Wastelands, page 19
As we stood there, facing Solomon and his army, with the WitchWalker at our side, I knew that whatever happened next would change the course of our journey. One of us would fall today, and I was damn sure going to make sure it wasn't us. Sumo bumped my leg as if to reassure me he was up for the fight.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SIX
Choking smoke billowed up at us as we faced off against the militia. Their numbers were overwhelming, way more than I'd ever seen at his compound. His reach was undoubtedly more than we knew, a dark mass of hostility ready to descend upon us. It was surreal that in this brewing storm, the WitchWalker’s presence alone seemed to overshadow the force of either side.
My team began to take up positions, spreading out and locking scopes on targets. I signaled them to hold fire. I wanted to see what Solomon's play was before we began slinging energy bolts for incoming lead.
As the man's smug expression wavered, the WitchWalker stepped forward, her demeanor one of raw, unleashed fury. The devastation of the forest and the threat to her natural domain had reinforced a rage within her, a protective instinct for the mutated creatures that were her charges. What burned within her small body was just as fierce as what burned around us.
In a moment of unspoken understanding, I yielded command to her, sensing that her connection to the creatures of the Red Zone could turn this battle in our favor without our interference. She let out a piercing call, a sound that seemed both otherworldly and intrinsically part of the wild landscape around us.
The response was immediate and startling. From the edge of the burning forest as well as the dark horizons beyond, a host of mutated creatures raced out, their forms varied and terrifying. They were the denizens of the waste, the products of a world thrown into chaos, and they heeded the WitchWalker’s call.
Solomon’s men, initially confident in their superior numbers, now faced an army they couldn't have anticipated. The mutants, driven by the fire and directed by the WitchWalker’s influence, descended upon the men with ferocious intent, evening the odds in a way none of us could have foreseen.
The battle that ensued was chaotic and fierce. Solomon’s forces, well-armed and disciplined, fought desperately against the onslaught of mutants, their gunfire a continuous roar in the melee. But the creatures, unpredictable and relentless, swarmed over them, driven by a primal rage.
We took advantage of the chaos, striking at the enemy with precision and strategy. Lux, in his Warbot, unleashed a barrage of firepower, cutting through the enemy ranks. Riker, Priest, and Koog moved with lethal efficiency, their training and experience shining through in every move. Fire and move, fire and move.
I found myself in the thick of the battle, my rifle a steady extension of my will. Each shot was on target, and my battle AI was moving to the next even as the first target fell. Around me, the mutants fought with no less ferocity, their bizarre forms a testament to the strange and brutal world we now inhabited. The monsters were our temporary allies, but both sides knew it wouldn't last.
The WitchWalker also moved among the chaos, a spectral figure of vengeance. Her connection to the mutants was evident, guiding them in their assault, turning them into an effective force against Solomon’s army.
Solomon had set this trap thinking of overwhelming us with sheer numbers, but he had not counted on our secret weapon, on the loyalty of the land’s mutated guardians to her. Here, in this chaotic clash, the lines between friend and foe, between human and mutant, were blurred.
Amidst the gunfire and the roars of both human and mutant combatants, a realization dawned on me—Solomon was right in his fear and understating of the girl. Oracles were real, and if that was true, what other of the ancient mysteries might also be true?
The battlefield was a whirlwind of chaos and fury, with my team and the mutants fighting side by side at times against Solomon's forces. The raiders, caught off guard by the unexpected alliance, were rapidly losing ground. Solomon, his face twisted in rage, barked orders, trying to regain control of the situation. But the tide had turned.
I found myself face to face with a group of raiders. Gunfire erupted around us, the air thick with the smell of smoke and blood. When the space got too tight to use my rifle, I pulled my Heidelberg blade. It began to pulse immediately, and I started slashing through the ranks of hell's army. In the firelight, battling with monsters against men, I realized I was unsure of many things in this world other than the will to survive. Also, I no longer knew who were the monsters and who were the men.
