The Dead Wastes

[Macman253]

The night was still and the fire was warm, Jack Wade sat next to it and gently puffed on his cigarette. The man was nearing his thirties but the scarring and greying hair from a hard life in the wastes made him look older then he was. Jack stared into the flames as he thought heavily on the events to come and the events that came before. His mind flashed to the bushes when he heard a subtle rustle, his hand instinctively went for the grip of his trusty sawed off Remington strapped to his hip, he drew it and put a bead on the location of the noise with almost super-human speed.

 

He listened carefully, listening for the soft noise of someone breathing and he quietly sniffed the air for the distinct scent of decaying bodies. He could hear the breathing but smelled no corpses so he knew whoever it was in the bushes, they were alive. He gently thumbed the hammers back on his gun and scanned the shrubbery, his finger began to itch and his heart beat hard in his chest. It was these moments that frightened him, not the fight to come but the not knowing the numbers in which he faced.

 

"Who are you? If you seek my possessions I recommend you turn away..." He said to the forestry, there was no reply.

 

Jack had been a Waster, the common term for a Wastelander for many years. Often hiring himself out as a mercenary and Reclamator, a person that drives out into the wastes for food and supplies by raiding small abandoned towns so he knew full well the dangers that the wastes presented him with, despite these dangers he continued to wander them. His skills were in much demand and he felt no need to settle in a Commuter stronghold or a Capital like nearby Seattle. It was because of his eternal wandering and toughness that he earned some reputation as a capable man and was often sought out for his skills, albeit not entirely for business arrangements. More often then not it was some hotshot young gunslinger looking to prove himself that sought him out, it was because of this that Jack preferred to stay in the wilds. The bushes rattled as the Stranger departed, Jack sighed in relief and sat back down next to the fire and placed his shotgun next to him as he watched the squirrel slowly roast over the fire, the sense of peace was shortlived as he heard a rustling in the bushes next to his rig, He looked over his shoulder the second he heard the rustling and shot up to his feet to run to the source of the noise to see what he dreaded most, a rubber hose dangling from his now empty gas tank. In frustration he kicked dirt and cursed to himself as he holstered his shotgun.

 

"Damn it all..." He said as he approached, he knew it was bone dry because that was what they were after and from the lack of fuel on the ground they used a pump so as not to spill a drop. The earth was disturbed and the footprints were small, like that of a child's. He dropped to a knee and looked at his closely and determined that it was a child's. He packed his gear in his car and locked it tight, the Jeep had steel slats with openings instead of windows and the front and rear windows had rebar bars welded over them to provide protection and security. The vehicle was custom built for off-road function and was at one time painted a matte green but years of rust and lack of paint turned it into a rusty eye soar, despite its lack of beauty it possessed a powerful engine and was capable of going places most vehicles could not due to its rally-truck style suspension.

 

With his knife, shotgun and crossbow in hand he departed his campsite to pursue the precious fuel that he needed, intent on finding the culprit and punishing them or die trying, he knew that without fuel in the wastes he would die in a few days. The trek through the forestry took him nearly two hours but he finally found the end of the tracks, it was an old Pre-Event wrecking yard that was covered in the remains of vehicles and machinery. Jack drew the monocle from his satchel and scanned the fortress-like wrecking yard. The fencing around the property was covered in metal plating and the gate was made of large steel sheets welded onto a steel frame. The main building was brick and resting on top was a lookout, the lookout was a young man holding a rifle and watching the tree line. A dim glow came from behind the fence and a twenty foot tall smoke trail went into the sky from the fire blazing in the yard.

 

He heard country music blasting from the building and hoots and hollers that told him one thing and one thing alone, Mutants. During the Event, the dead came to life and attacked the living. The Dead War began, humanity was nearly exterminated. As a last ditch effort to destroy the undead the remaining united states military launched nuclear warheads at the highest places of infection, completely obliterating them. The vast amounts of infected were killed off but the radiation left some people a psychopathic mess of rage, bloodlust and mutation. Mutants were born from this, driven mad by the radiation they took to banditry. These humans do not age and as time goes on they become more and more psychotic. Most Wasters learn to fear the Mutants as much as they would Walkers, Mutants always have guns, booze and vehicles with which they use to conduct lightning fast raids on unsuspecting caravans and Communities.

