the grey overcast sky. It had taken me nine hundred and eighty seven years to see that it was all gone. The world, my world, was gone.


    I was all alone.


    I stumbled into a street, or what used to be one. Sunken in concrete buildings and dismantled wooden structures lie all around me. Centuries of wear and tear have removed almost all labels from signs and paint from houses. What were once called cars were now metal statues embedded into the concrete below them. These were once streets filled with people, filled with life.


    I walked into the most stable building in the ghost town; an old green wooden farm house. The interior was borderline immaculate. The moment I walked in I noticed the grand piano in the corner, the old television against the wall, and the various odd knick knacks that people had around back in the day.


    I turned down the hallway, its walls filled with dusty paintings. I walked up to one and brushed the dust off, revealing a picture of a happy family in front of a lake.


    The father was wearing a polo shirt and cargo shorts, he was rather large, and had balding brown hair. His smile was crooked and some of his teeth were missing.


    The mother had a beautiful white summer dress on, and she made a curtsy pose for the camera. Her shoulder length blonde hair blew in the wind that had been immortalized on film.


    One of the children, the older daughter, was wearing a t shirt and jean shorts. She was carrying a small shield shaped wooden board. She was wearing thick rimmed glasses.


    The other child, a younger daughter, was crying. She was wearing a one piece swim suit, the water up to her waist. The camera went off in the middle of her tantrum riddled scream.


    I set the photo back and went down the hallway to examine the house further. I found some old cassette tapes from the twentieth century, but nothing other than the living museum of an older, much simpler time. I made sure to put everything back just how I found it. Even if it was found lying on the ground, that¡¯s where I left it.


    And then I entered the garage.


    To my initial surprise I had noticed the brown 1980 Ford Bronco in the middle of the garage. My continued surprise was when I noticed the four skeletal corpses sitting inside the Bronco. Two adults and two children; I fell to my knees and the tears began to well up. I couldn¡¯t contain it anymore. So to an audience of corpses, a family immortalized through death, I cried. I cried to those who could not listen, and it all came flooding back.This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    As I left the farm house and continued down the ever growing colder tundra I thought of little Marley Burrows and her humble father. I thought of how she trusted me, how she had became my friend, and how for just a little while I even envied Hanson Burrows for his fatherhood. She was the daughter I¡¯d never had. And what did I do when we were ambushed by those raiders? I ran.


    I thought about Emmanuel Stevenson IV, the jolly chap who had kept me company those many months. I thought about how much I ragged on him and never quite showed my appreciation. He was a good heart and a better shot. He even gave me the clothes I¡¯m wearing to this day. And what did I do when we were ambushed by the Eternal Protectors? I ran.


    I thought about Solomon, the man who showed me that angels really do exist. A man of composure and serenity, he showed me so much about how to be at peace with one self. In hindsight I wish I had taken more of his advice. He introduced me to Mandy.


    I thought a lot about Mandy. She was the woman I loved; the one that got away, so to speak. She was tough as nails and not afraid to show it. She was a true leader and visionary of her time. I wish I had told her the truth. I wish I had never hurt her. And what happened to her and Solomon when the village got attacked? I ran.


    It was as I said before, I am the ultimate coward. I have become so good at self preservation that I have been doomed to spend an eternity alone. Everyone around me will either learn to hate me, or will die before they have the chance.


    As night fell upon the wasteland I found refuge under an upside down vehicle half submerged in sand. I snuck underneath it and closed my eyes, resting my body as much my soul.


    And then something touched my neck.


    I jumped up, my eyes bolting open. In front of me was a body, a dead one. He was sitting in the driver seat, but his head looks like it had been caved in from the front end, and that¡¯s when I noticed the barrel sticking out of the dirt.


    I crawled out of the car and towards the dull steel barrel. I yanked on it, pulling out an old shotgun. I shook it free of all dirt, dust, and sand, and checked it for ammunition. There was one slug remaining. I closed my eyes.


    It could all be over right now. Enough with the cowardice.


    I¡¯ll tell you right here and right now, I didn¡¯t stop myself. It isn¡¯t as if I had been refreshed on my passion for life, or as if I realized that it had been better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. Although I did learn these things, the only thing that stopped my life from ending right then and there was because I slipped.


    That¡¯s right, I slipped. Right before I pulled the trigger I heard another gun go off no more than a few hundred feet away. It was deafening, and this caused me to slip and fire off my one and only round into the sky above. I could have prayed that the rounds of the slug fall into my back from above, but with the second firearm going off I had more to worry about.


    I headed towards the area I had heard the gun shot from, and after walking a few minutes I found a very familiar group of raiders.


    The two surviving goons that I had encountered months ago were standing by the corpse of a man in a bloodied white dress shirt. Between the two raiders was a beautiful, wide eyed, black haired woman wearing an identical jacket to my own. She had a protruding stomach, but wasn¡¯t all that fat. That¡¯s when I realized that she was pregnant.

 Chapter Fifteen

    It was a cold night during their evening walk. The sky grew from a dull overcast to an ominous dark grey. The wind blew with a sinister lack of care; not quite howling but certainly not breezing.


