“Are we almost there?” Ran asked.
Nordica looked back at him, bringing her finger to her lips and signaling for Ran to climb up onto the concrete banks of the tunnel. Ran nodded in confirmation, climbing out of the murky water. Nordica was right; the water made too much noise, and Ran needed to focus on his surroundings. They were still not free of danger.
The tunnels were getting narrower, which indicated they were almost to the edge of Lunia. Once they were outside the walls they would climb above ground into the Wastelands, making the rest of the journey considerably more dangerous. The missile silo was almost 30 miles outside the Tisaian walls. This presented a problem in and of itself. If they did evade the Knights they would still be faced with other potential threats in the Wastelands: wild animals, stragglers, land mines and bands of raiders.
Ran had never seen a raider, but had heard plenty of stories to know they could be just as lethal as Knights. The raiders fought like animals, tearing their enemies to pieces and wearing their bones as trophies. The notion made him shudder. He would almost prefer to face a Knight over one of the barbaric raiders.
Nordica, on the other hand, would never forget her run in with raiders. It was years ago, on a scavenging mission. She was headed towards an abandoned building said to house a cache of 21st century weapons when she heard them.
At first she thought it was an earthquake as the ground began to rumble. But as a cloud of dust emerged in the distance, she realized it was no earthquake. It wasn’t long before she could see an armada of riders, their skin tattooed and scarred. They were led by a man riding a dark stallion, his bald head and pierced ears gleaming under the weak sun.
As they rode closer Nordica could see something on the man’s shoulders. The dust made it difficult for Nordica’s goggles to function properly, so she removed them and took out a pair of binoculars. It was then she could clearly see the skulls mounted on the man’s shoulders. These weren’t just any skulls either; they were human.
Since that day Nordica avoided the raiders of the Wastelands at all costs. She was known for fearing no one, but even Ran knew Nordica feared these barbaric men.
Ran set his rifle down and looked upward. He could see a small ray of light peeking through a manhole far above. “Guys, I think I found our way out.”
Nordica crowded him, gently pushing him away. “That must be it!” she shouted, neglecting her own orders to keep quiet.
“Careful everyone,” Juliana said, emerging from behind. “We don’t know what or who is out there right now. Someone should climb up and have a look before we all charge up.”
“She’s right,” Ran said. “I’ll do it,” he volunteered, approaching the ladder. He looked back at Nordica, who gave him a nod of approval.
“I’ll be right back,” he said, turning, strapping his shotgun across his back and grabbing the rusted steps of the ladder. Rays of light struck his eyes as he climbed, blinding him momentarily. Having lived in the tunnels for so long meant that his eyes took a few moments to adjust to natural light, especially from the sun.
“What’s going on up there?” Nordica shouted from below, her voice echoing through the silent tunnel.
“I just couldn’t see, don’t worry, everything’s fine,” Ran yelled back as he began to climb again.
The small holes in the drain cover revealed they were in the Wastelands. The viewpoint was not good at all, though, so he pushed the drain cover up a few inches and surveyed the grayness.
To the east were the steel walls of Tisaia, towering above the Wastelands like a fruit tree over the desert. To the west was death—the skeletons of trees and remnants of what was once beautiful green farm fields. Ran had seen pictures of what the area used to look like. It was now unrecognizable. Satisfied that there wasn’t any threat, he descended the ladder to rejoin his team.
“It looks clear to me.”
Nordica grabbed her shotgun and pulled a shell from her bag. “Although I’d prefer to do this under the cover of darkness, I think we need to move immediately,” she said, turning to Tsui. “What do you think? It’s possible they could have guards on the walls within range to spot us.”
Tsui nodded his head in agreement. “I think we need to get moving too. We can’t wait another 24 hours. If there are guards up there, they would spot us at night with their goggles anyways.”
Nordica put the shell into her shotgun and pumped it. “Let’s move, guys, the survivors aren’t going to wait for us much longer,” she said, heading towards the ladder.
The storm drain was slightly less than a mile from an old highway, another token of good luck, with plenty of old vehicles to use for cover. Nordica led the four TDU soldiers through the maze of broken-down cars. The wind beat down on them without mercy, burning any uncovered skin. Ran looked down at his bare arms and noticed there were blisters forming. He tried to roll his sleeves down, but they wouldn’t go much further than his elbow.
“We need to find cover!” he shouted.
Nordica knelt in front of an old truck, glancing at her watch.
“Gather round. Let’s take five. Tsui, you keep watch on our six.”
Juliana stopped and reached inside her bag, retrieving a small white bottle.
“Here, use some of this on your arms. They look like they’re starting to burn,” she said, handing him the bottle.
“Thanks,” Ran responded, taking a knee next to Nordica.
“The way I figure it, we have about five miles left before we reach the silo,” Nordica said, in between drinks from her canteen. She coughed and wiped the excess water from her lips.
The group sat, eating what bits of food they had brought with them, listening to the howling wind. For a few moments Ran felt as if everything was going to be fine. He forgot the massacre from a week earlier and watched a pair of clouds crash into one another, further blocking out the weak sun.
Ran felt an itch, and clawed at his face to feel another sore forming on his forehead. He took a moment to rub some of the lotion Juliana gave him on the spot. The wind wasn’t the only enemy in the Wastelands. There were also radiation pockets that could burn you as fast as the wind could. It was possible they had passed through one already and the sores on his body were radiation poisoning.
“Let’s move out,” Nordica commanded.
Ran forget the sores and put the bottle of lotion into his pack. In the distance he could see the remnants of a dead forest, the dark trees lining the horizon like foot soldiers ready for battle. The trees would not offer much more protection from the wind, but it was better than being out in the open. He strapped his rifle to his back again and took off after the others.
It only took an hour to reach the edge of the dead forest. Ran and Nordica hugged the tree line, or what was left of it. Every once in a while they would come across a tree that appeared to have a green leaf, but every time Ran went to touch it, the leaf would crumble into ash in the palm of his glove. There wasn’t much that could survive in the Wastelands.
Ran liked survival stories. He enjoyed finding anomalies in an otherwise lifeless world. There had been a time he came across a plant living in a small pocket of life just outside the Tisaian walls. He was scavenging for supplies when he found it. It survived against all odds, living through season after season of harsh conditions.
“Keep focused, Ran. We could be walking into a trap,” Tsui whispered.
Ran nodded and continued on, his rifle drawn, waiting to blast anything that moved. He saw the tree line ended just yards away from the old building. The structure was surrounded by an ancient metal fence, topped with a layer of barbed wire. At the front gate an old sign swayed back and forth in the wind, creaking and groaning with every twist. Ran read the sign aloud as he made his way closer. “Government Property; Trespassers Will Be Subject to Arrest and Prosecution.”