 

These Mutants were well known in these parts. The Gallagher Clan, a particularly brutal clan of inbreds that prefer to capture and torture folk then just simply murdering and pillaging. The Gallagher clan are expansive and control much of the Redmond Wastes through force, despite their numbers they are all no more then second cousins to one another. Combined with nearly a centuries worth of radiation exposure and probably a century and a half of inbreeding these ugly deformed humans stand between him and survival.

 

Jack placed a bolt into the housing of his crossbow and took aim at the lookout, he sighted in the scope and gently exhaled. His finger twitched on the trigger and the string released with a silent twang as it hurled the bolt at incredible speeds and it sunk to the fletching's into the sleeping lookout's forehead, causing his skull to snap back and the body to hit the roof with a soft thud. Jack pulled back the string and loaded in another bolt as he dashed to the edge of the fence and peered through a crack in the metal plating to see what laid in store for him. The air was thick with the scent of oil and blood, Gallagher's relished in murder and rape, they often attacked towns and caravans to acquire food and women. There was no law in the dead wastes so right of might became the law. Most communities formed in out of the way places to avoid attacks by mutants and the great many herds of walkers.

 

The fire was blazing hot and three Gallagher's stood around it drinking a heavy moonshine, the tallest was a burly man with a large fat belly sticking out over his waist and a stained shirt. His pants were covered in grease stains and he wore a red truckers hat. Stuck in his waistband was a .45 pistol and nearby was a pump action shotgun. Standing next to him was a slimmer man with boils on his face and a large overbite, he wore a NASCAR jacket and large combat boots with ratty jeans and no shirt. They watched and hollered as the third wrestled with a woman, the woman fought him hard as he ripped at her clothing and tried to kiss her, not far away was a young boy handcuffed to a radiator and next to him was the gas drums filled with his gasoline. Jack aimed his crossbow at the would-be rapist and fired, the bolt struck him in the side of the head and he dropped like a stone. His buddies drew their weapons and ran for the gate, Jack dropped his crossbow and drew his knife and shotgun as he moved to meet them.

 

The metal plating on the fence provided a barrier and he crouched down next to the gate, the two mutants unlocked the gate and stepped through. They scanned the distant tree line for any signs of movement. "Where did that come from Pete?" Spoke the slim Mutant, Pete shushed him and tossed him his pistol. "Go that way Jerry, I'll stay here and watch the gate." Said Pete, Jerry caught the pistol and began walking towards Jack who was hiding in the darkness. Jack leveled his sawed-off at Jerry and fired, yanking back both triggers. A crack like a lightning bolt filled the air and Jerry's head exploded as two 12 gauge shells tore through his brain. Pete whipped around and racked in a shell and fired into the darkness, Jack dropped his sawed off and charged Pete, the mutant was stunned to see him emerging from the darkness and sticking the combat knife hilt deep into his chest.

 

The pot-bellied mutant folded over like an accordion as the life vanished from him, Jack could feel a strong burning sensation in his shoulder and looked down to see blood pouring from a buckshot wound. He pushed the pain to the back of his mind and collected his things and then entered their camp. The woman cradled her son and held out a lead pipe to protect her from Jack, fear was white in her eyes and her son covered his head, expecting Jack to kill them. Jack was no murderer and he tolerated no man that would ravish a woman but they stole from him and that was as good as murder in these parts. He popped the spent shells from his shotgun and loaded in two more.

 

"We needed the gasoline, I thought I could trade it for food over in Elma but we got caught by them before we could make it there." The woman said as she saw the blank look on Jack's face, he watched her plead with him to spare her, she offered herself and everything she owned for him not to kill her but he holstered his gun and grabbed the gas can, he turned from her and began walking towards his vehicle when a jolt of conscience hit him and he stopped.

 

He turned his head to her and beckoned for her to follow, "I'll take you as far as Elma but you will not take anything of mine and I expect to never see you again..." He said coldly, the woman nodded and collected her son and their belongings. Jack took the mutants weapons and gave the Gas Can to the woman to carry, his arm was useless from the buckshot and he felt it was suitable punishment for stealing it in the first place.