    ¡°It¡¯s a lot colder here than it was at home.¡± KC said, her hands crossed and tucked under her arms.


    ¡°You¡¯ll get used to it. It¡¯s really not that bad out.¡± Emmanuel says as he began removing his black felt coat.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± KC asked.


    ¡°You said you were cold.¡± Emmanuel said as he handed her his jacket.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say that. I said it was colder here than in Beauland.¡± KC said. Emmanuel smiled.


    ¡°Just take the jacket.¡± He said warmly. She took it and put it on, her body relaxing in the warm felt.


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t mention it.¡± Emmanuel said. ¡°I¡¯ve been thinking, once this baby comes out we¡¯re going to need some toys. A nursery of sorts, I¡¯d read about those in an old book.¡±


    ¡°A nursery?¡± KC asked


    ¡°It¡¯s sort of like a room especially made to care for a baby. Not like those automated bathing rooms that you talk about, but a place where we know we can keep the baby and they will be safe.¡± Emmanuel said in his standard posh tone.


    ¡°That sounds like a great idea, Emmanuel.¡± KC said, smiling.


    ¡°Thank you.¡± Emmanuel said returning with a warm grin. ¡°I¡¯m going to start gathering supplies, maybe build a few toys and maybe a crib, that¡¯s sort of like a baby bed.¡±


    ¡°So we need a nursery and a crib?¡± KC asked as she rubbed her belly.


    ¡°Exactly; and I¡¯m sure it won¡¯t be too hard.¡± He said.


    The two walked a few more feet until KC groaned as she set her foot down. Emmanuel immediately jumped to her aid.


    ¡°Is it time?¡± He asked in full delirium, grabbing a hold of her arm.


    ¡°No, it¡¯s just a cramp.¡± She said as she set herself down. ¡°I need a break.¡±


    Emmanuel sat down next to her, pulling out an old corn cob pipe he¡¯d found in a half demolished mall. He took a hearty puff and looked at the pipe, examining it, before coughing up a storm. KC chuckled weakly.


    ¡°It should be any day now.¡± She said as his coughing fit had calmed down.


    ¡°Are you scared?¡± Emmanuel asked.


    ¡°Of course I am. I could die, but you were right, you know. I do need to be there for my child, whatever the case. I can¡¯t die now, or this would have all been for nothing. I¡¯m sure I could have gotten rid of this baby somehow, but I didn¡¯t. I chose to leave that place, I chose to come here. I couldn¡¯t have gotten here without Raine Poplin or The Angels, but it was ultimately my own choice to leave where I had come from. And it¡¯s my choice whether I live or die. I think we¡¯re prepared enough that we can do this.¡± She said, having to catch her breath momentarily between sentences.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to be a great mother.¡± Emmanuel said.


    ¡°Thank you.¡±


    After a few more minutes of catching her breath, Emmanuel helped KC off of her feet, and there they began to return towards their campsite.


    ¡°You know what, I¡¯ll make breakfast tomorrow. What are you thinking? Bacon and eggs?¡± Emmanuel asked, KC laughed.


    ¡°Right, like cooked meat has any appeal to me. You should know better.¡± She said, pushing Emmanuel on his shoulder playfully.


    ¡°Fruit and Granola it is.¡± He said.


    They continued down the trail, examining the weak life surrounding them.


    ¡°You were born here, you said.¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡± Emmanuel said.


    ¡°What was life like as a child?¡± She asked him. Emmanuel smiled warmly.


    ¡°Not as bad as you would imagine. We lived in this small community, maybe six people or so. The only kids there were me and this girl named Polly. We spent a lot of time together, playing pretend and making dirt pies in the ground.¡±


    ¡°Did you love her?¡± KC asked.


    ¡°No, she was a total pain to be around. I only spent time with her because she was the only other kid. Adults in The Forsaken America are not all that fun to be around.¡± He said.You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t that right.¡± KC agreed.


    ¡°That¡¯s why I feel bad for your child. They won¡¯t have any friends. They¡¯ll have you, sure, but you can¡¯t trust everybody out there. They will be all alone.¡± Emmanuel said.


    ¡°But aren¡¯t we already all alone?¡± KC asked.


    ¡°Sure we are, but that doesn¡¯t mean you shouldn¡¯t try to prevent others from realizing that.¡±


    For a second it sounded like a twig snapped behind them, but they paid no attention.


    ¡°This is only the easy part, isn¡¯t it?¡± KC asked.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know.¡± Emmanuel said, giving a weak smile.


    It had gotten significantly darker and colder, yet they were only halfway to camp. They looked over to their left to examine the dried up crater that had once been a lake.


    ¡°Do you think it will ever come back?¡± KC asked.


    ¡°Once we¡¯re all gone, maybe life will finally have a chance to rest and settle itself.¡±


    And with that the deafening blast of a rifle went off behind them. KC watched from a front row seat the annihilation of Emmanuel Stevenson¡¯s skull. The bullet went through the back of his head and out just above his right eye, sending chunks of skull and brain matter flying with it. Blood sprayed onto KC¡¯s face. She was so scared she couldn¡¯t scream. In the heat of it all she could have sworn she heard a second gun go off from a distance, but she wasn¡¯t sure.