As Solomon's army finally began to dwindle, the mutants, despite their ferocity, also began to fall. The plain was littered with the casualties of this brutal encounter, a grim reminder of the cost of this war.
Then, in a moment of stillness amidst the chaos, I locked eyes with Solomon. The realization that he had lost was evident in his expression. He shouted a retreat, and his remaining forces began to pull back, disappearing into the smoky haze of the battlefield.
The WitchWalker, standing amidst the carnage, let out a sound that was part mournful wail, part triumphant cry. It echoed across the plains, a signal that the battle was over. The remaining mutants slowly retreated back into the forest, their forms disappearing into the smoke and shadows.
Priest, leaning on his Rattler, looked around at the destruction. “I guess we won, but damn…what the fuck was all that?”
The others were all in one piece but exasperated. Even Sumo was lying down panting. I looked at each of them, pride and sorrow mingling in my heart. “We did. But this is far from over. Solomon survived, he will regroup. We need to keep moving.”
The WitchWalker approached me, her expression inscrutable. In her eyes, I saw a shared understanding of what it meant to survive in this forsaken world. She held out a hand to me. I took it and felt the unexpected connection. Pulling her close we briefly hugged. I saw the tears in her eyes, and I knew whatever she had just done, it had cost her a part of her soul.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-SEVEN
The aftermath of the battle with Solomon's forces left us bone tired. Even I had to admit I was nearing the end of what I could handle. Our destination, the source of the dampening field, still loomed somewhere ahead. What else stood between us and it was anyone’s guess. I had a feeling it wasn’t going to be teacakes and butterflies. The nonstop fighting was now beginning to be joined by nausea. The early signs of radiation sickness or our collective reactions to all the ant-rad meds, I wasn't sure. The point was, we had overstayed our fucking welcome in this place.
The CML units had eventually caught up to us again, which was a welcome reload and resupply. Other than a few random magpacks and P-cells, we were nearly depleted. I had the team pull magazines from some of the pulse rifles scattered across the killing field. In the distance, I could see other figures scavenging similarly. Most of the raider’s arsenal was useless, low power cartridge weapons, but we added some of these as well.
A few hours after the brutal battle, the wind had shifted, blowing the fire and smoke downrange from us. The inferno showed no signs of slowing, but ominous clouds hugged the horizon. Perhaps nature would extinguish the blaze.
I'd never been to this part of the country. The landscape was strikingly beautiful even with the occasional evidence of man's interference. Grassy meadows ended in streams where trout could be seen darting upstream. Deer and elk grazed, oblivious to the dangers around them. Snow covered much of the higher elevations, but down here it was lush and green. I felt shame, realizing that man would likely never be welcomed here again. The WitchWalker was right in her judgment, she just hadn't realized it was all mankind, not just the raiders.
As we drew nearer to our destination, an unsettling phenomenon began to unfold. Our technology, the lifeblood of our operation and survival, started to falter. Comms crackled with static, HUD displays glitched erratically, and even Lux's Warbot began to exhibit signs of electronic distress.
"Something's wrong," Lux announced, a note of concern in his voice as he attempted to recalibrate the Warbot's systems. "My controls are getting sluggish."
Ada's voice, usually a constant presence in my head, was now intermittent and fragmented. "Interference... dampening field... affecting... systems..." her voice faded in and out, mirroring our growing unease.
I signaled a halt. I sheathed my helmet. The others did the same so they could hear. "We're going in blind from here, guys. Tech is unreliable. Switch to manual suit operation and basic combat skills. Be ready for anything." The WitchWalker looked at me in mute silence. Here eyes danced with amusement. She seemed to have no need for the technology we found so necessary. I smiled back at her; I liked her way, and if I had a choice, I’d ditch mine as well. Sumo and I would take our little cabin in the mountains. That wasn’t in the cards, though…not yet, anyway.
The landscape around us was a stark, desolate expanse, dotted with the skeletal remains of what once might have been a thriving ecosystem. Now, it was just a barren wasteland, a testament to the destructive capabilities of the facility just coming into view.