 

Their conversation-less trek through the woods ended at daybreak when they arrived at Jack's jeep. He opened her up and refueled her. Elma was fifty miles from where they were but it was the closest place that took in outsiders for trade. As he climbed into the drivers seat he noticed the woman and the boy had fallen asleep in the passengers seat already, with a slight smirk he turned over the key and drove off.

Edited March 6, 2013 by Macman253

[Maharg67]

Interesting. Not clear in places but a good read. Perhaps some editing would help. Look forward to reading more. :thumbsup: :nuke:

[Macman253]

I hashed it out at 4:30 lol so its rough, I am planning on turning this into an ongoing journal of sorts that starts off in Elma. I am a resident of Washington and I always thought this state would make for an excellent setting in a zombie apocalypse due to its dense forestry and sparse towns away from the coastline. So it makes for great story that in the wastes you not only have to contend with raiders, mutants and walkers but Bears, wolves and many other creatures. It is called the Dead Wastes not because of the Walkers but out there only death exists. Since the world is like that Commuter is a slang term for Community, most of them are highly xenophobic and will often chase off outsiders and some are so extreme they will kidnap them or kill them to protect their location from raiders and walkers.

 

Elma in reality is a fairly small town but I spent a few years of my life there and I know its layout, if the Z-Apoc came that would be a viable place to hold up and fortify due to its small size and remoteness plus the countless other small towns around it that make for good food supply runs and its high gun owner population makes for a nice armory. That's why I set it in Washington since we have one of the highest amounts of small towns in the country and a strong population of registered gun owners.

[Macman253]

A day later....

 

 

 

Jack smiled as they drove up to the gated community of Elma, the city was small but it was the strongest fortification this side of Tacoma. The locals were fairly paranoid but they took in outsiders quite often for trade, giving those with things to barter or skills to offer a days trading time or a weeks work period. If you didn't leave by that time you were forced out, often at gunpoint. The citizens of Elma were well known for having a strong militia, many of them from The Republic Of Seattle's private army. The city itself was a main road that branched off onto the highway with the city hall being the seat of government, the shops around it remained storefronts and the cities richest inhabited the homes within the walls, the militia used the old police station as a base and their cells as a temporary prison until the towns Mayor could determine what happened to the criminal in question.

 

When they stopped at the gate ten rifles dialed in on them and the near simultaneous cocking sound drowned out the subtle hum of the jeeps engine. The men on the walls all wore brown peacoats and berets, most of them holding the old but reliable AK-47, the old Samson Lumber Yard had been repurposed years ago into a factory that stamped out ammunition and other materials so Elma had a constant source of ammunition. Jack looked to his left and saw the woman cradle her son and look to the walls, fear was stamped across her face. Jack drew his shotgun from his hip and grasped it by the barrel as he stepped out of the rig with his hands in the air. A voice came from the wall as a man appeared at the metal catwalk above the sheet metal gate.

 

"State your business?" Asked the man, he wore a black duster and an old police chiefs uniform that had been painted to match the leather-brown of the Militia uniform. He had slightly greying hair and appeared to be in his late thirties, his striking blue eyes locked on Wade and occasionally darting to his passengers. He stood with his hands behind his back and his chest out, Jack could tell he was a man that was used to command.

 

Jack set his shotgun on the roof of his rig and walked to the front of the car with his hands still in the air, "I come to ply my skills, I rescued this woman and her child from Gallagher's the night before last." He explained, the Officer idly caressed his chin and he took in the strangers words. When he noticed the bandage around his shoulder and the worn look on their faces he nodded. "You have five days, see yourself to the Doctor and meet me in the Police Station." He commanded, Jack sighed as the militiamen's rifles lowered and the Officer departed. He could breathe easy now as the gates swung open, Jack collected his weapon and drove through. The town seemed to be in the middle of a festival of sorts, the women wore bright colors and the streets were full of farmers selling their fruit and vegetables along with bakers and candy-makers. The Farmers Festival had started and it lasted a few days, Elma had held this festival every June since the cities founding.