    ¡°Holy shit, I got him!¡± Someone cheered from behind a tree. Stepping out of the wide dead pricks in the dirt were two pricks of their own sort, two goons, both wielding rifles. KC turned around and began to run, she could hear the sounds of one of them running up from behind her, and they were catching up fast. A second later, KC was being man handled by a foul smelling raider with missing teeth.


    ¡°Well hello there, missy.¡± The squirrely raider said, pushing KC to the ground below. She looked up, horrified and defenseless. The two goons surrounded KC, rifles pointed at her.


    ¡°So, Jeremiah, what shall we do with her?¡± One of the goons said as he began frothing from the mouth.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure¡­¡± Jeremiah, the other goon, said, confused. ¡°Why is your belly so big?¡± He asked KC.


    ¡°I¡¯m p¡­p¡­pregnant.¡± She muttered, holding herself up.


    ¡°Pergnant?¡± asked the other goon.


    ¡°I have a baby.¡± She said.


    ¡°Inside of you?¡± Jeremiah asked.


    Suddenly, the other goon was thrown to the floor by a crazed man in a coat identical to KC¡¯s. He had long red hair and a scraggly ginger beard. His eyes were bright amber, and all that were in them was red.


    The man began grunting violently as he wrestled the gun from the goon¡¯s hands. Jeremiah stood, holding his gun at the crazed man and his friend, unsure of how to get one without shooting the other.


    In this time, KC used all of her remaining strength to ascend off the dirt ground and lunge at Jeremiah. She grabbed him by his legs, throwing him down. He pulled on her hair and scratched her face as she gripped onto his grimy pant leg. Tied to his leg with a belt was a hunting knife, in a moment¡¯s struggle she managed to pry it free from its sheath, plunging it into the Jeremiah¡¯s groin.


    Meanwhile, the crazed man began repeatedly head butting the other goon, finally yanking the gun from his aching hands. Without a single second to hesitate the crazed man jumped off the other goon, pointed the rifle at his skull, and pulled the trigger. KC jumped backwards. Jeremiah wouldn¡¯t stop screaming.


    The crazed man, rifle in hand, began to approach Jeremiah. He knelt down next to him, moving his rifle out of his reach. He finally pulled the knife out from the poor man¡¯s junk, causing him to howl in pain even louder than before.


    The crazed man took his hand and shoved it over Jeremiah¡¯s mouth. Jeremiah calmed his voice down until he locked eyes with the crazed man, prompting him to remove his hand.


    ¡°It¡¯s you! It¡¯s you!¡± He began screaming.


    ¡°That¡¯s right. I told you if I ever saw you again I¡¯d kill you all. I¡¯m a man of my word.¡± The crazed man said.


    ¡°Please no! Please!¡± He pleaded.


    ¡°Apologize to the lady.¡± The crazed man demanded. Jeremiah seemed confused.


    ¡°What?¡± He said in agonizing pain.


    ¡°I said apologize.¡± He repeated.


    Wincing, Jeremiah looked over at KC. She was staring at him with full fury.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± He said. The crazed man nodded and looked over to KC.


    ¡°Should I kill him?¡± The crazed man asked.


    ¡°Yes. I mean, no¡­ No. We can¡¯t be like him. Let him go.¡± KC said. Jeremiah smiled. The crazed man shrugged.


    ¡°Suit yourself. Alright, you lucky bastard, here¡¯s your gun back.¡± He said as he threw Jeremiah¡¯s rifle back at him. ¡°Now get yourself up and take you and your newly circumcised cock and get out of here.¡± He said, rifle pointed.


    Jeremiah looked at his rifle, then he looked at KC, then he looked at the crazed man, then back at his gun. In a flash, Jeremiah spun the gun around, pointed at the crazed man, and pulled the trigger. A bullet blasted out of the rifle and piercing the crazed man¡¯s foot, and before another shot could be fired from Jeremiah¡¯s rifle, a bullet goes blasting through his head. He died before his body stopped moving.


    Groaning in pain, the crazed man sat down next to KC, he laid the rifle next to him and began taking off his boot.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I didn¡¯t know he was going to¡­¡± KC said.


    ¡°Its fine, I didn¡¯t at first, either. I trusted your instincts, and I don¡¯t blame them for being wrong.¡± He said as he examined his rather minor bullet wound.


    ¡°Do you understand how stupid it was to get pregnant?¡± The crazed man asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m well aware of that, thank you. But understanding doesn¡¯t help my situation right now.¡±


    ¡°It would have before you decided to get yourself knocked up.¡± He said.


    ¡°Hey, fuck you, man. You don¡¯t know me.¡± She hissed. ¡°How old are you anyways? 29? 30?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m 987. I¡¯ve been around before the war. I¡¯ve been around before Europe was turned into the tyrannical shithole Beauland. I¡¯ve been around before Xenopram had even been invented. How old are you?¡± He asked.