Riker, scanning the horizon with his rifle at the ready, pointed towards a cluster of decimated vehicles and equipment. "Over there, looks like a convoy. Could be military."
We approached cautiously, our senses heightened by the realization that we were now relying solely on our training and instincts. The convoy was a ruin, vehicles and tech ravaged by some tremendous force. It was clear that whatever had hit them, it had been powerful and deadly.
Among the wreckage, we found insignia and remnants that confirmed our suspicions—this was indeed a military convoy. Army and National Guard units, but what had they been doing here? What had they encountered that led to their destruction?
Priest knelt beside a piece of scorched metal, his expression somber. "This was no ordinary attack, Boss. Look at the dual blast patterns and residue. It's like they were hit by something that came from everywhere at once."
Koog examined a shattered device, its purpose unrecognizable. "Could the dampening field be a weapon? Something more than just a comms disruptor?"
The questions hung in the air, unanswered. The scene before us was a puzzle, and I was in no mood to play. "Don't know, but we need to keep moving," I said, my voice firm despite the uncertainty. "The source is close. We better find some fucking answers there."
The absence of our usual technological aids was disconcerting. We had become so reliant on our gear, our enhanced capabilities. Now, stripped of these advantages, I was particularly reminded of the fragility and resilience of our more natural abilities. If nothing else, this journey had reminded me of how valuable Ada had become to me, as a soldier and as a man.
We hadn't made it a hundred yards before a silhouette of figures emerged from the ashen landscape. Instinctively, we raised our weapons, ready for another confrontation. But something was different this time. The approaching figures, possible remnants of the last group of raiders we had encountered, showed no signs of aggression. Their weapons were lowered, their postures non-threatening.
One of them, a rugged man with a scarred face, stepped forward. “Kovach,” he called out, his voice carrying a hint of respect mixed with urgency.
I kept my rifle trained on him but nodded to indicate he should speak. I raised my visor so he could hear me. “What do you want?”
The raider glanced back at his companions before returning his gaze to me. “We…we wanted to thank you,” he began, his voice gruff. “For standing up to Solomon. For giving us a chance to break free from his grip.”
I lowered my rifle slightly, surprised by the admission. “You’re thanking us?”
He nodded. “Solomon's reign has been nothing but tyranny for us. We’re not all like him. Some of us just got caught up in the chaos.”
Another raider, a woman with hard eyes, stepped forward. “But that’s not the only reason we're here. We came to warn you about the place up ahead. The locals just call it the Bad Place. It's cursed, tainted. No one who’s gone in has come out the same, if they came out at all.”
Her words sent a chill down my spine. We had known the journey would be perilous, but this was a new and very ominous warning.
“What’s in there?” I asked, my voice steady despite the unease that her words stirred.
The man shook his head. “We don’t know exactly. Stories talk of twisted things, shadows that aren't right. The land itself is said to be alive, in a bad way. It's where the electronics all fail.”
I exchanged a glance with my team, seeing my own apprehension reflected in their eyes. This ‘Bad Place’ was more than just a physical location; it was a nexus of fear and unknown dangers.
“Thank you,” I said, addressing the raiders. “We will be cautious.”
I heard Lux laughingly say, "No we won’t."
The man introduced himself as Jarek; he wished us well before he left and spoke of his campsite not too far away. As the raiders retreated into the shadows, their warning hung heavily in the air. We were close to our destination, yet now more than ever, the path forward seemed fraught with unknown perils.
Priest, who had been listening intently, spoke up. “We need to be prepared for anything. Whatever this ‘Bad Place’ is, we need to take it seriously.”
I nodded, fully understanding the concern, but we had come a long fucking way, and getting that signal down could mean a quicker exfil. Koog was already sticking explosive charges onto his suit. He had a plan going in, that building would not still be standing in an hour.
