Time: 4:11 p.m. February 26, 2071.
Location: Abandoned Spillway. The Wastelands
Squad 19 stood at the edge of a dam, where a dirt path met the weathered gray concrete, dwarfed by the gigantic beast. Their shadows followed them down to the ledge. Obi listened to a small trickle of water spilling over the edge, a fraction of what once poured into the long since dried up lake below.
Overhead, the sun had taken refuge behind a dark gray cloud. What warmth the sun offered was now gone and the winter wind cut into his garments like frozen knives.
The dam, which had not been used for over half a century, looked like an abandoned castle, an alien in the desolate land. A thin metal ladder snaked down the cracked concrete that once held back millions of gallons of water.
Obi stood at the ledge, his orange goggles piercing the darkness below. He studied the twisted metal extending into the bowels of the old dam. Nudging the handlebars softly with his boot, he braced himself against Creo just as a gust of wind tore into his coat.
“It’s the only way down,” Obi said, stepping out of the way. “Two at a time. We can’t risk more weight than that. Ran and Nordica, lead the way.”
Nordica nudged her way carefully through the others and tested the first step with a cautious foot before she began her decent. Ran followed anxiously, his fearful eyes locking for a second with Obi’s before his head disappeared beneath the ledge.
The strain of the two scouts’ weight made the ladder creak and sway. They paused simultaneously, gripping the handlebars tightly, until the rusty metal stopped moving.
“Careful,” Obi muttered under his breath, loud enough to pinch the nerves of Creo, who watched nearby.
Nordica paused, peering up at Ran before continuing down the steps. After a few agonizing moments they made it to the bottom of the old lake, their boots created footprints in the mud that hadn’t been walked on by humans for decades.
Obi watched them disappear into the opening of the large storm drain at the bottom of the spillway. Satisfied, he nodded at Nathar and the four new recruits. They were up next.
One by one the soldiers made their way down the ladder, joining the others in the storm drain below. The squad huddled together, anxious to be out of the cold wind.
Ajax was a lucky man; avoiding the raiders, the CRK, and navigating a safe route through the radioactive valley. This much luck wasn’t something Obi was accustomed to, and he knew it wouldn’t last. Luck had a tendency to dry up and disappear as soon as you got your hands on it, like a glass of cold water on a hot day. It didn’t last. It evaporated, especially in Tisaia.
Obi switched on his night vision goggles again, the warm orange glow illuminating the darkness of the small storm drain. The rest of the squad members with goggles followed suit, lighting the tunnel with a safe and tepid orange radiance.
With the fresh light, Obi examined the tunnel. It was eight by six feet. He glanced in to the darkness where their lights could not penetrate. A set of small green eyes glared back at him. It was one of the stranger sensations Obi experienced when using the device, especially when the eyes belonged to mutated creatures. In this case it was just a rat. He paid no attention to it, watching it scamper away from the squad and into a small crevice in the concrete.
“Spurious. You’re up. Do you remember where this tunnel leads?”
“It should connect to some utility tunnels we can access through a ladder. They should take us directly to Rohania.”
“You heard him. I know everyone is tired, but this is what we’ve trained for. This is our chance. Take five, grab something to eat and then we’re heading out,” Obi said.
He crouched and grabbed an energy bar from his pack, the orange glow illuminating the faces of the four new recruits who sat huddled together, their faces all riddled with fatigue and fear. He nodded at the youngest and tossed him the energy bar.
“Are you sure?” the young man asked, his frightened eyes peering up at Obi.
“Yeah, I’m not hungry.” Obi lied, walking away to find a place to sit. He listened to his men chat and chew on their meals from a distance.
“Where are you from?” Spurious asked Creo, hoping he would be more responsive than Ajax. The question hung in the air, long enough to make him feel uncomfortable.
Creo cocked his head, chewing on a half eaten piece of bread. “I suppose it doesn’t hurt if I tell. In fact, you might be interested in the place I come from.”
A few feet ahead Ajax snorted; his gaze fixed on the dark skinned Spaniard.
“The land I come from is across the seas, where the sun is still as bright as a thousand fires. The bombs never fell there, but the radiation poisoned everything,” he added. “I left with all the other survivors. I came by boat in the year 2043 to see this world with my own eyes. After traveling from one refugee camp to another, I finally saw the great walls of Tisaia I had heard so much about. It was here I met Obi and my other companions. I have fought with them ever since.”
The story sent a chill down Spurious’ spine. He heard of the refugee camps outside the quarantine zones before, but never met anyone who had visited one.
“What is it like out there?” Spurious said, nodding towards the light from the entrance of the storm drain.
Creo’s eyes panned to the ground. He paused to take another nibble of bread, his eyes locked on the concrete floor. “The horrors I have seen are endless: children, mutated by radiation poisoning; their mothers, working the street corners to pay for a meal that only prolongs their suffering. I have seen shanty towns ruled by ruthless men, where stealing a can of peaches will get you death, and rape is the most common form of conception…” Creo paused, taking another bite and twisting his head so he could look Spurious in the eye. “It makes Rohania look like a five star hotel,” he continued.
Spurious shook the images of the mutated children out of his mind and turned his gaze back to Creo. “I have heard of the refugee camps before. You know Tisaia denies they still exist?”
“That’s because the government does not want the State employees to know the truth. If they did know the truth, they would certainly want the State to try and help those outside the walls.”
The truth behind Creo’s statement lingered in the stale air. Everyone in the group knew there were people outside Tisaia that could use the State’s help. This was information the Governor’s Office never shared with the public and never would. Spurious was the only one in the tunnel who truly knew how dishonest Governor Felix Steppe’s office really was. The confidential reports he had seen and the rumors he heard from friends working at the Capitol gave him ample information to believe the State knew.
“The State knows people are out there. They choose to do nothing,” Spurious said.
“Pack it up. Time to move out,” Obi said, interrupting their conversation.
Spurious stood and followed the squad down the narrow path, crouching to avoid dripping water above him.
“What I don’t get is why more State employees don’t question these things…” Spurious said, realizing he was a perfect example of a State worker that did not question due to fear.
“You’re a fine one to talk,” Nathar piped in. Spurious knew the blow was coming and shook it off easily.
“You’re right, Nathar. I have been living in a world of fear my entire life. Most employees probably are,” he said, dropping his gaze to the green trail of water below.
“You know, Spurious, your parents were examples of people who did not fear the State. As a matter of fact, from what I heard, one of the reasons they created the TDU was to help spread hope amongst State workers in a time when fear was becoming common. If it were not for them, we wouldn’t even exist. Well, at least not in the form we do today,” Obi said.