    ¡°32¡­¡± She said.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got a lot to learn. So what do you want? Do you want help?¡± He said.


    ¡°I don¡¯t want help, asshole. I¡¯m due any day now and the only other person I had around is lying dead on the ground over there!¡± She said, pointing at Emmanuel¡¯s corpse.


    ¡°Oh my god¡­¡± The crazed man said, rising up and limping towards the jolly chap¡¯s dead body.


    ¡°Emmanuel¡­¡± He said.


    ¡°You knew him?¡± She asked, bewildered.


    ¡°Yeah, I knew him. He and I spent months together. He¡¯s the one who gave me these clothes I¡¯m wearing.¡± The man said solemnly. ¡°I¡¯m sorry that he¡¯s gone. He was a great man.¡±


    ¡°He was.¡± KC said. ¡°Listen, could you¡­¡±


    ¡°Of course.¡± The crazed man said, helping KC up.


    ¡°Do you have a camp near here?¡± He asked.


    ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s just down this trail some ways.¡± She said, picking up the remaining rifle.


    ¡°I can escort you there if you¡¯d like.¡± He suggested. KC smiled feebly.


    ¡°Sure, that would be nice.¡± She said. ¡°My name is KC; it¡¯s short for Katherine Christian. What¡¯s your name?¡± She asked


    ¡°I don¡¯t have one.¡± He said.


    ¡°You don¡¯t have one?¡± She repeated.


    ¡°No, but an old friend of mine called me The Mechanic.¡±

 Chapter Sixteen

    KC brought me back to her campsite, a small little bus decked out with blankets and furnishings. It was a cute little shack, and she offered to let me spend the night in the case that I make her some food the next morning. I delightfully obliged, and she let me sleep in Emmanuel¡¯s old bed.


    I didn¡¯t sleep at all that night. Nightmares plagued me while I slept and the pain in my foot plagued me while I was awake. Eventually I decided to search the camp for some sort of first aid in the hopes of repairing my wounded foot.


    With some paper towel and tape I managed to get it all clean and in working order. I even found a pair of Emmanuel¡¯s shoes to wear as a replacement for my destroyed, bullet ridden boot.


    The next morning I prepared KC a meal of bacon, eggs, and toast. She threw up once she smelled the bacon, and decided not to eat. She picked some berries out of a pantry and ate those instead.


    ¡°We picked these the day before.¡± KC said to me, staring at the ground. I approached her, putting my hand on her shoulder.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. Listen, I know that he was a good friend of yours, he was to me too.¡± I said.


    ¡°Bullshit.¡± She said coldly. I was taken aback.


    ¡°He told me about you. He said you only ever cared for yourself. He told me that you¡¯d left him.¡±


    She was right. I ran away, leaving him in a battle he never could have survived.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know what it¡¯s like to miss somebody.¡± She snarled. It took a lot of effort not to get angry, and I tried my best, but it started to come out.


    ¡°I miss everybody. I¡¯ve spent my whole life meandering from group to group, fleeing at any sign of danger. So many people have died, and I remember every single one of them. I miss them all so much, and each one of them left alive would have made this world a better place. Don¡¯t tell me I don¡¯t know what it¡¯s like, kid.¡±


    She stopped and looked at me; she saw my red face and my shaking hands.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± She said. I calmed down.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright.¡± I said. ¡°I never said I was a good man. Lately I¡¯ve begun losing hope in it all. Before I found you I was about to kill myself. I ran out of bullets, so I couldn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you kill yourself with the rifle?¡± She asked.


    ¡°I¡­I don¡¯t know.¡± I said to her.


    ¡°Listen, I know that life can be a real shit show sometimes. No less than a year ago I was in Beauland living a regular life. It was a life in hiding, but I had a job, and I guess some friends. It was decent. This world is exactly what they call it; Forsaken. But that doesn¡¯t mean that all hope is lost. I have a baby on the way, I don¡¯t know if the baby will survive the birth, or their first year, or their fifth, or their tenth. Hell, I don¡¯t even know if I¡¯m going to survive this. But I need to try. We need to try.¡± She said to me.


    We finished our meal before she told me of the routine that she and Emmanuel had made throughout the last few months. I tried my best to follow her instructions. She said I was much slower than Emmanuel, but I would do.


    I had finished all of the chores by the time lunch had come around, and sitting by the empty fire we had our fill of bread and cheese.


    ¡°Emmanuel was reading a lot into child birth before he¡­ well¡­ and he said he wanted to build a nursery and a crib. Do you know what those are?¡± She asked me.


    ¡°Sure I do. What was he reading?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m not too sure exactly, he said some books lying around here.¡± She said, looking around the camp.The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    I searched for the books, returning five minutes later with a bundle of fiction novels, magazines, and instruction manuals.


    ¡°I believe this is it.¡± I said, setting the references on the dirt.


    ¡°You should try and read some of those.¡± She told me.


    ¡°Yeah, sure, I¡¯ll do that later today.¡±


    And that I did. I read through all of the magazines and manuals, the fiction novels were pointless; just old romance books from the early twenty first century. I made notes of all the pieces I¡¯d need, and set these notes inside the appropriate pages.