Riker press-checked his backup weapon, a grim determination on his face. “Then let’s face it head-on. We’ve come too far to back down now.”
Lux, still within his Warbot, remained silent, but I could see the smirk on the little turd’s face. "Head in the game, kid!" I yelled. He held up his hands as if asking What? We moved forward, each step taking us closer to the heart of the mystery. The ‘Bad Place’ loomed ahead, a challenge that we had to face. Whatever secrets it held, whatever dangers, we would confront them together.
The land around us grew increasingly distorted, the air thick with a sense of wrongness that was almost tangible. We were entering the heart of the dampening field, and apparently into a realm of shadows and twisted realities, whatever the fuck that meant.
CHAPTER
THIRTY-EIGHT
The landscape ahead was a morass, a vast field of thick, clinging mud that stretched as far as the eye could see. It was like walking into a trap set by the very Earth itself. Each step was a struggle, the nearly frozen mud grasping at our feet, trying to pull us down into its depths. With the suits in manual mode, the going was even harder. Several times, Lux had to use the Warbot to pull us free of the sucking ground.
“Damn, this mud’s like glue!” Riker grunted, his movements sluggish as he fought to keep moving forward. The battlesuits, usually our lifeline in combat, were now hindrances, their mechanics clogging up with the heavy, wet earth.
Soon, even Lux’s Warbot, which should have been our powerhouse, was laboring under the strain, its movements becoming clumsy and jerky. “Kovach, I’m not sure how much more of this it can take,” Lux called out, real concern now evident in his voice.
“We push through,” I responded, my voice a low growl of determination. “Keep moving. We can’t let this sludge stop us.” I also realized this was a perfect time for someone to ambush us. "Eyes up everyone, don't forget we’re in enemy country."
As we battled against the relentless mire, a structure began to emerge through the snowy haze— another seemingly derelict facility, its architecture foreign and imposing. It was like nothing I’d seen before, a relic of a forgotten time, or perhaps a glimpse into a future that never came to pass.
"The Bad Place," Priest said ominously.
"Rad levels are spiking, Prowler," Ada announced. "A nuclear missile must have targeted very close to this area on Last Day."
Made some kinda sense as it was the only damn thing around to target. Still, that meant that not only The Order was firing nukes that day. Somebody who knew something had targeted this place. We approached the facility cautiously, weapons drawn, every sense on high alert. The building wasn't huge but looked like a fortress, its walls still intact despite the ravages of battle and neglect. All I could link it to was perhaps a university or high-tech corporate headquarters. The exterior looked ancient. Strong, but also somehow ultra-modern. Perhaps it had been made to look this way to keep the locals guessing…or scared.
I recalled a UFO shaped building on a mountain in Bulgaria…a massive, gray concrete structure from back in the mid-1900s. I'd been on a mission there when we had to set up at the base for several days. It freaked us out just being that close. Never did find out what it had been built for.
“What are those?” Riker asked.
Sumo moved to investigate, then backed up slowly. My combat dog was far wiser than we were. The muddy lumps scattered about the grounds showed patches of white. Part of my brain was processing this and nearly missed the movement up ahead.
As we neared the entrance of this facility, it sprang to life. Like the NORAD complex, turrets emerged from hidden compartments, their targeting systems locking onto us with deadly precision. This time, we were the trespassers.
“Guess they don’t like uninvited guests. Take cover,” I shouted needlessly, as a barrage of gunfire erupted from the turrets. We dove for whatever shelter we could find, returning fire in a desperate attempt to disable the automated defenses. The irregular mounds linking the perimeter were skeletal bodies.
I found my hand gripping something hard in the mud. Pulling it out, I found a human skull with a bullet hole just above the brow ridge. This place was living up to its name.
The firefight was intense but thankfully, not a standoff. Banshee moved with precision, our training kicking in, targeting the turrets’ weak points with coordinated strikes. This wasn't our first rodeo storming a fixed location, and automated defense systems was one thing Banshee drilled on relentlessly.