 

Jack parked his rig next to a tavern called The Pine Tree and stepped out onto the sidewalk, the locals eyed him suspiciously. Some of the men's hands drifted to weapons hidden in coats, since it was town law that every man be a member of the militia and wield a firearm this was the safest if not most dangerous place to be. The woman stepped out of the car and approached Jack, she smiled and locked her eyes with his. Her deep amber eyes seemed to glisten as she took in the Waster. "My name is Carla, this is my son Benjamin." She said as Benjamin offered his hand to Jack. Jack shook it and nodded, "Jack Wade..." He said as he let the young boys hand free. He looked over his shoulder at the tavern, the place seemed like a dive but its seats were full of patrons and the staff looked very busy filling orders and going about their daily lives. "I am sure you can find a job here... stay out of the Wastes, next time there won't be anyone to save you." He said coldly as he popped the twin-barreled shotgun open to check and see if the shells were still good. 150 years of exposure can wear through most ammunition fast and made them prone to misfire. He flicked his wrist and the gun snapped shut and locked into place and quickly holstered it.

 

Carla smiled and moved in to kiss him, Jack took a step back out of reflex but smiled awkwardly when he realized she only meant to thank him for his efforts. He ran a fingerless-gloved hand through his shaggy brown hair and waved goodbye to them. He felt somewhat guilty for leaving them on their own but he had no way of caring for them and could not carry them in the wastes so he took what little satisfaction he could from giving them a home, even if it was such a place as Elma.

 

After he went to the doctor to get his shoulder stitched properly he made his way to the police station, the place had once been a small station but the locals had expanded it to great lengths, turning the police cruisers into gun strapped vehicles and painted them in a pre-event jungle camo pattern. The place was busy with soldiers marching about and going through the training process's. The recruits were as young as thirteen and they wore sweat suits while they did exercises and shuttle-sprints from lines painted onto the pavement. The faint sounds of gunfire in the distance told Jack that they were also on the rifle range aswell. He approached the open doors and walked inside, the place was fairly clean and busy with women wearing female uniforms like that of the soldiers outside as they did the paperwork and handled all the logistics of the militia. A woman sat behind a desk facing the front door and was casually going over some paperwork as Jack approached, he put a cigarette to his lips and popped open his zippo when he heard the distinct sound of someone clearing their voice, he looked up to see the woman staring at him disapprovingly, she nodded to the No Smoking sign across the room and he tucked away the cigarette.

 

"Can I help you...sir?" She said with a slight pause as she took him in and then painfully regarded him with some respect. Jack was used to that, most Commuter's saw Wasters as trash, useful trash in some occasions but trash.

 

Jack nodded and approached the desk, "Yeah the Chief or Colonel asked to see me at the gate?" Jack replied as he pulled the entry documents he received from the Doctor from inside his jacket and held them out to her. The woman snatched them from his hand as soon as she could and quickly read them. She pulled a drawer open and slid her hand inside, Jack guessed to grasp the grip of a pistol tucked in their, after a few moments she removed the hand and grabbed a stamp then stamped them and handed them back. "Down the hall to my left, third door on the right." She said as she handed them back to Jack and went back to her work. Jack followed her instructions and knocked on the door, the Officer's voice said enter and Jack strode in. The room was decored fairly well, the walls decorated with various hunting trophies and weapons and the desk was made of a amber-colored wood. The plate at the end of the desk read "Captain Tom Wilks" and it was decorated with gold embossing and silver letters.

 

Jack approached and sat down, The Captain opened a teak box and offered Jack a cigar. Jack took two and slid one into his leather jacket and lit the other with his zippo. He watched as the Captain did aswell and sat in the leather office chair across from him, for a long moment the militiamen said nothing and when he broke the awkward silence it was in a official and strict tone. He set the cigar in the ashtray next to him and placed his elbows on the desk and smirked.

 

"I remember you from my time in The Republican Guard, you are Major Jackson Wade..." He said, Jack smiled and nodded. Many years ago he fought for the Council in their private army called The Republican Guard, he lead a light infantry squad that acted as scouts and skirmishers. When the Dead War ended and the government collapsed various bandit-kings and survivors formed communities that flourished and formed new City-States in the remaining Capitals, Seattle was one of them that didn't get nuked in the Dead War so it flourished. The Council formed and walled it off from the rest of the world, its citizens work for food and lodging while its soldiers spend more time watching the citizens for troublemakers then the tree-line for enemies. The reason he left was because of the things he was asked to do in the name of The Council and The Republic disgusted him and he went AWOL.