    After that it was time for dinner. I made us some stew that an old traveling buddy of mine had taught me how to make. KC said it was delicious, but I think she was lying just to make me feel better.


    I slept once more in Emmanuel¡¯s bed, granted a small snooze before waking up in the dead of night to KC calling my name. I jumped out of bed and ran her way. I could barely see her in the dark that surrounded us.


    ¡°The baby¡­ the baby¡¯s coming.¡± She said to me, panicking. I nodded and ran around, grabbing blankets, water, and paper towels. I didn¡¯t know what else to grab.


    I joined her again in the bus, and she was breathing quite heavily. Sweat ran down her face, and her hair was soaked.


    I manipulated the blanket into a small pillow and set it under KC¡¯s head. I set a row of paper towels on the ground between her legs.


    ¡°Okay, okay¡­ I think we¡¯re all set here.¡± I said, completely certain that we were not all set here.


    ***


    I¡¯m going to spare you the details of KC giving birth. To make a long story short, she convulsed around as if every muscle in her body had been set to flames. Veins bulged out all throughout her body, and her bones made a strange cracking noise. This went on for hours.


    At around six o clock that morning KC had given birth to a baby boy. I spanked the baby, because KC told me that was what Doctor¡¯s did. Maybe that was from one of those fiction novels that Emmanuel was reading.


    I wrapped the baby up in a towel that had been lying around, and handed the baby to KC. She smiled with the warmth only a mother could provide.


    ¡°He¡¯s beautiful.¡± She said, tears forming around her eyes. ¡°What do I name him?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m terrible with names.¡± I said, forcing a smile.


    ¡°Jonathan. I¡¯ll call him Jonathan.¡± She said after a moment of thinking. ¡°Baby Jonathan.¡±


    KC held baby Jonathan Homstov in her arms, cradling him around as he slept.


    ¡°You know, it¡¯s funny how a baby can be so sleepy just after being born.¡± She said smiling. ¡°He must have worked so hard.¡±


    I smiled back, looking into a new life; something I had not seen in a very long time.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure he did.¡± I said.


    Though the birth of baby Jonathan Homstov went relatively easily, there was a major problem; KC wouldn¡¯t stop bleeding. We had soaked every roll of ancient yellow paper towel that we owned, resorting to using our towels and blankets. But no matter how much pressure we applied or dressings we used, it would slow down the bleeding at best.


    ¡°Listen,¡± KC said to me, her face growing pale. ¡°We¡¯re going to need blankets, more padding, and more first aid supplies. We need it now.¡±


    ¡°Where am I supposed to find all of that?¡± I said in a slight panic before an idea came to mind, an idea of immoral action, but an idea nonetheless.


    ¡°There¡¯s a farmhouse not too far from here; maybe an hour long walk. I could go there and bring us back supplies. Do you think you could be okay until then?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine as long as Jonathan is here.¡± She said with upmost certainty, despite the wincing in pain.


    And with that, I left with no more than a rifle.


    Unfortunately I had forgotten to bring a watch, so my perception of time became somewhat distorted. The walk felt like much longer than an hour, the sun seemed a lot higher than it was when I left by the time I approached the green farmhouse. I swallowed my pride and walked inside.


    The museum of an older world lay intact, nothing moved since I had left it. This time I had not gone for preservation of the museum, but for preservation of me and my clan, my family.


    I threw a bundle of small clothes into a large plastic bag, along with some Band-Aids and a sewing kit. There were some old painkillers, but I chose not to take them.


    As I threw the plastic bag over my shoulder and began to leave the farmhouse, I decided for reasons unknown to myself to take one last look at the garage. It was just as horrifying the first time.


    After a few moments of pity and despair, I pulled back my shoulders and got to work, removing the skeletal family from their seats. The floor of the Bronco was filled with petrified flesh, creating a slick foul smelling surface.


    I placed the bag inside the back seat, getting into the driver side myself. I turned the key, and nothing happened. The car was dead.


    Frustrated, I began searching the garage. There I had found a new battery and a jerry can filled with what I assume is gasoline. I have never replaced a battery or filled a jerry can before, cars were a primitive technology before Xenopram had been invented, and nowadays they are incredibly rare. Luckily there was an owner¡¯s manual detailing how to replace a battery and fill a gas tank. The words were in French but I used the pictures.


    Surprisingly, the car worked. Not great, but it worked. Unfortunately, I blew the garage door off as I backed out. I figured it would have opened automatically.


    Spinning all over the place, I manage to get a steady grip of the wheel and the gas. With the farmhouse behind me and the path to camp ahead, I ripped down the dirt in that Bronco, blowing up a sandstorm of dust in my wake.

 Chapter Sixteen

    KC brought me back to her campsite, a small little bus decked out with blankets and furnishings. It was a cute little shack, and she offered to let me spend the night in the case that I make her some food the next morning. I delightfully obliged, and she let me sleep in Emmanuel¡¯s old bed.


    I didn¡¯t sleep at all that night. Nightmares plagued me while I slept and the pain in my foot plagued me while I was awake. Eventually I decided to search the camp for some sort of first aid in the hopes of repairing my wounded foot.


    With some paper towel and tape I managed to get it all clean and in working order. I even found a pair of Emmanuel¡¯s shoes to wear as a replacement for my destroyed, bullet ridden boot.


    The next morning I prepared KC a meal of bacon, eggs, and toast. She threw up once she smelled the bacon, and decided not to eat. She picked some berries out of a pantry and ate those instead.


    ¡°We picked these the day before.¡± KC said to me, staring at the ground. I approached her, putting my hand on her shoulder.


    ¡°It¡¯s okay. Listen, I know that he was a good friend of yours, he was to me too.¡± I said.


    ¡°Bullshit.¡± She said coldly. I was taken aback.


    ¡°He told me about you. He said you only ever cared for yourself. He told me that you¡¯d left him.¡±


    She was right. I ran away, leaving him in a battle he never could have survived.


    ¡°You don¡¯t know what it¡¯s like to miss somebody.¡± She snarled. It took a lot of effort not to get angry, and I tried my best, but it started to come out.


    ¡°I miss everybody. I¡¯ve spent my whole life meandering from group to group, fleeing at any sign of danger. So many people have died, and I remember every single one of them. I miss them all so much, and each one of them left alive would have made this world a better place. Don¡¯t tell me I don¡¯t know what it¡¯s like, kid.¡±


    She stopped and looked at me; she saw my red face and my shaking hands.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± She said. I calmed down.


    ¡°It¡¯s alright.¡± I said. ¡°I never said I was a good man. Lately I¡¯ve begun losing hope in it all. Before I found you I was about to kill myself. I ran out of bullets, so I couldn¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Why didn¡¯t you kill yourself with the rifle?¡± She asked.


    ¡°I¡­I don¡¯t know.¡± I said to her.


    ¡°Listen, I know that life can be a real shit show sometimes. No less than a year ago I was in Beauland living a regular life. It was a life in hiding, but I had a job, and I guess some friends. It was decent. This world is exactly what they call it; Forsaken. But that doesn¡¯t mean that all hope is lost. I have a baby on the way, I don¡¯t know if the baby will survive the birth, or their first year, or their fifth, or their tenth. Hell, I don¡¯t even know if I¡¯m going to survive this. But I need to try. We need to try.¡± She said to me.


    We finished our meal before she told me of the routine that she and Emmanuel had made throughout the last few months. I tried my best to follow her instructions. She said I was much slower than Emmanuel, but I would do.


    I had finished all of the chores by the time lunch had come around, and sitting by the empty fire we had our fill of bread and cheese.


    ¡°Emmanuel was reading a lot into child birth before he¡­ well¡­ and he said he wanted to build a nursery and a crib. Do you know what those are?¡± She asked me.


    ¡°Sure I do. What was he reading?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m not too sure exactly, he said some books lying around here.¡± She said, looking around the camp.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    I searched for the books, returning five minutes later with a bundle of fiction novels, magazines, and instruction manuals.


    ¡°I believe this is it.¡± I said, setting the references on the dirt.


    ¡°You should try and read some of those.¡± She told me.


    ¡°Yeah, sure, I¡¯ll do that later today.¡±


    And that I did. I read through all of the magazines and manuals, the fiction novels were pointless; just old romance books from the early twenty first century. I made notes of all the pieces I¡¯d need, and set these notes inside the appropriate pages.


    After that it was time for dinner. I made us some stew that an old traveling buddy of mine had taught me how to make. KC said it was delicious, but I think she was lying just to make me feel better.


    I slept once more in Emmanuel¡¯s bed, granted a small snooze before waking up in the dead of night to KC calling my name. I jumped out of bed and ran her way. I could barely see her in the dark that surrounded us.


    ¡°The baby¡­ the baby¡¯s coming.¡± She said to me, panicking. I nodded and ran around, grabbing blankets, water, and paper towels. I didn¡¯t know what else to grab.


    I joined her again in the bus, and she was breathing quite heavily. Sweat ran down her face, and her hair was soaked.


    I manipulated the blanket into a small pillow and set it under KC¡¯s head. I set a row of paper towels on the ground between her legs.


    ¡°Okay, okay¡­ I think we¡¯re all set here.¡± I said, completely certain that we were not all set here.


    ***


    I¡¯m going to spare you the details of KC giving birth. To make a long story short, she convulsed around as if every muscle in her body had been set to flames. Veins bulged out all throughout her body, and her bones made a strange cracking noise. This went on for hours.


    At around six o clock that morning KC had given birth to a baby boy. I spanked the baby, because KC told me that was what Doctor¡¯s did. Maybe that was from one of those fiction novels that Emmanuel was reading.


    I wrapped the baby up in a towel that had been lying around, and handed the baby to KC. She smiled with the warmth only a mother could provide.


    ¡°He¡¯s beautiful.¡± She said, tears forming around her eyes. ¡°What do I name him?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m terrible with names.¡± I said, forcing a smile.