 

Jack shrugged and drew on his cigar, "What do you want with me? You have a job to offer me offer it or let me be..." He said coldly, his smile faded and turned into a unpleased sneer. He had no stomach for games and no sense of nostalgia. The Captain nodded and pulled a file folder from his desk and tossed it into Jack's lap. "That is the file on a fugitive, he was our local gunsmith but he went nuts and killed his wife when he found out she was sleeping with his apprentice. We want you to track him down and bring him back..." He said as Jack flipped through the files. Before he could say anything the Captain raised his hand and continued, "We will pay you three full cans of Gasoline and as much ammunition as you want for any weapon you have plus a months worth of MRE's and clean water..." He said with a distinct pause, letting the offer soak into Jack's mind. "...If you bring him back alive..." He added.

 

Jack could feel his heart sink, bringing him back alive would be nearly impossible since he has had a large amount of time to escape and his location is not known to anyone. "First off, he's been gone for nearly a month and I don't know where to find him..." Jack replied, it was a good offer but it was impossible to find him and Jack knew this. The Captain smiled and nodded, "It would be but we know where he is... or atleast a general idea." He said calmly, "Our scouts last saw him in the Redmond Barrens about seventy miles from here... There is a Free-City out there that is run by a bunch of bandits. There he makes weapons for them in exchange for food and lodging.." He explained as Jack looked over the pictures of the fortified city in the desert-like glass flats. The Barrens were called that due to the missile that was intended for Seattle striking there instead, the heavily salted earth was turned into crystals creating the unique Glass Flats, driving on conventional tires is impossible there so they use Snowmobiles to get around instead. The Razor-Sharp glass eviscerates flesh and cuts through bone like a knife through butter, the dead don't walk there but some of the more insane Mutants like the thrill of riding there so its thick with warring tribals.

 

Jack nodded, he took the file under his arm and left with the cigar clutched in his teeth. "I'll bring him back to you..." He said as he departed, The Captain smiled and leaned back into his chair. A few seconds later a much older man wearing a suit walked in with the secretary at the door and sat in the chair across from the Captain. "Did he take the job?" The older man asked, Captain Wilks nodded as he leaned forward. "He did, by this time tomorrow... We will have our best Gunsmith in custody and Jackson Wade hanging by a rope..." He said with a sinister sneer.

 

That night Jack slept in a room above The Pine Tree. He had a bath and a warm meal, the first bath he had in near a month. Stepping out of the bathroom feeling clean and maintained he found his clothing had been washed and cleaned for him and waited on his bed along with a duffle-bag with a note pinned to it. Jack unwrapped the towel from around his waist and stood naked next to his bed as he read the note, his body was covered in countless scars and at the base of his neck was a large R branded, the symbol of The Republican Guard and the way they marked their soldiers. Jack opened the pack to reveal it was a AK-47 with a folding stock, a colt .45 and lots of ammunition along with a compass and a rare Smart-Map system. Developed long before the war it was a map that was made out of Smart-Paper, it connected with satellites in orbit above the planet and kept a constantly updated map of the globe that gave the user his location down to a few feet.

 

Jack took the rifle in his hand and gave it an appreciating eye, it was well made. Not some two hundred year old relic it was new and it hadn't been fired so it must have been recently stamped out at the factory. He filled the five thirty round magazines and slapped one in and chambered it, the loud and distinct clacking noise of the slide filled his heart with joy. He heard a soft rustle behind him and quickly turned, his eyes peering down the barrel at the source. Carla emerged from the shadows with a soft smile, she was wearing a new salmon colored dress and had a soft glint in her eye.

 

"I come with compliments of the house and The Captain." She said, Jack lowered his rifle and nodded. He didn't much take to bedding with doxies so he tossed the loaded rifle onto the bed and re-wrapped his towel around him. He grabbed his zippo and cigarettes from the table and lit one for himself. "Let me guess, he told you to spend the night with me because I may die tomorrow?" He said coldly, he knew that there was something more to this then just a free meal and a warm bed with a easy of virtue woman. Carla sat down on the bed and began to disrobe herself and slide into the well made bedsheets. Jack walked over and stopped at the head of the bed next to her and stuck his lit cigarette in the ashtray on the endtable and stared into her amber eyes. She looked very nervous and her eyes darted from him to the door, He grabbed his shotgun from the holster laying on the endtable and slid it under the pillow as he climbed into the bed next to her.