    ¡°Jonathan. I¡¯ll call him Jonathan.¡± She said after a moment of thinking. ¡°Baby Jonathan.¡±


    KC held baby Jonathan Homstov in her arms, cradling him around as he slept.


    ¡°You know, it¡¯s funny how a baby can be so sleepy just after being born.¡± She said smiling. ¡°He must have worked so hard.¡±


    I smiled back, looking into a new life; something I had not seen in a very long time.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure he did.¡± I said.


    Though the birth of baby Jonathan Homstov went relatively easily, there was a major problem; KC wouldn¡¯t stop bleeding. We had soaked every roll of ancient yellow paper towel that we owned, resorting to using our towels and blankets. But no matter how much pressure we applied or dressings we used, it would slow down the bleeding at best.


    ¡°Listen,¡± KC said to me, her face growing pale. ¡°We¡¯re going to need blankets, more padding, and more first aid supplies. We need it now.¡±


    ¡°Where am I supposed to find all of that?¡± I said in a slight panic before an idea came to mind, an idea of immoral action, but an idea nonetheless.


    ¡°There¡¯s a farmhouse not too far from here; maybe an hour long walk. I could go there and bring us back supplies. Do you think you could be okay until then?¡± I asked.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine as long as Jonathan is here.¡± She said with upmost certainty, despite the wincing in pain.


    And with that, I left with no more than a rifle.


    Unfortunately I had forgotten to bring a watch, so my perception of time became somewhat distorted. The walk felt like much longer than an hour, the sun seemed a lot higher than it was when I left by the time I approached the green farmhouse. I swallowed my pride and walked inside.


    The museum of an older world lay intact, nothing moved since I had left it. This time I had not gone for preservation of the museum, but for preservation of me and my clan, my family.


    I threw a bundle of small clothes into a large plastic bag, along with some Band-Aids and a sewing kit. There were some old painkillers, but I chose not to take them.


    As I threw the plastic bag over my shoulder and began to leave the farmhouse, I decided for reasons unknown to myself to take one last look at the garage. It was just as horrifying the first time.


    After a few moments of pity and despair, I pulled back my shoulders and got to work, removing the skeletal family from their seats. The floor of the Bronco was filled with petrified flesh, creating a slick foul smelling surface.


    I placed the bag inside the back seat, getting into the driver side myself. I turned the key, and nothing happened. The car was dead.


    Frustrated, I began searching the garage. There I had found a new battery and a jerry can filled with what I assume is gasoline. I have never replaced a battery or filled a jerry can before, cars were a primitive technology before Xenopram had been invented, and nowadays they are incredibly rare. Luckily there was an owner¡¯s manual detailing how to replace a battery and fill a gas tank. The words were in French but I used the pictures.


    Surprisingly, the car worked. Not great, but it worked. Unfortunately, I blew the garage door off as I backed out. I figured it would have opened automatically.


    Spinning all over the place, I manage to get a steady grip of the wheel and the gas. With the farmhouse behind me and the path to camp ahead, I ripped down the dirt in that Bronco, blowing up a sandstorm of dust in my wake.

 Chapter Seventeen

    The Mechanic had only been gone for ten minutes before the baby began to cry. KC¡¯s smile soon faded into maternal concern.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong, baby?¡± She asked. ¡°Are you hungry?¡±


    But the baby yielded no verbal response apart from the hollering cries. It was so loud KC thought that this poor baby was going to kill his lungs.


    First she tried holding him close; rubbing his head, repeating the mantra, ¡®its okay¡­ its okay¡­¡¯, but that did nothing. Jonathan kept crying.


    Then she tried rocking him, making funny faces whenever he looked at her. This also did nothing. Jonathan just kept crying.


    Finally she removed her shirt, pushing her breast to the baby¡¯s mouth. This did not do anything. Jonathan would not stop crying.


    ¡°Are you thirsty? Do you need water?¡± She asked, expecting no response. She looked around and realized that their water supply was at the other side of the camp. Given her constant bleeding and the fact that she could not walk, the only option she could see was to crawl to the other side. It was that or she would endure the baby¡¯s crying for another two hours.


    She took some bloody blankets, flipping them around to a side not soaked in blood, and set them on the dirt. She took baby Jonathan, who was still hollering his little lungs out, and placed him inside the blanket. She turned and looked at their water tank, and began crawling herself over to the other side.


    Each time she dragged her hips across the dirt floor the several pebbles and rocks that would scrape them grew to an excruciating pain. This didn¡¯t include the blood leaking behind her like a snail. Sweat flowed down her face in bursts, running down in front of her eyes, blinding her.


    She used her sense of direction to push her towards the water cooler, the sounds of her crying child growing quieter the farther she got. After making to what she believed to be the halfway point she stopped to rub the sweat from her eyes. It was then she realized she was no more than fifteen feet away from Jonathan; not even a quarter of the way there. She groaned, and continued crawling. She looked forward as she inched her way forward, each second bringing her unendurable pain. She began to curse and scream and cry with each drag she made. Once she actually made it to the halfway point she was forced to give up, not by her own accord but by the unwillingness of her body to agree with her. She collapsed onto the dirt floor, breathing heavy, her heart feeling as if it were to beat outside of her chest. She looked down, towards her baby. He was still screaming, and now he was too far away. She threw her head down. Her body was finished, she could feel the blood pooling around her like a warm bath. She stared into the sun, pleading to any higher power for her own survival. But there was no use. She was making an audition of immortality to an audience of no one. She closed her eyes, letting the cold air and her warm blood consume her.Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.


    ***


    The Mechanic returned to the camp in an old Ford Bronco. It was making a terrible knocking sound as it entered the campsite. As the engine died, The Mechanic exited the car and opened the back door, reaching inside and pulling out a large plastic bag. He was smiling, but looked drained.


    ¡°I found us some loot, KC, you¡¯ll really enjoy this.¡±  He said as he walked into camp, but then he heard Jonathan crying and screaming. He started to run.


    He caught up to Jonathan, lying on a bloodied blanket, crying. And no more than thirty feet away from him, right in the middle of the campsite was KC Homstov. A trail of blood leading from her blanket blood rags to her body. The Mechanic dropped the large plastic bag and headed for KC, kneeling over her body. It was cold and white as a ghost. He felt her pulse, KC Homstov was dead.


    ¡°No¡­ No¡­¡± The Mechanic said, breathing faster and face growing red. ¡°You can¡¯t die. You couldn¡¯t die. You¡¯re not dead. No, you¡¯re not dead.¡± He said, knowing full well what had happened. He¡¯d seen it too many times before to ignore it. He had seen hundreds killed before his eyes, and even more dead bodies, but never were they mothers of newborn children.


    And with that, he looked at Jonathan. He was still crying.


    The Mechanic ran to the water tank, putting some water in a baby bottle, mixed it with some old formula powder, and brought the bottle to Jonathan. He helped the baby hold it, and soon the baby had stopped crying, soon falling asleep in the bloodied blanket.


    Returning to KC, The Mechanic took a while to examine her body before he knew what to do. He went into the bus, retrieving a rusty old shovel. There he headed twenty feet out of camp and began to dig a six foot grave. He even took two pieces of flat wood, taped them together like a cross, and wrote ¡°Katherine Christian Homstov, age 32, ¡®we need to try.¡¯¡±.


    The Mechanic wrapped KC in a clean blanket, placing her in the grave carefully, and spending the rest of the day burying her. On occasion Jonathan would start crying again, in those cases he had to feed the baby old formula milk or rock him back to sleep, but he always came back to burying KC. He finally finished by the time the sun went down. Jonathan was fast asleep, and The Mechanic sat by the fire staring at the bundled up baby in his lap.

 Chapter Eighteen

    It¡¯s been months since KC died now, and not a day goes by where I don¡¯t think of her. She would have been a much better parent that I can ever be. Even when I stare into six month old Jonathan Homstov¡¯s eyes, I see KC looking back at me. Sometimes this scares me, other times it keeps me going.


    I packed enough food, bedding, supplies, and clothes into the back of the Bronco to fill it. There was a lot I had to leave behind, but I figure it¡¯d be better for some poor soul roaming the wasteland to find. After lunch I packed Jonathan into the passenger seat, and took one last trip to KC¡¯s grave.


    ¡°You tried your best better than anyone could have expected you too.¡± I said into the dirt below.


    I left a fake bronze flower on top of the dirt before turning back to the car.


    Getting into the driver seat, Jonathan started to cry. Without a moment¡¯s hesitation I reached into the cup holder, pulling out a milk bottle and handing it to the baby. He drank it and quieted down.


    I rolled down the windows and turned the car on, it roared like an old man, but it started. I backed the car up and headed out for the wasteland.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    We¡¯ve been driving down the road for the last four hours, and now I am finally taking a break. My plan is to head south for one of the old major cities in the search for supplies. The kid¡¯s got to eat.


    Sometimes a lot of the troubles I¡¯ve dealt with still come back to haunt me. The raiders who would kill and eat Jonathan upon first sight, the Eternal Protectors of Beauland who would have us both tortured and shot, the people I will meet who will eventually die. Even Jonathan himself; by the time he becomes an old man I would have not aged a day.


    These problems are essentially unsolvable. There is no way that I could single handedly bring down a fascist regime or psychotic raiders. That¡¯s what we have to wait for The Great One for, apparently.


    My point is that I¡¯d spent my whole life thinking to myself that by roaming these wastelands I was facing these responsibilities head on, but in fact I¡¯ve found myself to be running away from them. There are things in this world beyond my control, let alone my own comprehension. There are just some things we can never understand.


    But I know my place now, I have a child. I will make sure nothing ever happens to him. Yes, that¡¯s right, no more running away from fire fights or letting loved ones die. This time it¡¯s with a child, my child. Now it¡¯s time for me to face my problems to better keep this baby alive.


    I¡¯m not sure what kind of future lies for me out there, but for the sake of myself I know where I am going. I might not get there alive or in one piece but I know what path I lead and where the path will take me. What hides along the path is the true mystery.