 

She jumped at his soft hands, she was very nervous and she was new to this. Carla pushed away the fear and reached out the touch his face. The skin was rough and callous from many years exposed to the winds of the Wastes and scarred from the countless battles. His rough appearance put many women off but what attracted her to him was not that she was told to sleep with him but his soft eyes, they betrayed the tough-guy act he put on. She slid her long fingers into his hair and pulled him in close for a deep kiss, she felt him pull her into the seclusion of his arms and body. Her handed explored his body, gently tracing every scar and muscle. He was fit and lithe, the slight grey in his hair did not match the young body he possessed. She could feel all the tension vanish as they kissed and writhed on the bed.

 

By morning the sun peeked over the Cascades in the distance and peered into the windows of the room, they struck Jack and he bolted upright. His hand grasping his sawed-off as he stretched and yawned. Carla laid next to him, undisturbed and sleeping soundly. The night they spent together was memorable but he knew he had to be gone by noon, for a few minutes he sat upright and smoked the cigar he had received from The Captain as he watched the sunrise. It wasn't long before Carla turned over and rubbed the sleepiness from her eyes, a warm smile on her face as she saw Jack had remained with her.

 

"Can I ask you something?" She said as she ran a hand down his stomach, feeling the hardened muscles underneath the skin. Jack nodded as he exhaled a cloud of smoke and flicked the bud of his cigar into the ashtray. "Where are you from?" She asked. Jack smiled and placed the cigar in the ashtray. It had been sometime since he had laid with a woman and an even greater amount of time since he had spoken of his history. "I grew up in The Wenatchee Valley, my parents came west to avoid the bandits and settled in Seattle. I was volunteered into the Republican Guard when I was twelve.." He said, his mind flashing with memories of the Seattle-Everett War the sparked off when he was fifteen, his ears rang with the sound of ghostly gunfire and screams of men crying for their mothers as they passed away.

 

Carla looked into his eyes and she could sense that they had seen countless deaths, "A child soldier... I had heard that the Republic did that.." She said. Jack nodded and drew on his cigar once more. "Why do you wander the Wastes? Why not settle down and have children?" She asked him, he shrugged again. He never saw himself having children, he figured it would be a horrible thing to do to them, bringing them up in this circle of hell that the world became. "I dunno really, I find that walking a lonesome road is the only place I feel like I belong I guess." He replied as he folded his arms behind his head. Carla smiled at the poetic words he used, despite his rough appearance he was well read and spoke well. Jack stuck his middle finger under one of her bangs and flicked it over her head as she laid face down on the bed with her head turned towards him. Her arm covered the lower half of her face but the edge of her mouth was curled into a smile and her amber eyes were fixed on him. "What of you and Benjamin?" He asked, Carla turned over and sat next to him and took the cigar from his lips and drew on it herself as she cuddled up to him and placed her head on his shoulder. "I grew up in Idaho, I came to Washington with my husband Ben. We had a farm and some livestock, then we had Benjamin." She said, she continued after puffing on the cigar once more and handing it back to him. " After awhile a group of bandits came and threatened us, they took our food and water and as long as we let them they didn't kill us but every time they came they took more and more and my husband turned to drinking. He got drunk one night and they showed up, he pulled a gun and they shot him... took our food and left us to starve. So I packed up our car and Benjamin and left the farm after burying my husband in the backyard."

 

Carla smiled through the rough memory and closed her eyes as he wrapped an arm around her. They remained quiet for a great deal of time and she had fallen asleep, Jack gently slid out from the bed and got dressed. He collected his things and made for the door, he pulled a bag of silver coins from his pack and placed it on the table with a small .38 pistol and a full-magazine. He knew they may never meet again but the money would help feed them for sometime and the gun may help protect them and that was the best he could give her and Benjamin. He stopped at the door once more and looked over his shoulder at the sleeping woman and then departed.

Edited March 7, 2013 by Macman253